[ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ]	pro•mis•cu•ous adj. 1. Having casual sexual relations frequently with different partners; indiscriminate in the choice of sexual partners. 2. Lacking standards of selection; indiscriminate. 3. Casual; random. 4. Consisting of diverse, unrelated parts or individuals; confused My diaries were still in the drawer of my nightstand. I was sure my parents had read them. But I opened the first one anyway, turning to the date about eight years ago. Reading them, I returned to those times of confusion, aimless searching, and the blur of black and white. Get drunk before the homecoming dance and grind with Vince on the dance floor, retire to a dark corner of the gym and let him suck on my neck, follow him to his car sweat dripping down my forehead smearing my makeup, get in the back seat and take off my shirt, let him suck on my breasts, sloppily, he wants to take out his dick reaching for his zipper, but I say no and I kiss him again, but he gets mad and tells me to get out so I put my shirt on and go back into the dance like nothing happened and denied that I had ever been in the backseat of Vince’s car. Study with Kyle after school, take a break to make out on the couch, his breath smells like Cheetos, he says he wants to see me naked and I say only if he eats me out so I strip down and stand over him as he moves his tongue around my clit and it feels good, his adolescent stubble tickling my skin, but I hear keys in the door and I run to the bathroom, hear his mom come home early, panicking, not knowing what to do so I put my clothes back on and climb out the window, I see Kyle at school the next day he doesn’t say hi or acknowledge that he knows me until I found out he told a bunch of friends that I sucked his dick and put on a strip tease and I was mad because it was a lie but what the hell could I do about it? Go to a party downstate, meet a guy with a Yankees cap and a tribal tattoo, he tells me I’m pretty and he wants to take a walk so we ditch the party and go to the cornfields, he lays his jacket on the ground and we lay on top of it and he grabs a rubber from his pocket and puts it on before I can contest and I let him enter me, thrust in and out and I stare at the stars in the sky, I hear him moan and images of Katie and the woman across the alley flash through my head and it starts to feel good so I give out a couple of deep breaths and moan a little and the thrusts harder, the stars illuminating the corn husks and he comes and I realize that I don’t know his name and that is bad, but we lay in silence for a while and I never see him again.