In late August of 1981, our four-car caravan arrived in Knoxville and I followed my parents’ station wagon as we turned onto the University of Tennessee campus. Around us, traffic slowed to a crawl. I’d seen the campus on football game days, but it seemed even more crowded now—crowded with new students, their possessions, and their families, as well as purposeful-looking older students.
Beside me, my soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old sister, Erin, pulled the rubber band from her blonde hair and glanced at me as she let down her ponytail. I grinned as she turned to watch the stream of people moving along the sidewalks. I guess there were a lot of cute guys for her to look at. I certainly had my fill of cute girls to look at.
Then I looked into my rearview mirror. Behind us, Gina and her sister Leah rode in Gina’s yellow convertible Bumble Bug. Her parents, Chris and Elizabeth, brought up the rear in their station wagon. I chuckled to myself when I realized that I’d been girl-watching. I had more than enough girl in Gina. In Gina and Kendall, I thought.
It had been two years since Gina, Kendall, and I had become lovers. During that time, our relationship had evolved. Gina’s family also lived in Atlanta, so I’d spent far more time with her. But I sometimes felt closer to Kendall. At nineteen, Kendall was only a year older than Gina and me, but she was two years ahead of us in school.
While both girls were smart, sexy, and very beautiful, they were also very different. Gina was adventurous and outgoing; Kendall was more studious and introverted. Kendall was the reflective one, while Gina tended to act before she thought things through. Both of them wanted to be medical doctors, but even in that regard, they were different. Gina wanted to be an OB/GYN, while Kendall wanted to be a psychiatrist.
And what about me?
In 1979, when I began my junior year in high school, I took an art class simply to fill a requirement. Not only had I been surprised to learn that I loved fine art, but I enjoyed drawing as well. For months, I drew things in my notebooks. And if I finished a test before the end of class, I’d often find myself sketching window frames, doorways, or building façades. I still couldn’t draw people very well, but I could look at a building and then sketch it—completely from memory—down to the last detail.
When Gina’s family decided to build a new house, in early 1980, my life gained some much-needed direction. I watched the architect breathe life into the house plans, combining simple elements to create an overall look, a design. In my mind’s eye, I didn’t see the plans—dark blue lines on paper—I saw the house. All through the spring and early summer, I watched their house come together exactly as I’d imagined it. At that point, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
I wanted to be an architect.
So I turned down a wrestling scholarship (to UNC Greensboro) and began looking at architecture schools. I applied to the University of Tennessee, Auburn, and my hometown school, Georgia Tech. I also applied to Virginia Tech and UCLA (even though I wanted to stay in the southeast; it was a compromise decision).
In the end, three things convinced me to go to UT. First, their College of Architecture had an excellent design program. Second, they were spending millions of dollars on their program and constructing an entirely new Art & Architecture building. And finally, Kendall was already a student at UT. She was probably the most important factor in my decision, since I could find a first-class design school and an A&A building virtually anywhere. I couldn’t find Kendall just anywhere.
My decision to go to UT had been the spark for my first real fight with Gina, since she wanted to go to UCLA. I didn’t want to break up with her, but I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to go to UT and be happy with me. She, of course, wanted me to go to UCLA and be happy with her.
We argued about it for weeks. In the end, she tearfully decided to go to UT. Then I made the mistake of trying to talk her out of it. I knew she was making the decision for the wrong reasons, but it was her decision to make. Finally, I let the matter drop, and her mood improved drastically. I knew she still wanted to go to UCLA, but she actually seemed happy about going to UT with Kendall and me.
So here we were. As the traffic moved, I shook off my reverie and returned my attention to the present. Then I glanced over at Erin.
While Gina and I were looking forward to seeing Kendall, Erin and Leah were eager to see Kendall’s brother, Drew. Over the past two years, he’d grown to look even more like his father. Where I’d stopped growing at 5’9”, Drew topped me by at least six inches. And while I weighed a solid 180 pounds, he probably tipped the scales at more than 230 pounds.
Surprisingly, Drew and I actually enjoyed each other’s company. He didn’t have Kendall’s keen intellect, but he did have her sense of people. And where Kendall was sometimes shy, Drew was outgoing and friendly. I guess that’s why he attracted girls like bees to honey. He certainly had Erin’s attention, her long-distance boyfriend notwithstanding.
“When are Drew and Kendall going to get here?” Erin asked, as if reading my mind.
“Their dad couldn’t get off work today. So they’re driving up from Chattanooga tomorrow.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“You’re really looking forward to seeing Drew, huh?” Despite her tanned complexion, I could tell that Erin was blushing. “What about Sean Sullivan?” I asked. “I thought he was your boyfriend.”
“Duh,” Erin said. “I’m not going to do anything with Drew. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see him.”
“That’s cool.”
“But just because I’m not going to do anything with him doesn’t mean I can’t… um… think about it,” she said, wiggling her fingers and grinning.
“You’re horrible,” I said to her, laughing.
“No, I’m just hot.” Then she fanned herself. “And I don’t mean that in a good way. Can we open the windows?”
“Yeah, sorry. Having the windows up on the interstate is nice, but…”
“Now, we’re roasting,” she finished.
With that, we unzipped the Jeep’s windows and rolled them down. It wasn’t much cooler, but at least we had some air movement.
“I wonder what’s taking so long,” she said.
“I dunno. I guess there are a lot of people moving into the dorms today.”
Down the street from the Presidential Complex, traffic came to a dead stop. The Complex held my dorm, North Carrick Hall, Gina’s dorm, South Carrick Hall, another dorm for men, Reese Hall, and an identical dorm for women, Humes Hall. The middle of the Complex was a large concrete courtyard, with benches and a few scattered tables.
The Carrick dorms were really two towers of the same building, which sat on the west side of the courtyard. Reese Hall was on the north side, while Humes Hall faced it from the south. The east side of the courtyard held the Presidential Court, which was a fancy name for the dining hall.
The entire Presidential Complex was fairly new, and the suites each had air conditioning and private bathrooms. If I had gotten my housing forms in too late, I might’ve had to settle for living in Hess Hall, with no air conditioning and communal bathrooms.
Kendall would live in the comparative luxury of the Apartment Residence Hall. That was the official name, but everyone called it the Andy Holt Apartments (since it was on Andy Holt Avenue). The suites were actual apartments, with two bedrooms, one bath, and a kitchen. I hadn’t actually seen the apartments, but they looked spacious on the housing form diagrams. Unfortunately, they were for upperclassmen only.
Kendall and her roommate, Abby, had originally planned to live in Morrill Hall—an upperclassman dorm between the Presidential Complex and Andy Holt Apartments—but they’d gotten a break at the last minute. Two of Kendall’s friends needed roommates for their apartment, so Kendall and Abby had changed their housing requests.
When traffic moved again, I looked up at the Presidential buildings and thought about how I’d handle having Gina or Kendall over to visit. Since the dorms were intended for freshmen and sophomores, the visitation was mostly Option C. With C visitation, I could have a girl in my room any time between noon and midnight on Thursday and Sunday, and between noon and two in the morning on Friday and Saturday. (We had no visitation on Monday through Wednesday.)
