During that Sweet Sixteen summer, we formed what we later called the Sisterhood Book Club. It was late July when we got rolling with that. Nancy joined later but she eventually caught up with us.

The point was to find erotic scenes in fiction, and then discuss them among ourselves. We weren’t referring to porn, but so-called “mainstream books.” Gina, being the boldest of us, would take some of those works out of public libraries. Or if that wasn’t possible, she’d buy them at bookstores.

No one ever questioned her, but she would dress up and usually wear a little make-up on these forays. I don’t know if she fooled anyone because she was fairly small and young-looking, but she always got what she was looking for.

We’d have one book at a time, and we started with the “dirty bits” first. If one of us liked it enough, we might read the whole thing. But after we had gone through the pertinent smutty sections, we’d meet and have conversations about them in an isolated part of the park or in our basement clubhouse.

Being New York girls, we chose The Godfather first. Besides, the restaurant where the shoot-out was filmed was a few blocks away. And every teenager knew about “page 25” or whatever it was. That was early in the book and occurred during Connie’s wedding at her father’s house in Long Beach. Sonny Corleone had his first sexual encounter with the “ripe” Lucy Mancini, the maid of honor, in a room inside the house.

The scene was in the movie, but we found out later that it was quite brief. The novel, however – that was one of the hottest bangs we had ever read about and it spared no details.

I was actually – shocked, stunned – when I read it. It was well-known among teen-aged boys as being the first go-to part of the book, but we girls certainly noted it carefully too.

On the day we sat on a blanket in the park discussing it, there was a certain uneasiness or perhaps awe among the three of us. It was that explicit. I felt a tightness in my throat as we passed the book around. Gina of course had to start. “Jesus Christ, how did he come up with this? It’s almost too good like it’s exaggerated somehow. I mean, did Puzo himself ever experience anything like this?”

We didn’t have anything in real life to compare it to. The three of us were sexually experienced with each other, we knew lots about what orgasms felt like, but we were virgins when it came to men.  

Jenny had a good comment. “It’s written in the language and style of porn; that’s pretty obvious.”

I added, “I heard that Puzo hadn’t done well selling his first two books, so he really wanted to have a hit with this one.”

Gina said, “Well, he certainly got what he wanted. And the movie was a big hit too.”

Jenny said, “I have a problem with this Lucy scene.” She seemed a bit nervous talking about it, even though we all had become more forthright in recent months. “I mean, Sonny doesn’t seem to know anything about foreplay and she doesn’t seem to care. He just reaches under her dress and pulls her panties off. Then he opens his trousers and takes his cock out.”

Gina said, “Not very subtle or romantic, for sure. So, Jenny, why don’t you tell us more about what you read?”

Jenny had the book open on her lap. “This is a bit much. She grabs his cock which is described as ‘an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle. It pulsated in her hand like an animal . . .’  ”

Gina said, “Don’t look so dismayed, honey. As you said, that’s pure porn language for sure. Read us the part about them actually screwing.”

She seemed to know what Gina had requested. “Okay. Ah, ‘and then like a quiver, her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax . . .’ That must be what you meant?”

“That’s it. It can’t just be sex, it has to be ‘shattering’ sex.”

I had an objection. “Her first orgasm? I know the plot has something about her vagina being too big . . .”

Gina said, “Which is bullshit.”

“I agree with you. But her first orgasm? She’s never masturbated? Those other guys didn’t know how to go down on her?”

I got a reply from my friend. “Besides, a nice big zucchini will solve the main problem. You don’t need super-dick Sonny. You can get something from the produce section that will fill you up quite well.”

We were all quite familiar with that. Gina had to get into one of her didactic modes. “It’s that whole Freudian vaginal versus clitoral orgasms, with the latter being immature or something.” She shook her head. “ ‘What do women want?’ He should have asked a few, they would have told him.”

Jenny, being level-headed, said, “Maybe women didn’t do those things in 1945, or not as much.”

Gina was dismissive, “I’m sure they did, they just didn’t talk about it as openly. That’s probably why Puzo seems clueless about female sexuality; he just didn’t know that much about it.”

I volunteered something. “How about the bakery thing at the beginning that I don’t think got into the movie.”

Gina gave me the book. “Here Chloe, you’re the bakery lady here; tell us what you noticed.”

