I wasn't always a respectable person, Jimmy. We don't usually tell our children and grandchildren what we did in our youth, at least not details. But you're a lot like me, don't look at me like that...I've heard enough and I've known you all your life, and the way things are now, it might hurt you more than it did me. I haven't told this story to your cousins who're going off to college because they don't need it. This will be our secret, all right? If I catch you telling anybody else, your ass is grass.
When I was your age, I was a major party animal. Oh, don't look at me like that, I know how you run around. Don't forget we're Twitter and Facebook friends, and Instagram! I see all your adventures. Did I do all that stuff? Jimmy, I could give you lessons in debauchery. Glad we didn't have cell phones or texting or any of that shit when I was young. I could tell you things...by the way, you should be more careful what you put on the Internet. Wrecking your life is a lot easier today than it was in my day. Although I did my best in my time.
It was October, 1975. Somehow I made it to my Sophomore year,. Freshman year was fun, played football with the other freshmen, did so-so on the field, awful in the classroom, but joined a fraternity and because a monster partier. Won't tell you all those stories yet, but I never got arrested. My GPA was 2.4, so I barely stayed eligible. After getting to know the ropes, my second year was more fun and less study. Football practice was intense, but games were a breeze since I rode the bench even in the JV games, pretty much. But it was that time of semester, when failure warnings were in the mail, yes, snail mail, there wasn't anything else then. I got almost a perfect score, a slip from every class. Don't even remember what my major was then, think it was Undecided.
Well, I saw the Athletic Director and the Academic Dean and told both of them I'd do better in the second half of the semester, but don't think they believed me. We had tutors, but I blew them off, mostly. Well, one was rather cute, with long brunette hair and nice tits, so I came around to visit her about once a week, but we didn't study much. Oh, there was a reason she put up with me...I was great in bed, the best she had. I know every old man says this, but I had a missile in my pants and knew when to fire it. Only reason I didn't get laid more often is I was too busy getting drunk and running around with my buddies. Gave my tutor a good fucking often enough she said nice things about me. Believe that or not, I don't give a shit.
It was Homecoming weekend, and we had a huge bonfire and pep rally, the whole team was there in uniform so people could cheer us to beat Harrisburg State. The Appalachians in central Pennsylvania are great in the Fall, even when the leaves are a little past prime. Coach Blevins talked, and Pete Folsom the starting quarterback talked; the cheerleaders shook their pom-poms and made their short skirts fly up around their waists; at the end, President Allison Genevieve made a long talk about how athletics builds up the whole person and makes us ready to rule the world. You know, typical big-wig bullshit. The band played as we were leaving: since there was a game the next day, the team was on curfew and my buddies and I were going to play Risk in the dorm. Saturday night we were planning to cut loose.
Officer Rand, the campus cop, fell in step with me as I was leaving, and said quietly: "President Genevieve wants to see you in her office. Now."
"Really?" I replied softly, so my buddies didn't hear me.
"Yeah. I'll walk you over there."
My buddies gave me strange looks, but I shrugged and went where he did. Our campus wasn't very big, so I was at her door in five minutes. He knocked on it, and a soft voice inside said, "Come." I was standing in front of the President's desk in no time.
The carpet was pretty thick, which was a big deal back then, and it looked like an old room from Queen Victoria's time. Well, all the buildings at that school were 50 years old and most of the furniture was, too, including my bed. She looked to be in her mid 30s, I found out later she was ten years older. After seeing her at different events, I knew she was six feet tall, reasonably athletic, with long blond hair she normally wore pulled back, brown eyes and glasses, an oval face that usually wore little to no makeup. Don't know if I'd call her cute, but she wasn't ugly. When the team got up early for the daily run, we would see her working out in the weight room, but she usually wore baggy clothing that didn't show much. She wasn't married, there were rumors she was a lesbian, but no hint of she had somebody. Usually, she wore a business suit, nice but not spectacular, heels,a little cross around her neck, and carried the same purse every day.
She was wearing her sweatshirt and jeans, making notes on a piece of paper, her desk lamp on, not looking up. I stood there and didn't say anything, there was something about the air that made me nervous. The windows were open and the night was cool.
Suddenly, she looked up and said: "Mr. Landis, I've talked with your advisor, your tutors, the A.D., the Dean, and I think the best thing for Mount Saint Barbara college is to put you on the midnight bus and tell you to never return. What do you think?"
I shook my head. "Ah, ah, ah, what? Ah, ah, I don't think that's a good idea. I wanna be here."
