Photographs and memories 

On my 21st birthday I had my first drink in a little bar in Portland, Oregon. 

I don't even recall what it was but it must have been mixed, as I knew right away I simply wasn't a beer person. 

Ahhhhhh, that's what it probably was, I remember now; It was a strawberry daiquiri! 

I loved strawberries and at that time this strange new person in my life would have done anything for me.

He barrelled down the highway, completely stoned,  taking me to little hideaways to make out, dark movie houses to reach for my boobs, and fast food joints to make my stomach purr.

He looked like a young George Harrison with his psychedelic shirts and a room full of colorful bong pipes. 

I just stared at him in fascination, never giving in. I took photographs and did heavy sighs. I was in love. Or so I thought. 

He was a virgin. I was naive. 

We wadded together for awhile in knee deep love.

He was afraid. I was dumbfounded. I didn't even know what an erect penis was supposed to look like. I had never seen anything in broad daylight before.

As my trust grew towards him, it didn't make sense anymore to not let my inhibitions down. I reached for his bong, wrapped my hands around it, and said, "Come on, baby, light my fire!" as I opened my mouth in an inappropriate way.

I sucked and held, sucked and held, but nothing happened. I thought there must be something I was doing wrong so I drew more and more in for a good hour or so, but, when I failed to see through rose-colored glasses or laugh at mundane things, I gave up.  
it wasn't until five hours later while watching an episode of the new generation of Star Trek, that I saw the walls undulate in wavy patterns. They begin to bend and wrap around me, encasing me in a bubble of terror!