“You don’t have any body hair at all,” he told me. “Should I?” I asked. “Most people over eleven or twelve do.” I thought about that. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “I don’t know enough about myself to say what my age might be or even whether I’m human. But I’m old enough to have sex with you if you want to.” He choked on his sandwich and spent time coughing and taking swallows of beer. “I think you’re supposed to,” I continued, then frowned. “No, that’s not right. I mean, I think you’re supposed to be free to, if you want to.”
I think this scene wouldn't get written today.
