Life returned to normal on Monday. Gracie and I shared two classes in addition to Professor Joska’s, so we sat next to each other and talked about our project. We both had strong feelings about which style we should do, so we didn’t resolve anything. It was still early in the quarter, though, so I wasn’t worried.

After class Wren and I ate lunch together and then modeled. Siobhan had rearranged her syllabus, so we were posing together for the first weeks of the quarter. Afterward we met Trip and Christy at the Sports Bubble.

I was watching the girls do aerobics when I had a random thought: none of my girlfriends had been athletic. Kendall had been a ballet dancer, but that had been years before I met her. None of the others had done anything more than the occasional game of volleyball at camp. Daphne had been a dancer as well, but that was more entertainment than competition.

By contrast, Wren and Christy had been athletes most of their lives. Wren was about the same size as Gina, but the similarities ended there. Wren was curvy in all the same places, but had muscles to go with the curves.

Christy was a smaller version of her friend, and I studied her with new appreciation. She didn’t have a classic hourglass figure, but no one would ever mistake her for a boy. (I’d said that out of pure spite.) She’d been a dancer and gymnast as a girl, and was still ridiculously flexible. She reminded me of a prima ballerina, which she probably would’ve been if she hadn’t discovered diving.

Trip said something surly when he thought I was ogling Wren, but I didn’t tell him the truth. Maybe I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself. I still didn’t get along with Christy, and it bothered me that I was physically attracted to someone who didn’t like me.

Most of the girls looked good in their skintight outfits, but for some reason my eyes always returned to the little blonde. Maybe it was her bouncing ponytail. Maybe it was her tiny waist and cute little ass. Maybe I simply hadn’t had sex in a while. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she looked like without the leotard and leg warmers.

Trip and I finished about the same time as the girls, and we walked to Andy Holt together. They talked about the coming weekend, but I didn’t join in. I was still trying to shake off fantasies of Christy, so I turned my attention to my project.

“Do y’all wanna hang out after we shower and change clothes?” Wren asked.

The others agreed, but I shook my head.

“I have to meet Gracie before judo,” I said. “It’s a thing for Joska.”

Wren frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

The elevator stopped at the girls’ floor and Trip stepped off.

“I’m gonna… um… you know.” He pointed vaguely at Wren’s apartment.

I rolled my eyes and waved as the doors slid shut.

Upstairs I took a quick shower. I was still horny from thinking about Christy, but didn’t have time to jerk off. I thought about it, but decided to put work before pleasure. So I dressed and headed across campus.

Gracie answered the door with a scowl. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I had to shower.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“I was at the Bubble. Working out.”

She hesitated a moment. “You can shower here next time. If you want.”

“Nah, that’s cool. I don’t wanna impose.”

“I don’t mind.”

I started to demur again, but gave it some thought instead. Trip and Wren could have some privacy in our apartment, and Christy would probably enjoy the break too. Her roommate was getting laid and she wasn’t, so I couldn’t really blame her for being short-tempered and snappish, since I felt the same way sometimes.

“Yeah, sure,” I told Gracie. “As long as you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

She switched gears and picked up a book from her desk. “So, about postmodernism…”

I took a deep breath and steeled myself for another round. “Sorry,” I said, as patiently as I could, “but I’m not going to ‘be reasonable’ and just do things your way.”

Tuesday was more of the same, although with different classes. In the afternoon I sparred with Glen instead of lifting weights with Trip. I also had a break from Gracie, which was a minor relief. We hadn’t made any progress on our project, big surprise, and I wondered how we’d ever get anything done if she was stubborn and inflexible all the time. Of course, it required two of us to argue, but that hardly mattered. I was right and she was wrong, end of story.

In spite of that, part of me actually enjoyed discussing styles with her. She was an idealist and a dreamer, but she was also smart. Still, we’d have to cooperate sooner or later if we wanted to get anything done. Part of me wondered if Joska was trying to teach us that as well.

Sadistic bastard.

Wednesday after design lab Trip and Wren headed to a concert. Fraternity rush was in full swing, so Jeff and Luke each had a party to attend. For my part, I was looking forward to a quiet evening by myself. Life had other plans for me, though. Daphne was waiting after judo practice.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Not especially. Why?”

“Would you like to take me to dinner?”

Part of me would miss my evening alone, but a bigger part wanted to spend time with her. She really was that beautiful. I recovered my composure and teased, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What about Sara?”

“She’s out of town.”

I looked at her askance. “Does she know? About you and me, I mean.”

Daphne shrugged.

“Yeah, sure,” I said against my better judgment. “Let me get cleaned up. What do you feel like? Italian?”

She smiled, eager and demure at the same time.

She waited in my bedroom while I showered and shaved. I returned with a towel wrapped around my waist and remembered our first time together. Daphne smiled and went willingly as I gently pushed her to her knees. She knew me better than the first time, so she swallowed as much of my cock as she could.

“It’s so big,” she apologized when she pulled back.

I put my hand on the back of her head. I knew her better too, and she liked it when I took charge. I managed to cram another inch down her throat, but she gagged when I tried to go deeper. She didn’t enjoy it, but hid it well. I compromised by “forcing” her to take me only as deep as she could. I didn’t last long after that, and she moaned as I came in her mouth. It was an act, but I wasn’t about to complain.

Dinner was enjoyable, but I couldn’t help comparing her to Gracie. Daphne let me do all the talking, where Gracie would have argued and challenged everything I said. I didn’t enjoy the constant wrangling but liked the challenge of having to defend my ideas, so I didn’t know how I felt about Gracie.

Daphne must have sensed that she was losing me, because she gently stroked my leg. I perked up immediately and paid the check. Ten minutes later I parked behind an elementary school near campus. Daphne joined me in the back seat.

“Aunt Flo left a couple of days ago,” she said, breathless after a deep kiss.

“What? Who?”

“Aunt Flo… and Cousin Red. So it’s safe if you want to…”

She urged me on with her body, so I freed my erection and pulled her panties aside. I slid into her with a low grunt of pleasure as she wrapped her legs around me.

“Go slow,” she said. “It’s been a while, and you’re big.”

I held out as long as I could, but something about her made me want to rush. I wasn’t particularly gentle as I pounded into her, but that’s what she enjoyed. Afterward we switched places and she lay half on top of me. I leaned against the car door, which wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she seemed happy.

Unfortunately, the only thing we really shared was a physical attraction. I’d known it before, but dinner had driven the point home. Daphne must have sensed my thoughts, because she rested a hand on my thigh and stroked a finger toward my flaccid penis.

“It’d be really nice to spend the night with you,” she said. “Maybe we could get a hotel room?”

“What about Sara?”

Daphne shrugged. “She actually likes you, but don’t tell her I told you.”

“Wait, Sara actually likes me?”

“Well, maybe not ‘likes,’ but she trusts you.”

“Trusts me to what? Be a man?”

“That,” she admitted, “but also ’cause you’re not like the others, the ones from… before.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good.”

“She knows that we’re going to… you know.” I gestured vaguely.

Daphne nodded.

“I dunno…”

“Please. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I didn’t like the idea that I could be bribed, but that was my problem, not hers.

“Besides,” she added, “there’s something I need to tell you.” She sat up and looked embarrassed. “You remember that stupid professor? The one who wanted to do a photo shoot?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, she actually started measuring the pictures Sara took.”