Those hours didn’t sound all that generous until I started reading about A visitation, which offered no opposite-sex visitation. Both North and South Carrick had A-visitation floors, which everyone called the “Virgin Vault.” Fortunately, The Vault was by request only, so I wouldn’t accidentally be stuck on a floor where I couldn’t bring Gina or Kendall to my room.
By contrast, the Andy Holt Apartments had 24-hour visitation and very few restrictions. The floors were segregated by gender, but other than that, the staff didn’t really care who came and went. So I’d be able to visit Kendall whenever I wanted to.
When traffic still hadn’t moved much after ten minutes, my mom got out of the station wagon and walked back toward us.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on up there,” she said. “I’m sure it’s just the normal rush of students moving into dorms, but I’d still like to see for myself.”
Erin and I both nodded.
“I’m going to get Elizabeth and we’ll scout ahead. Okay?”
Once again, we nodded.
Then Mom walked back to Gina’s car. In the rearview mirror, I watched as she told Gina and Leah what she was doing. A minute later, she walked back to the Coulters’ station wagon. Elizabeth got out and the two women walked up the sidewalk toward the Presidential courtyard.
When they returned, about fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth went to Gina’s car and Mom came to the Jeep.
“Yep,” she said, “it’s just a crowd of students and their parents.”
“Okay.”
“The dorms have luggage carts we can use to haul your stuff upstairs, but you have to have a student ID to use one, and the waiting list is already pretty long.”
I nodded.
“Also,” she continued, “the driveway for both dorms is only a couple of cars wide and there’s not much parking, so that’s the biggest hold-up. You and Gina should probably park your cars somewhere and then walk back here. As soon as you can, use your IDs to get on the waiting list for a cart. Then we’ll just wait till it’s our turn,” she said.
“Okay.”
With that, she straightened, waved to Elizabeth, and then stepped back. I checked my mirror and saw that Gina was already taking advantage of a momentary lull in traffic. As she waited for me, I pulled out in front of her.
I figured that parking was going to be a problem, but as soon as we got past the cluster of residence halls, traffic thinned out. We drove for less than a minute and then parked in a large non-commuter garage at the end of Andy Holt Avenue.
“God,” Gina said as we got out of our cars, “I had no idea there’d be this many people here today.”
“Well,” I said, “I guess everybody decided to move in at once.”
“I guess.”
Even though summer in Knoxville was about as hot as Atlanta, I was glad to be out of the Jeep. My shirt was sweaty and stuck to my back, but at least there was a slight breeze.
As the four of us walked back toward the Presidential Complex, we mostly gawked at all the people and cars. We’d thought that getting to campus early on the first day of move-in would mean we wouldn’t have to wait long. Unfortunately, a lot of people evidently thought the same thing. By the time we got back to our families’ station wagons, they’d moved about twenty feet.
Gina and I merely waved and then headed up the hill toward the dorms themselves. Erin and Leah tagged along, excitedly talking about guys, different families, guys, anything that caught their interest, and guys. Gina and I merely grinned at each other.
Outwardly, I tried to project an air of calm, but inside, I was incredibly nervous. I really had no idea what we were supposed to do, but I didn’t want to appear uncertain (or ignorant) by asking someone. So I basically kept my mouth shut and followed the crowd.
Unfortunately, following the crowd left me ample time to think, which meant I had too much time, so I worried. What if they didn’t have my room ready? What if they’d lost my paperwork? Would I have to live in Hess Hall? What if they accidentally put me in the Virgin Vault? What if my roommate was some big, dirty redneck? What if he was a militant Rastafarian?
Militant Rastafarian?! What the…?!
I had to laugh at myself for that one. Treacherous imagination. Gina looked at me, her expression puzzled.
“It’d take too long to explain,” I said.
From the look on her face, she was just as nervous as I was. Tentatively, she reached for my hand. As we twined our fingers together, a feeling of calm washed over me. I was still anxious, uncertain, and a little lost, but at least I had Gina beside me.
When we reached Carrick Hall, it was a confused mass of people, cars, trucks, luggage carts, and too many other things to take in at once. People and their belongings were everywhere, in all shapes, sizes, and colors.
One family was unloading the trunk of a Mercedes, while the people behind them were taking things out of a beat-up old pickup truck. Some people were dressed nicely while others apparently wore whatever wasn’t too dirty that day. One family of six was dressed entirely in UT’s orange and white. Another family had a U-Haul trailer and a loaded station wagon, and I wondered where they thought they were going to put all that stuff. Yet another family had a…
“What’re we supposed to do?” Gina asked, breaking my train of thought.
“Let’s head inside and get our names on the waiting list for luggage carts,” I said as confidently as I could. “Have you got your ID with you?”
She nodded and patted her purse.
We’d gotten IDs when we came to Knoxville for Freshman Orientation. I pulled out my wallet, retrieved my card, and brandished it with a flourish. I was still nervous, but at least I had a purpose, if only for the moment.
“Is there a line?” Gina asked.
“I guess it’s inside,” I said, pointing toward the entrances to the dorms. “Let’s get on your dorm’s list first, then we’ll get on mine.”
“Um… okay.”
When she didn’t move, I looked a question at her.
Then she laughed nervously. “Um… which one is South Carrick?”
I laughed and pointed to the building closest to us, on our right. With Gina, Erin, and Leah in tow, I started making my way through the crowd.
Once we reached the lobby desk, a woman took Gina’s ID card, wrote her name on the list for luggage carts, and then returned the card. Gina was about to walk away when I stopped her with a gesture.
“How long is the wait?” I asked the harried woman at the desk.
“What’s this look like,” she asked, “a help desk?” When she saw my shocked expression, she gave us an apologetic look. “Sorry. I guess it’ll be about an hour.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
As we stepped away from the desk, a girl returned a cart. Instead of heading over to North Carrick, I stopped to watch what happened. The woman behind the desk returned the girl’s ID and then immediately glanced at the list. Almost before the girl turned away, the woman looked out at the dorm lobby.
“Sheldon!” she shouted. “Karen Sheldon!”
Across the lobby, a brunette and her mother stood up. When the brunette reached the desk, she handed over her ID. While she did, her mother held the cart and then they headed toward the exit.
“What’re we waiting for?” Gina asked.
“I wanted to see how that cart thing worked,” I explained, indicating the cart exchange with a toss of my chin.
“Oh. Okay.”
With that, Erin and Leah joined us and we threaded our way through the foot traffic in the breezeway. Heading into North Carrick, we got behind a guy with a heavily loaded luggage cart. At the threshold, the cart lurched and then abruptly halted. The guy shoved it, but it didn’t budge. He shoved again, but it was so heavily loaded that he couldn’t move it.
“You get the front,” I suggested to him when people started to bunch up behind us. “I’ll push from back here.”
The guy’s mother, who was smaller than Erin, smiled at me gratefully.
“Thanks, man,” the guy said. Then he backed the recalcitrant cart out of the doorway, skirted around it, and shoved his way through the other door. While he lifted the front wheels, I heaved from behind. We repeated the maneuver at the second set of doors and then entered the dim coolness of the lobby itself. “Thanks again, man,” he said once we were inside.
