I'm No Saint
Chapter One
ON AN AUGUST MORNING IN 1986, I stepped down the aisle to "Here
Comes the Bride" and walked the plank. Instead of a sword against my
back, prodding me to take the plunge, it was my father at my side,
gripping my elbow as I clutched a bouquet of white roses, rouged
cheeks pulled taut, a perma-smile tacked across my face.
A few hours earlier, I had performed cunnilingus on one of my
bridesmaids, Cathy. On the eve of my wedding, she and I had spent
the night in Great Neck, in the house where I'd grown up, sharing my
girlhood bedroom decorated with 1970s yellow plastic furniture, A
Chorus Line posters, and hand-painted ceramic cats. While Cathy was
in a sleeping bag on the cherry-red shag carpeting, I tossed and
turned in my bed. At dawn, I stripped naked, slid beside her, and
parted the strawberry-blond-haired lips of her vagina. Lifting her
head from her pillow, she looked at me lynx-eyed. "Better get it out
of your system now," she said, grinning.
That was my last gasp of freedom before taking my vows. I wasn't a
lesbian or bisexual-I preferred cock to cooch. I was simply
experimen ... read full excerpt from: I'm No Saint: A Nasty Little Memoir of Love and Leaving ebook