My eyebrows rose.

“She’s just a stupid size queen,” Daphne said.

“Wait,” I said as the light dawned, “she thinks I’m not big enough? Seriously? She has some arbitrary standard and I don’t measure up?” Daphne looked nervous, so I laughed. “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Why should I be? Maybe I’m a little disappointed, but that’s all. I mean, some woman just called my manhood small, but who the hell is she?”

Daphne shook her head quickly. “You’re not small.”

“Ah, now I get it,” I said. “You kept telling me how big I am.”

She looked surprised and a bit embarrassed that I’d noticed.

“Don’t worry about it. You were just trying to soften the blow… so to speak.”

She didn’t get the joke. She was probably still worried that I might explode or get angry at her. I knew better than to shoot the messenger.

“So you’re not angry?”

“Not really. I’m a little confused, though.” I paused to gather my thoughts. “Let me see if I understand. Sara’s professor told her she’s not interested in me anymore because I don’t measure up, and you chose to break the news to me?”

“Um… sort of. I thought it’d be better coming from me.” She added a bit defensively, “I didn’t think you’d react like this.”

“You thought I’d be upset?”

She nodded.

“And let me guess,” I added, “you thought I’d vent my spleen on you… in bed.”

“Vent your what?”

“Never mind. You thought we’d have angry sex?”

“Sort of.”

“What is it with you? Do you need a major pounding every once in a while?” I heard my tone and immediately felt guilty. “Wait, forget I said that. Sorry. That was me venting my spleen. I guess I don’t like being manipulated. And I really don’t like it when you use your body as a… sexual sop.”

“Sexual what?”

“Never mind,” I said again.

“I wasn’t using you,” she insisted. “It’s just that I… really need it sometimes. So I thought—”

“Two birds with one stone?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Ha! Was she asking if I minded fucking her? “No, of course not. It’s just that…”

“I like being with you. I like”—she lowered her eyes—“when you use me.”

I started to object, but kept it to myself instead. Who was I to say what she should or shouldn’t like?

“So,” she ventured, “do you still want to…?”

“Get a hotel room? Of course. Kinda hard to fuck the hell out of you if I don’t.”

Her smile was the genuine article.

Leah called on Saturday morning. She’d had a talk with her mother and the world hadn’t come to an end. Elizabeth wasn’t exactly happy with the news, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She probably wouldn’t stop trying to steer Leah into medical school, but at least they’d had a grown-up discussion for a change.

She also told me that Gary had stuck to the bargain and revised his story, which had thrown the rumor mill into confusion. People still believed what they wanted, but that was life. In another bit of good news, she’d found a silver lining in the whole Gary saga. His name was Mark, and he was part of the in-crowd, although not from Gary’s circle.

Her friendship with Mark had started innocently enough, at the mall. She’d been with a group of friends and so had he. They’d gone their separate ways, but bumped into each other at a friend’s party that night. They hit it off and spent most of the night talking to each other. Leah had learned her lesson with Gary, which Mark seemed to understand, so he hadn’t asked her to make out.

“Oh, my God,” Leah said in the middle of telling me about him, “he said he’d call this morning. I’d better hang up in case he does. He wants to go to the mall, so I need to get ready. I haven’t even showered!”

After we hung up I spent a moment lost in thought. Leah and I had always been honest: we loved each other but weren’t in love. And if she had another guy in her life, I mused, then she wouldn’t want to spend much time with yours truly.

I didn’t know how I felt about that. I was happy for her, of course, but part of me wanted to keep her to myself. So I had to decide whose happiness was more important, hers or mine. In the end, I silently wished her the best of luck with Mark. She needed a nice guy in her life, one she could fall in love with.

I decided to call my parents before I turned melancholy and started to brood. I hadn’t spoken to them in a while and needed to ask about living at home over the summer. Erin answered on the first ring and immediately started talking.

“Whoa,” I stopped her. “Who do you think this is?” I could almost hear her confusion through the line.

“Sorry,” she said, “I thought you were Leah. I just called her, but she’s waiting for some guy to call and she said she’d call back after he did.”

“Ah, got it.” I said. “Mark, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you—? Never mind. She can tell me when I see her. I’m going over now. Talk to you later.”

She hung up and I stared at the phone in annoyance.

I dialed home again.

Erin answered on the first ring. “Did he call?”

“It’s me again, Er.”

“Ugh! What do you want?”

“The same thing I wanted the first time. Is Mom there?”

“God! Whatever.” She muffled the phone against her shoulder and yelled, “Mom! It’s Paul!” The handset clattered onto her nightstand and she started banging around her bedroom.

Mom picked up and yelled for Erin to hang up. “I swear,” she muttered to herself, “I’m gonna kill that girl.” Then to me, “Pray that you never have a teenage daughter. She’ll drive you batshit crazy.”

I chuckled. My mother did not swear lightly.

She took a deep breath and continued, “But that’s not why you called, is it, dear? How are you? How’s school?”

She seemed to relax as I told her about my life. Then I asked about living at home and she perked up.

“Seriously? That would be wonderful.”

“Um… why? What’s up?”

“We want to build an in-ground hot tub, and your dad plans to manage the construction between trips. But he has to fly as much as he can—we need to pay for the thing and he wants to buy a new airplane—so he won’t have much time. But if you’re going to be here, you can take care of everything.”

“Be happy to,” I said, although it would mean extra work when I didn’t have a lot of spare time to begin with. Then again, I would be living rent-free in suburban Atlanta. That alone was a huge benefit. I couldn’t imagine my parents actually charging me rent, but it’d be nice to earn my keep for a change.

“Your dad will be relieved,” Mom continued, “especially since you’ll do a better job.”

My jaw dropped as her words registered. My father had always been the man who could do anything, at least as far as I was concerned. So it came as a bit of a shock when my mom considered me the better man, especially for something as simple as a small construction project.

“He’s been driving the contractor nuts,” Mom continued.

“Tell Dad not to worry,” I told her. “I’ll take care of everything.” That was another first: me telling my father to relax, like I was a pro from Dover. Ha!

Mom and I talked for a while longer, about the hot tub and their plans for the summer.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said, “Grandma and Grandpa invited Erin on a cruise.”

“Oh?”

“They wanted to invite you too, but I told them you probably couldn’t because of work. I hope you don’t mind.”

Part of me did mind, but she was right.

She must’ve heard the disappointment in my silence. “Maybe you can do something with them next summer.”

“I’m going to be just as busy then.” I sounded petulant and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. It’s okay. I mean, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re not. Besides, Erin really needs to get away. She’s been… a bit of a pill lately.”

I chuckled at the understatement.

We talked for a few more minutes and then said goodbye. I was excited about the hot tub, since it would be a chance to prove myself to my parents. But then I had another thought: my dad had lost some of his luster. Oh, I’d known for a while that he wasn’t a superman or anything, but some illusions die hard.

Before I could brood about that too, I decided to go for a run. Afterward I blew off Gracie by going to the airport. Now that I had my instrument rating, I wanted to work on the next stage of flight training. Earl Walker was lounging in the FBO with a couple of the other regulars, and my question started a grand debate. In the end they recommended a High Performance endorsement and then multi-engine training.

“Okay,” I said, “when can we start?”