“No problem,” I said.
“Thank you very much,” his mother said softly.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Have a nice day.”
With that, they headed across the lobby to the elevators, only to join another line of people. Around us, utter chaos reigned. I counted three carts, loaded or empty, moving within the lobby. A lot of people had decided to forgo the carts and were simply ferrying things upstairs by hand.
“You know,” I said, “if our cars get to the front of the building before we get a luggage cart, I say we should just carry our stuff upstairs by hand. I mean, neither of us have too much.”
Gina nodded.
“And with all eight of us, it won’t take long to get things to our rooms.” Then I glanced around and spotted the guy with the luggage cart list.
“ID?” he asked when I stepped up to him.
I handed it over.
“Welcome to UT, Mr. Hughes,” he said as he wrote my name on his list.
“Um… thanks.”
When he handed my card back, he used his pen to point to the group of people manning the desk.
“One of the Resident Assistants can get you checked in and give you your move-in packet,” he said.
“You mean you’re not a Resident Assistant?” I asked.
“I’m the Hall Director,” he said. Then he held out his hand. “Wade Snow.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Snow.”
“Pleased to meet you, Paul,” he said. “Everyone around here just calls me Wade.”
“Oh, okay. Hey, how’d you know my name?” I asked.
He grinned and nodded toward the ID I still held.
“Oh. Duh!” Jeez, I haven’t been here five minutes, and I’m already making a fool of myself.
“That’s okay, Paul,” he said. “I was a little overwhelmed on my first day too.”
“Yeah. Lots of stuff to figure out.”
“Lots and lots,” he agreed. “One of the guys’ll take care of you,” he said, glancing to his left.
I turned and realized that people had formed a short line behind me while I was blithely chatting. “Thanks,” I said. Then, “About how long is the wait for a cart?”
“Probably an hour, maybe more,” he said. “But check back every fifteen minutes.” Then he pointed to a chalkboard. “I post the names of the next men on the list.” Three names were written on the chalkboard: McArthur, Fox, and Witter.
“Oh, cool.”
“Uh-huh. Have a nice day, Paul,” he said. “Enjoy your stay at North Carrick.”
As I nodded politely and stepped aside, he was already looking past me to the next person in line.
“He seems cool,” Gina said as we headed toward the closest available Resident Assistant.
“Yeah,” I agreed
Behind us, Erin and Leah took up station by one of the groups of couches. They seemed to be having fun just people-watching, so I turned my attention back to the desk.
“ID?” asked the RA. He was about my height, but softer. He wasn’t pudgy, exactly, but he looked sort of cherubic. “Welcome to North Carrick, Paul,” he said as he read my ID. Then he turned to a desk at the back wall. From a box marked “G-H-I,” he sifted through manila envelopes until he found the one marked “Hughes, Paul Dean.” He read the label and then smiled. “You’ll be on my floor,” he said. “I’m your RA, Cary. Cary Prescott.”
I held out my hand. “Paul Hughes. Oh, duh. You know that.” That’s twice! Jeez!
“Nice to meet you, Paul,” he said with a grin. Then he opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Okay,” he said, turning it so I could read it, “this is your Move-In form.” He pointed to a line on the form. “You’re in room 415D. Once you’re in the suite, that’s the room on the right, but there are signs on all the doors. Okay?”
I nodded.
“I don’t think your roommate has checked in yet,” he continued, “so you’ve got first choice of beds.” Then he pointed to the envelope. “Your dorm handbook, room key, and mailbox combination are in here, along with a copy of this form. Okay?”
Once again, I nodded.
“This is your mailing address,” he said, pointing to the form. “The post office is in the South Carrick lobby. Use your mailbox combination to open the box with ‘N’, for North, and your room number on it, so you’re N415D.” He looked up to make sure I understood.
“November four one five delta,” I said. “Roger.”
He gave me a funny look.
Inwardly, I cringed. Paul, you dork.
“I’ll stop by this week to do your room inspection,” he continued.
“Room inspection?”
“Yep,” he said, nodding. “Just to see what’s already damaged so we don’t charge you for it.”
“Damaged?” I asked.
“Well, not really damaged,” he explained. “More like nicks, scrapes, and scuffs. The rooms are clean and everything works, but they’re not brand-new.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“Anyway, I’ll post a list of inspection times on my door—my room is the first room to the left, once you get off the elevators. Okay?”
I nodded.
“We have a mandatory floor meeting on Friday at five o’clock, in the fourth floor lounge. I’ll post a notice on the floor’s bulletin board. Okay?”
“No problem,” I said.
“Great,” he finished with a smile. “Do you have any questions?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, then.” With that, he grabbed a pen and pointed to a line on the form. “Sign here,” he said. “This basically says that you’ve gotten your move-in packet.”
I signed.
“Here you go,” Cary said, taking the form and handing me the packet. “Welcome to North Carrick.”
“Thanks.” When I turned, I almost knocked Gina over. “Sorry,” I said.
“That’s okay,” she said. Then, “Do you think we should go get my move-in packet now?”
“Sure.”
With that, we rounded up Erin and Leah and headed back across the breezeway to South Carrick. I could tell that Gina was a little nervous, so I put my arm around her while we stood in line.
Compared to the relative efficiency of North Carrick, South Carrick was a madhouse. My dorm had seven or eight people working the front desk, but South Carrick had only three. And they all looked stressed. We ended up standing in line for almost fifteen minutes. Finally, Gina got her move-in packet (she was on the sixth floor, in 607A).
“Why don’t we head down to the street and see where our parents are,” I suggested.
Then the four of us wended our way through the crowd and walked to where our families’ station wagons should have been. It took us a moment to find them, though, since they’d moved farther than I’d expected. When we approached the cars, Mom and Elizabeth got out and met us. We quickly told them about checking in, and how long the wait for carts would be.
“Your dad thinks we’ll get to the front of the dorm in the next thirty minutes,” Mom said. “So the wait for a cart isn’t going to kill us.”
“Have you seen your rooms yet?” Elizabeth asked.
Gina and I shook our heads.
“You should go see what they look like.”
Tentatively, Gina nodded.
“Leah,” Elizabeth said as we turned to go, “why don’t you and Erin stay here with us.”
“But Mom,” Leah protested.
Instead of complaining, Erin took one look at Mom—who nodded discreetly—and agreed.
“You can see their rooms when we move their stuff in,” Elizabeth said. Then she turned to Gina and me. “We’ll see you when you get back.”
As we walked up the sidewalk, Gina reached for my hand. I clasped it and then smiled at her.
We decided to see her room first. When we got on the elevator—after ten minutes of waiting—we huddled together in the back corner, packed between a luggage cart and several people carrying armloads of stuff. I wrapped my arms around Gina and pulled her against my chest. When she turned her head and smiled gratefully, I kissed her temple.
The people with the cart got off on the second floor, and then the other group got off on the fifth floor. On the sixth floor, we got off and went looking for Gina’s room. It was close to the elevator, so we found it quickly. With a deep breath, I opened the door.
