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| Arthur Laurents, playwright and screenwriter |
The Avon Boy-Lady |
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I had no notion of how to tell who was or wasn't an ordinary homosexual — there is no way — but I couldn't even tell when eyes locked that it was in mutual anticipation. I wasn't sure what queer was. I was too afraid of being caught and I didn't lose my inhibitions and throw my sexual hat over the dam until some months later.
Not that I was either virgin or innocent. I hadn't been either since I was fourteen, when I was gone down on by a kid my age who went from house to house like the Avon lady, blowing everyone available and acquiescent on the block. Age of consent was no obstacle and daytime was safe because nobody thought sex occurred in daylight. He grew up to be a respected professor at home and at the Sorbonne. Until recently, he taught in both places and was still on his knees, though less frequently. (Brooklyn, NY, 1932)
from Original Story By by Arthur Laurents (Knopf, © 2000)
© 2001 Nerve.com, Inc.
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