Golden delicious. Red delicious. Oh my goodness, the list goes on and on when it comes to apples. My personal favorite is Granny Smith. The sweet and tart flavors mingling together all at once can awaken even the dullest of tastebuds. The hard, crispy texture always remind me of eating candy for some reason. However, the sweet crispy taste of apples remind me of a day when time stood still, life was an adventure, fun was a luxury I cherished, and the word 'seduction' became a part of my sixteen year old vocabulary.

I was in the tenth grade. The year was 1988. My english teacher came up with the brilliant idea of taking a field trip to a farm called Apple Ridge. I'd never been to a farm, so the thought of all those animals, trees, and woods that lead to nowhere frightened me at first. But, it was an entire day of skipping schoolwork, so I made sure I had my mom sign the permission slip.

At 9am the bus pulled away from the parking lot of Central High School, I was seated near the back of the bus with a few silly, giggling friends of mine. This young man I had noticed in school many times caught my eye all of sudden. His name was James, but all of his friends called him, Squirt. I wasn't sure why they called him Squirt. He wasn't short. He didn't have a petite build. And being the observant type of sister I worked hard to be on a daily basis, I noticed the bulge behind his tight, bleached blue jeans with holes at the knees of the pants, (That's how we dressed back then, you know!), I knew that couldn't be the reason for the name Squirt.

He kept winking his right eye at me during the entire two hour drive to Apple Ridge. I must admit my sixteen year old hormones were going into overdrive every damn time he set those hazel brown eyes on my body. I wasn't stupid, you know! I knew he wasn't looking at my face or wondering about my intellect. After the wink, his eyes would detour to the curves of my breasts, which were quite ample for my young age. I couldn't help but feel flattered and somewhat curious as to what was on his mind. Although I knew what was on his mind, I still wanted to know up close and personal.

We arrived at Apple Ridge around 11:30am. Surprisingly so, it was a fun- filled afternoon. This man named Bill Parker owned the farm and made us feel very welcome and had an entire day of adventure planned for us. Needless to say, we were excited about being there. Not too many black kids living in the projects get a chance to go to a farm and live the country life for at least a day. I had only one request. I didn't want to milk a cow.

Everybody laughed at me when I tried to pet the huge brown horse standing behind a fence and he shook his head as if to say, "Leave me alone, girl!" I damn-near jumped out of my skin when he moved at the precise moment when I was going to touch him.

There was a pond on Mr. Parker's farm and I enjoyed feeding the ducks. That's where I spent most of time, until Mr. Parker had all of us join in on group activities that allowed us to explore the farm; we learned how to milk cows, chop wood for the fireplace, how to take care of the horses, etc. And then my favorite part of the activities came when Mr. Parker announced that we would pick fresh apples and he would make cider out them for us to drink while we ate some of the best barbecue I'd ever tasted during my sixteen years of life.

The entire process of juicing apples was similiar to squeezing fresh juice from oranges and other citrus fruits for breakfast drinks. That's not a very impressive sight nowadays, but when I was sixteen years old, I was in awe as I watched the fresh juice flow from the apples as he pressed on them with what looked liked a wooden board with a handle attached to it. The juice flowed to a pitcher that sat underneath an opening on Mr. Parker's juicer. I can't remember what he said the name of it was, but I know I was impressed.

After the all of those activities, I was surprised that we had any energy to do anything else. Mr. Parker and our english teacher announced that we had two more hours to walk around and explore the many acres of land that Mr. Parker proudly owned. We were given a free pass. Anything we wanted to do for the entire two hours. Obliviously, we ran around for awhile laughing, talking, joking, and even more exploring like we had no hometraining.

Squirt called to me from a wooded area away from all our friends, "Pssst, Tasha...come here, girl." I tried to be low-key, but one of my nosy friends, Nikki, let me know that Squirt was calling me. "I know that, Nikki. I'm not deaf. Mind yo' business, please!" Nikki rolled her eyes like a grown woman ignoring a man in a nightclub and said, "Well, excuse me, Tasha. You know you like Squirt." She laughed and ran over to the other area where most of our friends were standing around talking and stuff.

I walked over to Squirt, he held out his hand for me, and his touch sent a sensuous electrical feeling through my body. As we walked deeper into the woods, I wondered if he knew I was a virgin and had absolutely no idea how to make love except for what I had read in magazines and books. Every once in awhile when we walked, he would turn towards me and wink at me again. Damn! At that very moment, everything I had read and heard about sex, I wanted to experience first-hand with Squirt.

It was obvious that Squirt had few words to speak, but his hands did all the smooth, melodic talking for him. He had a couple of blankets laid on the ground near an enormous tree. We sat down and he started to kiss my hand working his way up my arm then to the side of my neck. While he kissed me there, he fondled my breasts and my inner thighs. While holding me with one arm his other hand ventured to the sensitive, moist place between my legs. Thank goodness, I decided to wear a mini-skirt that day!!

At first, I felt much pain as he entered my body, but after a few short moments the pain turned into a feeling of pleasure and ecstacy that rendered me speechless.

When it was over we laid there in each other's arm until we heard Mr. Parker and our english teacher yell, "It's time to go everybody! Back on the bus! The bus leaves in 10 minutes!!" Squirt and I hurriedly put our clothes back on and folded the blankets in neat large squares and racing each other back to the bus.

Surprisingly, no one asked us where we had been or what we were doing. During the ride home, I savored the taste of the fresh apple cider and the warmth of love making in the woods at Apple Ridge, while Squirt and I fell asleep in each other's arms.