Frederick Laughton - Bookstore for boys

Jennifer took a deep breath, then walked through back into the shop, frowning as she saw that a number of young boys had gathered outside on the street to look through the window at the advertising display for The Joy of Sex. But she knew she shouldn't have expected different. Managing to regain some of the composure she'd lost during her conversation with the book's distributor, Jennifer walked briskly across the store to the front entrance and emerged into the street. She paused, hands on her hips, staring sternly at the boys gathered there. The little group fell silent and several of the youngsters looked at her somewhat resentfully. Then they moved on away down the street.

The voluptuous blonde divorcee waited until they reached the corner, then moved up to take a look at Kelly's display for herself, blushing as she saw that the six copies of the book were accompanied by a tall cardboard full-color poster of a naked man and woman, locked in warm embrace. They were photographed in profile and it was only the tight fit of their naked bodies that served to partially conceal the woman's lusciously rounded breasts and the forbidden little nipples that crowned them.

For an extended moment Jennifer stared through the glass at the photograph. In spite of her indignation at finding it displayed in her own showcase, she had to admit that it was tastefully done. And the taste wasn't in the appeal of two extremely attractive models who'd posed for it, nor in the fact that it did not go out of its way to be vulgar or more revealing. The taste lay in the fact that a moment seemed to have been captured, revealed in the look of warm satisfaction in the man's eyes and the loving gratitude of the woman's. It was intended to depict a man and woman who had just made love, Jennifer realized with a sudden intensification of her breathing, and they had made love very well together, each to the other's satisfaction. And that was something she hadn't known for so long. She could hardly even remember that feeling. But she had experienced it. She had experienced it exquisitely and wonderfully, but oh so long ago.

But this still wasn't the kind of display she wanted in her show window, the young woman reminded herself, snapping out of her wistful reverie, and suddenly she turned and walked back into the shop, down along the bookracks to the window. To the astonishment of several of the young boy's gathered around, she reached over into the display window and retrieved the poster. To the half playful protests of the youngsters she carried it back through the curtain to the rear of the shop. Then she paused for a moment, a wave of nostalgia passing over her as she looked at it again and remembered. With a sigh she turned and moved back into the shop.

Most of the rest of the afternoon passed in comparative peace. The schoolboys lingered for a half hour or so and gradually filtered out. A few adult customers came and left. She sold two copies of her ex-husband's new novel and an elderly spinster bought a copy of The Joy of Sex. It was almost closing time when the lone and somewhat nervous young boy came in.

"Hello," Jennifer said cheerfully. "Can I help you with something?"

The boy stopped just inside the door and for a moment Jennifer thought he was going to retreat. He was cute and dark-headed, thirteen or fourteen, she would have guessed. In his hand he was carrying a small brown paper sack.

"Oh… no, ma'am," he said after a moment. "I just want to look… around."

"Please do," Jennifer said, returning her attention to the order list she'd been examining before the boy arrived.

A moment later the attractive blonde was disturbed again by the shy-looking youngster. He had approached the counter and he was staring at her almost fearfully. As she leaned over to look down at him Jennifer noticed that he was holding something behind his back.

"Yes?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Seven dollars and ninety-five cents?" the boy blurted, plopping the paper sack onto the counter with a jangling that indicated it was filled with coins, and producing from behind his back a copy of The Joy of Sex.

Jennifer's mouth dropped open with surprise and for a moment she could think of not a word to say. Before her the young boy's face gradually reddened and again she had the feeling he was on the verge of fearful flight.

"What is your name?" she finally croaked, realizing as she asked it how stupid the question sounded.

"Skip."

"Skip who?"

"Skip… Palmer," the boy said, fidgeting nervously. "You can… you can count it. I broke a piggy bank I've had since I was a… a kid and there was over eighteen dollars in it."

Almost absently Jennifer weighed the sack of coins. "I wasn't doubting your honesty. I just wonder why a boy your age would want to spend that much money for a book like this."

"Because… because… I…" the cute teenager's voice faltered.

"How old are you?" Jennifer persisted.

"Fifteen. Well… fourteen and a half."

"And what do you think your parents would say if they knew you were buying a book like this?"

"They wouldn't… they wouldn't say anything," the boy replied even more defensively and nervously than before.

"Would they disapprove?"

"No."

"You mean to say they would approve?"

"No. I… I didn't say that either."

"Then what do you mean exactly?"

Skip Palmer swallowed hard. "They're dead."

Jennifer felt the color drain from her face. Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding furiously and before her the young boy was almost visibly squirming. "I'm sorry," she managed at last. "I'm sorry, I couldn't have guessed."

"They got killed in a car wreck last year. Down in New Mexico where we lived. Then I was sent here to San Francisco to live with my grandmother. And that… that's why I want the book."

Jennifer blinked. "I don't know if I see the connection." Then the story came flooding out, as if the boy thought he could win her consent by keeping up a steady conversation.

"See, I'm sort of… sort of a freak in school here, because these kids grow up a lot faster than we grew up back there. Most of the guys in my class know everything about… about what's in that book. And I don't know anything. I don't even know where to start with… you know, with a girl. And if I try to ask some of the other guys they think I'm a queer or something."

Even Jennifer blushed at hearing the innocent-looking teenager use that crude word. But at the same time her heart went out to him. She was almost running over with empathy and compassion.

"And I can't ask my grandmother. She doesn't talk about anything but sin and hellfire and ever-lasting damnation. So I've got to have the book, don't you see?"

"But… Skip. This book was not intended for boys your age." Jennifer leaned forward and took the book gently from the young boy's hands. "This was designed for married couples. To help them… get more out of their lives with each other."

"But that's what I want to know about. What married people do. That's what the other boys talk about and even some of them… do it sometimes."

"Oh Skip!" Jennifer gasped. "Don't talk like that." She paused, observing the youngster's desperately pleading face. Then she pushed the sack of coins slowly back across the counter. "And I can't take your money. I can't sell you this book. Can't you imagine what your grandmother would say if she found it?"

"But I won't let her find it."

"That's not the point!" Jennifer snapped, surprised at the irritation in her voice.

But the edge to her tone was enough to take Skip aback. He retreated a step from the table, hanging his head sadly, blinking fast as though he would cry. Then he seized the paper sack and turned and stumbled hurriedly for the door. He was about to go out when Jennifer stopped him, hardly able to even believe the words as they burst spontaneously to her own lips: "Skip. Come back tomorrow about the same time. I'll look through the book tonight and select some passages I think will be suitable for a boy your age, if there are any. The material you need to know. We can go over it together, and I'll do my best to answer whatever questions you have."