Thursday
Twenty-nine years ago, I was lucky enough to get admitted to a prestigious university in the eastern US. You'd know the name if I told you. The school's colors and mascot and marching band are pretty distinctive, too. Twenty-five years ago I graduated and left that world behind.
But every few years I go back. My university is famous for its reunions. Every year, at the end of May and the beginning of June, alumni from all over the world return for a huge four-day party. There's lots of food and alcohol and it's great to see the old gang again. Of course, the university's real goal is to extract money from us in the form of large donations, but I don't mind. I'm pretty well off, so I'm happy to write them a five-figure check now and then.
The major reunions are the ones that end in 5 or 0: the 10th, the 35th, the 50th, and so forth. Some people come back for the "off-year" reunions, like the 17th, but not that many. But the biggest of all is the 25th.
By the time reunions start, most of the students are gone, except for the graduating seniors. Their graduation ceremony is right after reunions are over. And there are always a few freshmen, sophomores, and juniors who stick around to work the reunions. They're the bartenders and the waitresses and the work crews.
All of my sophomore year roommates had returned for our 25th reunion. Even Rick was there. Back in the day, Rick was a good-looking track star with dark hair and a broad chest. While I was a nerd who struggled to attract a girlfriend, Rick left a trail of beautiful women with broken hearts behind him. I particularly remember one fantastic redheaded coed who had really noisy sex with him almost every night in January of 1989. The walls were so thin, none of us could help but hear exactly what was going on. We even made a drinking game out of it. Whenever she screamed, "I'm coming!" we had to take a drink ... and we were all pretty drunk that term.
They fucked so often that Rick couldn't concentrate on his studies and he ended up flunking out. She didn't; she graduated and I hear she's a minister now.
Well, that was 25 years ago. Today I'm a successful computer professional and multimillionaire. You'll have heard of the computer companies I started but I won't tell you the names of those, either. I married a woman in grad school, but she turned out to be utterly insane, and after 12 years I couldn't take it any more. The divorce cost me a lot but it was worth it.
So here I am at the 25th reunion. I'm in pretty good shape, I must say, from doing 35 K a week running on the local trails and using the Nautilus machines at work. Lots of other guys I knew now have gray hair and beer bellies, but I could pass for 30, not 46 --- even if I'm not Brad Pitt. Sure, I want to see my old friends here, but the real reason I come is for the women.
Man, the young women are just fantastic at reunions, especially the seniors. They've just graduated, they want to let loose, and there's alcohol everywhere. What could be more fun for them than to have a fling with a stranger? A few good orgasms with no obligations. I remember my friend Melissa laughing about it 25 years ago -- she called it a "zipless fuck". She's a famous actress in Los Angeles now. You'd know her name.
I checked in at the quad that was headquarters for the 25th. Lots of people walking around in school jackets. The young woman checking me in has "'15" on her name tag, which means she's a junior and she'll graduate next year. But she's not my type, too zaftig for me. I like 'em thinner.
I saw a lot of my friends right away. There was Tim, who was kind of a nebbish in high school but grew up to be a famous playwright. One of his plays won a Pulitzer and ran for 5,000 performances on Broadway. There was Kim, who wasn't satisfied with the biology Ph. D. she got after college and went on to get a law degree from Harvard. She's now a patent attorney. And then there was Helen.
Ah, Helen. She was my only girlfriend back in those days, and I worshipped her then. She was tall and blonde and blue-eyed and thin -- my favorite type. We met in our organic chemistry class -- everybody called it "Orgo". I helped her out a bit and in return she taught me some guitar licks. I ended up licking quite a lot of her, but it didn't last long. She was pretty focused on studying and getting into law school. But we remained friends.
It may have been 25 years, but she still looked great. Still thin, very elegantly dressed, with just a few wrinkle lines around her eyes. Her shoes were designers and the bracelet screamed "Cartier". I came up from behind her and put my hand on her butt. She whipped around and was about to slap me when she saw who it was.
"David!" she said.
"Helen," I said cautiously. Did I mention she broke my heart 25 years ago?