“It’s that baker guy Nazorine. He goes to see Vito to talk about his daughter getting married.” I stopped for a moment, and Gina nodded for me to go on. “So this girl Katherine is working there. Her father notices, ‘She was a “hot number,” this daughter of his. He had seen her brush her swelling buttocks against Enzo’s front when the baker’s helper squeezed behind her to fill the counter baskets . . .’ ”

Gina said, “I do have a problem with that section. It seems that since this Katherine is described as ‘plump and homely,’ it’s a big surprise that she has any sexual feelings.”

Jenny and I knew she wasn’t finished with her diatribe. “Isn’t that what we’re been learning this year? That how you look isn’t the key to how sexy you are, but it’s your attitude. I bet this Katherine, if I could do a make-over on her – well, a 1945 version – with better clothes and hair, could be quite fetching.”

I thought about my own bakery uniform, which certainly wasn’t flattering. Gina then picked me for her example. “Consider our Chloe here. Since before she met us, she knew that the right underwear can make all the difference, even if only you know it’s on.”

I was the only one of us wearing a sundress, a blue one, and Gina said, “Come on sweetie, I know you’ve got something good on under there.”

Indeed I did. I looked around, and then I pulled my dress up. I had lacy white panties with a white panel in the crotch. Jenny of course noticed, “Wow, those are so summery. I’ve got to get a pair for my own collection.”

I said, “I wouldn’t mind having a swelling behind, however.”

Gina said, “Chloe, don’t worry about that. You have a nice pert little backside. Jenny is the only one of us with any real curves back there.” Jenny blushed, and Gina said, “I’m sorry, sweetie, I meant that in a good way.”

We spent a bit more time on the book, but we kept coming back to the Lucy Mancini scene.  It may have been crude and unrealistic, but it had an undeniable power. It caused a kind of fraught anxiety among the three of us.

Gina got to the topic in a roundabout way. “I’ve overheard guys at school talking about that scene. It seems to be a favorite whack-off motivation for them. The influence of mere words can be amazing.” Then she looked at me. “We know each other well, so I can ask you this. Is the white panel of your underwear getting damp?”

I was both excited and annoyed that she had asked me that. “All right, yes. And what about you?”

“Oh man, three points in my body are just lit up. My nipples and my clitoris.”

Some of Jenny’s shyness had come back, but we knew that she was thinking the same thing.

Our leader knew what to do. It was about three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. “Ladies, I’m going to be blunt, as usual. We can wait until we are in our beds tonight to masturbate. Or we can go to the basement right now and have a circle jerk.”

The answer was obvious, so we rolled up the blanket and went down there. We spread it on the floor.

We didn’t have our dildo collection then, but we had various implements, mostly brushes, for those occasions. I pulled my dress up and then removed my white panties, leaving them on the floor. Jenny had to take her shorts off, while Gina had to do the same with her jeans. She had a last question for us.

“So how would we rate this book so far?”

I said, “I’d give it a three or a four as literature, but a nine maybe for porn.”

“Only a nine?”

“Yeah, it’s missing that subtlety as we’ve said.”

I sat on the chair to the left, and Gina sat on the sofa. Jenny opted to sit on the floor as she leaned against the other chair.

My fantasy was ready to go. I didn’t picture myself as Lucy, but rather I was myself. I was indeed a bridesmaid being seduced by the son of a crime boss in the latter’s house. My outfit was a pink short-sleeved gown, and of course, I had a white garter and straps. An ample pink set of satin panties seemed ideal to cover them.

For Sonny, I knew that James Caan played him in the movie, and he seemed quite sexy to me. However, despite my small body, I didn’t want to be lifted up and pressed against the door. It seemed setter to sit on a table or desk as my lover embraced me.

I quickly lost track of what my friends were doing. Maybe I have an active imagination, but I thought, God-damn, this whole scenario is better than I had thought.

As often happened when I was in the basement, I lost my inhibitions and said whatever I thought appropriate for my actions. Within a few minutes, I was talking as if was really getting banged on that imaginary table. Mild little Chloe could be quite crude and lewd when she wanted to be that way.

“That’s it, Sonny, fuck me but good. You’re going to make me come in a moment, please give it to me.”

What inspired my climax was looking down at the floor and seeing my white underpants. I imagined them being my bridesmaid drawers, and that set me off. It wasn’t quite shattering, but it was definitely one of my best.

