Car Date, 1972 by Stacy Pendergrast
That was all I needed to hear. I pushed aside the images of what had happened: their taunting faces, my bruises and twisted glasses, the leaves in my torn underwear. There were dangers in this dynamic that were new to me, and I knew I could not miscalculate—but being desired was worth the risk. I was still a girl with imagination, a gift aided by the power to deny.
Private: Author Stacy Pendergrast and Artist Michael Tronn
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