Each suite held an entryway that spanned the width of the two rooms. Instead of being rectangular, the foyer was deeper in the middle, so each of the room doors was set at an angle. A black phone with a long, long cord hung on the wall to our left. The shower was also to our left, while a door enclosed a long, narrow toilet room to our right.
Both room doors had hand-made signs on them (with flowers and butterflies). The sign on the left read “A – Gina Nicole Coulter / B – Faith Catherine Bennett.”
“Do you know your suitemates’ names?” I asked. When she shook her head, we wandered over to the other doorway.
The sign on the right read “C – Naomi Michelle Ackerman / D – Iris Eliza Weinberg.”
“I wonder what they’re like?” Gina said.
“Probably just like you… nervous,” I said with a grin.
“You’re nervous too,” she accused.
“Yeah. I guess I am. But we’ll survive. Now c’mon, let’s see what your room’s like.”
We walked back to the left door and Gina opened it with her key. From the doorway, we surveyed the room. It was about ten feet wide and fourteen or fifteen feet deep. The right wall held metal sliding-door closets at each end and a vanity counter in the middle (complete with a sink). A mirror was mounted on the wall above the sink, with two medicine cabinets flanking it. The space beneath the vanity held dresser drawers, three on each side.
One bed was against the inner wall, to our left, and the other bed was across the room by the outer wall. Between them—on the room’s left wall—was one long metal double desk with shelves above it. Each side of the desk had a pull-out drawer, a chair in front of it, and a fluorescent light underneath the shelf.
All the metal surfaces (the closets, drawers, and desk) were covered with a dark wood-grain vinyl veneer, while the floor was plain linoleum tile. The walls were bare off-white-painted cinder block and the ceiling was equally bland. In other words, the room was stark.
“Great,” Gina said sarcastically.
“It’ll look better once you get some posters up and some sheets on the bed,” I said as positively as I could.
“I guess. But it’s hot, too.”
“I can fix that right now,” I said. Then I headed across the room to the air conditioner. I turned it to High Cool, and with a whine of protest, it clattered to life. The air wasn’t exactly cold, but it was cooler than the sweltering room.
“So this is where I get to live for the next year?” Gina asked rhetorically.
“Yep. Which bed do you want?”
“Does it matter?”
“Only to you, I guess,” I said.
“Then I guess I’ll take the other bed,” she said, nodding to the far wall. “It’d be nice to be by the window.”
“Sounds good to me.” At her glum expression, I pulled her close. “What’s the matter?”
“I dunno,” she said. “I guess I just wasn’t ready for how… bare the rooms are.”
“Would you like to get bare in the bare room?” I asked with a grin as I made a show of eyeing the door.
She shrugged noncommittally.
I cupped her ass and ground my hips against her.
“I guess I’m not in the mood to fool around,” she said.
“That’s okay. We probably don’t have time anyway.” In reality, I wasn’t in the mood to fool around either, but I wanted to cheer her up.
“We’d better go see what your room’s like,” she said, “and then go back downstairs.”
“My room probably looks exactly like yours, only in reverse.”
“Reverse?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yeah, reverse. I’m in 415D, the room on the right. So my room will probably have the closets and sink on the left, with the desk on the right.”
“I guess.”
“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go see if I’m right.”
After we locked her room, it took us several minutes just to get an elevator. Fortunately, we were near the top of the building, so it was nearly empty when the doors opened.
On the way through the North Carrick lobby, I checked the chalkboard: Vaughn, Malin, and Estores. It took us another ten minutes to get an elevator. My suite was all the way at the end of the hall, right beside the fire exit.
The suite’s foyer was exactly the same as Gina’s, with the shower on the left, the phone by the door, and the toilet room on the right. Before I looked at my door, I checked the door to the left. The sign on the door wasn’t as elaborate at the one on Gina’s, but it served its purpose. It read, A – Glen Carter Otis / B – Tracy James Ingram. The sign on my door read, C – Robert Terrence Marion / D – Paul Dean Hughes.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Duh, goof,” Gina said.
When I opened the door, the room was laid out exactly as I’d predicted. And it was just as hot as Gina’s had been.
“I think I’ll take the bed over here,” I said as I walked across the room to turn on the air conditioner. “That way, we’ll both have the bed by the window.”
She nodded.
“Hey,” I said, “c’mere. This air conditioner works a lot better than yours.” The unit had started without protest and the air was actually cold.
Reluctantly, Gina walked toward me.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as I gathered her in my arms.
“I dunno,” she said with a shrug.
I considered bringing up the UCLA versus UT argument, but I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. Instead, I simply hugged her tight and then held her for several minutes.
“Thanks,” she said softly. Then she wiped the corners of her eyes.
“Are you ready to go back downstairs?” I asked.
She smiled wanly and then nodded.
On the way back to the elevator, we passed several other families and their sons. I discreetly studied the guys, wondering what they were like. I really had no idea how well I’d get to know any of the guys who lived around me, but I wanted to at least make an effort.
By the time we got back downstairs, Gina had cheered up a bit, but she was still a little glum. I checked the chalkboard, but my name still wasn’t up there. Then I looked at my watch. It had only been forty-five minutes since I’d put my name on the list, so I didn’t worry.
When we found our parents’ station wagons, they were actually in sight of the Presidential Complex driveway. I kissed Gina and then she went back to her family’s car.
“What were your rooms like?” Mom asked when I got in the back seat of our station wagon.
I described the rooms. “And since my room’s only on the fourth floor,” I said, “I figure we can just haul stuff upstairs if we don’t get a cart. I mean, I don’t have that much stuff.”
“Except two hundred pounds of free weights,” Dad said.
“Oh, yeah. Oops.”
“That’s okay, son,” he said. “We’ll manage.”
“Was it like this when you two went to college?” Erin asked.
Mom and Dad looked at each other and shared a grin.
“Kind of,” Mom said. “We didn’t know each other when we first went to school, though.”
Erin and I nodded. We both knew the story. Dad had been an NROTC midshipman at the University of Florida. His upper class mentor had been Mom’s older brother, Hank. Uncle Hank had introduced Mom to Dad, and the rest was history.
“It was twenty years ago,” Mom continued, “so there were fewer people. But yes, it was pretty much the same.”
“Do you remember that blue dress you were wearing the first time we met?” Dad asked her.
“Oh, God,” she said, “don’t remind me.”
“Tell us what happened,” Erin begged.
“Erin, jeez,” I complained. “You’ve heard this story a million times.”
“So? I’d still like to hear it again.”
“Your mom had this great blue dress,” Dad said, ignoring my protest. “It was tight, and short, and really showed off her figure. When Hank brought me home for dinner the first time, she was wearing it.”
“But I’d gotten too much sun that day,” Mom added, “and my mother had put lotion on my back and shoulders to keep them from drying out.”
“So when I shook her hand,” Dad said, “the strap of the dress slid down her other shoulder.”
“You couldn’t decide whether to look at my face or my chest,” Mom said, laughing.
“Like hell,” Dad said. “I was a fourth class middie with my mentor standing over my shoulder.” Then he turned to us. “Do you think I was going to stare at his sister’s chest?”