****

Later on, the three of us sat on the floor with our bare legs entwined. We were completely spent by releasing so much of our lust. I for one felt very relaxed.

Jenny said, “Now I’ve got to get a pair of bridesmaid’s panties.”

Gina laughed, “Oh, you too!” Then she looked at me. “So are there any young guys at your bakery?”

“Well, no, but where would we go?”

“It’s a fantasy. How about that room in the back? After hours or something.” She winked at me. “You could use those swelling buttocks on Chris. If he didn’t come in his pants, you have other ways of finishing him off.”

That’s pretty much what I imagined in bed that night. Chris wound up lying down on a pile of flour bags, while I was on top of him cowgirl style. My green uniform was up around my waist and he held my hips as I bounced on his cock.

The orgasm from that was another good one too. Afterwards, I lay there with that familiar feeling of satisfaction mixed with guilt. Chloe, you’re becoming such a bad girl that you will be capable of doing anything soon.

I did, however, read all of The Godfather straight through in the next week.

***

All three of us wound up passing the book around and reading it. But ten days into it, Gina had a new assignment for us to do at the same time. She marched into the Mosholu branch library and walked out with a copy of Portnoy’s Complaint.

Like The Godfather, a movie version had been released the previous year. Of course, none of us had seen it.

It took another week for us to get our bearings on the novel. The highlights had made Philip Roth famous, but we weren’t sure where they were in the text.

I was next after Gina to look through it, and my first impression was: This is surprisingly a slog to go through. The most extreme bits were front-loaded near the beginning. I found other notable events later, but it had many very long paragraphs that made walls of text on most of the pages.

It was a satire with Alexander Portnoy, the same age as Roth, looking back at his life while having interminable psychoanalytic sessions with another character, one Doctor Spielvogel. That analyst developed a theory of a disorder he called “Portnoy’s Complaint.”

The practitioner defined it as:

“Acts of exhibitionism, voyeurism, fetishism, auto-eroticism and oral coitus are plentiful; as a consequence of the patient's morality, however, neither fantasy nor act issues in genuine sexual gratification, but rather in overriding feelings of shame and the dread of retribution, particularly in the form of castration.”

Man, did he ever get that right.

******   

When we were ready, we gathered in the basement late one afternoon to discuss what we thought. Gina looked around for volunteers, and she asked Jenny, “So Ms. Weinstein, why don’t you start?”

“I think this guy is the biggest kvetch in the world.”

We laughed at that. Gina said, “Well, the word complaint is right in the title. Also, I like how you used kvetch in your description.” Like many New Yorkers, she knew a considerable number of Yiddish terms.

Gina asked her, “So is there any truth about American Jewish life in there?”

Jenny was obviously not happy with the portrayal. “I have no idea where to start with that.”

“And Ms. Mangano, what is your take on it?”

I think I surprised them. “It’s like a treatise on New Jersey geography in many places.”

“Roth did grow up in the same Newark neighborhood that Portnoy did.”

“Okay, so where is the Cheesequake Highway?”

“Down towards the shore, I guess. Don’t ask me what Cheesequake refers to. Anyway, how about the big theme, you know. . .” She mock whispered, “The masturbation.”

The book may have impacted Jenny the most. “I know it’s a satire – maybe not a very good one – but I had a few problems with that.”

Gina said, “You have the floor.”

“He first spends pages griping about his parents. Then, all of sudden, there’s a subhead ‘whacking off’ – and wow, he’s doing it all the time. Three times a day is not enough, he says; he seems to lose track of how often he’s doing it.”

Gina said, “I think that cored apple and the piece of liver alone were enough to launch Roth’s career. And then when he’s wearing his sister’s panties on this head, he manages to hit the light on the ceiling, which is an impressive feat.”

I had a criticism, and as soon as I started it I knew I was being judgmental. “He never imagines himself with a real person, even a celebrity. His sexuality is just him and his spurting dick.”

Gina was a bit tongue-in-cheek, but she called me out. “Chloe, dear, I know you’ve done it at least three times in a day. I’ve seen it myself. Are you saying there is a morally proper way to wank, and he’s got it all wrong?”

I think I blushed, and I was upset with her. “I know you’ve done it that often too.” We weren’t entirely comfortable talking out our own fantasies yet.

“Take it easy, I’m just saying that maybe we should have some empathy for this Alex person. Like you’ve had some torrid affairs with cucumbers, and your couch arm technique is quite creative.”

