Jen was walking funny as she lugged her bag toward the dorm’s back door. As it closed behind her, I wondered if I’d ever know if she landed Jake, or just nailed him. That’s what Facebook is for, idiot.
But now it was back to the grindstone. I barely made it to the psych lab by 8:45 and found Anna, my grad student boss, already there. “We should go over the script, since you’ve been otherwise engaged lately.” How could she know about Jen?
“Why don’t you do the first one, I’ll watch you closely. Then you watch me and tap on the window if I get something really wrong.”
While she did her interview, I mused on what she meant by “otherwise engaged” and decided it was the time I’d spent in the hospital, recovering from the slashing I’d gotten from the Lone Ranger mask, not my fuck-fest with Jen.
Anna’s interview was pitch-perfect: even-toned, absolutely on script, and 45 minutes long. Mine started out a little shaky but by the end I was completely in the groove. The pang of seeing Jen walk away dissipated, and by the end of the day I was stoked about dinner with Margery. Jen may be gone and Martha would be by Wednesday, but Margery was my constant.
It was nearly Thanksgiving of my sophomore year when I saw Pete’s ad for an off-campus roommate. Moving in with him was my salvation — within four months he got me into this club which met weekly to select who among them they would sleep with in the coming week. It compressed the three-step dating process into one — first date, fuck.
My first date was with Margery, who made everything perfect, and we became good friends. With both of us on campus for summer research jobs, we had a standing Monday night date.
She was waiting on a bench outside, all smiles. “Good weekend?” I perked, and we began walking toward a restaurant we liked.
“Great weekend,” she perked back. “By Friday I’d nailed down every little niggle Carlucci had about both her articles, so she treated Tom and me to dinner. Today I started working on her book about the South Dakota photographer, which is really interesting.”
“How is Tom doing?” Margery and Tom hadn’t known each other when I recruited them to a picnic I’d been asked to enlarge. I figured they’d meet someone there. They disappeared for two hours and re-appeared sporting big grins, surprising me.
“He’s crazy busy. In fact, that’s something I need to talk to you about,” and suddenly she was all verbal thumbs.
“Tom and, uh, I, uh, we’ve, uh, been, uh, sorta hanging out together, ever since you dropped us off.” After the picnic I’d driven Margery to her dorm and they both got out. A couple of days later Tom asked me if I’d mind him dating Margery.
“He’s asked me to go steady.”
“You mean exclusive?” The e-word had consequences for club members. Since we were expected to have at least one date per week with a member, going exclusive with someone meant you both had to leave the club, never to return, even if it didn’t work out.
“Well,” she fumbled, “it’s only for the summer. And he’s not a member.” She blushed. “But yes, exclusive.
“Oh Carl, I’ve never been exclusive with anyone! It’s so nice. I wake up every morning with him. I don’t have to remember where I am or who’s next to me. He goes to work, I go to the library. I’ve even moved some things into his place.”
“Damn!” I mock-grumped. “I am so pissed at losing you to an AV nerd!” I was keeping it light.
Margery giggled. “That ‘AV nerd’ made you the man you are today.” It was true. I’d been pointed to Tom for help in getting rid of an obtrusive video setup in the psych lab, but I was the one who got credit for making the huge technical improvement. We became friends and even talked about how we might troll for women together. Guess not, eh, hotshot?
“Do you think that you’ll continue with the club? There’re going to be a lot of vacancies to fill. The picnic at Ruth’s was a good start, but with Pete dropping out” — he’d met this girl over Spring break and she was transferring here so they could live together — “we’re gonna need experienced people to keep things going.”
“Ruth has this network of people who scout out new recruits. Same thing with Amanda in the library. I know she’s got three or four on the string. And Ruth has a couple of other scouts like her.
“Besides, Tom and I may not last. I think he wants to settle down, get married even, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
By now we’d reached Literratica, where Lisa, the only other club member still on campus, waited tables. Lit was a coffeehouse, like Starbucks but with real food, a real bar, and live entertainment.
“I heard your musician buddy got raves last Friday,” Lisa said when she brought our food. I’d met Martha, a summer mandolin student, and took her to dinner at Lit. She and Lisa had hit it off and the upshot was a Saturday-night fill-in gig at Lit for her class. The positive word-of-mouth led to them playing a lunchtime gig at the student union canlı bahis last Friday. It was her class’s picnic that I’d taken Margery and Tom to.
