Part Two
Tuesday – This be the verse
by Ersatz
Did I really have the guts to do this? There was only one way to find out.
I walked through the school's doors, up the half-flight of stairs, pushed through the people hanging out to watch, and over to the kids undressing for The Program. This was my last chance to back out. I walked over to where Jake and Linda were undressing, pulled off my sweater, and tossed it into a locker. Then I started unbuttoning my blouse.
“Yikes! Amy, what are you doing?” Jake asked.
“Here in Kansas, we call it 'undressing.'”
Jake gave me a “duh” look and said ,“What I was really getting at was, why are you undressing?”
“I'm going on The Program for the day,” I answered.
He gave a little sigh, and continued to undress. I was glad he was perceptive enough to realize that I didn't want to tell him about it.
Jake seemed to be taking a long time to undress. I thought he was lingering so he could watch me. I'd bet that was it, because when he pulled off his jeans his dick was rock hard. If John had the same reaction, this would be a great day.
I'd been going over and over everything that happened yesterday: John fingering Linda, and Jake's display. John and I had different homerooms. Our first class together was English Literature. I started out horny and as English got closer I just got hotter and hotter. Normally, I'd meet John in the hallway on the way from our homerooms to English. That day, however, I rushed so I could get to the corner before he did.
I kept a sharp lookout for him and when I saw him approaching, I posed -- dramatically, I hoped. I didn't have any practice waiting nude for a guy, so I hoped I would surprise him with an alluring pose.
John walked around the corner, and took a few steps in my direction before he registered that it was me standing there, buck naked in front of everyone.
“Oh my god! Amy!” he shouted. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
I couldn't have just told him that the point was to turn him on by letting him toy with me in the hallway, could I? After all, I had to keep up the old feminine mystique.
I sauntered over to him, stuck my arm through his and said, “Hey, big boy, wanna escort a naked chick to class?”
At the start of English Lit., Mr. Larsen gave the call for relief. Linda and I both said no, then Amy whispered something to John whose eyes suddenly went wide with shock. Amy said, no, she could wait a bit. John looked unnerved. Then Mr. Larsen called me up to begin today's poetry session.
“I picked two poems today, because they're very short,” I said. “They were both written by Philip Larkin, a British poet who died in 1985.
“Yesterday, I mentioned something a parent said and embarrassed someone. I'm very, very sorry. By way of apology, I'd like to offer this poem which, among other things, shows that you are not responsible for your parents. I hope you'll accept this in the spirit it's meant, not as a dig or criticism, but that I understand that we all have lots of baggage. Anyway, I'm sorry that I made you feel bad.
“My first poem is: This Be The Verse, by Philip Larkin.”
They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself.
That got a lot of chuckles. I tried to avoid any obvious looks at Beth Robertson because I didn't want to embarrass her again. I think she liked it. She had an amused look on her face.
“The next poem is Love Again, also by Philip Larkin. I'm sure Mr. Larsen will be happy to explain any unfamiliar British terms.”
Love again: wanking at ten past three (Surely he's taken her home by now?), The bedroom hot as a bakery, The drink gone dead, without showing how To meet tomorrow, and afterwards, And the usual pain, like dysentery. Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt, Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare, And me supposed to be ignorant, Or find it funny, or not to care, Even ... but why put it into words? Isolate rather this element That spreads through other lives like a tree And sways them on in a sort of sense And say why it never worked for me. Something to do with violence A long way back, and wrong rewards, And arrogant eternity.
I sat down, and sure enough, Greg Trumbul raised his hand and said, “Hey, Mr. Larsen, what's 'wanking' mean?”
“I still don't understand what's going on,” John said. “Why would you want to be in The Program if you didn't have to?
We had reached our Civics classroom, so I decided to just show him why. I gave John a quick peck on the cheek and said, “you'll see in a moment.” I took my seat without another word.
“Well, I see we have a voluntary participant in The Program today,” Mr. Conway said. “I hope you understand, Ms. Nyland, that since you have to complete a full week, this won't count towards your requirements for The Program?”
“Yes, I know that,” I said.
“Well, let's get relief out of the way,” Mr. Conway said. “Would any of you like relief? Just step up.” He pulled three chairs to the front of the class.
Linda took the first chair, and I was right behind her. Jake shrugged, giving a nonverbal “why not?” and took the third chair.
“Would anyone like to assist Ms. Benton?” Mr. Conway asked. It wasn't surprising that pretty much all of the guys in the room raised their hands. What was surprising, at least to me, was that John raised his hand. How could he have been so stupid? I had planned to pick him. I stared daggers at him.
Then to my complete shock and horror, Linda picked John! That bitch!
The only thing I could think of was that I'd made a stupid mistake by assuming it was public sex that turned John on. Maybe it was the fact that I had been watching him that got him so hot. Well, if he wasn't going to help me out, I'd be damned if I wasn't going to enjoy myself, anyway.
“All right,” Mr. Conway continued, “any volunteers to help Ms. Nyland?”
I felt a moment of panic thinking of how I'd feel if no one raised their hands. But again, most of the guys hands went up.
I was a bit surprised when I heard Jake next to me gasp, “Oh!” and raise his hand also. He was really quite cute. After having masturbated to memories of Jake shooting his semen across the room the day before, I knew he'd be perfect.
“Jake, please,” I said.
“Mr. Bergman, you know, if you assist Ms. Nyland you won't have time to get relief yourself.” Mr. Conway was such a wet blanket.
I started to think of who'd be my second (actually third) choice when Jake piped up, “Oh no, I'd much rather help Amy.”
John walked up to the front of the class and knelt in front of Linda. He started rubbing the insides of her thighs. I started to have the same reaction as when I watched him do it the day before – it turned me on something fierce.
Jake leaned into me and whispered, “Thanks for choosing me, I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you. Just relax.”
Jake kissed my neck, then my shoulder, then my nipple and tugged it lightly with his lips. He continued down and started kissing my stomach. I moaned softly and spread my legs. Apparently, that was what he was waiting for. He knelt at my feet, and kissed the insides of each of my thighs.
John had progressed to Linda's pussy. He was cupping her mound and rubbing his hand over it.
The air hissed out of me as I felt Jake run his tongue from the bottom of my pussy to the top. He licked the tops of each of my labia, then ran his tongue just inside my, now very wet, tunnel. He ran his tongue a little deeper into me with each cycle, and suddenly he thrust his tongue deep inside me. I took a sharp breath.
