A few nights later I worked up the courage to ask him something I'd been wondering about. He was always most talkative and open after sex, and almost never shut me down when I asked questions anymore. I knew he was trying hard to fix what had broken, and rebuild it into something stronger.

"You know how you told me about how you'd sometimes hook up with girls for a while, but nothing very serious?" I said tentatively. "Mmmhmm" he responded, tensing only slightly. "Well, I was wondering how you . . . got really good at all of this. I mean, you know how to touch me exactly right, and you did even from the beginning. That can't just be something that happens from some short term hook ups."

I'd thought about it a lot since we'd had that conversation. Daryl was a complicated mix of confidence and uncertainty in most areas of life, but in bed he was always in control, completely assured in his incredible ability to bring me intense pleasure, whatever the method. I could not believe he'd just figured all that out with a handful of girls over the years.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, obviously not thrilled with the conversation, but determined not to retreat. "When I was jus' startin' high school we lived in a trailer park next ta this single mom who had a couple a young kids. She didn' have anyone ta help her with stuff so sometimes she'd ask me ta move somethin' or whatever. I didn' mind hangin out over there ta get away from my pa, at least not when her kids were at their dad's an not runnin around screamin."

I could see where this was headed, but stayed quiet. "After I fixed her TV one time, she thanked me and told me I could touch 'er anytime I wanted. I was just this horny kid, and she wasn' bad lookin so," he rubbed a hand over his face, clearly feeling awkward, ". . . I did. An' then pretty much whenever her kids weren't around we'd hook up. She was prob'ly 'bout as old as I am now, and knew what she liked, wasn't afraid to show me. Or she'd get some porn and we'd try different stuff."

He fell silent, and my mind raced, trying to think of what to say. That was clearly statutory rape, and if she'd been found out a few years ago she'd have been prosecuted, had to register as a sex offender, and her kids would have been taken away. It was appalling, quite honestly, but it seemed like Daryl viewed it as a positive experience and I didn't want to seem judgmental. "Wow," I said finally, "so how long did it last?"

He shrugged. "After a while I started hookin' up with girls my own age and figured out a lotta other guys didn' bother makin' them feel good, used it to my advantage to hook up with as many of 'em as possible. I still went over there sometimes, but eventually she moved away."

"Do you think . . . I mean, was it a good thing or did you regret it later?" I asked carefully, still not sure how to feel about some lady who thought it was okay to take advantage of a teenage boy who was already a survivor of abuse, but also gave him a way to feel good. I'd sat in many meetings where we talked about similar situations, careful to refer to the teenage boys as "victims" and the sex as "rape," and I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around any other interpretation.

Daryl exhaled and rolled over to look at me in the moonlight. "I'm guessin' ya think I was fucked up?" he asked tightly, and I swallowed hard before answering. "Not you. There's nothing wrong with what you did. It's just . . . I mean, you were just a kid and she was taking advantage of you."

Daryl snorted a laugh at that, relaxing. "Baby, I know when you were that age you were dreamin' about hand holdin' but I was horny as fuck all the time, and happy to let some lonely pretty lady 'take advantage'. Was just somethin' that felt good fer both of us in a shitty life - she wasn' a bad person. And she taught me how ta make you feel good, so you should be thankin' her."

I didn't fully understand or agree, and part of me wished I hadn't asked. These were clearly happy - and extensive - memories, and likely the closest thing to a relationship he'd had before me and I was suddenly and unexpectedly jealous. Why hadn't he told me about her before? I was picturing a Mrs. Robinson type woman, rough around the edges but sexy, giving Daryl this incredible escape from his awful life.

I shifted uncomfortably and looked away, chewing on the inside of my lip. I knew I was inexperienced sexually, despite my age and years of marriage, and I really didn't want to be compared to this woman who taught Daryl how to be incredible in bed with all her sexual prowess. Maybe he wished I were more assertive, or adventurous, or knew more about sexual predilections. I hated porn - had worked with way too many young girls who had been really messed up by the darkest corners of that world - but I knew in avoiding it I'd probably also avoided learning stuff that could have been helpful, and my fantasies now seemed childish. She was probably fine with anal sex, and I'd practically jumped out of bed when he barely touched me there.

Daryl tugged my lip from my teeth, turning my head so I had to look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked, "that's yer worried look." I shook my head and forced a smile. "Nothing. Sounds like she was really . . . something." He frowned slightly, misunderstanding my response. "Jesus, stop judging her," he snapped, flopping onto his back. "Not everyone gets a devoted husband and big happy family right outta high school."

His sudden annoyance only deepened my feeling of immaturity and I turned my head away so he wouldn't see me cry, frustrated that the tears seemed to come so easily these days. He didn't say anything in the silence that followed, and I didn't want to insult him any more. "I'm sorry" I said finally, holding my voice as steady as I could. "I wasn't trying to insult her. Maybe we should just go to sleep."

"Are you crying?" he asked, sitting up halfway to peer at me. "No" I sniffed miserably, pushing my face further into my pillow. "Fuck," he swore quietly. "What the hell do you want - you asked the question! I know it ain't like yer sweet innocent love story but I don' see why yer all freaked out about it."

I didn't answer, and he groaned in frustration. "Fucking hell Ana, this is the shit I don't know how ta do. Maybe yer husband knew exactly what ta say all the time, but I ain't him so yer gonna have ta give me a fuckin' clue here."

"Did she like anal sex?" I blurted out, emboldened by his willingness to admit that he felt out of his depth in some areas.

He looked at me incredulously. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked. "Janie? Jesus, why does it matter?" Now I had a name to put with the face and body I'd been imagining. "Yes, Janie," I said. "And it doesn't matter, exactly, I'm just curious."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes." My heart sank, but I just nodded and closed my eyes. "Thanks. For answering, I mean. We can go to sleep now." He laid back down but I could tell he wasn't relaxed enough to be trying to sleep. After a few minutes he tugged me toward him and I tried to wipe away more tears before he could see them.

"Baby," he said, his voice more gentle, "Are you upset about stuff I did with her?" I nodded, feeling like a child but unable to pretend not to care. "I just don't want to be so boring for you," I admitted. "If I was really experienced like her, maybe I'd know how to make you feel good, and I definitely wouldn't get freaked out about stupid stuff that other women think isn't a big deal."

"That's . . . " he didn't seem to know what to say, and I waited miserably, avoiding his eyes. "You not knowin' everything already, lettin' me show you what could make ya feel good? God, that's one of my favorite things. I don' want ya ta be more experienced, not unless I get ta be the one that teaches you. An' what makes me feel good is bein' with you like that."

"But what if I don't like some things, and you want to do them?" I asked uncertainly, and he rolled his eyes. "I assume yer talkin' about anal?" I shrugged, embarrassed, and he tried not to smile. "That's not somethin' I care about all that much, but it can be good for some people. A lotta people don' like it though, so if it's not somethin' ya wanna do, yer in good company."

"That thing you did the other day felt good" I admitted hesitantly, and he closed his eyes briefly. "See, that shy shit right there goes straight to my dick. Don't try to be different than ya are, baby." I curled closer to him, relaxing into the idea that the dynamic we had was good for him too.

"Did she like -" I started to ask, thinking about my aversion to being restrained, but he covered my mouth with his hand before I could finish. "I don' ever think about her, and what she liked" he said firmly. "Tonight, when ya asked me about it was the first time she'd even crossed my mind in years. Now go to sleep, so yer rested enough for what I wanna show ya tomorrow."