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The only person he saw inside the building was downstairs. They didn’t even give him a second look. He went up to the third floor, to 317 and tried ...he door. The lock on the knob was secure, but he could feel that the deadbolt was not. He rang the bell. After a second, he rang again. ?I’m coming,? someone yelled, not close enough. He waited a minute, to give her a chance to get closer to the door, and then rang again. ?Damn it, I’m coming,? she said, now practically on the other side of the. He would talk about something that had struck him in class, and I would listen, enraptured and moony. I couldn’t stop looking at him.Naive little me had certainly heard of men called queers, but I didn’t know that yearning for a man -- not sex, I wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing his penis, and I had only the vaguest notion of what queers did with each other -- but wanting to be with him all the time, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to watch him when he wasn’t looking; in the 1950s I had no. More

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