Jenny said, “Well, there is a difference between male and female, ah, you know.” She seemed to be emotionally regressing a bit. “Can we talk about the book rather than our own experiences?”

Gina answered her. “I know I’ve said that we females can do it more often than males if we choose. It’s not like we have to, call it recharge.” She remembered something. “It seems physically impossible that he could go into the school restroom and beat off with ‘ten or fifteen savage strokes.’ ”

I said, “ ‘Savage’ is the same word used to describe Sonny’s thrusts too.”

“While Puzo is a bit older, he grew up right across the Hudson from Roth. They probably share some of the same attitudes, which comes across in their writing.”

We floundered around trying to remember notable scenes. One that I recalled was when Portnoy came into his baseball mitt at the Empire Burlesque House in Newark (it really existed at the time). An older man in the same row ejaculates into his hat, which Alex of course thinks is a bad idea.

Gina said, “Maybe we should wrap this up with Bubbles Girardi. It’s not enough that he has problems with Jewish girls, he’s got to insult Italian ones too.”

Bubbles, nee Rita, was eighteen years old and apparently a part-time prostitute. She agreed to give Alex a handjob at her house, and he couldn’t quite accomplish it. A few strokes of his own hand, however, are better than what any woman could do, and he came all over the place, including in his own eye. Bubbles was enraged by the mess he made and insulted him with various ethnic slurs.

Yep, that whole episode took fifteen pages or so. It could have been done in two or three.

Gina said, “Bubbles is where I stopped looking through the book. After that, I just didn’t care what happens in the rest of it.”

A couple of minutes later I try to sum up. “This thing isn’t erotic; it’s anti-erotic, no maybe non-erotic.”

Jenny, who was usually pretty easy-going, was still fuming. “Roth, or Alex, doesn’t like women at all.”

She even had a few notes she had jotted down. “At one point he tells – Doctor Spielvogel? – and I quote, ‘Still can't get over the fantastic idea that when you are looking at a girl, you are looking at somebody who is guaranteed to have on her – a cunt! They all have cunts! Right under their dresses! Cunts for fucking!’ ”

Gina said, “So what? He’s technically correct.” An idea struck her. “Jenny, you should find out when Roth is giving a book reading and a signing too. Go down there and talk to him.”

“And tell him what?”

“Something like, ‘Mister Roth, women masturbate too.’ ”

“First of all, he already knows that. Second, it would be very rude to do such a thing.”

“It would be funny anyway. Maybe I’ll do it. Except I’ll say I’m almost eighteen. He wouldn’t feel comfortable with my real age.” She winked at us. “I’ll also tell him I’m wearing see-through panties under my skirt, which will be true!”

It turned out that Gina never did go to such an event. Jenny, however, was the only one of us to read the book cover to cover. With a life like mine, who needs dreams?

******

In the weeks after Labor Day, some significant events happened with the Sisterhood. Nancy decided that she did want the others to know about our sexual relationship beyond circle jerks. Jenny and Gina were fine about that, and they understood that Nancy was their friend too but she was not going beyond that for the moment.

We were making up our own rules without any guidance and we were trying hard to accept each other’s wishes on such matters. Gina was just about to assign another book which Nancy would also read with us. Then she dropped a bombshell.

I was just coming off the #2 elevated train from school when Gina met me at the station. She seemed to be in some state that was both happy and anxious. “I’ve just got to talk to you. We need to find someplace to sit.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, this can’t wait. Let’s not use those benches down there because the noise of the trains will bother us every five minutes.”

“The factory foundation is very close to here. Let’s go over there.”

As soon as we sat down, Gina began talking. “Antoinette came up to me and Jenny in a hallway and started talking to us.”

“Who is Antoinette gain?”

“Antoinette Keller. One of the super-cool girls in our school.”

I remembered that Nancy had mentioned her on Labor Day weekend. “Okay, so what did she say?”

“The thing I didn’t expect was that she was very nice to us. She mentioned that she had seen Nancy talking to us and I, well, told her some of the truth – basically that she was developing a friendship, I mean with Jenny and me.”

I was trying to unpack the implications of that when she continued, “I mentioned you too, that you lived in the neighborhood but that you attended a private school downtown. She seemed impressed.”