Mmmmmm. This was just what I needed.
John's fingers were making circles around Linda's clit. She was softly moaning.
Jake's tongue ran along the top of the inside of my pussy, out, and up to the top lightly flicking my clit. It was my turn to moan. I grabbed his head with both hands. He eased a couple of his fingers into me, and rubbed the inside of my pussy, while he continued to flick his tongue over my clit.
I couldn't watch John and Linda anymore. I heard her noises next to me, but couldn't spare any attention for them.
I clutched Jake's head tighter, and raised my pelvis off of the chair trying to push Jake deeper inside me. I could feel the orgasm approaching closer and closer. Jake resisted and licked my clit even lighter than before. I was almost there! I moaned as much in frustration as in pleasure.
Then Jake's fingers touched something inside me. I gasped, and then he stopped lightly flicking my clit and took it into his mouth. He was sucking it, licking it, and rubbing his fingers over this wonderful place inside my pussy. After balancing on the edge for a moment longer, I plunged over. My arms hugged Jake into me as tightly as I could, and I just rode the wave as it intensified and then started to back away.
I don't know exactly what Jake did, but as my orgasm was ebbing away, he grabbed more of my pussy surrounding my clit, and rubbed me in some softer, but more insistent way. Oh my god! It was coming back! Just before my orgasm stopped, I was suddenly plunged into a new one.
I don't know how long it lasted. I think I heard myself making noises, but I don't really know. I was just there, in that moment.
Suddenly, it became just too intense and I pushed Jake away from me. He had a dreamy, faraway look on his face, which glistened in my juices. I slumped back into my chair, and closed my eyes for a moment. Then I realized I was still grasping handfuls of Jake's hair. I pulled him up and toward me. He stood up and leaned into me.
I gave Jake a light, quick kiss on his lips and said, “Thanks, that was fantastic.” I could smell myself on him. I felt an unexpected smug feeling that I'd marked him, like a dog with a fire hydrant.
“Any time, Amy. I'll bet I enjoyed that more than you did,” Jake said. It was a sweet thing to say, even if it was completely unbelievable.
Linda had a relaxed smile on her face, but John was unreadable: not happy, maybe a little horny, but certainly not very excited. I leaned over to give John a passionate kiss, but he turned, and it became a peck on the cheek. Uh oh...
I don't think I'll ever understand guys.
I don't think I'll ever understand girls.
First, Amy and John had the most bizarre relationship. She was clearly devoted to him. I mean, he picked another girl to masturbate in class, yet seemed to be pissed that I did Amy. He didn't seem to take any interest in anything that interested her, in fact, he didn't seem to take all that much interest in her. What an idiot. She was smart, funny, gorgeous, and very cool. She could have had any number of guys worshiping her. I had no idea why she put up with him.
Second, I didn't understand Pam at all. I guess that wasn't all that difficult to believe. I had the hardest time thinking about anything except sex when I was around Pam. I suppose that was natural. I hadn't said more than a couple of words to her that weren't during some sort of sex act. She knocked me completely off balance.
After the stereo orgasms in Civics, I was rigid, leaking, and ready to burst if anyone gave me the slightest bit of stimulation. Mr. Conway was the perfect antidote. Mr. Conway was anti-sex -- I don't mean that he was against sex. No, Mr. Conway actually talked quite a bit about sex. It was just that there was no sex act that he couldn't make unappealing. I started the class unable to think about anything except thrusting into any available orifice, but after a few minutes of Mr. Conway's lecture, I was as calm as a neurosurgeon.
By the end of Civics, I was flaccid, but edgy from my earlier excitement. The class ended, and Pam walked up to me. The moment she walked within ten feet of me, my cock instantly became rock hard. It was completely Pavlovian: I was the dog, she was the bell. I wasn't salivating, but I was starting to drip.
“You have the most visual way of saying hello,” Pam said. “It's pretty terse, but I know I'm welcome. You belong on the stage. One simple gesture and I know exactly what you're thinking.”
“Good morning Pam,” I said. I was caught. I could at least be gracious about it. “Yep, you know exactly what I'm thinking.”
“Good,” she said. “Go to the bathroom, and clean yourself off. Meet me at the beginning of D hallway in five minutes.”
I thought, Hmmm... what about lunch? Oh, to hell with lunch!
“Okay. Five minutes. See you then.”
I walked away towards the nearest bathroom. Luckily I saw Linda a bit ahead of me.
“Linda, wait up!” I said as I hurried toward her. She stopped.
“Is everything going okay?” I asked. “You looked like you had a nice time in Civics.”
“You appeared to have fun yourself. From the noises Amy was making, I think I might have made the wrong choice,” Linda said. “To answer your question, yeah, things are going fine. Why?”
“Well, I can't have lunch with you today. I have um... an appointment,” I said sheepishly.
“Let me guess,” she smiled, “Pam again?” I nodded. “I saw her walk up to you after class.”
I just shrugged.
“Jake,” Linda said, “look out for yourself. Pam eats guys up and spits them out.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the concern,” I told her. “I have to admit that the eating up part is pretty fun. I'll cry on your shoulder when I'm spit out.”
“You idiot,” she said.
I couldn't argue with her, so I shrugged again and walked off.
A few minutes later, I was at the entrance to D hall when Pam showed up. She didn't say anything; just crooked her finger to tell me to follow. She led me past the band room, the art rooms, and the drama classrooms until we reached a large set of doors I'd never noticed before.
Pam took out a set of keys and smiled, “One advantage of being cast in the play is you can get keys.”
She unlocked the door, and we walked in. The door led to the back of the stage in the auditorium. Since Kiss Me, Kate was opening (and closing) that weekend there was an elaborate, almost finished, set occupying most of the space.
“What I'm really dying to do is fuck on center stage,” she said with a leer, “but too many people have keys. There's too big a chance we'd get caught. I wouldn't even mind an appreciative audience, but I don't want to risk getting kicked out of the play.”
“So where are we going?” I asked.
“I've been thinking a lot about what we did yesterday,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“You looked like you knew what you were doing in Civics today. I want some of that,” she said.
Pam walked over to a ladder leading up. I couldn't see the ceiling backstage, it was too dark. All I could see were ropes and curtains hanging down, and rows of lights overhead.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Pam asked me.
“Not too much, but maybe a little bit,” I admitted.
“Good. It'll add to the excitement.”