“She’s decided to drop out of school and take a flyer at being a professional musician. After the show she took off to some county fair where a group she knows was playing.” Martha and I were scheduled for a farewell dinner tomorrow.
“Another Literratica successful launch. We’re good,” Lisa grinned, then headed for her next table.
Margery and I had a routine. We’d banter, catch up on our week, toss around double-entendres, eat, and play footsie, warming up for later. Now we ate and caught up, me about how my wounds were healing, she in more depth about her research.
Afterwards we walked to her dorm. “I’m sorry Carl. Your week’s not starting off well, is it?”
“Lisa’s got the right attitude. Lit launches artistic careers, you launched me. I’ll miss you but I’ll be okay.”
“What about Carrie? And Lisa, for that matter?”
Margery had recruited Carrie to the club, but too late in the spring for her to join. Like the members of the club, Carrie wanted a sex life but had no time for the vagaries of dating. She had to support herself, which meant taking as much work as she could tending bar at SOL, a juice joint and competitive music venue to Lit, and managing SOL’s string of open-air summer food concessions around campus. Outside of work and class she played softball, since she’d been a varsity walk-on. Carrie, with Margery’s help, had selected me to take her virginity.
Lisa was even more driven than Carrie. She too was self-supporting, and like Carrie worked nights, in her case waitressing at Lit. Outside of work and class, she wrote. I’d confided an incident about my social zero-ness and she’d turned it into a short story that The New Yorker bought, which for an unknown college student was a really big deal. Too tired from being on her feet all night to sleep with anyone, hers were daytime dates. We’d once done a noontime picnic in an obscure public park and fucked in a shady grove of trees.
“We’ll see each other, but our schedules don’t mesh very well.”.
Man, talk about a dry spell. Jen’s gone. Martha’s gone as of Wednesday. And now Margery. Well, sorta. She’ll still be around, but she’ll be in Tom’s bed, not yours. Hey man, there are 3,500 girls on campus right now and twice that many when fall semester starts.
Back in the apartment, I started sorting, editing, and filing the photos I’d taken recently, but my heart wasn’t in it. Facebook wasn’t much better, and pretty soon I’d read everyone’s news, posted some comments, and added two to my own page. I cleaned the bathroom, vacuumed the living room and my bedroom, washed and put away the dishes, and changed the sheets. It was only 9:30. Laundry. You could meet a girl at the laundromat. You and Jen used every bottom sheet you’ve got, so you have to do this anyway.
No such luck, but the errand ate up an hour and a half. Back in the apartment, I sank into bed and tried to masturbate, but couldn’t conjure a face.
“You really think you could stand playing county fairs for a career?” It was a rhetorical question, since Martha was stoked about her weekend. She’d gone to this county fair with her teacher, Charlie Waddington, to see some of his friends perform.
The restaurant was the classiest on campus, at the top of the tallest dorm. It was pricy but I wanted good memories of our last night together.
“We got there just as they started their Friday night set. Oh man, was it hot! The sound system was crap, there was probably more noise coming from the audience than was getting to them, and the ferris wheel kept playing the same damn tune.
“But these guys made great music! And they invited Charlie and me up on stage to play with them! We did ‘Tennessee Flat-top Box’ and the crowd loved it! They said if we wanted, they would work us into the Saturday and Sunday shows instead of calling us out of the audience. It was great!”
“Did you see anything of the fair?”
“No, but who cares? You’re there to work. After the show we hung out and had a couple of beers. Two of them are in AA and I’m being careful ever since the time you got me drunk.” She grinned raffishly at the memory. “They probably saw me as just Charlie’s latest conquest, but they were complimentary about my playing and singing. When Charlie told them he was taking me to Nashville to see about my getting started there, they promised to call their agents and other people about helping me out.
“When we pulled into the motel, Charlie got shy about telling me that he’d only reserved one room — ‘but there are 2 beds.’
“Look,” I said, “in Nashville you’re gonna do for me what no one else can. I hope it works out, but that’ll be my problem. Right now I’m with a really attractive bluegrass mandolin player. So let’s stop dancing and get goin’.