"Good to see you," she said. "When did you get here?"
"Just now."
"Well, let's talk later. I need to move the car -- there's no place to park around here! And I have to meet my daughter at her dorm in an hour."
"You have a daughter that goes here! I didn't know that. Well, listen, no problem," I said, a little disappointed. "I'll catch you later."
I picked up my room key, signed the form saying I agreed to return the towels and bedlinens on Sunday morning, and got my wristband. With the wristband you can get into all of the different reunion tents, each for a different major reunion class. Some people, especially the graduating seniors, like to go tent-hopping and drinking, looking for the best bands. I'm hoping our reunion committee got some good talent for our tent -- it brings in the attractive women who like to dance.
Some people stay at local hotels, but it's much more fun to stay on campus. The students are mostly gone, like I said, so there's plenty of dorm space for the alumni. That way you can stay up as late as you like and when it's 3 AM it's just a short walk to your room. Perfect for what I have in mind.
I don't go for lots of preliminaries. I'm only here for four days, so I have to make the most of it. Not every girl's going to be into a 46-year-old guy or a zipless fuck, but a few of them will. And I've learned to figure out who's ripe for it.
Later on Thursday night the band was playing 70's disco. She was young and tall and gangly, all limbs and blonde hair, like a colt just set free in a pasture -- just the way I like 'em. She'd be too tall for some guys, so she probably didn't get asked out too often. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite figure out who.
She was standing alone by the bar, swaying a little to the music of the band. From the way her eyes moved, just the tiniest bit unfocused, I could tell she'd already had a couple of drinks. She was a little sunburned and she was wearing a red tank top with no bra. The arm holes were large enough to give a nice glimpse of breast as she swayed to the music, and two inches of heavenly tanned stomach showed between the top and her shorts. With curves like that on display, she looked like she might be up for what I was interested in.
I went to the bar and got two drinks, and handed one to her.
"Let me guess," I said. "You just finished your junior year, you play varsity volleyball, you're on clean-up crew, and you're majoring in art history."
She looked back at me with an expression that was half-serious, half-amused. "Almost right," she said. "I'm majoring in sociology." She took a drink.
"Qualitative or quantitative?" I asked.
"Quantitative. You don't know anything until you express it in numbers."
"Damn right."
"Now it's my turn," she said. "Mid-to-late-thirties, some sort of high-tech biz, pretty rich but not a billionaire, and you like the young ones."
She had me pegged and I said so. Well, she thought I was 36 instead of 46, but who am I to argue?
"Bull's eye. Nice to see that the admissions standards are still high. Are they teaching you anything you don't already know here?"
She had that slightly amused look again. "I'm an eager learner," she purred.
"Speaking of learning," I said with a smirk as I looked into her baby blues, "I've learned a lot since the days when I was a student here."
"Really," she smiled back at me, and all I could see were her pink lips and white teeth.
"Yeah," I said. "What's your name?"
"Mandy," she said.
"Well, Mandy," I said, and I leaned in so no one else could hear. "I'm David, and this is what I've learned. I've learned that I can make girls like you come like you've never come before."
She looked at me with that same slightly amused expression. I could see the wheels going around in her head until she came to a sudden decision. "Let's go," she said. Then she took my hand, and we were off, heading away from the lights and the music and the crowd and the rest of my 25th year class and along the path heading back to the dormitory.
I was so incompetent back in the day that I only had sex a few times when I was a student here. But since then I've matured a bit and gained some confidence and learned about what to do at reunions. Now I get laid every year I come back, although it's usually not quite as easy as this time.
Once in the elevator I stared at her, and she stared back with those swimming pool eyes. She was about an inch taller than me, but she still looked a little tentative. I moved her hair aside and leaned in to kiss her, and at the same time my right hand reached into her top to surround her naked left breast. I used my thumb to stroke the nipple, which hardened immediately at my touch. She sighed and leaned her head back against the back wall of the elevator as I tongue-danced my way down her neck. "Mmmm, that feels really good," she sighed. Too soon the elevator door opened and we walked out in the hall to my dorm room.
