Some time ago, in the original "strip-Searched" group, a member 
named Cheryl posted a short tale entitled "My Beginning," about 
an incident that, in her case, led to a taste for exhibitionism.  
A number of other people then contributed their own reminiscences 
about being surprised in more-or-less compromising positions.  
Here's mine.  It's a bit low key, but it was wonderfully nostalgic 
recalling those days of yesteryear and "the way we were."  

Honi soit qui mal y pense.





                          THE CHAPEL 

                              by

                          C. Lakewood



    Back in days of olde, when I was in college, neither I nor my 
girlfriend (let's call her "Louise") had a car.  Even at such a big 
university, women students had a curfew that Cotton Mather probably 
would have approved of, and, of course, anything like a co-ed dorm 
was just as unthinkable as, say, an actor becoming President.  
Being without a car was annoying.  We could easily walk to most 
date-places: movies, theatre, concert hall, cafes, etc.  But what 
to do afterward?  Or, rather, where to do it?  During nice weather, 
this wasn't a big problem, but, from October through April (most of 
the school year), nice weather was not exactly the norm.

    One raw night in late October, we were trudging across campus 
in our all-too-common quest.  When we passed by the tiny chapel, 
glowing softly in the mist, I said to her, indignantly, "Now look 
over there -- a perfectly good little building, snug and deserted 
and open all night, just going to waste!  Why can't they have some 
place like that for...."  If I'd been a cartoon character, at that 
moment a light bulb would have appeared over my head.  As it was, 
we looked at each other for a long minute.  She shook her head 
very slowly and said, "Oh...I...re-ally...don't...know," and wound 
up beating me to the chapel door by about 3 feet.

    Inside, it was warm and dry and dimly lit.  In those days, 
Louise was a declared agnostic, and I liked to think of myself as 
a deist.  Nonetheless, we did maintain a certain decorum on that 
and all subsequent occasions. 

    On our third visit to the chapel, we were earlier than before 
(ah, youthful exuberance!), and there were a few more lights on, 
but we shrugged that off after only a moment's pause.  We settled 
down in what we had come to think of as "our place" up front.  A 
few minutes later, however, the chapel door opened and a custodian 
entered.  (We were not exactly flagrante delicto, but close enough, 
considering the time and place.)  But, either near-sighted or 
supremely discreet, he never turned a hair.  He just took two steps 
to his left, opened a middling circuit box, flipped a few switches 
(dowsing half a dozen lights), closed the box, and left.

    And we could then exhale.
     
    I was ready to take up where we'd left off, but Louise, a year 
younger than me, was only a Junior and therefore less urbane.  Her 
mood was broken (shattered, in fact), and she insisted on leaving.  
So we left, but not before I took a look inside that circuit box 
and made notes on the position of each switch.

    We came back, of course, especially during the winter months 
and early spring.  On those occasions, if we were early, I'd simply 
set the switches according to plan, and we were never interrupted 
again -- at least, not by the custodian. 
    
    Thursday was not normally a date night, but, one rainy Thursday 
early in May, we found ourselves in our accustomed place.  I'd 
dimmed the lights, and we'd just gotten comfortable, when the door 
opened and people began entering...very quietly.  Soon there were 
perhaps two dozen silent figures brooding in the pews.  (H. P. 
Lovecraft would have loved it.)  We beat a discreet retreat by way 
of a side aisle.

    I later learned that we nearly had front-row seats for 
Ascension Day services.

    The following days were hectic -- less than three weeks of 
classes left (with two term papers and a long essay due), then 
final exams, cap and gown rental, Graduation...and, meanwhile, 
saying goodbye to people and places I'd never know again in quite 
the same way....

    All this coincided with a run of fine weather, golden days 
and perfumed nights, but we did go back to the chapel one last 
time, in between our finals and my Commencement.  I don't 
remember much about that occasion, except that there were 
soft words and a few tears and a mutual sense of impending 
loss.  That, and the fragrance of the night-blooming lilies, 
which had appeared very early that year.  Even today, that 
aroma transports me back in time.... 

		******************************

    Sadly, within a few years, the chapel ceased to be a haven 
in the night.  Pilfering and vandalism during the lawless 60s 
eventually led to the reluctant decision to lock it after dark.  

    Things change.