Amanda And Lucille

This takes place in the late summer of 2016, nearly a year before the events in

The Battle of the Crater.

As in that story, Amanda Watson is also the narrator here.

********

If I may continue my memoirs, I'd like to flash back and describe a prequel, I'd call it. You may be wondering about how I met my University of Maryland classmate, friend, and lover Lucille Kossoff.

That goes back to the beginning of my sophomore year, September 2016. I've admitted that in the term LGBQT+, I am one of the "B's."

I never found it to be a big deal. I was not ashamed, but neither did I wish to flaunt myself. That fits in with my generally low-key attitude about things. It seemed to be my business, and thus I could choose how to handle it and how to present myself.

Some may ask why I didn't become more visible and or perhaps be an activist on the issue. I'm not sure why, but that didn't suit me. If other people wished to do it, that was fine with me. It's sort of like my identity was not based on my sexuality, but my sexuality was based on my identity. I know, I understand that but you probably don't!

Probably I felt more comfortable living in the present than I would in an earlier era. I may make tongue-in-cheek remarks about women easily getting together during the 19th Century, but I was just making guesses. Maybe they had a more difficult time sexually than they did in my fluffy but hot fantasies.

It is true that people with something other than a purely straight orientation have an intuition about the people around them. I knew when someone had the same inclinations that I did. In my experience, it starts below the level of consciousness, but it's there. That's the feeling I got about Lucy at some point after I met her.

I had expected that in college I would find some guy acceptable to me, but all through my freshman year that didn't come close to happening. I certainly could have had hook-ups, a lot of them if I wanted that, but I didn't want those.

That was before my failed Tinder/Bumble experiments during the following year. Most of the time, I would go on dates with some of the guys who would ask me out. Those were "normal" dates for coffee or drinks (the latter supplied by me in a seltzer bottle).

None of these meetings went beyond the first one, and by the start of my second year, I was starting to get concerned. I refused to compromise my true self, although I tried to tone myself down at the first meeting. That had never worked, however.

******

Late in the morning one day in September, I was sitting waiting for the first session of my history class to begin. Lucy walked into the room a couple of minutes after I did. A made a quick assessment of her, as I did with everyone else in my classes.

She was about five-two, with medium-length dark blonde hair. Lucy refers to herself as plump, but I prefer to call her "zaftig." Like me and most of the other students, she was casually dressed.

She decided to sit to my right and she immediately introduced herself. It wasn't until later that I found out why she had done that. At the end of the second session, three days later, she hung around for a while after class to talk to me.

People in a college always, at an early stage, talk about where they're from. I'd never heard of Elsmere, but I certainly knew where Wilmington was. My town, Arlington, VA was rather well known by everybody, being the location of both the Pentagon and Arlington Cemetery. Wilmington was distant enough that Lucy lived in a dorm, while I was a commuter student.

We didn't say much about our personal lives initially, but by the second week I was getting those intuitive feelings about her. My guess -- which turned out to be correct -- was that she was sexually interested in both men and women. We hadn't mentioned anything like that, so I can't say how I grasped it. I just did.

I think it was at the beginning of the third week when she came in wearing a denim skirt, the same one I saw her in months later at The Crater movie set.

It was on the short and tight side, and she had white sandals that day. Since the weather was mild, she had a short-sleeved blouse. I remember looking at her legs and thinking,

she's got such nice, solid thighs.

At the beginning of the semester, she still had the remains of a summer tan but that was gone by then.

Yes, ladies, other ladies, gay and bisexual, are likely checking you out. Probably it's just a casual notice, but it's definitely going on.

As you may have figured out, I will take the initiative at times, just to see what happens if nothing else. As we talked in our seats after class, I said, "This is the first time I've seen that skirt you have on now."

"I just bought it. So what do you think of it?"

"I like it, actually."

"Thanks." Maybe she was having her own feelings about me, because she then asked, "So what is it that you like, exactly?"

It took me a moment to figure out how to respond. I wanted to be honest but not overstate it. I came up with, "It looks good on you. It accentuates the curves of your hips."

She briefly blinked, I think. Yet it seemed that I needed a follow-up. I said, "I have a denim skirt too, but it's longer and looser than yours. I'll wear it soon if you want to see it."

"Sure, that would be great." Then we talked about other things.

*****

The class had two sessions every week, and for the next one, I wore the denim skirt as I had promised. Lucy came in wearing a skirt too, a black cotton one with white dots. I thought,

hm, there seems to be something going on here between us.

I took the initiative again. Just as the class ended at noon, I said, "Lucy, let's go to the snack bar and get a soda or something."

Sure enough, she agreed to go.

*******

Once we were seated there, I was surprised at how fast we got into discussing personal matters. Near the beginning, we both confirmed that we were sophomores and thus both nineteen years old. The class, or cohort I should say, of 1997.

I guess the term "Millennials" was coming into wide use by then and probably also the phase Generation Z. Lucy and I were right on the cusp between the two, assuming one takes the concepts seriously. I've always thought that the whole "generational" idea was an approximation at best, more of a way for journalists and such to simplify and cope with the complexity of reality. Then the public starts to take it seriously because if it's in the media, it must be true, right?

A couple of minutes later Lucy started her big reveal. "I haven't had much luck dating at this school."

"You have had some dates, right?"

"Yeah, but they never go anywhere. One meeting and that's it."