Clearly, I thought I had too much free time.

I talked to Leah a couple of times over the next week and heard all about Mark. They’d made out at his house one day after school, and the rumor mill was completely silent the next day. They’d gone a bit further two nights later (“Only second base,” Leah said), and nothing circulated about that either.

Leah had once told me that Gina had been lucky in high school, because I didn’t blab about what we did in bed. I’d known at the time that it was important, but Gary had given me a new appreciation of what it meant. So I was happy for Leah, although she wouldn’t be coming to Knoxville for any more long weekends.

Daphne had gotten her fill of me too—ahem!—so my prospects for casual sex didn’t look so hot. I wouldn’t go crawling back to Gina, and Kendall still ignored me whenever we saw each other around campus. I didn’t want to sneak around with Sandra the bitter trophy wife, and I couldn’t add inches to my johnson even if I wanted to satisfy the size queen. So I needed to start dating again.

I’d never had a problem meeting girls, but I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. I thought about asking Gracie out, but didn’t relish the idea of dinner and an argument. She was attractive enough, and definitely smart enough, but entirely too contrary for my taste. I thought about mending fences with Christy but didn’t know where to begin, probably because I wasn’t sure what was wrong.

In the end I started paying more attention to girls around campus, which was how I met Paige. She was a blue-eyed blonde with a nice body and an even nicer smile. I met her coming out of the Baptist Student Union. We made eye contact as I jogged past, so I slowed to a stop, turned around, and introduced myself.

I only intended to ask for her phone number, but we hit it off and talked for fifteen minutes. I asked her to dinner instead. It was a normal date, with lots of the usual chitchat, but I could tell that she was into me. Not surprisingly, our goodnight kiss turned into a heavy make-out session in a secluded stairwell. We didn’t want to push things too far on the first date, so I sent her upstairs alone. I discovered her wild side on our second date. We were driving to dinner when she suggested a movie instead.

“What do you want to see?”

She shrugged with studied indifference. “I don’t care. I don’t plan on facing the screen, if you know what I mean.”

I almost wrecked the Cruiser as I veered into the theater parking lot. I picked a movie at random, and we spent the first twenty minutes making out. Things heated up from there, and she didn’t balk when I put her hand on my hard-on. Since we were in the back row, I asked if she wanted me to take it out. She went from stroking to sucking to swallowing in record time.

After the movie I drove to the elementary school parking lot, where we made out some more. She let me take off her blouse and bra, but put on the brakes when I moved lower. She was an “experienced virgin,” she said, and was saving herself for marriage. I was disappointed until she offered to go down on me again.

Unfortunately, that’s as far as we ever went. She didn’t have any qualms about spending the night with me, but her panties never came off. She wasn’t shy about giving head either, although she absolutely refused to do more. She hinted pretty heavily that she’d have sex with a guy if he were her fiancé, but I wasn’t willing to go that far just to get laid. We were both fairly honest about what we wanted, though, so we parted as friends after only a couple of weeks.

I met Kimberly a day later. She was sitting on a bench outside the Catholic Center. Like Paige, she was petite and blonde, with blue eyes and a come-hither smile. We struck up a conversation so I asked for her phone number. I called her later that afternoon, and we had our first date the night after that.

I should have known she was different when she asked me to church on our second date. I went to Mass with her, although I felt like an idiot. I didn’t know when to sit or stand, and had no idea what to say when the congregation replied to the priest en masse.

I persevered because Kimberly had a body that would make Hugh Hefner jealous. She was a complete tease, but pretended to be a good girl, so I couldn’t wait to get into her panties. Fortunately, I knew just the thing to loosen her up: alcohol. Even better, Wren was throwing a birthday party for Christy at their apartment, and Kimberly said it sounded like fun.

I picked her up that evening and nearly split my zipper when I saw her dress. It clung to her curves and showed more cleavage than I thought she had. She gave me a chaste hug and kiss, but lingered so I had a good view down her dress.

The party was just getting started when we arrived, and I introduced her to everyone. She and Christy recognized each other from church, but neither seemed happy to see the other. Christy introduced me to her date, Ronald. Something about him put me off immediately. We parted with fake smiles all around, and I steered Kimberly toward the kitchen and booze. She took a wine cooler and gave me an encouraging smile.

Things went great until I took her back to her dorm. I was a bit drunk and a lot horny, so I probably pushed things faster than she was ready for. She pretended to have a headache, so I said goodnight, went home, and took a long shower to relieve my frustration.

Things didn’t go any better on our third date. Kimberly liked to make out, although she stopped me every time I tried to cop a feel. She also liked flirting and sexual innuendos, but shut me down any time I tried to act on her come-ons.

She obviously liked the attention, but on our fourth and final date she dropped a bombshell: she wasn’t “that kind of girl,” and I was sadly mistaken if I thought otherwise. I was too much of a gentleman to tell her what to do with her priggish attitude, but she got the gist. I stopped calling after that, and she was probably happy that I did.

After Paige’s Baptist hypocrisy and Kimberly’s Catholic cock-tease, I wasn’t in the mood for another religious girl, so I decided to cool it for a while. I needed to find the right girl, one who actually wanted to have sex instead of just fool around.

I was sitting in the Old College Inn doing homework by myself one afternoon when the waitress lingered after she brought my beer. She was attractive and curvy, basically a blonde version of Kendall (although shorter). The bar was deserted after the lunch crowd, and the early drinkers hadn’t arrived yet. I was one of only two customers.

“I’m not busy,” the waitress said. “Mind if I join you?”

I closed my books. “Be my guest. I’m Paul, by the way.”

She slid into the booth beside me. “Tracy.” She took a sip of my beer. “I’ve seen you in here before.”

We made small talk until the customer at the bar paid his tab and left. Then Tracy gave me a smoldering look and leaned in for a kiss. I obliged and she rested a hand on my thigh. The kiss deepened and she slid her fingers toward my crotch.

“Mmm,” she breathed, “wanna go in the back and fool around?”

I must have looked as surprised as I felt, because she laughed and called to the bartender, a pretty redhead with freckles and an Aussie accent.

“I’m going to check the liquor stock, Miranda,” Tracy said. “Keep an eye out?”

Tracy led me into the manager’s office and locked the door behind us. Then she kissed me again and began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Do you have protection?” she asked as she unbuckled my belt.

“Um… yeah.”

She took the condom, ripped open the packet, and expertly rolled the latex over my shaft.

We fucked against the desk, hard and fast. When it was over she cleaned up, adjusted her panties, and grinned.

“Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.” Then she gave me another kiss and opened the door. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. Wanna stick around? We can fuck again after close.”

I blinked in surprise. I was used to assertive women, but she took the cake. “Sorry,” I said as I looked at my watch, “I can’t. I have something to do.”

She pouted.

“I can come back later, though.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

I returned later, of course, and Tracy led me to the manager’s office after the bar closed. She was like a teenage boy’s fantasy, horny and eager. I returned again the next afternoon and we slipped into the manager’s office. I couldn’t believe my luck when she handed me a tube of K-Y, bent over, and spread her ass.

The rest of the week was more of the same. My friends wondered why I was spending so much time at the bar, but I dodged their questions. Wren figured it out when she asked if I wanted company while I “studied.” She made noises about wanting to approve my new girlfriend, but she was mostly teasing.