Pam kicked off her shoes, and started up the ladder. When her rear was level with my head I grabbed her waist. Pam was wearing a knee-length skirt and a linen blouse. I ducked my head under her skirt for a little preview of coming attractions. We were in a theater, after all.
No blue French-cut panties today. No panties at all, in fact. I kissed the back of her knee, the top of each thigh, and just under the fleshy globes of her ass. Then I gently nipped her right tush. I could feel her breathing change, and a slight shudder as I bit her. I could smell her excitement. I ran my tongue up to where her legs join, just millimeters away from the bottom of her pussy.
“Ohhh,” she sighed. “Not yet. Wait a bit until you can finish it.”
She climbed up into the darkness.
After a moment, I started up the ladder after her. I climbed past the tops of the lights and curtains, and finally when I was about 50 feet up, I reached the catwalks. Pam was waiting for me at the top.
I had one of the oddest feelings I'd ever felt. I couldn't help briefly looking down occasionally (probably a mistake). When I saw the stage far below, my chest tightened and I gripped the ladder harder. Adding to that tension was the intense desire I had for Pam. She smelled so alluring. I just couldn't wait to taste her.
Pam led the way over the narrow catwalks until we reached a much wider platform above the seats in the auditorium. I think this was where people operated spotlights; at least that's what I thought those big cannon-like lights on the edge facing the stage were. There was enough light reflecting back from the stage below that we could see; it was pretty dim, but I could see her clearly.
Pam sat down in the center of the platform and smiled at me. The platform was made from some kind of steel mesh with squares about an inch wide. I wished we had a blanket. This probably wasn't going to hurt, but laying naked on the mesh certainly wasn't going to feel good. Not that there was a chance in hell that it was going to stop me.
I sat down next to Pam, and kissed her neck as I started to unbutton her blouse.
“We don't have time for that. Not if we're going to get any lunch,” Pam whispered.
There was absolutely nobody else up here 50 feet above the auditorium and, for that matter, nobody could be seen in the auditorium, either. There was no reason she had to whisper, but I think I understood. It was more intimate.
“Let's take our time and do this right,” I said. “You're all the lunch I need. We have a little under an hour.”
I kissed her softly, gently, then with more passion, we opened our mouths. I kissed down her neck and across her shoulder. I unbuttoned her blouse and whispered, “Lie back, Pam.”
I kissed her collarbone and the front of her neck. She opened the front of her bra, and pulled the cups away from her breasts.
“You have lovely breasts,” I said.
“They're not very big,” she replied.
I was pretty sure this wasn't insecurity, but blatant fishing for a compliment. They weren't huge, mambo tits, but a nicely sized, probably C-cup, pair that she used to her advantage all the time. Every now and then, she had worn something low-cut with a push-up bra, and played tittie-tease games. I think her goal had been to get some flustered, hapless guy to talk to her tits. I'd never fallen for it, but I'd enjoyed watching her play with guys in our classes. She'd tried it on me a couple of times last year, and had apparently given up. Now, she found much more effective ways of teasing me. Not that I was complaining.
“They're big enough to fascinate most of the guys in school,” I replied, “and they're beautiful. And best of all, right now, they're all mine.”
Now, it was my turn for a session of tittie-tease. I flicked her nipples with my tongue. I sucked them. I lightly bit them. I pulled them with my lips. I tried to watch her reactions with everything I did. When I got a sharp intake of breath, gasp, or moan, I repeated what I just did, perhaps a bit harder. If I got no reaction, I moved on. It seemed that she liked fairly rough tittie-play, at least rougher than my old girlfriend did. I didn't have enough experience to know how most girls liked it.
After a while, I noticed Pam start to move her legs and roll her pelvis. Time to move on, I supposed.
I ran kisses down her abdomen and lightly bit her navel. She gasped, and I kissed lower until I reached the top of her skirt.
I got up and moved between her legs. I grabbed her feet and brushed them off. They were a bit dusty from walking on the rarely used catwalks.
I grabbed her ankles and lifted them up. I kissed the insole of her left foot and licked the top of it. I nibbled on the toes of her right foot, and then sucked on her big toe. Apparently she was ticklish enough that it was interesting, but not so much it was unbearable. My girlfriend in Amherst had been so ticklish that she had to be in a very mellow mood for me to play with her toes, but when she was it just drove her crazy. Enough of that! I had to forget Karen and focus on Pam.
Pam was breathing heavily when I started up her legs. I stroked and kissed her calf, then I kissed and licked the inside of her knees. Then light butterfly kisses up the insides of her thighs.
Pam liked to tease, but did she like to be teased? I was going to find out.
I pulled her skirt up and out of the way, and started kissing all around her pussy. I licked between her labia and her legs. She gasped. I licked just below her pussy. She shuddered. Her pussy was very fragrant. I ran my tongue up and down the edge of her labia. When I got to the top, close to her clit, she raised her pelvis and grabbed my head to shove me onto her clit. I was having none of that!
I ran my tongue around the edge of her opening, a little deeper each time. While I was doing that, I rubbed my fingers in little circles around, but not over, her clit.
Pam exhaled and moaned. I smiled to myself.
I turned my attention to her clit. As lightly as I could, I started flicking my tongue over her clit, and slid a couple of fingers into her.
“Oooohhh,” Pam gasped.
Slowly, very slowly, I used a little more force on her clit. Then a little more. And more.
I could feel the tension increasing in her legs. Pam raised her pelvis and pushed harder on my head to force my tongue to press harder. I pushed back so I was in control of the amount of pressure. She was starting to get close. I had to be very careful.
Pam arched her back and moaned, “Nnnnnnnnnn.”
I stopped licking, and blew lightly on her clit.
“Ah!” she gasped, disappointed the stimulation was gone.
“Shhh,” I whispered. “Trust me.”
I licked around the outside of her pussy, and let her come back from the brink. When she put her butt back on the floor of the platform, I started lightly licking her clit again. Very slowly, I brought her to the brink of orgasm, again. I listened to her breathing, and felt her legs quiver with tension. I'd lick harder, then softer for a bit, trying to keep her on the edge as long as I could.
Finally, Pam gasped and held her breath. Her legs went completely rigid. I bore down and licked as fast as I could. The air hissed out of her, and she started thrusting her hips back and forth. I hung on and did my best to continue to stimulate her through her orgasm.
She slowed down, and I slowed down with her. I didn't stop, though. Instead of flicking over her clit, I pressed down with my tongue and started rubbing slower, but harder. She began to respond, and I went faster and brought her to another orgasm.
