Two or three times a week I had to deliver fifteen- or twenty-pound roast beefs to delis around the Bronx so that they could cook them and slice them up for sandwiches.
My mouth and tongue finally find her pearl. Her clitoris.
Dressed and coated, over-shoed and be-legginged, bundled to within an inch of our lives in scarfs, sweaters, stocking caps and mittens, we waited for the sound of sleigh bells that meant “Grampa” was coming with the bobsled to take us to “Gramma’s” for dinner.
I became nervous as my wedding day drew near.
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