As far as girlfriends went, I wasn’t sure that Tracy actually qualified. We had sex every time we were together, but never went on a proper date. I really shouldn’t have been surprised when our relationship came to an abrupt end. One afternoon I arrived at the bar and a new waitress greeted me. Miranda the bartender asked the new girl to cover for her. She took me aside and explained.

“Sorry, mate,” she said, “but Tracy isn’t here anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

Miranda had the grace to look embarrassed. “She quit. Her… um… boyfriend finally popped the question.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He’s a lawyer. Downtown. She moved in with him and works in his office now. I guess he wants to keep her close. Can’t say I blame him, really. I think he twigged to her extracurricular activities.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I thanked Miranda and left. Part of me was completely bewildered by Tracy and our whirlwind “relationship,” but another part was genuinely upset. I didn’t mind the casual sex, but something about it had been too casual. She had a boyfriend? A lawyer? And she was going to marry him?

I was too embarrassed to talk to Wren, so I called Susan instead.

“Do you honestly think you had a future with her?” she asked when I finished my story.

I realized that I hadn’t really thought about it before. Worse, I’d been thinking with my dick, and it pained me to admit it. In my defense, it was partly a reaction to Paige and Kimberly and their religious hang-ups. I knew better, though, and mindless sex with Tracy wasn’t the answer.

“No, I guess not,” I said at last.

“Then it’s time to move on, like Tracy did.”

“Seriously? Women can do that? I thought only guys did.”

“It’s the Eighties,” Susan said with a laugh. “Women’s lib and all.”

“Some liberation,” I muttered.

“Now you know how women have felt for years.”

I harrumphed, but she was right.

“Just enjoy it for what it was, a week of meaningless sex.”

“But I don’t want meaningless sex,” I half-whined.

“You did while it was happening.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“How?”

“How? What do you mean, ‘how?’”

She laughed again.

“You’re having fun at my expense.”

“Oh, indeed.”

I sulked, but she knew me too well to take it to heart.

“You’ll survive,” she said at last. “And you learned a valuable lesson.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“When a woman has sex with you in the back room of a bar, it probably isn’t serious.”

“But I thought—” I wanted to whine, but decided to stew instead. “Well, damn,” I said at last.

“Yes?”

“I hate learning ‘valuable lessons,’ especially at my own expense.”

“Would you rather it were at someone else’s expense?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“I am,” she said, “but I’m also a woman, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“And I think it’s amusing that you met your match for casual sex.”

I harrumphed again.

She laughed, but it was friendly. “You’ll survive. And if you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, I’d like to talk to you about a project.”

“You’re not building a hot tub, are you?”

“Not a hot tub, but… did your mom tell you?”

“No,” I said, a bit petulantly, “so you’d better. And try not to sound so smug when you do. You know I hate it when you laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, dear. I’m laughing with you. Trust me, there’s a difference. Now, about my project…”

She wanted to build a small camp at the site of Bernie Kestrel’s old house. Workers had demolished it and replaced it with a clubhouse, and had begun work on a swimming pool. In addition, Susan had plans for several guest cottages with modern amenities.

“Lemme guess,” I said, “you want me to oversee the construction.”

“Well, no…,” she said, as though I should’ve known better. “Jeremiah is doing that.”

Duh! I should have known better. He had more experience than I could learn in a lifetime, maybe two.

Susan continued, “I was hoping you’d take a look at the cottage designs and let me know what you think.”

“Sure. Be happy to. You want me to fly over next weekend? I just got my HP endorsement.”

“Your what?”

“High Performance,” I explained. “It means I can fly faster planes. The local club has a Piper Comanche that I can rent. I’ve been dying to take it cross-country.”

“That sounds fun, but you don’t have to come here. I’ll have Jeremiah ship you a set of plans. I think he’ll enjoy that. He doesn’t like the architect very much, and he respects your opinion.”

“Gunny?”

“Of course. He’s very proud of you.”

After my father, Gunny was the other man who could do anything. Jeez, I thought, what’s the world coming to? First my father and now him? “I’m not a real architect, you know,” I confessed. “I mean, I can’t sign drawings or anything.”

“I know,” she said, “but I don’t care. I already have an architect who can do that. What I don’t have is a brilliant young designer with an eye for detail.”

Uh-huh. And guess who’s been talking to my mother. Aloud I said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Won’t it, though?”

I laughed. “God, I love you!”

“I know,” she said. “I love you too, but I’m older than your mother.”

“That never stopped me.”

“Oh, you sweet young man, you say the nicest things.”

Gracie and I were getting nowhere. We’d been deadlocked for weeks, frittering away the time with pointless arguments about styles. Since we weren’t getting anything useful done, I worked on my summer project, doing sketches and making plans for the Atlanta houses.

I also had a chance to use my shiny new High Performance endorsement. Trip and I rented the Comanche and flew to Franklin. There, we picked up Mike Junior and Big Jim (who barely fit in the back) and continued to Atlanta. My mom had left her station wagon at the airport for us, and we used it to tour Sandy Springs and look at the houses.

“Well, I like the area in general,” Mike said at last, “but about the houses… I just don’t see the numbers.”

Trip frowned. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t think you have enough profit with only two. Maybe for you and the college kid, but not for us too.”

“Okay,” Trip said slowly, “so what do we do? Buy another?”

“That could work. Have to be a real fixer-upper, though. That first house and the other one…” He snapped his fingers at me. “What’s it called, college kid? With the exposed beams and plaster…?”

“Tudor.”

“Right, the Tudor. They both need new roofs and gutters. Siding for the rancher, and windows for the Tudor. Landscaping too. Floors in both, probably. So we gotta find a third house that needs all that. Not worth our time if it only needs new carpet and a fresh coat of paint.”

Trip nodded. “We’ll also get better prices on the materials since we’ll need more.”

“Yep,” Mike said.

“But can we run three crews at once?”

“Don’t see why not,” Mike said. “I run one, you run another, and Jim runs the third.”

“Hold on,” I said. “How?” Jim didn’t speak. Not that I’d ever heard, at least. “No offense, Jim,” I said. “I mean, I understand you just fine, but— Oh. I get it.”

“Right,” Mike said. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

I didn’t rise to the bait.

“So Jim runs the crew,” he explained, “but you do all the talking. It’s the only thing you’re good for anyway.”

I ignored that barb too. “Do you really think that’ll work?” I asked instead.

“Me? Personally? No way. But Jim does, and I trust him.”

Jim gave me a reassuring nod.

“It was his idea anyway,” Mike went on. “For reasons that pass understanding, he likes you.”

“Go figure,” I said sarcastically.

Trip gave me a sidelong grin.

Even Mike seemed impressed by my restraint.

Jim’s look was clear: See? That’s why I like you.

I smiled at the compliment but then turned serious. “Okay, so we need another house. Where are we gonna find one on such short notice?”

“Well,” Mike said, “happens I saw one that might do…”

“Miss Fisher, Mr. Hughes,” Joska said at the end of design lab, “I need to speak to you for a moment.”

Gracie and I gathered our drafting tools and shared a worried look. Joska rarely had anything positive to say, and his little chats often resulted in extra work.

“As you know,” he began, “the Art and Architecture departments are having a student exhibition at the end of the quarter. I think it would be good for you to participate.”

