An American high school student was fascinated with women in the U.S. with whom he was playing basketball. He says he felt uncomfortable when a woman approached him at a game in the gym. She smiled and said, “Grow up.” He says, “She wouldn’t even look at you. She’s pretty.’ He says she was a good sportswriter, not a girl in a girl’s dream. “I’m glad I’ve had a good time,” he says.
A few weeks after that first game, Susan offered to give a few of us a ride home in Jabal Amman. We drove mostly in awkward silence, except for the directions I gave. She was the one acting nervous. She said she had sexual tension between her and her husband, so I had imagined the thing between us. But she said, “You know what it is, and I think we have that between us,” she told her friend, “I don’t like Michael Douglas”.
In an instant, everything about my life felt changed, and I wanted more. That kiss made me feel good. I suddenly understood what all my friends had been saying about their own kisses, even if I would never be able to tell them about mine. Susan taught me things I didn’t know existed. She taught me how it felt. She knew exactly what she was doing and was more than willing to teach me how to do it. Because she was married, her husband employed by the embassy, it was crucial that our encounters stay top secret.