Her eyebrows arched, disbelieving "Oh? Haven't seen much of that desire through your actions."
I was hoping she didn't see me trembling, and I started sweating like a pig. "I haven't gotten into trouble, at least not bad."
"No, you're not one of my regular offenders, you haven't been arrested or written up. But you are definitely failing all your classes. Your professors don't know how to motivate you, and only one of your tutors has anything positive to say about you, but I suspect there's a non-academic reason at play, given your reputation. Coach Blevins assures me you aren't worth much to the team, and he would be all right to see you go. You do encourage some of the more valuable members of the team to break training far too often. I hear you've slept with all the cheerleaders and three quarters of the women in the marching band. You've been lucky so far: no pregnancies and no VD, but don't know how long your luck will hold out. So no, you're not the worst apple in the bunch, but you're getting there, and I have to worry about all the apples. And you, sir, are definitely a catalyst of corruption."
Oh, Jimmy, I know you don't believe me. Hell, ask your grandmother if you want to know. I've been faithful to her since we got engaged, but before that...she knows what I did. What was it that did the trick? Buddy, look in your own pants, whose genes do you think gave you that magic wand swinging between your legs? The way you seem to be making up and breaking up social media, you're just like me.
Now where was I? Oh, I was standing in front of the President of Mount Saint Barbara's College after hearing I was getting kicked out. Yeah, I was scared shitless. If I got kicked out, I was gonna be digging coal in West Virginia like my Dad and Grandad did. Grandad died at 40, and Dad was already suffering from Black Lung. I had to stay in school, somehow. I was having an epiphany, getting scared shitless will do that to you, and I had to find a way to convince her to let me stay. It was tough, I was in bad habits I couldn't control.
"Please, President Genevieve, I'll behave. I'll work, I promise. Don't send me home: I got no future there."
"It seems that hasn't made a difference so far. You coasted through High School because you were the star quarterback on the football team of a small town in West Virginia. You thought that would work here, but you don't have that much talent. Even if you were our star quarterback, the NFL wouldn't be interested in you anyway, and you'd still probably be digging coal sooner or later. Ah, I've hit a nerve there, haven't I? You don't want to do that, right?"
"Yes," I said quietly. "No man in my family lived past 40. Mom and Gran talk about how much they miss them."
"And they don't want you to suffer their fate. All right, I see it in your face: you're not a great actor, you're not lying. You're afraid, really afraid. So what if I don't send you home tonight, I give you a break like a good Christian would. There's still some concerns here. Nineteen year old boys don't have a lot of self control, even with motivation. You don't know how many boys I've seen who promise to change and actually make an effort, only to fall back into bad habits and flunk out." I nodded like a frightened idiot. She pondered for several moments, tapping her chin with her index finger. "Then we need a steady motivation. Whatever that will be..."
"Yes, Ma'am." She stood up and paced back and forth a bit. I stood at attention even though I hadn't been told, and my eyes were getting a little damp. That was the worst: crying in front of anybody, much less her. Didn't want to lose my Man Card.
Stopping, she looked at me and her stern face melted a little bit. I think she saw the tears in my eyes, and must have thought it was cute. Closing her windows, and stood in front of me and took her glasses off. "It's getting too cold." Walking over just in front of me, she looked me square in the eye from an inch or two away, seeing my soul. At that moment, I realized I had one. She whispered, "I guess you have a heart after all."
Going back around her desk and sitting down, she resumed, "You need to show me you can learn. You need to show me you can live up to your commitments. The scout team needs a quarterback, so you aren't completely useless. But remember, I have a consensus opinion to put you on a bus right now, and I can do it anytime I want. So what's needed is motivation, and I know just something that will motivate you."
Standing up, she pulled off her sweatshirt and pulled down her jeans after kicking off her sneakers. Oh Jimmy, I know this doesn't mean too much to today's generation, but in that time, seeing a woman in her bra and panties was a huge turn on. Some of the freshmen on the team dreamed of seeing a woman in her bra and panties someday. President Genevieve had an athletic body, wonderful legs, and her breasts were big without being monstrous. She looked a lot like Carol Connors, the actress on Deep Throat. Shit, do you think I'm a prude? Hell, we watched porn, read magazines. Made road trips to adult theaters, it was tough to find that shit.
Anyway, with Allison standing in front of me in all her glory, think I got a hard on right away: if I wasn't wearing pants, he would have leapt to attention like a jack in the box.
She walked up, her body almost pressing against me. "Have you ever performed cunnilingus before?" she whispered in a sultry voice.