Oh you do? I thought irritably.

“What style have you chosen for your project?”

Gracie looked like she wanted to slink away, so I took one for the team.

“Um… we’re still doing research.”

Joska frowned.

“We’ll make a decision tonight,” I promised.

“See that you do. You have nine days until the exhibition, and you will not embarrass this department. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” we said in unison.

Gracie and I argued all the way back to her dorm room. We were still arguing an hour later when I broke the impasse.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s just pick at random.” I ripped a page from my notebook and began tearing it into little squares. “Here,” I told her, “start writing styles on these. We’ll pick from a hat.”

Midway through I had a nasty suspicion. “You’d better not be writing ‘Brutalism’ on every one.”

She laughed nervously and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Then she surreptitiously brushed half the squares into her lap. I started to call her on it but decided to let it go instead.

“All right,” I said at last. “Ready?” I shook the hat and held it above eye level. “You pick.”

She reached up and sifted through the paper. She took too long, which made me think that she’d somehow marked the one with Brutalism on it.

“Just pick one,” I snapped. “Come on.”

She pulled her hand back as though she’d been scalded. Then she examined the folded paper and frowned.

“Lemme guess,” I said tartly, “not the one you were feeling around for?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes again.

“Whatever,” I said. “Open it.”

She read it and slumped.

“What?”

“The dumbest style and the dumbest name.” She practically threw it at me.

Googie, I read. Then I frowned. “That’s a style?”

Gracie snatched the paper. “Let’s pick again.”

“Oh no you don’t! You picked it fair and square, now live with it. What is it, by the way?”

“It’s dumb. It’s a bunch of stupid motels and gas stations, part of the futurist movement in Southern California in the Forties and Fifties. But there aren’t any real buildings in this style. Come on, let’s pick another!”

I pulled the hat away and unceremoniously dumped the contents into the trash. “No way. I’m not giving you another chance to sandbag me with monolithic, slab-sided—”

“They’re not monolithic! If you can’t see the beauty in making a statement…”

It was the same argument, and it hadn’t gotten us anywhere before.

“Stop!” I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes until I felt calm again. “Now,” I said at last, “tell me about Googie.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a ridiculous style with lots of neon. Neon, Paul!”

“Sounds like a statement to me,” I shot back. I drew another deep breath and tried to relax. Again. “I mean, it sounds interesting. So tell me about it.”

“It’s a lot of geometric shapes with glass and steel. I can’t think of a single famous build— Wait, maybe there is one. Saarinen’s Trans World Center.”

I wracked my brain. “You mean the terminal at JFK?”

She nodded, although it was a condemnation. “Exactly.” She frowned at another thought. “Also, the Theme Building at LAX. It’s Googie too.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s perfect.”

She managed to look even more sour.

“Hey,” I said, “you put it on the list and then you picked it, so it’s your own fault.” She looked like she wanted to throw a tantrum, so I relented. “Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll do the renderings and—”

“Why should you do the renderings?”

“Because I’m a better artist and you know it.”

She wanted to argue but knew she’d lose. She glared instead.

“As I was saying,” I continued, “I’ll do the watercolors and make the model, and you can write a scathing critique of Googie’s… I dunno… ‘Populuxe sentimentality.’ Fair?”

“Did you just use ‘Populuxe’ in a sentence?”

“Yes, I did,” I said with faux dignity. “I must have read it once. In a book.”

That broke the tension and she actually laughed. “Seriously? Do we have to do Googie? It’s so… dumb!”

“Yes, we do,” I said. “We weren’t getting anywhere with all those arguments. Besides, it’ll be fun. You can be arrogant and idealistic, and I can ignore you like I usually do.”

She glared, but her heart wasn’t in it. “It’s really dumb.”

But it’s not Brutalism, I thought cheerfully. “Fine, it’s really dumb, but we’re stuck with it, so let’s make the most of it. Tell you what… I’ll take you to dinner and you can trash everything about it. Then we’ll hit the library and do some research before it closes. Okay?”

Gracie and I were together nearly every waking hour over the next week. We split our time between the design lab and her dorm room, where she had a small desktop drafting board. We ate every meal together, and usually finished work in the wee hours of the morning. I even skipped my workouts and sparring, and only saw my friends in class.

I was exhausted every night when I returned home, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I even showered at Gracie’s place after my morning runs so we’d have time to work before class. It was a constant grind, but we accomplished in a week what we hadn’t in two months of bickering.

I also discovered the secret to Gracie’s success: she had a quick mind and a phenomenal memory for details. She could design a building in record time, although she never showed any flexibility. Once she got something in her head, she never let it go, never looked at it from another angle, never tried to deconstruct it and build it better. Granted, her first idea was usually good, but even the good ones could use improvement. She was never willing to consider it, though, which caused a lot of friction between us.

In the process I gained a new appreciation of my strengths and how I was different. Gracie could see an entire building from the start, but my designs were always evolving and improving. Hers were good, but with enough time I could design something more creative. I was absolutely convinced of that.

So working with Gracie was an eye-opening experience, which Professor Joska had probably foreseen. On the other hand, I’m sure he hadn’t foreseen what happened next.

Gracie and I were so busy that I rarely had time to jerk off. So I spent a lot of time daydreaming about sex. Not surprisingly, Gracie figured in most of my fantasies. And why not? She was smart and attractive, and completely natural about her looks. She was incredibly insecure about other things, but not her body. She didn’t flaunt it when we were alone, but I definitely saw more than in class, and from a lot closer.

Unfortunately, our tempers were frayed after spending a week together without a break. Two nights before the project was due, a minor disagreement turned into a major argument. It had nothing to do with the project and everything to do with our personalities. I couldn’t see the big picture. She was a rigid control freak. I couldn’t get the details right. She didn’t have a creative bone in her body.

We shouted at each other for several minutes, until we ran out of steam at the same time. Then we simply stood there, breathing hard and glaring. I should’ve been furious with her, but instead I couldn’t stop thinking about her breasts. Worse, her nipples looked like they might rip through her blouse.

Her expression changed all of a sudden, and I kissed her before I realized what I was doing. I braced myself for a slap, but she moaned and kissed me back. I pulled her tight. She kissed me even harder, so I grabbed her ass and squeezed.

We began tearing off clothes at the same time. She was still clawing at my shirt when I ripped open her blouse and broke the catch on her bra. Then I pushed her onto the bed and kicked off my shoes. She unsnapped her jeans as I shucked my own. I knelt between her legs, rolled a condom over my shaft, and set it at her pussy. She was hot and slippery, and groaned when I thrust into her.

We didn’t speak. Or kiss. Or even make eye contact. We simply fucked.

Afterward I lay atop her and panted from the force of my orgasm. My brain eventually started working again, and I searched for words.

“Wow,” I said at last. “I don’t— I mean, I didn’t—”

She tilted her face up for a kiss and my bare chest pressed against her breasts.

When had I lost my shirt?

She pulled back and sighed. “That was amazing. I never had that happen before.”

“You mean…” I blinked. “I mean… were you a…? That wasn’t…?” I took a deep breath and gathered my wits. “That wasn’t your first time, was it?”

She looked confused before she understood and shook her head. Then she smiled. “I’ve never… you know… had an… um, orgasm like that. Not from just doing it. I knew it’d be good, but…” She blushed. “And I knew your thing was big, but… wow!”

