Author's note: This may eventually be part of a larger work. The setting of this story is City College in New York City (CCNY) in March 1975. At the time it was a commuter school with no dormitories.
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I was in the college newspaper office late one afternoon when Judy stopped by to meet me. This was very early in our relationship - we only had sex with each other twice. In fact, those two times were the only two that Judy had been with anybody. The mystique about virgins had never meant much to me. For one thing I myself had no experience whatsoever before meeting Andrea last October. But that's the way the breaks went and I accepted it.
Michelle and to some extent Andrea had an ability to present themselves in different ways. They could go from a girl-next-door, I'm going about my business persona to a femme fatale strut - at will, almost instantly. I had seen them do it to impress my male colleagues. They knew it amused me, and they were amusing themselves too.
Judy would probably never be able to do that, nor would she ever want to. To the other guys in the office she was nearly invisible. They seemed relieved that I had finally brought someone on board who offered no interest or challenge to them. If they noted her at all, she was just a short, slightly plump, frizzy haired girl with a modest, low-key personality.
However I didn't care what they thought. I was starting to see her completely differently; that Joni Mitchell line about a woman of heart and mind sometimes came to me. I was beginning to know the passionate side of her that she herself may not have known about. Sexual relationships change the people in them if they are open to accepting that, and these changes can be drastic and rapid. I was no longer the person I was a few months ago and Judy too was entering a big transition.
It was a cold day in March when she came in; it was just a convenient spot to meet. She hung up her coat; there were maybe four other people in the office but no one even said hello. She walked over to me; I saw her lift her glasses to the top of her head. I knew she did that so I could better see her face.
I was sitting at a desk; she was standing near me with one of her hands on the back of a chair. For a few moments we didn't say anything to each other. I used this time to look her over. By now I was familiar with most of Michelle's wardrobe but I didn't know much about what Judy had. Today she looked more dressed up than usual. It actually was a simple outfit: a white pullover blouse, probably wool, and a plaid wool skirt, pleated, which came down to just above her knees. She had white tights and dark shoes. And yet I was intrigued; I examined the outline of her body and I knew what she looked like under those clothes. I think she knew what I was thinking.
She said, "Aren't you going to say hello already?"
"Oh, sure." I tried a compliment, "You really look great tonight,"
"Well, thank you!"
She sat down next to the desk and put one of her hands on mine. I glanced around but no one was looking at us. By then I understood that my colleagues had no interest in whether I was Judy's lover, friend, or merely an acquaintance.
We talked for a few minutes about the articles we were writing. Afterwards we planned to take the Convent Avenue or the Amsterdam Avenue bus down to her neighborhood and have dinner - there was a better than average diner on her corner. I was looking forward to having a couple of beers. At that age I would drink beer in any season regardless of how cold it was.
At twilight we were standing at the entrance to Wagner Hall, across from Finley, leaning on a pillar and making out. I had unbuttoned her coat and I ran my hands along the back of her blouse and then along the back of her skirt. I said, "Your clothes feel cold but I know your body is warm."
Michelle might have teased me about a line like that but Judy said, "Oh yes, that is so true." Then she said, "I wish there was someplace we could be together, I mean right now."
I did know someplace. It was where I had gone with Michelle right here in Wagner about a month ago. But I was aware of Michelle's wild side, especially after her "Tammy" role-playing exercise. I didn't know what Judy's reaction to my proposal would be.
I decided to try it. Maybe she'd gag at the idea but if she did turn it down I knew she'd be polite about it.
I said, "Michelle and I were in this building about a month ago." I was aware of how tentative I must have seemed. "It's usually deserted at this time of day and there's - there is a men's room on the second floor. We went into one of the stalls."
This didn't seem at all romantic. Would Mr. Darcy ever mention such a thing to Elizabeth Bennett? Of course not, but maybe he entertained a few fantasies. Human nature couldn't have changed that much since 1813.
Judy simply answered, "Let's go have a look."
On the second floor I went in first to make sure the room was vacant. Then I gestured for her to come in. It was a large room at the back of the building, and it was fairly clean and well-maintained for a public restroom. There was a row of stalls along the inside wall that adjoined the hallway. The urinals and sinks were under the windows on the opposite side. I could see lights going on in the taller buildings of Harlem.
