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第6部分（第3页）

her　urgently；　pressing　his　lips　against　her　neck。

Serena　blushed　again。　How　could　she　forget？　It　had　been　their　third　time。　When　they　were　both

still　counting。

？Let？s　do　the　same　thing　again；？　Nate　practically　shouted。　？Pretend　all　these　white　dresses　are

the　bubbles！？

Whoa。　Who　ever　said　boys　lack　imagination？

？Yes！？

？Oh；　yes！？

？Found　something　you　like；　dear？？　Joan；　ever　the　helpful　Bergdorf　sales　matron；　poked　her　gray

head　through　the　opening　in　the　thick　velvet　curtain。　She　stared　at　the　confusion　of　tanned；

writhing　limbs　and　white　satin　on　the　floor　of　the　dressing　room　and　then　quickly　withdrew；

popping　a　few　blood　pressure　pills　before　attending　to　a　new　shipment　of　Missoni　sweaters。　That

sort　of　vulgar　behavior　was　pletely　unladylike　and　therefore　pletely　un…Bergdorf？s；　but

there　wasn？t　much　she　could　do。　Serena　van　der　Woodsen　had　opened　a　Bergdorf？s　charge

account　when　she　was　seven　and　had　been　a　loyal　customer　ever　since。　And　of　course　it　was　nice

to　see　that　she　was　so　fortable　in　the　store。

Nate　began　to　cry　as　soon　as　it　was　over。　The　Viagra　had　worn　off　just　in　time。　？I　just　can？t

believe　you？re　going　to　be　wearing　one　of　these；？　he　murmured；　extracting　the　skirt　to　one　of　the

suits　from　underneath　his　bare　ass。

？Well；　I　haven？t　even　tried　it　on　yet。？　Serena　let　her　head　fall　back；　closing　her　enormous　dark

blue　eyes　as　Nate　pressed　his　soggy　cheek　into　her　hair。　It　was　sweet　and　sort　of　feminine　of　him

to　cry　after　they？d　done　it；　and　she　suddenly　realized　she　was　the　stronger；　more　？masculine？　one

in　their　relationship。　At　least　they？d　finally　done　it。　Now　they　were　more　authentically　a　couple。

That？s　some　couple。

？I　already　have　this　yellow　Tocca　dress　I　really　like；　anyway。　Maybe　I　could　bleach　it　or

something；？　she　continued　distractedly。

Then　Nate？s　mind　began　to　wander；　too；　to　his　final　history　term　paper。

Talk　about　multitasking！

He　was　writing　about　the　origins　of　lacrosse；　but　would　his　history　teacher；　Mr。　Knoeder；　aka　Mr。

No　Dick；　think　it　was　un…PC　or　whatever　to　write　about　an　old　Native　American　sport　without

really　dealing　with　the　politics　of　how　the　Indians　had　been　treated　in　colonial　times　and　all　that？

After　all；　Nate　was　going　to　Yale　next　year　toplay　lacrosse；　not　to　bee　some　kind　of

lacrossehistorian。

Obviously。

He　propped　himself　up　on　one　elbow　and　tugged　a　tissue　out　of　his　navy　blue　canvas　Jack　Spade

book　bag。　He？d　grown　accustomed　to　carrying　tissues。

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