“Hold on, how did you know about my… ‘thing’?”

“There were these pictures…”

I suppressed a fit of pique. Had everyone seen the damn things?

“I was kinda annoyed at first, ’cause people were making such a big deal about your thing.” She laughed a little nervously. “But then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to do it ever since.” She frowned. “You don’t think I’m easy, do you?”

“Of course not. It’s just… I mean…”

She sighed dreamily. “I just knew we’d end up together.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I climbed off her and found my discarded shirt. Then I went to the bathroom to clean up. When I returned she was wearing a full-length nightgown. She bustled around the room and talked at me more than to me. She assumed that I wanted to spend the night. I did, since I wanted to have sex again, but I resented that it was a foregone conclusion.

To make matters worse, Gracie was convinced that only one person could sleep in a twin bed, end of discussion. I knew better, but also knew better than to say so. So I hid my reluctance and helped her make a pallet of blankets on the floor. The hard floor. The cold floor. The dirty floor. (Gracie didn’t pick up after herself. Ever. She was an only child whose parents did everything for her.)

She also seemed to think that sex was over after the first orgasm. I was ready for round two, but she wasn’t in the mood and made it clear without even realizing it. She simply turned off the lights and climbed under the blanket.

I climbed in next to her but couldn’t get comfortable. Worse, my hard-on wouldn’t go away. Gracie fell asleep in minutes, so I threw off my covers and locked myself in the bathroom. I stroked my cock and imagined Gracie’s body.

Her breasts sagged a little, but I wasn’t about to complain. They were soft and round, and capped with dark pink nipples like little cocktail umbrellas. Her bush was about what I’d expected—full and natural—and I knew without asking that she’d never shave it.

On the plus side, her pouty lips made me think of blowjobs. So I pictured her on her knees, eyes closed in concentration as she gave me head. A dozen strokes later I filled a wad of toilet paper and then sagged against the sink.

What was I doing? Yeah, Gracie was attractive, but was she girlfriend material? Would her personality grow on me or would it drive me crazy? Then again, did I really care? She actually wanted to have sex with me. Unless she had a boyfriend that I didn’t know about, she was a lot better than the girls I’d been dating.

That thought brought up another. Were we dating now? Working on a project wasn’t the same. Having sex wasn’t either, which I knew as well (especially after the Tracy affair).

So, what were Gracie and I doing? We probably had different opinions about that too, and I had to decide if I was going to do things her way or break it off. I needed to do something soon, too, because I already had alarms going off in my head. Gracie had designs for our future, and nothing short of the apocalypse would make her change them.

I woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and sore back. I did sit-ups and push-ups to work out the kinks, and then stretched for my run. I left Gracie a note on my pillow in case she woke up before I returned. I could’ve run for hours, but we still had work to do, so I cut it short and returned after only three miles.

Gracie was awake when I tapped on the door, and she acted like a girlfriend instead of a prude. She even went along when I began to unbutton her nightgown. She pulled it over her head and took off her panties so I could admire her body in the morning light. I took off my own clothes and returned the favor.

She stared at my erection. “It’s even bigger in person.”

“It’s not that big,” I demurred. “I mean, yeah, maybe bigger than most guys, but not John Holmes big.”

“Who?”

I laughed. “Never mind. You want to shower together?”

She blushed but nodded, which went a long way toward erasing the doubts I’d had the night before.

I adjusted the water and then joined her in the tiny stall. We barely had room to move, but that made it easier for her to reach my dick. She seemed fascinated, and played with it for several minutes.

“Do you want to suck it?” I suggested.

She nodded hesitantly and sank to her knees. She started sucking, tentatively at first, but found a rhythm when I gave her some encouragement. She didn’t have much experience, so I warned her when I was about to come.

She stroked my shaft and aimed at her chest, which I dutifully covered with semen. When the spurts slowed to a few half-hearted gushes, she looked up and smiled. “Was that okay?”

“It was awesome,” I lied. Right up to the point where you didn’t swallow. I hid my disappointment and helped her to her feet. “Ready for round two?”

She laughed uncertainly.

“Seriously,” I said.

“Don’t you have to wait a while?”

“Not really.” I stroked my shaft. “I’m ready when you are.”

She wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Yeah,” I said at last, “you’re probably right. We should get to work.”

We finished in the shower and my erection eventually subsided. I made one last-ditch effort to get her in the mood, but she ignored the hint. So I sighed and began gathering my things.

At breakfast we talked about the project. I needed to put the final touches on my model, which was a space-age restaurant straight out of the Jetsons, with curving windows and a roofline that rose to the future. I also had to finish the full watercolor renderings of Gracie’s plans. Her design was a masterpiece of concept art, a cousin to the JFK and LAX buildings. I wasn’t sure it could be built, even with modern materials, but it was definitely impressive.

For Gracie’s part, she had to finish the elevation drawings of her building and then type the final draft of our paper. I didn’t like her writing style—it was passive and weak, and she made it sound like she was discussing a turd—but I knew better than to offer an opinion so late in the project.

In all fairness, I was just as biased about Googie. I liked it. It was full of mid-century optimism and served as an important transition between the late Art Deco and early Futurist movements.

Gracie interrupted my woolgathering. “Meet back at my room after class?”

“Yeah, sure. Seeya.”

She smiled and kissed my cheek. Then we gathered our things and headed our separate ways. We met back at her place and worked through the afternoon. I added backgrounds and landscaping to my watercolors while she inked the lettering on her drawings. Several hours later I dried my brushes, put away my paints, and admired my handiwork.

“I need a break,” I said. “Wanna go for a walk? Maybe have dinner? I know a great Italian place.”

“But we’re not done yet.”

“Close enough.”

“What if something happens while we’re out?”

“What could happen?”

“A car crash or something.”

I scoffed.

“Still, we need to finish this first.”

“Okay,” I said, “let’s stay in and celebrate.” I waggled my eyebrows.

“Seriously? We just did it last night. And again in the shower this morning. Remember?”

“How could I forget? I was hoping for a repeat.”

She ignored the suggestion and loaded a sheet of paper in her Smith-Corona.

I tried another tactic and began rubbing her shoulders.

She shrugged me off and bent over the draft of our paper.

I started rubbing again and reached down to caress her right breast.

She told me to get serious.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m going for a run.”

I wanted to stay away for hours, but I couldn’t outrun the responsible little voice in the back of my mind. I still had to finish the roof of the model. It was my third attempt, and I wasn’t entirely sure that it would look the way I wanted. So I cut my run short and returned.

Gracie answered the door and immediately apologized. Then she asked if I wanted to take a shower. My dick twitched at the unspoken offer, but the big head wondered why she’d changed her mind.

Before I had a chance to brood on it, she said, “I could do that thing you like.”

“Oh? What thing?”

“I could kiss it,” she said uncertainly.

“It?”

“You know, your thing.”

The thing in question was all in favor of her kissing it, so I stopped teasing and started undressing. In the shower she sank to her knees and began stroking my shaft. She didn’t do anything special with her mouth, but I enjoyed watching her wet breasts as she bobbed back and forth.