“Yeah, Dad,” Erin said. “You probably did.”
“They know you too well,” Mom said to Dad with a smile. “And whether you stared at my chest or not when we first met, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me at dinner.”
“What was I s’posed to do?” Dad asked. “Your dress kept falling down. I couldn’t see any of the good stuff, but I got quite a show.”
“Is that why you asked me out?” she asked.
“No, of course not,” Dad said with feigned defensiveness. Then he grew serious. “Your brother wanted me to watch out for you after he graduated.”
Uncle Hank was three years older than Mom, but his F-4 had been shot down in 1966. Even though he and his radar intercept officer safely ejected, Hank was later killed by his North Vietnamese captors. The RIO spent the next six years in captivity. Mom and Dad didn’t talk about Hank much, but I knew that they still thought about him. Mom even kept a picture of him—in his flight suit—on her dresser at home.
“I still miss him,” she said quietly.
“Me too,” Dad echoed.
“What was he like?” Erin asked.
I don’t know why, but she liked hearing Mom talk about him.
So for the next twenty minutes, Mom and Dad told us about Hank, laughing as they recalled the good times they’d had together. Erin and I had heard most of the stories, but retelling them seemed to lift Mom’s spirits. And I had to admit that it was a good way to pass the time. Finally, we neared the small parking lot for the Carrick dorms.
“Okay,” Dad said, “now we have to find a parking space.”
“I’ll go check to see if I’m on the board yet,” I said.
“Can I go?” Erin asked.
“Sure. C’mon.”
Behind us, Gina and Leah got out of the Coulters’ station wagon.
“You check with your front desk and see if your name’s close to the top of the list,” I said to Gina. “I’ll check over here,” I said, hooking my thumb at North Carrick.
“Okay.”
When Erin and I reached the board, I was disappointed. The names were: Wiesmeier, St. George, and Brighton. But as I was about to turn away, a guy returned a cart to the desk.
“Wiesmeier,” the hall director shouted a moment later. “Lyndon Wiesmeier!”
When Lyndon Wiesmeier trundled off with his cart, the hall director erased his name. A surge of excitement ran through me when he wrote “Hughes” on the board. Then my heart sank when he immediately erased it.
“Why’d he do that?” Erin asked.
To our surprise, the director then wrote “P. Hughes” on the board.
“Do you think that’s you?” Erin asked.
“I guess so. There must’ve been two Hugheses on his list. Cool.”
Back outside, Gina looked disappointed.
“They said it’d be another hour,” she said.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m third on the list.”
While we were inside, Dad had found a parking space. And as we watched, a pickup’s reverse lights came on. Chris waited for the truck to back out and then pulled into the vacated spot.
“Okay,” Dad said once both families had gathered by our station wagon, “what’s the plan?”
“I’m third on the list for carts,” I said. “So it shouldn’t be long. But my room’s only on the fourth floor. Just waiting for the elevator takes ten minutes. I mean, I can walk up carrying most of my stuff.” Then I looked at Dad. “Except the free weights, of course.”
“Except the free weights,” he agreed.
“With all eight of us,” Chris said, “it shouldn’t take too long.”
“We should still station someone in the lobby, so we can get the cart when Paul’s name is called,” Dad said.
Chris nodded.
“And then,” Dad continued, “we can use the cart to take Gina’s stuff up to her room.” Then he turned to her. “What floor are you on?”
“The sixth,” she said.
“Yeah, I definitely don’t want to carry stuff up six flights of stairs after carrying stuff up four flights,” Dad said. “Even with all of us, it’ll probably take two or three trips for each room.”
Chris nodded again.
“Okay,” Dad said, turning to me. “You give your ID to Erin. She can wait in the lobby and use it to get the cart when they call your name.”
Erin and I both nodded.
“Erin,” he continued, “meet us back at the car when you get the cart. Okay?”
“Roger wilco,” she said, imitating one of his sayings with a grin.
Dad grinned in reply and then looked at all of us. “Is everyone ready?”
As one, we nodded.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” he said.
I handed my ID to Erin and she headed into the dorm to wait. Then we opened the back of the station wagon.
“Wait a minute,” Dad said. Then he looked at me. “How do we get to the stairs? Do we have to go through that crowd?” he asked, tossing his chin in the direction of the people in and around the breezeway.
“Hold on a second,” I said. In my mind, I “walked” through the building, keeping myself oriented with the outside world as I mentally navigated from the lobby to my room. Then I looked up. “There,” I said, pointing. “My room’s on the north end of the building, right next to the stairs.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “Where do the stairs come out?”
“Probably down there,” I said, pointed at the concrete courtyard between North Carrick and Reese Hall. It was below ground level, which meant we’d have to climb an extra flight of stairs, but it was still better than waiting forever for a cart and then the elevator.
“Leah, why don’t you go check it out real quick,” Dad suggested.
She nodded and then headed toward the north end of the building. While she was gone, Dad, Chris, and I surveyed the boxes, baskets, and bags in the rear of our car. When Leah jogged back, she was grinning.
“There’s a door that leads into the building,” she said, panting slightly. “It was propped open with a chair, so I looked inside. It was a stairwell.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “We’re good to go. Let’s load up.”
With that, we each picked up an armload of my things and headed toward the fire escape door. Not surprisingly, several other people were using the stairs as well. We passed people coming back down and were followed by more people behind us. There weren’t nearly as many people in the stairwell as the lobby and elevators, though, so we didn’t have to wait at all.
When we reached the fourth floor, I led everyone to my suite. Inside, I unlocked my door.
“My bed’s the one by the window,” I said.
After we set my stuff down, my parents and the Coulters took a quick tour of the suite. They were curious, but I had to stifle a grin when I realized that they were also catching their breath. Fortunately, the air conditioner was still blowing cold air, so the room temperature was almost comfortable.
“Pretty much like I remember from when I was in college,” Dad said. “Cinder block walls and plain linoleum floors.”
“And loud, squeaky beds,” Chris said as he tested my roommate’s unoccupied bed. Then he looked at Dad and shook his head in mock sadness. “Just like I remember.”
“You are incorrigible,” Elizabeth said in amusement. “Come on, you randy old terrier, let’s get the next load.”
“Terrier?” Chris protested. “I was just making an observation. Can’t have squeaky beds now, can we?”
Mom and Dad grinned at each other as we filed out of the room. Even Gina smiled at her father’s antics. I locked the door behind us and we headed down the fire stairs. Back at our car, we were surprised to find Erin waiting with the cart.
“Three carts came in at the same time,” she said excitedly. “I just gave that guy your ID when he called your name.”
“Cool,” I said.
“Let’s get your weights, son,” Dad said. “We can put everything else on the cart too, as long as we’ve got it.”
After we loaded the rest of my things on the cart, I gave my room key to Gina.
“Y’all can head up the stairs and cool off in the room until I get there,” I said.
“I’ll go with you, son,” Dad said.
After nods of agreement, Gina and the others headed toward the fire stairs. With me pushing the cart and Dad guiding it from the front, we headed toward the breezeway entrance.
