They roll apart and fall back on their pillows, giant grins on their faces. Their chests are heaving. They may have not made it to Ford's Theater but they made their own gala.

She looks over at him in a haze of post-coital bliss. His arm is behind his head and he's staring up at the ceiling.

"Sixteen? Really? Sixteen?"

"I really thought that, you know, having sex would help you get over that."

"Well, no. I was almost over it due to the distraction caused by a former President dying and all. But our current activity just reminded me. . . . Sixteen?"

"Yes. Sixteen. Why does that shock you so much?"

"You're just a wholesome, Midwest farm-girl in my mind."

"Josh. We've done some pretty kinky things. You KNOW I'm not a wholesome, Midwest farm-girl."

"I know. You grew up in a condo. But I do like it when you put on a short denim skirt, a red plaid shirt, put your hair in braids and pretend to be a farm girl."

"Josh!" She tries to look aghast, but now she's thinking . . . it has been a while since they played dress-up. There is a Catholic School Girl Uniform she's had her eye on.

"Honestly?"

"Well, yes, I generally do prefer honesty in a relationship."

He rolls on his side to face her. Truth is, part of what's bothering him is due to their age difference. He would have liked to have been her first, but then he remembered how old he was when she was 16 and the thought made him nauseous. He's trying to block that thought from his mind. Instead he tells her the other part of it.

"Sixteen just seems so young." He's trying not to sound like a judgmental old man, so he tries to explain it better. "Zoey was 16 when I met her. I immediately felt very big brotherly toward her. I'd have beat the crap out of anyone who tried to get her in bed. If I knew you at 16, I'd have seriously hurt any gomer that had sex with you."

"Well, I'm very glad I didn't meet you when I was 16."

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't want you to think of me as a kid sister."

He pulls the sheet down, revealing her breasts. "Me neither." He grins and takes one pink nipple into his mouth. She moans softly as he rolls it around with his tongue and then gives a small tug before letting it go with a pop.

"Sixteen?"

"Oh my god. Let it go."

"I just did."

"You are infuriating."

"You love me."

"I do."

"Did you love Freddie Briggs?"

"I was 16."

"Fair point. Did you think you loved Freddie Briggs?"

"I was 16."

He raises one eyebrow.

"Of course I thought I loved him! I wasn't easy."

"Don't I know it!"

She smacks him lightly on the arm. But she's pleased with his answer. Their relationship seems so cliché. Secretary sleeping with boss to try to move up the ladder. Older boss hiring hot young secretary just to get in her pants. They know that it's not true. But that's how the world would see them. That's why they keep it a secret.

"Sixteen." He sighs. Then he traces her face with his fingertips. His face loses all it's teasing. And his eyes are worried. "Was he gentle? Did he hurt you?"

Neither of them had known what they were doing. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but Josh doesn't need to know the details.

"He was 16 too."

Josh's brow furrows. "You didn't really answer my question."

"It got better." That still didn't answer the question but he hears what she's telling him.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry it got better?"

"I'm sorry it wasn't perfect your first time."

"You're very sweet."

"Don't tell anyone."

"Sixteen!" She exclaims, rolling on top of him and straddling him. "Do you know what that means?"

"What?"

"I've had over 10 years of practice!" She wiggles her eyebrows and her hips. And he feels himself responding. Sometimes she makes him feel Sixteen again.

"You are quite good at this."

"Why, thank you."

. . . .

She's almost asleep when she hears his quiet muttering.

"Sixteen. Freddie Briggs better hope his taxes are in order. Little shit."