I toyed with the idea of coming in her mouth whether she liked it or not, but I didn’t want to be a jerk. So I warned her, and she pulled back in time for the first spurt to hit her chest. She didn’t even seem enthusiastic about it. It was just a job and she wanted to get it over with. I resigned myself to being disappointed after every blowjob. Still, it was better than no blowjob at all.

“Happy?” she asked as we dried off.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. ’Cause we still have lots of work to do.”

That’s Gracie, I thought peevishly, all business and no afterglow.

We finished the project with time to spare, so we hauled everything across campus and set it up in the atrium of the A&A building. Sara was there with her own exhibit, which included several black and white photos of Daphne looking wistful and ethereal in a flowing white dress.

Daphne herself was helping with the stands, and we traded friendly smiles. Sara saw the exchange and didn’t exactly smile, but she didn’t look surly either. Her expression grew wry when she realized that Gracie and I were together. She glanced from Gracie to Daphne and then back at me, as if to say, “What in God’s name were you thinking?”

Part of me felt indignant. Gracie wasn’t a knockout like Daphne, but she was cute enough. She didn’t have a militant lesbian girlfriend, either. So there! But part of me agreed with Sara, although not for the same reasons. Daphne had some weird sexual hang-ups, but at least we suited each other. Gracie and I weren’t even on the same page most of the time.

I was still thinking about it when we finished and returned to Gracie’s room. I rubbed her shoulders and planted gentle kisses along her neck, and she warmed to the mood. She let me take off her clothes and lower her to the bed, where she watched as I took off my own clothes.

I climbed on top of her and started kissing again, one hand gently kneading her breast. She let me suck her nipples, but stopped me when I kissed toward her pussy. I gently insisted, but she held her ground.

“Don’t,” she said. “It makes me feel weird.”

“I kind of enjoy it,” I said. “So relax. Okay?”

She shook her head and pulled me back up. “Just do it the regular way.”

“That is the regular way.”

She made a face. “Just put it in.” She lifted her hips to emphasize her point. “Please?”

So much for trying something new. I rolled a condom over my shaft. She clutched me when I thrust into her, but my mind was already somewhere else. I tried to stay focused—on the way her breasts bounced, or how her lips pursed as she suppressed her moans—but I couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. She’d been genuinely amused by Gracie, like we somehow didn’t fit.

Unfortunately, I was beginning to agree with her.

A few minutes later Gracie climaxed and I mechanically thrust until I finished too. I felt guilty but didn’t know what to say. So I climbed off and went to the bathroom to flush the condom. She let me have some privacy for a few minutes before she knocked on the door.

“Are you almost done? We need to get ready for the party.”

I gritted my teeth and forced a smile.

“I’ll shower first,” she said when I opened the door. “I need to retype the last page of our paper while you’re in the shower.” She didn’t even wait for an answer. She simply started the water and waited for me to leave.

I flopped on the bed and wondered if I’d made a mistake. I suspected that I had, especially if Gracie was as inflexible about sex as everything else. I was still brooding when she emerged from the bathroom and unceremoniously told me to get moving. She was too preoccupied to notice my mood, which made me even grumpier.

When I finished my shower, Gracie still didn’t notice that I was unusually quiet. Instead, she wondered aloud what dress she should wear. Most of them had floral patterns and puffy shoulders, and none were cut to show off her figure. I gazed at her with growing ennui. My attitude bothered me, but I couldn’t shake it.

I brooded as we walked to the A&A building, so Gracie talked for both of us. I couldn’t help comparing her to Christy and how she chattered when she was nervous. Christy was cute and bubbly. Gracie wasn’t. She was annoying, self-absorbed, and incredibly neurotic. She thought of a dozen things that could go wrong with the project, from mundane stuff to some really off-the-wall things like nuclear war.

Yeah, I scoffed to myself, I’m really gonna worry about a stupid project if the Soviets attack.

Fortunately, the party had already started when we arrived. It wasn’t a black-tie affair, but everyone had dressed up. Even the catering people had gone all-out. Servers in white jackets stood at the punchbowls and waiters circulated with trays of canapés.

Professor Joska greeted us a few feet from the door. He led us toward our project and didn’t have anything critical to say for a change. Instead, he practically gushed about Gracie’s “sweeping vision” and my “exceptional grasp of Googie’s transitional role.” I’d never seen him so enthusiastic, which completely threw me off.

He was still showering us with praise when he noticed a middle-aged couple across the atrium. “Ah, yes,” he said, “there’s someone you should meet.”

I followed his gaze and felt my pulse race when I saw the woman. I thought about ducking behind a column, but missed my chance.

“Ah, Dr. Showalter,” Joska said, “so good of you to come. And this must be your lovely wife.”

“Yes,” the man said, and turned to her. “Sandra, this is Professor Joska”—with the slightest contempt for the title—“the head of the Architecture Department and one of our hosts.”

“Just so,” Joska said as he bowed over her hand. “Your most humble servant.”

Sandra smiled politely. “So nice to meet you.”

“And it pleases me to present Miss Gracie Fisher and Mr. Paul Hughes,” Joska continued, “two of our most promising students.”

Gracie shook Sandra’s hand and I followed suit.

Sandra’s expression was mild and polite, but she caressed my palm and held it a bit too long. A part of me had hoped that she’d forgotten our weekend together, but I wasn’t that lucky.

“Dr. Showalter is Dean of Admissions,” Professor Joska said, oblivious to the byplay between Sandra and me.

I finally managed to pull my hand from her grasp. Flustered, I turned to her husband. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Showalter.”

He cleared his throat. “Doctor Showalter.”

Sandra curled a lip.

He brushed off the slight with a patronizing smile. Then he focused on Gracie and asked a question about our project.

I tried to fade into the background, but Sandra blocked my escape.

“Nice to see you again,” she said quietly. “I missed you.” She pressed her breast to my arm to make sure I understood.

I felt nervous and a little guilty until I noticed that her husband was flirting with Gracie. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Joska and Gracie were both clueless, but I couldn’t miss it. Neither could Sandra, and she frowned when she followed my gaze. She glared for a moment before she straightened her shoulders. I thought she was going to make a scene, but she controlled herself and glanced at me instead.

“Let’s slip away,” she said conversationally. “I’m in the mood all of a sudden.”

“Probably not a good idea,” I said, my voice pitched low. “Besides, I’m… with someone.”

“So am I. Who cares?”

“Still… not a good idea.”

She leaned close. “I’ll suck your cock. I remember how you like it.”

The little head thought that was an excellent idea, especially after Gracie’s lackluster blowjobs. Fortunately the big head was still in control. “Thanks,” I said with a tight smile, “but maybe some other time.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Sandra said under her breath. “I know you want it.”

At that point I did the only thing I could: I bailed and summoned reinforcements. “Freddie! How are you? I want you to meet someone.”

Freddie looked around until he spotted us. Then he ambled over and spoke around a mouthful of canapé.

“Hey, whassup?”

“Freddie,” I said, “this is Sandra Showalter. Her husband is the Dean of Admissions.”

He wiped his hand on his slacks and cleared his throat. “Pleased ta meetcha.”

Sandra gave me the evil eye before she faked a smile and shook his hand. Then she had a thought. She looped her arm through Freddie’s and steered him toward another exhibit. “So, Freddie, is it? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He glanced back at me, but I waved him on. I felt a little guilty for throwing him to the lions—er, lioness—but he was a big boy.