“The floors in your room are kinda bare,” Dad commented as we reached the dorm entrance. Then he nodded at the people selling carpeting rolls in the courtyard. “We’ll get you a nice piece of carpet to put down. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds cool,” I said.
Then he turned nostalgic. “I remember my father driving me to college for my first summer,” he said.
“First summer?”
“Uh-huh. Since I was in the NROTC program, we had to do orientation and a lot of PT, physical training. I had to get uniforms, too.”
“That must’ve sucked,” I said.
“Nah. I worked my ass off, but I had a good time. There were a lot of things I didn’t like about the Navy, but NROTC was fun.” Then he leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “And your mom may joke about it,” he said with a sly grin, “but I think she went out with me because she liked the way I looked in a uniform. So yeah, I had to wear the thing, but it had its fringe benefits.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Dad merely shrugged, still grinning.
Fifteen minutes later, we crammed ourselves into an elevator. We smiled at the other family and then got out when the doors opened on the fourth floor. Then, surprisingly, Dad laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“I was just remembering,” he mused. “My first roommate in college was a guy named Oswald Knapp, and the first thing we did was figure out a way to let the other guy know if we had a girl in the room.” He laughed again. “We said we’d hang a necktie around the doorknob to warn the other guy not to come in.”
“What’s so funny about that?” I asked.
“Neither of us ever had a girl in that room. But that’s what I remember about him, having that serious discussion about how to wave off the other guy.”
“That is kinda funny,” I said, chuckling.
“Yep, old Oswald and I had our priorities straight.”
Before I could ask anything else about my dad’s time in college, we reached my suite. Then we maneuvered the cart into the foyer.
“We need to get you a broom,” Mom said before we even made it all the way into my room. “And we really should clean your room before you unpack.”
“Uh, okay,” I said.
While we quickly unloaded the rest of my stuff (and stored the free weights in the bottom of the closet), Mom and Elizabeth talked about making a trip to the store to buy cleaning supplies. While they made plans, Dad and Chris looked out the window at the courtyard below.
“We were going to get Paul a rug for the room,” Dad said.
“That’s a good idea,” Chris agreed. “We’ll get one for Gina too.”
Gina and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. I guess our parents were having more fun sprucing up our rooms than we were. Ah, nostalgia.
“Okay,” Mom said, breaking Gina’s and my moment of amused camaraderie. “Elizabeth and I need to go to the store. We’ll take our car and meet you all back here.”
“When you get back,” I said, “you can park in the garage at the end of Andy Holt Avenue.”
Mom nodded.
“While you’re gone, we’ll use Paul’s cart to move all of Gina’s things in,” Dad said.
“And then we can get rugs for the kids,” Chris added.
“I want to sweep and mop this floor before you put down a rug,” Mom said.
“And we need to do the same for Gina’s room,” Elizabeth added. “I’m sure it’s as dirty as this one.”
Dirty? I mused. My room isn’t all that dirty.
The women, however, had different standards. They all seemed eager to clean our rooms, and I wasn’t about to stop them.
Dad clapped twice to get our attention. “Okay, chop-chop,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Mom and Elizabeth headed off in our car while we loaded Gina’s things onto the cart. We couldn’t quite fit everything, so we’d have to make two trips. It took us longer to move Gina’s things, because there were more people waiting for the elevator in South Carrick. But we eventually managed to get her completely moved in.
When Gina and I went to take the cart back, she shook her head in amusement.
“God, our parents have just taken over, haven’t they?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. “But hey, I’m getting a clean room. I’m not gonna complain.”
“And we’re getting rugs,” she added.
“And we’re getting rugs,” I agreed.
“So maybe it’s not so bad after all.” Then she turned reflective. “I just wish I could paint my room. I mean, that white is just ugly.”
“What’s the matter with white?”
“It’s ugly. U-G-L-Y. And boring. Ugh.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” I muttered.
“Of course not,” she said. “’Cause you’re a goof.”
“But I’m your goof,” I said as I wrapped my arm around her.
“Yeah, you’re mine.” Then she grinned shyly. “Thanks for putting up with me,” she said. “I know I’m not in the best mood.”
“Don’t worry about it. I mean, I’ve got no clue what we’re supposed to do next either.”
“Good. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who was clueless.”
“Nope,” I said. “We’re clueless together.”
When Mom and Elizabeth returned, they cleaned the rooms in a whirlwind of activity. (My room was far cleaner than I thought I needed, but I wasn’t about to complain.) After the floors dried, we put the rugs down. They didn’t cover the entire floor, but they did cover the main expanse of linoleum. More than that, however, they softened the room and made it seem more inviting.
Then my family headed back to my room while Gina and her family stayed in hers to help her unpack. Mom and Erin made my bed for me while I put my clothes in the drawers and closet. While we did that, Dad set up my VIC-20 computer and monitor, and unpacked my school supplies.
I still hadn’t seen my roommate or either of my suitemates, but I figured I’d meet them soon enough. To my surprise, the phone rang as we were putting the finishing touches on the room.
“Hello?” I answered tentatively. I had no idea who could be calling my room.
“May I please speak to Paul?” the voice said.
“This is he.”
“Oh. I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“It’s Gina, goof.”
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah, these phones are kinda scratchy.”
“Yeah. Anyway, we’re done over here and my mom wanted to know if y’all wanted to go out to dinner somewhere.”
“Sure, hold on.” Then I covered the mouthpiece and turned to my open door. I started to shout into my room, but then I realized that the long phone cord would actually reach (and then some). “It’s Gina,” I said as I stepped into the room, still holding the receiver. “Elizabeth wants to know if we’re ready to go to dinner.”
“Sure,” Dad said. “I’m starved.”
“We didn’t have lunch,” Mom pointed out.
“Nope. And I could eat a cow,” he said.
“Gina?” I said as I put the receiver to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“Sure, we’re ready for dinner. Meet you downstairs in five minutes?”
“We’ll see you there,” she said.
Downstairs in the lobby, things had slowed down. Most of the crowds had thinned out, but there was still a steady trickle of people moving into the dorms.
Outside, we met Gina’s family and then headed toward the parking garage.
“Before we eat, I want to check into the hotel and get cleaned up,” Mom said.
“Me too,” Elizabeth added.
“If y’all’re going to get cleaned up at the hotel,” I said, “Gina and I should probably go back to our rooms. I mean, if we go to the hotel with you, we won’t have any clothes to change into.”
Gina nodded.
“Okay,” Mom said. “Why don’t you two go get cleaned up while we find the hotel. Then we’ll call you when we’re ready to eat.”
“Actually,” I said, “Gina and I can just shower and then meet you at the hotel. You’re staying at the Radisson, right?”
“Right,” Dad said.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll just meet you there when we’re done.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dad said.
I put my arm around Gina as our parents continued toward the garage. When they were out of earshot, I turned and grinned at her. “Has your roommate moved in yet?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But I think my suitemates have. I haven’t seen them, but some of their stuff was there when we left to meet you.”
“Well, I’m the only one in my suite, so d’you just wanna grab some clothes and come over to my room?”
“That sounds like a great idea,” she said.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, Gina and I walked into my suite. I made sure that my suitemates hadn’t moved in while I wasn’t looking. They hadn’t. And since my roommate hadn’t magically appeared, we had the entire suite to ourselves.