At this point, she was thrusting her hips wildly and gasping without any rhythm. I couldn't tell when she was coming down from one cum, or rising up into another one. I kept pressure from my tongue on her clit, and curled my fingers inside her to try to find her G-spot.
“Oh!” she exclaimed sharply, and I assumed I found it. I rubbed my fingers over it, and did my best not to be thrown off as she bucked even harder.
Suddenly, Pam stopped pulling my head into her, and started pushing me away.
“Enough!” she gasped. “I've got to stop.”
I withdrew my fingers and stopped licking. I grinned to myself, and blew onto her clit. Pam shuddered and gasped.
Pam lay there breathing hard. I rubbed her abdomen lightly and kissed her thigh. Then I sat up to look at her. She was lying limply and looked exhausted. She looked great. I kissed the tip of her nose.
“What time is it?” she asked.
I pressed the light button on my watch. “We still have a bit more than 15 minutes until our next class.”
“Good,” she said. “Lie down.” She sat up, and pushed me over onto my back. Then she straddled me and slipped my cock inside her. Oh my god! Her pussy gripped me firmly and smoothly. It was warm, and wet, and simply heavenly.
“Um,” I said, “you're on the pill, right?”
Then Pam stopped moving altogether and said, “Of course I am, but don't come inside me. I want to talk to you. I'll get you off in a bit, don't worry, but don't come inside me. I left my panties in my locker. Climbing down from here would make me a complete mess, and I can't change until after rehearsal. So I'm stuck wearing these clothes until this evening. So don't come. We're going to chat for a little bit.”
“Oh my god, Pam,” I moaned, “I can't chat like this. I can't even think.”
“Perfect,” she grinned. “That's exactly what I want.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk, and I want you to listen. You're very smart and, it seems, more aggressive than I thought – which is very cute – but I'm going to tell you what I want. I don't want a debate, or any contingency plans. I just want you to listen.”
I couldn't really concentrate on this. There were all-consuming feelings of pleasure from my dick.
“Okay,” I gasped. “Sure.”
“Good,” she said. “By the way, you read poetry very well. Your inflection and delivery is really good. You should audition for the next play.”
“Is that what you want to talk about?”
“No,” she chirped. “It just occurred to me.” She giggled. She was sitting there, impaled on my dick and she was – what? – flirting with me? Isn't this a bit late for goddamned flirting?
“What I wanted to talk to you about was me,” she said, finally getting to the point.
“I wanted to make sure you know that we're just having fun,” her pussy gripped me harder for a moment, then she giggled again, “a lot of fun, but that's all it is. I don't want you to think you're falling for me. I don't want you to get hurt.”
“Well, this certainly doesn't hurt right now,” I joked. “You feel wonderful.”
“That's always nice to hear. And I also wanted you to know that while we can't fuck right now, I am going to fuck you later. I'm going to fuck you so hard you're going to realize you didn't know what sex really was.”
“Okay,” I said. “My palm pilot is in my book bag, maybe we can schedule it for some mutually agreeable time: 3:25 – 5:15 Friday, fucked by Pam, set alarm 30 minutes in advance.”
She twisted my nipples. “You goof!” Then she moved up and down a couple of times.
“Mmmmmm,” I moaned. “Oh god, just kill me now. I can't stand more of this!”
“So don't stand. Just lie there and do what I tell you,” Pam said. “I'm going to tell you some things, and we'll make it simple for you. Just repeat after me: 'yes, Pam.'”
“Yes, Pam,” I parroted.
“Good.” And she squeezed me with her pussy a bit.
“You make me feel so incredibly sexy and powerful,” she said. “In yesterday's rehearsal, I acted much better than I ever have before. So you and I are going to play around more, later in the week.”
“Yes, Pam,” I agreed.
“The play runs Friday and Saturday evenings at 7:30. You're going to take me for a light meal Friday and Saturday afternoon and then we'll play a bit more. I need to be here an hour before curtain.”
“Yes, Pam.” I didn't have any plans that preempted sex.
“Do you have somewhere we can play? A car would work, but I'd prefer somewhere else.”
“Yes, Pam.” I did have several good spots. Thank god I had understanding parents. They'd probably be thrilled that little Jakey was getting his rocks off rather than sulking alone for a change.
“Finally, Saturday night, you're taking me to the cast party and after that I'm going to fuck you 'till your dick comes off,” she said.
“Yes, Pam.” I could live with that.
“I'm not saying I won't go on dates with you occasionally once the play is over. You're a nice, cute guy with a talented tongue. But we're not an item, right?”
“Yes, Pam”
“Well, I'm glad we had this little chat and understand each other. Aren't you?” and Pam squeezed my dick a bit more.
“Yes, Pam,” I agreed. Then I thought I'd show her that I wasn't a pushover. She was breathing harder than usual, so I thought this would probably work. I suddenly sat up, took a nipple in my mouth and sucked hard on it, grabbed her mound firmly and rubbed quickly over her clit and reached around her with my other arm and pulled her close to me.
“Ahhhh!” she exclaimed, and started bucking against me with her sudden orgasm. It took all of my self-control to stop myself from cumming with her.
“You cheater!” she gasped once she finished.
“Yes, Pam,” I agreed.
Pam leaned over, pushed me on my back again, hopped off me, and took me into her mouth. She held just the head inside and ran her tongue around and around.
“Ohhhh,” I moaned. “I'm not the only one here with a talented tongue.”
She started bobbing her head up and down, and it was all over. I was so close I couldn't hold back any more. My legs went rigid, I moaned, and emptied myself into her mouth. It felt like gallons and gallons, as I had an industrial-strength orgasm. I don't know if she had any trouble swallowing it. I wasn't paying much attention at the time, since my pelvis was exploding.
I was going to have to spend the rest of my week on The Program up there in the catwalks. I wasn't going to be able to move for a few days. I looked up at Pam, who grinned smugly and said something.
“Uhn?” I moaned.
“I said, get up!” She grabbed my hand and helped me up to my feet.
I followed her back to the ladder, climbed down after her, and walked with her to the beginning of D hall.
Pam gave me a peck on the cheek. “That was just so much fun. You make me feel so great. Thanks”
I just stared at her and said, “Oh My God.”
Pam laughed, and walked away with a smug, sexy wiggle in her hips. I didn't know how she could wiggle smugly, but she did.
I ran into Linda in the hallway and she gasped, “Jake! Wait a minute!”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, and then started laughing so hard she could barely stand.