I could see what was coming. “And you told her the bakery I work at.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind. She said she’d stop in there to meet you.”

I almost face-palmed myself. “Why do you have to tell all these chicks about me in the first place?”

Gina was trying to keep her thoughts in order. “You like Nancy, however. The thing is, I think Antoinette would like to hang out with us. Maybe not become a full member of the Sisterhood right away, but I told her we had gone on excursions together over the summer and we had a lot of fun doing that.”

“How do you define full membership?”

“You know, the sex, the drugs, the train flashing, what we’ve done with Richie – that kind of thing.”

I wasn’t very happy. “What, are you so obsessed with status that you feel compelled to engage this person?”

“You’re missing the point. She was very friendly and she seemed genuine.” She leaned forward to make a point. “If she comes into your store, be more discreet with her than you were with Nancy. Don’t invite her to the basement or even tell her about it. Maybe go with her for coffee or something.”

“This seems like quite a chore.”

“Don’t be so negative. At least see how it goes.”

*******

Two days later a girl walked into the bakery that I knew had to be Antoinette.  She smiled at me and said, “From what Gina told me, you must be Chloe Mangano.”

 “And from what I’ve heard, you must be Antoinette. Ah, pleased to meet you.”

 “Same here.”

I was instantly taken with her. She was a tall blonde, at least an inch taller than Jenny. Her clothes were modest, and she was fairly slender yet with some curves in the right places. I thought, Wow, she looks great in those blue jeans.

She had some light makeup on, and I examined her face. I’d say that she was beyond pretty, maybe even beautiful, the kind of girl guys would notice on the street. Her demeanor was relaxed, unaffected, as Gina had said about her. I felt a thump within myself. It wasn’t just guys who would notice her, I did too!

I forgot all about my bakery uniform and offered her a couple of free cannoli in a bag. Then I invited her to go to the diner with me later when my shift ended.

“Don’t you want to change first?”

“Oh no, I’m just fine like this.”

When I met her outside the diner an hour later, I more than liked her. I knew I was love-struck. This girl is gorgeous. Would she go with a little gnome like me? I sat opposite her at the table and tried to keep myself calm.

As Gina might have predicted she talked readily to me. First, we discussed a little about our experiences in schools. Then we got into some of the things we had done in the Sisterhood. She seemed particularly interested in The Godfather restaurant across the street and liked that we had gone in there for dinner earlier in the month. She heard the stories I had about watching the filming a couple of years earlier.

“Did you actually see Pacino?”

I hadn’t, but I told her about following Sterling Hayden when he came out and walked down to the river. Antoinette wasn’t sure who he was because, like us, she hadn’t seen the movie. I blurted out that we knew various older guys who could get us into R-rated movies.

She asked me, “I’d like to be invited along on some of these adventures too.” That was the word she used, “adventures.”

“Sure, Gina is always coming up with something.” Yeah baby, you can come along for anything. I regretted that it was a bit late in the season to go swimming, but I wondered what kind of bathing suit she had. Maybe that wasn’t important; I just wanted to see more of her.

I noticed her hands on the tabletop, and I imagined her touching my body on all the sensitive places. I then wanted her red mouth kissing my lips, then other spots . . .

It was a very heady experience for me. I had always been skeptical of the idea of “love at first sight,” and then it was suddenly happening to me. We had each other’s phone numbers by the time we parted outside. Please, sweetie, kiss me and hug me goodbye. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, life usually didn’t work like that, but I could picture it very vividly.

***** 

That night I fantasized about Antoinette. As I’ve said before, people would be surprised at the intense lust women feel. Unlike Portnoy, I usually had specific people in mind. Does she have blonde pubic hair under those tight blue jeans?

Like I had done with Nancy, I wanted to sixty-nine her with me on top, of course. Oh, Antoinette, I love the feel of your smooth, lithe body pressed against mine. Put your lipsticked mouth on my clitoris and make me come!

After I was done pleasuring myself, I lay there and felt guilty about the other three girls I was involved with. Unlike males, I didn’t put out sticky semen, but I had squirted a few times when it really was intense. Chloe, where are your appetites going to end?

It was a Friday, and I decided to ask Gina to go to Mass with me that Sunday. She would almost always accompany me if I requested it. Then, afterwards there were some very specific and personal topics I wanted to talk to her about.

Gina had been my guide for months at that point, and I felt I could tell her anything in confidence.  

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