“God, I’m tired,” Gina said. “I didn’t realize I’d packed so much stuff.”
“Same here.” Then I grinned at her. “I’m not too tired to fool around, though. You wanna take a shower with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Since the suite’s outer door didn’t lock, we wrapped towels around ourselves before heading into the foyer.
The shower itself was actually two tiled areas: a vestibule, screened by a shower curtain, and then the shower stall itself, which was also screened by a curtain. Gina and I stepped into the vestibule, shut the first curtain behind us, and hung our towels on wall hooks. Then we grinned in anticipation as I turned on and adjusted the water.
“God, this feels good,” she said as she stepped under the water. She wet her raven hair and then luxuriated in the heat of the spray.
For a moment, I merely admired her body as the water sluiced over her. The combination of an Indian mother and a Caucasian father had given her an exotic café au lait complexion. And since we were nudists, she didn’t have any tan lines. When she lifted her arms to run her fingers through her hair, I wanted to tweak her dark brown nipples.
She’d gained a little weight since we first started dating, but she’d gained it in all the right places. Her stomach was still soft and flat, but her breasts and ass had filled out a little. Then my eyes traveled lower, to where her hips flared from her slender waist. A week before we left for college, she shaved her pubic hair for me. Although she still shaved her labia, she was letting the rest of her bush grow back, so she had a darker triangle of stubble on her mons.
“What?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“You were staring at me.”
“Oh. Sorry. I guess I was just thinking about how beautiful you are. You’re so… wow.”
She smiled and lowered her dark eyes.
I stepped toward her and pulled her into my arms.
Her wet breasts crushed against me as she wrapped her arms around my waist. Then she kissed my chest. “I love you so much,” she whispered.
“And I love you,” I said.
“Thanks again for being patient with me. I’m sure I’ll get to like it here.”
“You will. It’ll be better once classes start. Then we’ll be too busy to worry about being away from home.”
“I guess,” she said.
“Trust me.”
“I do. I guess I’m just feeling lonely already. I mean, I don’t know anyone here except you.”
“And Kendall,” I said.
“And her. But, I mean, what if my roommate’s totally weird or something? What if she goes psycho and cuts up all my clothes? Or what if she smokes pot all day and we both get busted, even though I haven’t done anything? Then they won’t let me into medical school.”
“Is that the kinda stuff you worry about?” I asked.
Miserably, she nodded.
“I wouldn’t worry about your roommate,” I assured her. “I’m sure she’s just like you. Although,” I mused, “if she’s smart, beautiful, and sexy, then I think you’ll have to seduce her.”
“Ha! Like that’ll happen.”
“Okay, then I’ll seduce her,” I said, grinning.
“Can I watch?” Gina asked.
“What is it your mom says to your dad? ‘You are incorrigible.’”
She nodded, her mood beginning to brighten.
With that, I gently pushed her backward and stuck my head under the spray of water. Then I turned us around so my back was to the showerhead. She looked up at me in shock as I pressed her against the back wall.
“God,” she said, “that wall’s cold.”
“Sorry. It’ll warm up in a minute.”
“How?”
“With you pressed against it, it’ll warm up. Trust me.”
“What d’you—”
Before she could finish her question, I bent down and kissed her. Her lips parted and my tongue gently probed her mouth. She whimpered and then clutched me tightly. Our breathing quickened as we continued to kiss. When I finally pulled back, I gazed down into her liquid brown eyes and smiled.
“I love you,” I said.
Instead of answering, she twined her fingers through my hair and pulled my head down again.
We pressed our bodies together and continued kissing. Without pulling my lips away from hers, I cupped her left breast. Her nipple hardened as soon as I latched my fingers around it. She whimpered into my mouth when I tugged the little brown bud.
“God,” she said when we broke the kiss long enough to catch our breath. “You make me so hot.”
“Hot enough to forget all your worries?”
“Hot enough to forget my first name,” she said. “Now kiss me some more.”
Needless to say, I did as she asked.
As our tongues sparred with each other, I reached up and pulled her hand from the back of my neck. Then I put it on my semi-hard dick. She gripped me firmly as I returned my hand to her breast.
For the next several minutes, we simply kissed and fondled each other. I wanted her to suck me, but I also wanted to take my time and enjoy her lips. Finally, I pulled back.
“See? I told you the wall would warm up,” I said.
“That’s not all that’s warmed up,” she said as she squirmed a little.
“Oh?”
“Mmm hmm. I told you, you make me incredibly hot.”
“Good,” I said with aplomb. “So let’s get washed up. I don’t wanna get waterlogged.”
“Unnnnh.”
“Oh? Did you want to do something before we get cleaned up?”
“Paul,” she half-whined.
“What do you want?”
“You know,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“I want your dick.”
“Oh? Did you make an appointment?”
Instead of answering, she stroked my length insistently.
“Do you want me to see if I can squeeze you in?” I asked.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Good.”
“But later,” I added. When she began to pout, I kissed her. “We really do need to get cleaned up.”
“But…?”
“Here,” I said, “I’ve got an idea.” Without waiting for her to reply, I turned her around, lowered my hips, and pressed my erection against her ass. After a small adjustment, I found the opening between her thighs and slid my dick forward.
She hissed in pleasure as my swollen glans brushed over her labia. Then I pulled back, tilted my hips, and probed her opening. She thrust her ass back at me, giving me a better angle. With that, I eased into her. As advertised, her pussy was incredibly hot. I paused for a moment to savor the feeling as her inner walls gripped my shaft. Then I reached for the washcloth and soap.
“Oh, God,” she groaned. “Fuck me.” When she realized that I was lathering the washcloth, she looked back with curious irritation. “What’re you doing?”
“We need to get cleaned up, and I want to fuck you. So…”
“You’re kidding,” she said, stunned.
I shook my head and then rocked my hips. My cock moved within her and she closed her eyes in pleasure.
“Keep doing that,” she begged.
“Not a problem,” I said. Then I set the soap back in the soap dish and began to wash her shoulders. As I did, I slowly thrust into her.
“Oh, God, your dick feels so good.”
“Uh-huh.”
Then I gently scrubbed the washcloth over her brown skin, leaving a trail of suds. With my hips still moving slightly, I washed her arms and then her back. When I reached her hips, I gripped them and pumped into her at full speed. Slapping noises filled the shower stall as my hips slammed into her ass. After less than a minute, I buried myself inside her and shook my head to clear it. Then I reached around to wash her stomach and dangling breasts. Finally, I pumped into her a few more times before washing her legs (as far as I could reach, that is).
“Okay,” I said at last, “rinse off.”
She groaned when I gripped her hips and pulled us backward. I ducked to the side to let the water spray over my shoulder and rinse her back. With my dick still buried inside her, I pulled her mostly upright. As I did, the water washed over her shoulders and arms. When she was rinsed clean, I swept her hair out of the way and kissed the nape of her neck.
“Now let me wash your hair,” I said.
She shook her head. “Keep fucking me.”
“Uh-uh. I’ll wash your hair… while you kneel in front of me.”