Once we were in there we talked in low voices, close to whispers. For one thing we didn't want anyone passing in the hallway to hear us. I said, "When I was here with Michelle - in a stall - some guy did come it to take a leak. We had to be cool for a couple of minutes."
Judy seemed to take this information with aplomb. She picked a stall and pulled me in. I thought again of Elizabeth Bennett and the fact that she was twenty-years old, which was close to my age now and also the ages of Judy, Michelle and Andrea. Jane Austen would think that our actions here were only appropriate for social classes much lower than her own. Probably she was aware that men of class sometimes relied on prostitutes but as far as I knew she never wrote about it. Anyway I was glad I wasn't living in 1813.
Once we closed the door Judy took her coat off and hung it on a hook; then she unzipped my coat. She pushed me against the door and started kissing me. This seemed to be starting better than I had expected for this setting.
She said, "Give me a second." She took off her shoes, then her tights. The tights went into her bag, the shoes back on her feet. I knew that Judy was thinking this through without any directions from me. There were only a few options for us in this stall. We could do it standing up or, as happened with Michelle in the second half of our sojourn, I could sit on the seat and have her sit on me. It any case in was worth getting the tights out of the way first.
Then she whispered, "We have to get you to come first." This strategy I had heard first from Andrea and then Michelle. I was the one who passed it on to Judy although I suspect Michelle had discussed with her too.
I said, "How should we?" I assumed she'd wank me or blow me, her choice.
"I'll show you."
She turned around to face one of the side panels, then she lifted her skirt and lowered her panties. She had a nice round ass, a friendly ass to welcome a man. I was quickly next to her, grinding myself against her. She tried to reach behind and then she said, "Lower your pants."
The circular movements she was making were so perfect - did she instinctual know them or was she inspired by something she had heard or read? As for me, a Bob and Earl song came to mind, "The Harlem Shuffle," the one the Rolling Stones later covered and made famous. The only reason I knew about the original was because Charlotte had a copy of it. "Shake, shake, shake, shake a tail feather baby." I could have had this shaking go on for a long time, but it wasn't to be that way. It was more like five minutes or so.
She must have noticed a change in the pace of my rubbing, because she looked back at me with a lascivious smile on her face. My cock was pointing upwards, the shaft pressed into her ass crack. When I came I tried to be as quiet as possible but there were limits to my self-control. I had to wheeze or whine or whatever you'd call those noises. When I was done and could talk I looked down and said, "Sorry, I got some on your blouse."
"Don't worry, that's what Woolite is for."
That seemed like something Michelle would say. In fact I was sure that being around Michelle a lot was having a big impact on her. I reached down to get a handkerchief but she was already turned around and she was pulling me next to her. After kissing me she said, "I want - put your hand under my skirt,"
I positioned her in the same way I had done with Michelle. Her right foot was on the floor and her left one was up on the porcelain at the back of the seat. She had her arms around my neck; I had one hand to hold her skirt up and the other was between her legs. I was saying or whispering things without really thinking, "Judy you are the hottest, sweetest girl any guy could ever want." Then I said, "What am I going on about?" She replied, "It's fine, just fine."
When she was ready she wasn't shy about telling me. "Put it in me, now." She was shorter than Michelle so I had to stoop down a bit. But the fit, then our movements together were just fine as she had promised. Then it seemed that only a couple minutes had gone by when we heard the dreadful sound of the hallway doorway opening. As had happened a month ago, somebody had to do his business. This had a very unpleasant sense of - well déjà vu was usually an illusion but this definitely was not.
Michelle had moved fast that time. She perched on the back of the toilet base and crouched down. I sat on the seat; thus only a pair of male feet was visible. Now Judy and I just froze. This would leave a pair of female feet to see too, plus there were the panties on the floor. Dr. Watson, what do you make of this?
I was sure that whoever had come in had no authority over us. However, there was a chance it was some asshole who would decide to say something. Or maybe he'd have to use a stall. There would be a rustle as a newspaper was unfolded. I hoped in that case it would be the New York Post and not the Times.