When she calmed a bit I asked her, “What's so funny?”
“Come here,” she said, and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the girls bathroom a few doors down. It struck me as odd that by the rules of The Program I was in the right place, and she was the one who wasn't supposed to be in the girls bathroom!
Linda led me to the mirror and said, “There. Look at your back.”
My back and ass were covered with indentations from the steel mesh of the catwalks.
I followed John out of our Civics classroom. I was determined to get to the bottom of this. John was walking very fast toward the cafeteria. I had to practically run to catch up to him.
“Hey, wait up,” I said. “You want to tell me what's going on?”
“Me tell you?” He snorted. “I'm not the one walking around buck naked getting head from other guys!”
“WHAT!” I practically shouted. “First, you finger Linda in the hall yesterday, then you decide you'd rather get Linda off than me. And you blame me! Why do you think I'm nude anyway? I did it for you – for us. I saw how much you got off doing Linda in public yesterday, and I thought that maybe this would give us some excitement for a change.
“Listen, Bucko,” I said, as I poked him in the shoulder, “a pizza, a movie, and 15 minutes of unenthusiastic sex in the back seat of your car, just isn't keeping your girlfriend happy. You want to blame someone, don't look at me. I got naked and spread myself wide open in front of everyone just to make it interesting and exciting for you. And you turned me down flat. You, my friend, need to show some imagination, pay me some attention, and talk to me for a fucking change.”
Silence. John just stared at me.
“Okay, you're right. We need to talk,” John said. “Not here, the guys are watching.”
“I don't give a flying fuck about those assholes.” I was really pissed off now. “If you paid half as much attention to my feelings as you do those morons, we wouldn't be fighting in front of them. I'll tell you what, we can use big three-syllable words, and they won't know what we're talking about.”
“Look,” he hissed, “let's go over there where we can talk by ourselves.” John dragged me into the cafeteria, off to a corner away from everyone going into the lunch line.
“You're right,” John said. “This isn't working. It hasn't been for a while.”
“You're goddamned right it hasn't,” I said. “Now, I've tried something to fix it, so it's your turn now.”
“You're not listening,” John repeated. “It isn't working.”
“Okay, so how does that help things?” I said derisively.
“There's nothing to help. That's it. We're done,” John said flatly.
“And what's that supposed to mean?” I snorted.
“Don't be so dense! It means we're breaking up. It's over.” And with that, John walked away.
I was stunned. I thought he loved me. He never really came out and said it, but I thought he felt it.
Then that bastard walks over to his friends, smirks, says something to them – and they gave him a high five!
I was numb. I went through the lunch line, and sat down with some girlfriends. I just sat there while they chatted until it was time for class. I couldn't really figure out if I was mad, hurt, relieved, sad, or something else. I needed some time to come to grips with this.
After sixth period, I went to find Cindy Mitchell before I headed home. Cindy had been my best friend since I'd moved here. I was going to ask her if she'd come over for dinner, and we'd scream about guys over some ice cream, afterward. I waited by her locker. Cindy always dropped her stuff off at her locker before she went to cheerleading practice.
Cindy walked up and said, “Hey Amy. You look, well, other than naked, you look pretty down.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I just broke up with John.” Sigh.
“Ah, I figured,” she said.
“You figured?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, “It didn't look like either one of you was having fun.”
“I guess,” I said without any emotion. “I suppose I should have seen it. You want to come over for dinner and hang out?”
“I can't. I already said I'd go with Sherri and Debby to meet some of the football guys at the mall and have dinner there.”
“Why bother with those football assholes?”
“Amy, they're football players!” Cindy said with some exasperation. “You know how it is. Besides, I already told Greg and John I'd be there.”
“John? You're going there to see him?” I was shocked.
“Amy, you know I'd never mess with him when you were going out with him. I told him I wouldn't do anything with him while he was with you. He said he was going to break up with you, but I thought he was just feeding me a line.”
“You never told me that!”
“I told you I didn't believe he was breaking up with you. So there was nothing to tell. And I did say no. I don't do that.”
“So now you're going to have dinner with him?” I suddenly realized that I'd thought she was my best friend, but I didn't really know this girl at all.
“Well, yeah. Amy, he's not going out with you anymore, right? He's a hunk, and a football player. So why not?”
“Yeah. Why not, Cindy.” And I just walked away.
I didn't really know anyone, did I? I went to get my clothes.
School was over, and I was getting dressed to go home when Amy walked up. She looked terrible. I didn't know how someone who looked like Amy could look terrible while naked, but she did. She'd been withdrawn and preoccupied in Psychology and Calculus, but at that moment she looked like someone just punched her in the gut.
“Are you okay, Amy?” I asked.
She just shrugged.
“What happened?”
Amy sighed, “John and I broke up.”
“Oh,” I said as neutrally as I could manage. A thousand things rushed through my mind.
“You look like you could use a friend,” I said. “Want to talk about it?”
Amy looked at me for the longest time. Finally she shrugged. “Okay,” she said.
“Do you have any plans? Anywhere you have to be this afternoon?” I asked.
“No – well, I've got to do our Calculus homework. Dinner at 6:30,” she said.
“Okay. The Calc. homework is easy. I'll email you mine later, and you can use it for hints or just copy it this once,” I said. “Now, let's do what I do when life kicks me in the balls – let's get lost.”
“Huh?”
“We'll take a long drive. That's what I do when I want to work through my many emotional funks. Hey, it's turned me into the morose, introverted, antisocial specimen you see before you now. How can you lose?”
“Why not,” she said with a remarkable lack of enthusiasm.
“Uh, Amy?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you can't tell the other guys I suggested this – they'd kick me out of the club – but I really think you should put your clothes on first. Guys just don't tell beautiful girls to put clothes back on, but it's pretty cold outside.”
That got a glimmer of a smile, and she started dressing. When she finished, I gestured, and she followed me to my car – nothing much, a mildly-beat-up, five-year old Saturn I'd inherited when my dad got a new car.
“I gotta get some gas first and make a call,” I said.
I took out my cell phone and dialed. It rang, and my father answered. “Dad? It' s Jake. I'm going to be out until dinnertime. I'm taking a drive.” He said okay. “Thanks, Dad. Bye.”
I hung up and started the car. I handed Amy the phone and drove off.
“You ought to call your folks and tell them you'll be out driving until dinnertime,” I suggested.
“It's just me and my dad,” she said, “and he's still at work.”
