This Sunday party was very different from the last one. Actually, it was pretty much the same party, but my reaction wasn't the same. Last week I was there as a virgin in every respect: new member and never been laid.
Last week I had no idea what to expect. Today I had been to bed with two club members and found not only did I like fucking but that I could please a woman. Tuesday night it was Margery and Friday night it was Karen.
My roommate Pete, my sponsor into the club, wasn't in the apartment when I came to get my books for my Saturday morning classes, and he didn't come home that night. He'd told me he had a Saturday date, so I wasn't surprised. I got up early on Sunday to study in the library and went directly to the club meeting from there. As I came through the front door, I spotted him in an animated conversation with Karen.
Oh god, she's telling him all about my inadequacies Friday night and making fun of how I didn't last very long. He'll really think I'm a dork.
"Yo! Carl! Over here," he called, waving me to join them. Karen kissed me chastely on the cheek and Pete continued. "Karen has four tickets for
Hair
, the show she's working on. House seats. Wanna double-date?"
Karen smiled. "It's really the dress rehearsal, but everything will be in place. Friday's the opening, these tickets are for Thursday. They're very good seats."
"Sure, that sounds like fun. Thanks, Karen."
"That is one focused woman," said Pete as Karen moved off to join some other friends.
"That's for sure," I parried, not knowing if Pete was fishing for information about her and her ways in bed. When he said "Everybody who's dated her says that. We've been out a couple of times." I relaxed.
There had to be thirty people in the house by three, which was the deadline for the women to post their tokens of availability on the date board. Many stayed on after posting, either to watch the run-up to March Madness on the big-screen or to socialize. After three it was the men's time to browse the board for dates. Pete had told me it wasn't cool to rush to the board, which was in the kitchen, and anyway there was only room for two or three people to stand there.
Just before three Margery rushed through the front door and headed straight to the kitchen. A few minutes later, while I was hollering at the referee on the big-screen, she came over and sat down next to me.
"Hey Carl, nice to see you. And thank you so much for the prints." We chatted for a few minutes, then she said, "There's someone I want you to meet."
She led me to a table where four girls and a guy were deep in conversation. "Hey Cindy, I want you to meet someone."
A tall, raven-haired girl stood up.
"Carl, this is Cindy. Cindy, Carl."
Margery moved on and I sat next to Cindy. Soon I was involved in their conversation, which was over "History of Science," a course I had taken fall semester. I'd done well enough but hadn't retained much.
Cindy was disdainful of the graduate students who ran the sections and in particular she disliked the one who ran her section.
"It's really too bad that Professor Schmee doesn't make sure the grad students reinforce what she's teaching," she said. "These guys act like they're the professor and wander into subjects that she hasn't covered or handled a week ago. My section leader is a real jerk. If you're going to take this course, find out who's your section leader and transfer if it's him."
She had the same section leader I had had. I told them that the only reason I'd even gone was for attendance purposes and that this guy ignored the syllabus and handed out his left-wing opinions like they were gospel. When the subject changed, I asked Cindy if she wanted to get some coffee, and we moved to the living room.
"Margery the matchmaker?" I teased.
"She lives down the hall. In fact, she was my reference for joining the club. I've only been on campus since the semester started, when I transferred from community college. I've only been a member for two weeks."
"I didn't know the university took mid-year transfers."
"I had really good grades and they're buying out people with single rooms and turning them into doubles, so they had space."
We talked some more about how she was settling in. Seizing the opportunity for a real date, not a structured encounter, I said, "Hey, are you free on Thursday? I've got an extra ticket to the dress rehearsal of
Hair
that they're doing at the Carpenter."
"Sounds like fun. Uh, I'll have to find out."
"Huh?"
"Token board. I put mine on Friday and Saturday."
While Cindy's Saturday token was covered, her Friday token was uncovered. She moved it to Thursday and I covered it. I'd figured on a weekend date and maybe one during the week, so Thursday was fine. But I felt awkward checking out the board for a weekend date in front of Cindy
Actually, maybe I don't need to go out this weekend. Midterms start on Monday. I need to do well on two of them to keep up my B average. My social life is messing up my concentration. But at least I'm not going broke on the dating scene: Dutch treat means dating costs no more than eating alone. And the sex is
much
better.