“I’d figured to undress him first, then see what he bahis siteleri could do. When we got to the room, we tossed our bags on one of the beds. I pulled his shoes and socks off and ran my palm up the front of his pants. He groaned ‘Oh darlin’ and pulled me tight and I humped him. When we broke off, he held my shoulders at arms’ length. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
“I know, but I want to. C’mon,” and I pulled his zipper down.
“We got each other naked. I know I’m okay to look at” — she leered at me and I leered back — “and he looks his age, which is 51. Bit of a belly, tits that droop, balls hang low. But his cock was up for it and so was I.
“Bed, c’mon,” and I pulled down the sheet, flopped onto my back, and spread my legs. “Eat me,” I said.
“And he did. Pretty good too. Took his time, got me going. I orgasmed as much from the excitement as from his technique, but it was legitimate. When I got sensible he was between my legs, looking pretty randy. So was I. ‘I want you,’ I said, and he pointed his cock and slid it in.
“He had a condom on, which was nice since I was too excited to remember. We were smooth from the beginning and I hooked my legs around his ass and we worked up a head of steam. He had just started to cum when I got my orgasm. We made a lot of noise — you taught me that,” she leered again — “and when he rolled off I was happy.”
I was flashing the restaurant scene from “When Harry Met Sally” and my cock was pushing the tablecloth away. “Too much information,” I gasped, holding my hands in front of my face and crossing the index fingers.
“Oh Carl,” she giggled, “it’s not like you and I haven’t . . . Anyway, I’ve told you you’re the one person in this world that I will ever feel free enough to talk intimately to.” She had taken my hand and was looking into my eyes.
“Your cheek okay?” She was smooth, changing the subject like that.
“Yeah. I’m wondering whether to have plastic surgery or leave the scar so I can tell girls I got it in a fight over a woman.” I had my doubts that I could say this with a straight face.
“Well, it wasn’t a duel, and you didn’t know it at the time” — she stroked the back of my hand — “but you came by it honestly.
“Look, we love it — at least us romantic ones do. ‘He got that scar by standing up for a girl? That’s manly. Not like the dorks I know’ will go through their heads. If you do the ‘ah shucks’ thing, you’ll have ’em knocking down your door.”
“What about the ear?” I was pulling on her fingers one at a time.
“Leave it for them to discover. It’s a real notch, right, not just a scar? So she’ll be licking your ear and think ‘did he get this in the fight too?’ Your answer is something like ‘Yeah, I wasn’t smart enough to get out of the way.’ With a winning smile, of course.”
Her toes were working their way up my pants leg, so we decided to skip dessert. We held hands walking to my apartment.
“My stuff’s all packed and I’ll change into my travelling clothes when we pick it up. Then you can drop me at the bus station and go to work.”
I’d just locked the door when she jumped me. “God I want you three times tonight! That’s the trouble with old guys,” and she shoved her hand down my pants.
“You’ve come to the right place,” I gasped as she squeezed me.
We staggered to the bedroom and everything was off in record time. I landed on top of her and started sucking her nipples and rubbing my erection against her pussy. “Get it inside, now, please, we’ll play around later.” I leaned back, slotted myself, and sank in. We had an understanding and didn’t use condoms.
“Yesssssss, oh god, that feels so good, so goooood, c’mon fuck me, long deep strokes.”
I started slow, but soon I was pounding her. She banged against me on every stroke and dug her nails into my back. She hissed her orgasm but I couldn’t cum. She tried to close her legs but I levered them open. When she tried to push me away I shoved my arms inside her elbows and spread them. I just kept pounding her.
She surprised me on the in stroke and heaved me off, then jumped on top and got me back in. I must have looked like I wanted to kill her, but I still wasn’t close to cumming.
After a couple of strokes she pulled off, grabbed my cock, and started jacking me. I still wasn’t cumming.
Then she shoved her finger up my ass! I screamed! Now I was cumming, throwing my hips toward the ceiling. She jacked me until I was dry.
The pain drifted away and I just lay there, sucking wind. Something had happened that I didn’t like and certainly didn’t understand.
“What did you do?” I wimpered when my head cleared.
“I punched your prostate.”
“That hurt,” I whined.
“You were scary. The look on your face frightened me. I was afraid something bad was gonna happen if I didn’t make you cum. I’m sorry if it hurt, but that had to stop.”
There wasn’t anything I could say. Maybe if I laid still and didn’t say anything, bahis şirketleri the whole thing might go away. Especially the shame.