“Call home and leave a message, then,” I said. “The cell coverage out in the countryside is pretty spotty at best.”
Amy shrugged, called, and left a message on her answering machine.
I pulled into a gas station with a convenience store. “I'll fill up the car, and there's a couple of things I want to pick up. Want anything?” Amy just shrugged. I tried again “Are you hungry? Want a snack?”
“Okay,” Amy said with the same lack of enthusiasm.
I filled up the tank, and went into the store. What I'd really needed was a box of tissues. I had no idea what she'd want to eat, so I got a bag of chips, a box of cookies, a couple of apples, and a couple of bottles of water. I put the bag into the back seat where she could reach it easily and drove off.
“Are you familiar with the countryside southeast of town?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said.
“Good, neither am I. Let's go there.”
I headed off toward the south side of town and about five minutes later turned onto a 2-lane state road that I knew wound mostly southeast. We gradually left the suburbs, and the houses became farther and farther apart. Since it was November, there wasn't anything growing. The flat landscape was stark and cold.
We drove in silence. Finally Amy asked me, “Do you do this a lot? Drive aimlessly and think?”
“I did last spring and over the summer. Not so much anymore,” I said. “I don't know why, but it's a good way to think and work out whatever's bothering me.”
“What was bothering you?” She asked.
I thought Amy probably wanted a conversational warm-up before she started pouring her troubles out to a guy she hardly knew.
“I was pissed at my parents for moving us out here, away from my friends, and away from my girlfriend. I keep in touch with a few of my best friends and my old girlfriend, Karen – mostly email and IM. I had the most trouble breaking up with Karen.
“There were a lot of things that bothered me about breaking up with Karen, and I had a tough time coming to terms with it. For one thing, she was a friend since fourth grade, and one of my best friends since seventh grade. I missed her. Another part of it was, well, when I moved away we obviously stopped having sex. I was horny. But it was more than that. Karen was my first, you know. I love her as a friend, and I was in love with her.
“But what hurt the most,” I said, “was that it seemed so much easier for Karen to move on. The month after I was gone, she was going out on dates again, and sleeping with someone.
“I'll bet I know what you're thinking, but it was a lot more complicated than jealousy,” I said. “I love her, and want what's best for her – and that's obviously to move on. But it was just killing me that it couldn't be me that laughs with her, that I won't be there when she gets letters accepting her to college, that I can't catch her gasps and moans when we make love. I'm glad she's got someone to share all that, but it was really hard facing the fact that it could never be me again.”
I was always such a failure with girls. The whole point of this was to listen sympathetically to Amy while she told me what she was going through, and be there while she started to work it out. Instead, I'd rambled on about Karen, and I was sinking into a dark funk. It was past time for me to just shut up and drive.
We drove past farm houses: some close to the road, and some set far back away from the road. I wondered where I'd put my farm house if I had to live here. Would it be far from the road where I could enjoy the isolation, but where weather could leave me snowbound for days, or would I be more practical, and live closer to the road and civilization? I'd never had any desire to live out in the country, but I thought just then I'd like a house way the hell away from everyone.
Mostly, the early winter countryside was flat, bleak, and empty; which matched my feelings exactly. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken. I wasn't really sure why I was here, so I asked Jake why he liked driving around the countryside. His answer wasn't at all what I was expecting.
I suppose I should get used to Jake not being who I thought he was. I've been wrong about him so many times. He wasn't the shy, feeble, inept geek I'd first assumed he was. He had a strong personality, once he decided to stop hiding it. I'd figured him for some sort of math weenie because he always did so well in our math and science classes. I was surprised at his interest in poetry and film.
I'd originally guessed that Jake was probably clueless about women. I had thought Pam was leading him around so easily because she was the first girl to pay him any attention. But the way he had teased and flirted when I ran into him at the film showed me he wasn't flustered by girls. And the way he'd eaten me out in Civics class showed me he knew his way around a pussy. After the breakup, I suppose I could admit that he was much better than John was at it. I didn't think John liked doing it. The couple of times he had gone down on me were reluctant and very quick. Jake even looked pretty good naked – slim, but well-defined shoulder muscles – he was certainly not feeble or inept. I didn't know why he let Pam run all over him like she ran over all of her other guys. He'd probably start running errands for her like all her theater guys. I guessed that in some ways he probably still was clueless about women.
Nevertheless, I was surprised to learn that Jake was a romantic at heart. I couldn't have imagined John ever feeling that sort of regret when he thought about what he lost when we broke up.
“You moved away, but you'll both be going to college next year. Who knows what could happen?” I said. “Just pick the same school. If you and Karen still feel that way you could get back together.”
“No,” Jake said, without much emotion, “we can't get back together. For one thing, we don't both feel that way. Karen's moved on, and I think she loves her new boyfriend more romantically than she ever did me. We're still friends. We email almost every day, and talk on the phone frequently – and let me tell you that was hard, at first, talking to her when she was gaga over this guy, and I was still in love with her. I don't think she ever really felt about me the way I felt about her. We were close friends that started having sex. I just got all hung up about it.
“It took thousands of miles of driving through this Kansas wasteland before I figured out that what we had wasn't real. It was what I had. Since we're talking about emotions, I suppose I can't say it wasn't real because that was how I really felt. I was driving myself crazy over it, and was really just emotional masturbation,” Jake said with a snort. “You know, emotions with nobody else there, rather than sex with nobody else. Don't get me wrong, Karen is a great person, and she'll always be one of my best friends, but that's it. It's not her fault she didn't feel the way I did.”
I don't know why the story of Jake breaking up with his old girlfriend affected me, but I felt it deep in my gut.
Silence as bleak as the landscape outside filled the car for a while.
I finally broke the silence, “I don't think John ever felt that way about me – the way you felt about Karen”
“When did you break up? What happened?” Jake asked.
I laughed without any real warmth, “I don't know when it happened. I only know when he told me about it.”
“Oh.”
“To answer your question,” I said, “we officially broke up at lunch. Your oral action in Civics brought things to a head, so to speak. I think that was the thing that finally ended it.”
“I'm sorry you feel bad about it.” Jake looked deflated. “I loved it.” He sighed. “I can't believe how I keep deluding myself. I enjoyed it, so of course, I assumed you did, too. Sorry.”
“I did enjoy it,” I said. “It was the best I ever had. I didn't say it bothered me. It bothered John.”
“Really? What a dickhead. It sure didn't seem to bother him when he was finger-fucking Linda.”