“Huh?”
“Suck my cock while I wash your hair,” I said.
I didn’t have to ask twice. In a flash, she pulled off me, groaned at the loss, then turned and dropped to her knees. When she captured my dick with her mouth, I reached for the shampoo bottle. As she sucked, I lathered her hair, massaging her scalp and working the suds into her dark tresses. Her lips felt incredibly good, but she needed to rinse her hair so I could get cleaned up as well. I didn’t want to, but I finally pulled her off my dick.
“Rinse your hair,” I said.
“Let me keep sucking,” she begged.
“Uh-uh,” I said, pulling her to her feet.
“No. You wash, I’ll keep sucking.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, so I didn’t stop her as she returned to her knees. Then she took my cock as far into her mouth as she could. For a moment, I couldn’t concentrate. So I let her suck me, her lips dancing over my erection. Her hair was still full of shampoo, but she didn’t seem to mind—she was completely focused on my dick. Finally, I shook my head to clear it and reached for the washcloth.
As she fellated me, I washed my chest and upper body. Then I lathered my stomach and upper thighs, taking care not to get soap near her mouth.
She kept sucking while I washed and rinsed my hair. I wanted to let her make me come, but I also wanted to fuck her some more. So after a few minutes of indecision—and enjoyment—I pulled her off my dick and lifted her to her feet.
“Rinse your hair,” I said.
She nodded obediently and stepped under the spray.
“You’ve got me so worked up,” I whispered to her, “I’m going to take you back to my room, bend you over the sink, and fuck you silly.”
“Oh, God,” she breathed, “hurry up and turn off the water.”
We dried off and then streaked back to my room, where Gina bent over the counter. Then she reached between her legs and looked over her shoulder expectantly. After a momentary pause—to tease her—I stepped behind her and rubbed her slippery pussy with the head of my cock. Then I gripped her hips and buried myself inside her.
As I slammed into her, I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. For a moment, I watched as her breasts swayed with each thrust. Then I let my gaze drift upward. She had her eyes closed, her face a mask of pleasure. She looked more beautiful than ever.
“Come… in… my… mouth…,” she said when she felt me increase my pace. “Please, come in my mouth.”
When I pulled out of her pussy, my shiny erection bobbed gently. She straightened, turned, and dropped to her knees, moaning as she tasted herself on my shaft. Then she tried to swallow me whole. She could only take the first half of my dick, but she lavished attention on what she could swallow.
After only a minute of her hot mouth, I arched my back and felt my muscles tense. With an almost silent groan, I erupted. She locked her lips around my shaft, just below the glans, and pumped me with her fist. Each time I spurted into her mouth, she whimpered. After three strong spurts and a couple of weaker ones, my orgasm began to subside.
Gina kept sucking me, and when I finally looked down, I realized that her hand was between her legs. She was busily rubbing her clit, working herself toward her own orgasm. With her lips locked around my shaft, her breath whistled through her nose as her release drew near.
Finally, she tensed up. With a low groan, she climaxed, her face contorted in ecstasy. For a long moment, she remained in that position. Then she released my manhood, sank back on her heels, and closed her eyes. It took her a moment to catch her breath. When she did, she looked up at me and smiled.
“God, I needed that,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“We should shower like that more often.”
I nodded.
“I thought you were crazy when you grabbed the washcloth,” she said. “But that was kinda fun.”
“I’m glad you liked it. Now, let’s get going. We’ve still gotta meet our families.”
When she nodded, I helped her to her feet. Then I drew her into my arms and kissed her. For a few moments, we simply held each other, both of us enjoying the post-orgasmic closeness.
“So,” Dad said after dinner, “what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I’m supposed to call Kendall tonight,” I said, “and tell her what room I’m in and where you all are staying.”
Around the table, everyone nodded.
“They’re going to leave Chattanooga by seven thirty tomorrow morning,” I continued. “It’ll only take ’em an hour and a half to get here, but she doesn’t know how long it’ll take to get through traffic.”
Kendall had moved into UT dorms the previous two years, so she had first-hand experience with the traffic and crowds.
“Judging by today,” Dad said, “I don’t think tomorrow will be any different.”
“That’s what I figured,” I said. “So I guess we should expect her call around ten. I don’t know how long it’ll take to get her moved into her apartment, though, but I don’t imagine it’ll be too long.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Dad said. When everyone nodded, he looked at Gina and me. “Do you two want to have breakfast with us, here at the hotel?” he asked. “Or do you want to eat on campus?”
“Don’t condemned people usually get a last meal?” Chris asked with a grin. Then he turned to us. “Come eat at the hotel. You want to wait as long as you can before you have to start eating cafeteria food.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Elizabeth chided him.
“Still,” Chris said. “We should probably give the kids one last good meal or something. You know, it’s tradition.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then turned to us. “It would be nice for all of us to have breakfast together,” she said.
Gina and I glanced at each other, read the agreement in the other’s eyes, then nodded.
“Eight o’clock?” Dad asked.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Gina nodded.
“In that case,” Mom said, “we should give the Paytons a call before it’s too late. Then we’d better let you two get back to campus. We’ve got another long day ahead of us.”
Elizabeth, Dad, and Chris all nodded. Erin and Leah merely looked at each other and grinned. After a little more small talk, we all headed up to our families’ rooms. (Our parents had gotten adjacent rooms and then opened the connecting doors. Erin and Leah were staying in a room across the hall.)
Gina and I went into the Coulters’ room to call Kendall. We gave her our phone numbers, room numbers, and the hotel’s phone number. Since she had some last-minute packing to do and we were both tired, the conversation was short. She sounded excited, though. Finally, we said goodbye and hung up.
“I can’t wait to see her,” Gina said.
I simply nodded in agreement as we walked into my parents’ room. We relaxed for a few minutes and then Gina and I excused ourselves so we could head back to campus.
“Paul?” she asked tentatively as we pulled into the parking garage.
“Yeah?”
“Um… do you think your roommate’s moved in yet?”
“I doubt it. I mean, if he was gonna move in today, he’d’ve probably already been there. You know?”
“I guess.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’re you thinking?”
“Do you think I could spend the night in your room? I guess I’m just not ready to spend the night by myself.”
“Sure,” I said. “That’d be great.”
“Thanks.”
The North Carrick lobby was much quieter than earlier in the day, but there were still quite a few people milling around and relaxing on the couches. Mostly, they were guys who probably lived in the dorm, shooting the breeze and getting to know one another. A couple of them looked up as Gina and I passed by. I felt a surge of pride when I realized that they were watching her.
When we got to my suite, no one had magically appeared. My suitemates still weren’t there, and my room was exactly how we’d left it. When I locked the door behind us, Gina flowed into my arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I said.
“Are you ready to go to sleep?” she asked.
“Well, I’m ready for bed, but I’m not ready to go to sleep,” I said with a grin.
With an answering grin, we raced to see who could get undressed and into bed first. I won, but not by much.
Both of us were used to sleeping in queen-size beds, and even though the single bed was extra long, it was still too narrow for us to have much room. Fortunately, we didn’t really care how much room we had.