Besides, I thought wryly, he might get lucky.

Doctor Dickless eventually let Joska steer him toward the fourth- and fifth-year projects. I surprised Gracie from behind and she beamed at me.

“Wow,” she said, “the Dean of Admissions.”

“Yeah, pretty cool,” I said. But what an asshole. He was twice her age, and married besides.

I guided her toward one of the waiters serving punch and asked for two cups. I took a gulp and felt it burn the back of my throat. The waiter kept a blank face, but cracked a grin when I shot him a watery-eyed glare.

“What?” Gracie asked.

“Better let me have that,” I said as I reached for her cup.

She scowled and pulled her hand away. Red liquid sloshed over the rim of the cup. She tasted the punch and then licked it off her hand. “I can handle my liquor,” she said, a bit too loudly.

“Sure,” I agreed, “but you’d better do it quietly. This is a dry campus.”

The waiter cleared his throat. “The other punchbowls are virgin,” he said.

“I’m cool,” I said, and took a measured sip from my cup. Once I knew what to expect, I didn’t choke, but my sinuses burned at the alcohol content. “UT sure knows how to throw a party.”

“Mmm hmm,” he agreed.

Gracie and I mingled and talked to the other guests, but the alcohol hit her hard. Still, she insisted on another cup.

“You should probably eat something first,” I suggested.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

I made a hands-off gesture and followed her to the punch station. I took another cup as well, but made sure to grab a crab puff from a passing waiter. I looked for Freddie, but didn’t spot him in the crowd. Not surprisingly, I didn’t see Sandra either.

I surveyed the atrium and had to stifle a laugh. Doctor Dickless was flirting with Sara and Daphne. Sara caught my eye and winked. My eyebrows rose as she returned her attention to Dickless, the very picture of an ingénue.

I chuckled and continued scanning the crowd until I saw Trip. He nodded and pointed me out to Wren, who smiled and blew a kiss. Christy and Ronald were standing next to them, and we exchanged cursory waves. Then the little blonde said something to her date and they headed toward the nearest punch station.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself.

“What?” Gracie asked.

“Nothing, dear.”

“Oh, good. Get us another punch.”

“Maybe you should slow down.”

“Maybe you should shut up.”

Gee, I thought sourly, aren’t you a fun drunk.

The next hour passed in a blur of conversation, food, and drink. Freddie found me and pulled me aside to boast that Sandra had given him a blowjob. I wasn’t surprised, but acted impressed as Freddie gave me a play-by-play.

And that’s why you don’t have a girlfriend, I thought smugly. Then I decided to be his friend instead of a sarcastic jerk.

“Congratulations,” I told him quietly. “Really. But lemme give you a piece of advice…” I told him about the benefits of keeping his adventures to himself. I didn’t go into detail, but made it clear that it worked for me. A lot.

“So that’s why you get all the chicks? ’Cause you keep your trap shut?”

“Well, that,” I agreed, “but also ’cause I’m hung like a horse.”

He looked at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Fuggedaboutit,” he said at last, although I was pretty sure he’d taken my advice to heart.

I clapped him on the shoulder and went looking for Gracie. I found her at the punch bowl, in the middle of a slurred conversation with the waiter. She was upright, but only just. I glanced over her head and made eye contact with the man. He looked chagrined, and nodded when I made a “cut her off” gesture.

I spent the rest of the party babysitting Gracie. She was a mean drunk, and I was tempted to abandon her to her own devices. But I still believed in chivalry, so I helped her back to her dorm room. She wanted me to stay, but I brushed her off. I didn’t want to spend another minute with her, much less have sex, so I made my excuses and left.

It was past two o’clock when I finally reached my apartment, where I heard low music from down the hall. My bedroom door was locked, so I tried again, more forcefully. Then I realized that the music was Trip’s make-out tape.

“Crap,” I muttered under my breath.

I was about to turn away when the door swung open. Trip glared. He was wearing his underwear, but it didn’t hide his erection.

“Sorry,” I said.

His anger faded. “Hey, no prob. I thought you’d be at Gracie’s.”

I shook my head. “Long story.”

Wren poked her head under his arm. She was holding Trip’s dress shirt closed in front of her. She asked if I was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “I just wanna go to bed.”

Trip hesitated. “Um…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wren told him. “Of course he can—”

“No, it’s cool,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You all can… um… you know.”

They shared a guilty look.

“Seriously,” I said. “I’ll be fine. It’s a lot better than the floor. You kids have fun.” I fixed Trip with a mock-stern look. “Wear protection, young man. You hear?”

He grinned and nodded.

I turned to Wren and almost laughed at her expression. She was torn between concern for me and desire to finish what they’d been doing. I rolled my eyes and shooed them into the bedroom.

Wren stopped me with a gesture and then disappeared. I heard her open my closet and then a dresser drawer. A moment later she reappeared with my extra sheets and a blanket. Then she fetched my pillow and added it to the pile.

“Um… thanks.” I turned away and wondered what she’d been smirking about.

I found out when I started to make up the couch.

“Well, I’ll be—”

Wren had added a pair of panties. I recognized them immediately. They were Christy’s. Wren would probably tease me, but at least she didn’t know who they belonged to. I tucked them under my pillow and climbed into my makeshift bed.

Sometime later I felt a touch on my leg. I cracked an eyelid.

Wren sat on the edge of the couch. She was wearing Trip’s shirt but hadn’t bothered to button it. I glanced at the smooth curve of her breast before I managed to focus on her face.

“Are you really okay?” she asked.

I nodded. “Nothing a little time won’t fix.”

“Gracie?”

Another nod.

“Sorry it didn’t work out.”

I shrugged.

“She’s too uptight,” Wren said. “Too… self-centered. Probably like that in bed too.”

“Nice boobs, though.”

“If you like ’em big. I prefer mine.”

“They’re nice,” I agreed. “But big and soft is nice too.”

“Ha! They’ll be down to her lap by the time she’s thirty.”

“Yeah, probably.”

We fell silent for a long moment and merely looked at each other. Then she smiled, but with a hint of sadness. “Sometimes I wish it had worked out between us.”

I shook my head. “No regrets. You deserve a guy like Trip. He’ll treat you right. I’d just break your heart.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course you wouldn’t. I mean, we do love each other.”

I nodded.

Her expression turned mischievous. “And we’re definitely going to fool around.”

“Here? Now?” I teased.

“Ha! That’s what the panties are for.” She smirked. “Let me know if you need more. I have a pair you can borrow.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She stood and then bent to kiss my cheek. “Sleep tight.”

“You too,” I said. I rolled over and fell asleep in minutes.

I woke up with a mild hangover and went for a run to clear my head. I didn’t want to think about Gracie, so I focused on the pavement and let the miles disappear behind me.

Trip had coffee brewing when I came home, and Wren was making a big omelet.

“So you can cook,” I teased. I filched a piece of bacon from where she had it cooling.

She ignored me and took another plate from the cupboard. “Hon,” she said to Trip, “would you make two more pieces of toast?”

He nodded and then glanced at me. “We need to talk about the houses when you have a chance. Is now good?”

I immediately felt guilty, since I hadn’t thought about them in almost two weeks.

That was a preview of Going All the Way - Summer Camp Swingers: Wren Series Book 4. To read the rest purchase the book.

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