“Linda was the catalyst. We'd been just going through the motions for months. Even our sex was flat and passionless. You're the film buff; have you seen A Clockwork Orange?”
Jake nodded, “Great film. I love Kubrick.”
“Yeah, well our sex felt like what they talked about in the film. He was just giving me 'the old in-out-in-out.' When I saw John doing Linda in the hall Monday, I saw how excited he got. I got hot watching it too. So I figured I'd try to do something to get some passion back. That's why I went on The Program today. I thought he'd love it. I thought for sure he'd understand I was doing it for us. It was just so unlike me, too.”
“Amy, come on!” Jake snorted. “It was so completely like you.”
“What do you mean?” I was a bit offended. “I don't go around strutting my stuff. I don't usually even wear revealing outfits, to say nothing of total nudity.”
“You always push your limits. It's who you are. Remember the county fair this past summer? I was one of the adventurous few in line for the 175-foot bungee-jump ride. But who waited a couple of hours to be first in line? You were. Remember when you broke your wrist roller-blading at the community center picnic last spring?”
“That was a race!” I objected “I had to go as fast as possible. That's the whole point, you know.”
“Oh really? So in that final turn where you wiped out, how close was the next person behind you?”
“About 35 feet, I guess.”
“So there wasn't any real chance of your not winning, right?” Jake said. “You were doing it to push yourself because that's just what you do. It's who you are.”
“How do you know so much about it?” I asked.
“I hardly said anything in class last spring and this fall,” Jake replied. “When I wasn't talking, I was listening.
“Going naked in front of everyone is definitely something you have the guts to do. Besides, while you don't usually show that much flesh, it's clear you have no problems with your body. Lots of your clothes are pretty form-fitting. You're a very physical person. You don't dress the way all the other girls do, and you don't hide yourself either. You're very up-front about it. It's like you're saying, 'Here I am – deal with it!'”
“Fat lot of good it's done me.”
“Sure it has!” Jake said. “You're feeling down right now because you just ended a relationship – that's natural. But I'll bet you don't have a lot of regrets. You're sad it's over, but what would you do differently if you could?”
“I dunno,” I said. “I suppose I'd pick different friends. While you're treating me to the delights of the countryside Jake's out on a date with my 'best friend.' I don't understand how that could happen.”
“You mean Cindy Mitchell?”
“Yep,” I sniffed a bit. I was not going to cry. Not over that bitch. “They deserve each other!”
“Were they seeing each other before you broke up?”
“Sort of. He asked her out several times and she said no.”
“But she didn't tell you anything about it?” he asked.
“Nope.” A single tear trickled down my cheek.
“Were you and Cindy very close?” Jake asked. “I mean, I know you used to hang out together, but what did you think about your friendship?”
“She was my best friend!” I cried. “For the longest time, she was my only friend. We moved here a couple of months after my mom died. I lost my mother, my friends, everyone I loved. I couldn't even snowboard. Everything I loved was gone. All I had was my dad, and he was just a shell for a long time.”
Jake reached to the rear seat and handed me a box of tissues.
“I was so lonely.” I blew my nose. “It was so flat and lonely here. I didn't fit in. I was so different from everyone else. I hated it.”
“So how did you finally make friends?” Jake asked. “You know, you've got a lot of friends. You're very popular.”
“Yeah, sure.” I blew my nose again with a distinctly unfeminine bleat. “I still don't fit in. I stick out. I think that's part of why John and I grew apart. He was uncomfortable with the way I dress. He used to complain that I always looked like I was about to go mountain-climbing. That's one of the things I know he likes about Cindy and all the other cheerleaders. If I looked like them, we'd probably still be together.”
“It's not like you can't look like them. You just don't want to.”
“How do you know?” I said.
“Come on, you know where The Gap is. One trip to the mall and you'd look just like they do.”
“Maybe a trip to the mall is just what I need.”
“No way,” Jake said. “You're a zebra in a herd of donkeys. You stand out because you're beautiful and outrageous. You could dress just like them. But you're still not just like them. And I don't think you really want to be.
“Anyway,” Jake continued, “you were telling me about when your mom died and you moved here. So how did you finally make friends?”
“Cindy invited me to her birthday party. It was out of the blue. We started talking a lot after that. She was the only one I could talk to for a while. But I don't really know why she decided to ask me to her party. She's usually pretty finicky about who she asks to come to her parties.”
“I'll bet I know exactly why: status. You're not just different, you're cool. You have style in your dress and your attitude. If there was going to be a cool chick around, she wanted you in her clique.”
We talked for a long time about Cindy and her friends. Then I told him about my mother's long bout with breast cancer. I never talked about my mother's death with anyone; I might mention that she's dead, but I never really talked about it. But that day, I did. Perhaps because that's really the only way I could describe how I felt when I moved to Kansas. Perhaps I did it because rushing past the dead, bleak countryside I felt that I could talk about it. I don't really know why, but I did. I could measure that drive, not in miles, but in tissues.
Jake didn't say anything. He listened. He drove. Once, he reached for the tissue box and blew his nose.
I reached the end of my story and I felt nothing. I was drained and as empty as the gray-brown fields surrounding us as far as I could see. Silence filled the car again. Tired of watching the endless barren fields, I watched Jake drive the car. He must have noticed me watching him from the corner of his eye, because he glanced up and pierced me with his gaze. It was only a moment before he gazed back at the road, but it was terrible because it was so accepting. No platitudes, no questions, no opinions; he was there just to listen to me.
Then I told him about my first dates with John. When I was describing our first time having sex, I broke down again. It wasn't like it was fantastic sex – especially at first. But I felt so close to John then. It was like we were sharing souls when we made love. The sex got better after a while too. Somehow we fell into a rut.
I was very glad Jake thought to buy a box of tissues. He was really very thoughtful and considerate. I felt terrible: shaky, snot-filled, red-eyed, and hoarse. But I also felt a little better. I was pissed at John, betrayed and humiliated by Cindy and yet warmed by the tenderness that Jake was showing me. He even let me look at his own wounds to make me feel like I wasn't all alone.
During my long, teary rant we'd turned around and headed back toward Hastings. Jake asked me where I lived. I told him my address, but then told him he should drop me off back at school, since my car was still there.
I started to recognize the outskirts of town.
“You know, when you asked me to take a drive and talk, I didn't think you actually meant it,” I said. “I thought you were hitting on me and I thought, well, why the fuck not? If John can go out and do it why not me too.”