*
The dress rehearsal was scheduled for seven-thirty. Cindy and I agreed to meet at the student union mailboxes at five. As she walked in, her shoulder-length hair was set off with a pink blouse and a plaid skirt. Her calf-high boots finished an attractive package, even if the whole thing was buried in a quilted parka against the end-of-winter cold outside.
"Let's eat at this Indian place I've heard about," she said. I didn't know whether she meant India Indian or Cherokee and normally wouldn't have considered either, but what the heck. I hadn't noticed such a place in the union.
"It's downtown. We oughta get started, it's probably half-a-mile from here."
As we walked, Cindy explained she her interest. "We lived in Mumbai for two years when I was starting high school. My father was the private pilot for a big international construction company. Five years ago, as they were landing in Indiana, the plane hit some unexpected turbulence and the president of the company was thrown against the interior, hard.
"He was bruised but not injured. Two days later, though, he collapsed and died of a heart attack. His wife blamed my father and he lost his job. We were pretty strapped until a pilot friend introduced dad to an Indian industrialist who needed a pilot. So all of a sudden we moved to Mumbai."
The spicy smell of the restaurant's foyer and the heavy decorations startled me. We were early enough that we got a spacious table. Cindy ordered for us and told the waiter we wanted separate checks. I had put my camera on the table as soon as we were seated and as we surfed the appetizer buffet I snapped several pictures of the breads and the wait staff, who probably thought I was weird.
The dinner was delicious, even if I'd never experienced anything like it. Cindy's entrée was a red chicken while mine was a slightly spicy vegetarian dish. The numerous breads were delicious. We swapped plates and I took some more pictures, this time including her. She had a lovely expression as she forked food into her mouth.
"Was it easy living in India? It seems like the poverty, particularly what I've read about in Mumbai, would be depressing."
"We lived in a big foreigners' compound, but still, we saw a lot of it. We had three servants who would sometimes take my sister Ann and me with them to their homes. Their lives were okay, but the areas where they lived were pretty bad.
"The school in the compound was a traditional English school. Ann and I did really well so that, when we got back to the States, our two years away allowed Ann to skip her freshman year and enter the university as a sophomore.
"My parents couldn't afford to have both of us here at the same time, so I had to go to community college till Ann finished. She graduated last year.
"I'd skipped half my junior year in high school because of the Mumbai classes and was taking AP classes at CC, so I finished there after three semesters and came here. Technically I'm a second-semester junior."
I was jolted at the price of the meal, which was more than I'd ever spent on dinner in my life. Even splitting the check was pricey.
We had to hustle to get to the Carpenter a few minutes before the curtain. Our seats were third-row, center. Pete was already there and he introduced us to Marney, who I recognized from the club.
The show was excellent. I'd seen the movie on TV a couple of years ago but this was much more intense. The production was lavish and the actors must have been picked for their stamina because they were in constant motion. Karen must have been in constant motion too, with all the lighting changes and scenery.
Afterward the four of us went backstage and Karen introduced us to the cast. She was soaked in perspiration (but not as much as she was on Friday night) and was elated at how well things had gone.
Pete, Marney, Cindy, and I went for coffee in the student union. It was nearly nine-thirty when they said it was getting late and left.
My apartment was slightly further away than Cindy's dorm, but she had a roommate and I didn't, at least not for the evening, so we went there. As we climbed the stairs I realized I had no idea how to transition us into bed.
I hung our coats on the closet-door hook. When I turned around she was holding on to the door frame and levering her left boot off with the toe of her right boot.
"Let me," I said, with more savoir-faire that I felt. I knelt and pulled the boot off. When we removed her right boot, I held her foot and rolled her sock off, then kissed her instep. She'd been balancing with her hand on my shoulder and I felt her tremble. When she made a tentative move to pull away, I resisted and she relaxed. A furtive look up her skirt showed white panties.
"Can I take your other sock off too?" I asked.
"Sure, fair and balanced," she replied. She signed contentedly as I rolled it off and kissed that instep.
