CHAPTER TWO
We moved back into town and I saw Lizzy no more, though we sent each other Christmas cards for a year or two.
Most of my childhood's s****l pleasures, apart from the rare Vera and Lizzy episode, were either solitary or homo-perforce. I can't remember how old I was when I was initiated into the joys of m**********n, but I remember very well how it happened. I had become the friend, or devoted fag, of an older boy, a hulking fellow of eighteen or so, an athletic, swaggering, ad venturous character named Jim, who loved smutty jokes, and made up impossible tales about women, friends of his mother, who he said paid him to f**k them. It was not believed, but it made delightful listening.
He tolerated me, liked my flattery and laughter, I dare say. He did not show me much sign of a