It seemed much longer than the few minutes it probably was before Martha said softly, “you want to talk about it?” If she can unload the details of her weekend, so can you.
“After the concert, when you and Charlie took off, it hit me. I was alone. For the whole weekend. I don’t remember what I did the rest of the afternoon, but eventually I decided I’d go get a steak for dinner. I was walking to the food court when someone called my name. It was the girl from the robbery, with her summer-class group.
“She introduced me as a hero and I told them that she was a lion tamer with the chair. They invited me to have dinner with them, so I stayed. I couldn’t get interested in talking to her, but one of them turned out to be unusual.
“We talked for a long time and eventually came here. It got really late and her trip leader phoned her, drunk, to find out where she was. She got scared and asked if she could stay. I set her up on the couch. When I woke up she was asleep next to me, on top of the sheet. Gotten scared again, she said.
“She’d told me about how she was a virgin and in love with this guy-next-door back home, but he had no clue. All of a sudden she came on to me. I made her leave, told her if she really wanted to, she could come back, but she had to spend the weekend.
“I took her to her dorm before work on Monday. She left for California this morning.”
“Then last night Margery — you remember, from the picnic?” Martha nodded — “she told me she was going to move in with Tom — the guy I brought to the picnic?” — again she nodded — “and not pal around with me any more.
“So I was dying to see you, but in 10 hours you’ll be gone too.”
She wiped her cum-laden hand on my belly fur and we laid there, lost in our own thoughts. Finally she turned, kissed me, and we locked eyes,
“If I thought it was sex you were talking about, I’d slap you silly. But we both know better.” She smoothed the hair that had stuck to my forehead.
“I know about feeling lonely and unloved. What you are feeling isn’t that. What you’re feeling is loss, not of someone to sleep with, but not having someone to help. Am I right?”
“No, no, that’s ridiculous! Margery’s completely self-sufficient. Jen may be just a freshman, but she’s already a published scholar. And look at you. We both know you’re going to be a success.”
“You don’t see it, do you Carl? Or maybe you don’t want to admit it.” She stroked my chest. “You are not only a romantic, you’re the most caring guy I’ve ever met.
“You didn’t just sleep with that freshman, did you? I bet you spent hours scheming with her, to figure out how she could get the guy.
“And you and your club. You’ve helped Margery get past her loneliness, to the point where she can form an attachment. That’s a big deal.” This is getting deep and it’s going the wrong way.
“What about you?”
“I came here for two reasons. Number one, to get away from Michael. Number two, to improve my musical skills. Turns out I also got to expand my sexual horizons. You wheedled me into bed and helped me learn I had value beyond Michael-and-Martha.
“You were so patient. You taught me how to let my emotions out and how to give a blowjob.” She batted her eyes.
“You’ve been my rock in developing the courage to try becoming a professional musician. Charlie’s the means to that end, but I doubt if I’d have gone through with it without your support.”
“What you’re describing isn’t me. ‘Me’ is a horny late adolescent who’s in over his head with people who are much more focused.”
“Right about horny,” she said, gently squeezing my cock. “But you’re missing something.”
“You see caring as a weakness. But people who have your kind of impact on others are rare and beautiful.
“Look at how you’ve affected Margery, the freshman, and me. You’ve known me for what, five weeks? The freshman, you met her last Friday, right? And Margery, it’s been four, five months? I bet if we drilled down we’d find others.
“Teachers help people. Mother Theresa helped people. And you’re cut from of the same cloth. You’ve got a gift, I don’t know what it’s called, maybe empathy. You need to find your niche, and when you do, you will be the most satisfied of men.” She stroked my cheek and ran her fingers through my hair.
“I can’t see how,” I said, choking up. She pulled my face to her chest. “I’ve gotta get there from here.” I was speaking from between her breasts.. “Right now I’m 10 hours away from your leaving, and that hurts.”
“There’ll always be this feeling when they fly away. But the world has an endless supply of people who need you. I’ll always remember you and what you did for me. And I’ll bet the others will too.”
I lifted my head up, my vision blurry. “Do you really think so? I don’t know how to do this. I’m so scared I’ll make a mess of it, hurt someone.”
“Somewhere in this vast university there is someone who can help you learn what to do. You just have to find them.”
She hugged me and stroked my cheek. I fell asleep.