“Ah,” Jake chuckled, “good old revenge sex.”
“The way you've been acting lately, I thought you'd want to have sex with me.”
“Oh, I'd love to have sex with you,” he said. “I've imagined it many times. After our session this morning, I can't get your taste out of my mind. But not now. I'd be taking advantage of you in a weak moment. You'd never want anything to do with me again.”
“That's just the same old fucking double-standard. We break up, and John gets to go out and nail some tail, but god forbid I try the same thing! It's okay for a guy, but a girl's a slut if she wants a little meaningless sex.”
Jake looked surprised, “I don't think that makes a girl a slut. In fact, I'm not really sure what's required to make a girl a slut. It's kind of like a nymphomaniac. It's just another way to say she's a girl who enjoys sex more than someone thinks she should. As you said, it's mostly just there to enforce a double-standard.”
“Just mostly?” I scoffed.
“Well, I suppose it would be useful to have a way to describe someone who likes to have lots of sex but avoids any kind of emotional relationships. It's just that nymphomania is so pejorative while the male form, satyriasis, really isn't. I agree with you, it isn't fair.”
“You know, Jake,” I said, “this isn't very satisfying.”
“What isn't?”
“Arguing with you. You get so damn analytical.”
“Hey, I agree with you. It is a double-standard.”
“Then why aren't we having some hot, meaningless sex?”
“Amy,” Jake looked away from the road and glanced at me for a moment, “I can't have meaningless sex with you.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because it wouldn't be meaningless. At least, it would mean something to me.”
“But you could have a little meaningless romp with Pam?” I replied.
“Um... yeah. I guess,” he said. He didn't even sound like he thought there was anything wrong or inconsistent about that.
“So are you?”
“Am I what?” he said.
“Don't be dense. Have you had sex with Pam?” I asked.
“Hmmm... That's a good question. I'm not really sure. Depends upon what you mean.”
“Oh come on! It's not like it's a tough question,” I insisted.
“I don't know if it's really that black and white,” Jake said. “For example, have you and I had sex?”
He was trying to be so reasonable, and for some reason, it was making me madder and madder.
“So have you fucked her?”
Jake sputtered a bit like he wasn't sure what to say. Finally he said, “Amy, I'm not really comfortable with this. I mean, I don't know if it's really fair. If we had sex and Pam, or anyone else, asked me to describe it you wouldn't want me to, would you?”
“So basically, you want to be able to fuck us both with no questions asked. Is that it?”
“Wow! You're really good at this,” Jake said.
“What?” That was out of the blue.
“This fighting stuff. I mean, you're awesome at it. You've got me squirming and feeling guilty for cheating on you. But that makes no sense at all! Look, I've been with you constantly since the instant I found out you'd broken up with John, right? How could I possibly be cheating on you when you've been going out with John?”
“The point is,” I insisted, “that you want to. You want to cheat. You want to have your 'meaningful sex' with me and still have your meaningless romps with Pam. You want it both ways.”
“Amy,” Jake said with exasperation “you've never given me even the slightest hint you want to have anything to do with me. I've told you I have feelings for you. Hell, I've confessed that I've been fantasizing about you. All you've said about me is that you're surprised that I'm not the nerd you'd always assumed I was.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I snorted. “You still want what you want.”
“Look,” Jake said, “maybe we should sort this out next week. I'm on The Program, and like it or not, I'm going to get jerked off by random girls in the hall. You just broke up with John, and you're on an emotional roller coaster. You know, Pam doesn't want to have any sort of relationship with me. She's made it perfectly clear that we're just having fun while I'm on The Program. I don't really know what you want, but next week when I'm off The Program we can work something out, if that's what you want. But this week, I'm on The Program, and I'll just have to go with the flow. So next week we can come to some sort of arrangement, okay?”
I could tell he was trying very hard not to get mad. For some reason that really annoyed me.
“Besides,” he said. “Pam already asked me to have dinner with her Friday night, and to go to the cast party with her Saturday. Her play is really important to her.”
“WHAT?!” I yelled. “Did you tell her you would go?”
“Well, yeah,” he said somewhat lamely. “There wasn't any reason not to.”
“Sure. I guess not,” I said icily. “Take the next right. We're almost at my house.”
“Amy,” Jake said “I told her yes when you were still going out with John. How can you be mad at that?”
“There. That's my house on the right. Stop the car.”
“Amy,” Jake pleaded, “Please tell me what I did wrong?”
I told him what women have been telling men since time immemorial, “If you don't know, then I'm certainly not going to tell you!”
I got out of the car and stormed into my house.
Well, that didn't go anything like I'd planned. I wanted to offer Amy a friendly ear and a shoulder to cry on. Instead, we got into a huge fight like maybe I was cheating on her rather than John? I dunno, maybe she just needed someone to yell at? Sure. I should just wise up. I blew it. I should have just parked the car and fucked her. She was never going to want to have anything to do with me, anyway. She probably just wanted some attention because breaking up made her feel undesirable. I don't know why I had to over-analyze everything and destroy any chances I had with her. I probably didn't really have any chance, anyway.
Sigh. I'd promised her that I'd send her my calculus homework.
Amy,
I've attached my calculus homework to this message.
I know I must have said something stupid that made you mad at me. It sounds pretty feeble to apologize so vaguely, but I'd like you to know that I am really very sorry that I offended you. I wanted to listen to your troubles, because I wanted to be your friend. I thought it might help you feel a little better. I didn't mean to hurt you with my clumsy observations.
I don't know if it means anything, but I'd still like to be your friend.
Jake
I knew I'd fucked it up. I didn't know how exactly, but I'd fucked it up. I was up-to-date with my homework, so I wrote a long email to my best friend, Dave, back in Amherst. I'd already described Amy to him a few months ago (she was “the chick I can't figure out”). I wrote him about our car ride, the basic conversation, and the moment when she suddenly spun her head around and started projectile vomiting (I had watched The Exorcist with Dave, so I was pretty sure he'd get the reference). I also admitted that even while I was going through the longest foreplay on record with Pam, I still couldn't get Amy's taste and scent out of my mind. Amy was right. I'd turned into a real pussy-hound. Maybe I just wanted the unobtainable.
Dave understood girls much better than I did. I thought he might have known what I should have done.
One of the few good things about having my closest friend live halfway across the continent was that I felt free to talk to him about people in Hastings without any worries it would have gotten out. Dave was always very discrete anyway.
Copyright © 2004 Ersatz. All rights reserved