I decided to be honest. "I admit, that's been exactly my experience too."

"So why is that? Is it the school or is it us, or is it just the times we live in?"

"We could certainly get a hook-up if we wanted one. Or a lot of them, in fact."

"But I don't want that, do you?" Before I could answer, she went on. "Probably the 1940's was too restrictive, but now the pendulum has gone too far in the other direction."

I described one of my completely unproven theories. "Maybe the 1970's and '80's were better."

Mostly I was relying on guesses and a few facts I knew about those periods. I went on, "Sure, of course, there were one-night stands then. So things had loosened up a lot, but people, in general, were still . . ." I tried to think of the right word. "Saner, more reasonable?"

"Have you tried any of those apps yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm considering it." Later, after some experiments, I warned Lucy to stay away from them. "That's another thing; without social media, I think everything moved at a slower pace."

"So what goes wrong on your dates?"

That was a rather personal question, but I felt comfortable telling Lucy about it. "There is always some guy around who will ask me out, and sometimes I'll give him a try. But I never seem to have anything to talk to him about."

I had the opportunity to elaborate, but first I said, "If you want to know more, I'll tell you right now."

Lucy was trying to be casual, but I suspect she was very interested in what I would say. "Yes, I'd like to know."

"All right, movies are always a big topic, right? So, I'll mention, say,

Sunset Boulevard.

" What I was telling Lucy had really happened during the previous spring. "So he'll go, 'I've never heard of it. Who is Gloria Swanson, who is William Holden? Who cares about Hollywood in 1950?' "

Lucy said, "Let me guess; they like the

Stars Wars

franchise. Or

Batman.

Or

The Fast and the Furious.

"

"All of those and more. The very word 'franchise' makes me gag. It's like they're selling Big Macs or something."

"In a way, they are." Then she dropped a big one. "I admit, I've never had a boyfriend of any kind."

"Well, neither have I."

In the couple of minutes just before that, I had been noticing Lucy's body. That was the first time I had ever sat directly opposite her, and I was closely examining her appearance. Her breasts, for one thing, were bigger than mine and I saw them pushing against her tight pullover blouse. I had already looked at her curvy hips and behind in the classroom.

In the moments after our revelations to each other, we just sat there, unsure of what to do next.

Then she said, "I'm sorry, that was a bit of a conversation stopper I guess."

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

Yet in the next few minutes, I was developing a very specific plan. I prefer to think of a solution to a problem rather than merely complaining about it.

If we can't find guys for the moment, then maybe we should be going out with each other.

I had already had fantasies about other women, not simply crushes but intense masturbation sessions involving them. (All of my sessions were intense!) I figured that if I had an orgasm from these imaginary events, that was pretty good evidence that I was truly interested in trying them in real life.

The previous semester, I had some good ones about my freshman art history professor. She was in her early thirties and she had closely cropped dark hair and dark-rimmed glasses. After these made-up trysts, I pictured us sitting in bed having some wine and discussing Goya or Picasso's "Guernica."

But Lucy was different; I actually knew her personally, not from a distance. And we were developing a friendship.

I wasn't absolutely sure what Lucy thought about her orientation. There was only one way to find out, and that was to go on a longer date with her. Of course, one just can't say

please go on a date with me

(although I had met a couple of guys dumb enough to do just that).

It was a matter of inviting the other person to go with you to some activity. For example, that snack bar meeting was a mini-date of sorts. I just had to up the ante, propose one that was longer and a bit more formal.

There was a diner close to the station within the town itself. If we went there, I wouldn't have to deal with a big meal and all of the chewing involved. Perhaps a smoothie would be enough

I knew to make it a statement, not a question, another thing some men hadn't figured out. Just present it as a given, and then let the other one turn it down if they wished.

My proposal was for late in the afternoon of that very day. Lucy accepted that one too.

******

We were on the campus, so we met later and took a bus to the restaurant near the Metro station. While riding along, we discussed an innocuous topic, namely the proposed cross-county light-rail line. If it was ever built, it would start at the College Park station and head west, stopping at several places in UMD itself.

I gave my opinion of it. "I can't believe how expensive this Purple Line is supposed to be. I mean, it mostly just runs at ground level."

Lucy said, "I've heard they could do the same thing cheaper with buses, which makes sense to me."

During the short ride, I had some further sexual thoughts about Lucy.

I wonder what kind of panties she's wearing under her skirt? What cut are they, what color?

I was fairly sure that she wasn't the kind to not wear any.

At the diner, after we had ordered, my panty speculations gave me my first, and slightly provocative although indirect, topic. I've mentioned my later Tinder guy who wanted to know what kind of panties I was wearing, and I lied and said that I wasn't wearing them.

Something similar had happened in 2016, although that time I was wearing trousers and I was sitting face-to-face with him. I had also lied and said that I had no underpants on, just to see the reaction I'd get.

During my telling of that story, Lucy didn't approve. "That was pretty rude of him."

"Well, you know what he asked next? 'So how does it feel?' "

"And you actually answered him?"

"Of course, I had nothing to lose. And I was making it up anyway. So, I just rubbed the top of my thigh briefly and I said, 'It feels great. I love the way the cloth feels against my bare body.' "

"Wow, I'd never have the nerve to say something like that. Did you ever, like, really do something like that?"

"Not yet I haven't, but I'd like to try it." Nearly a year went by before Lucy and I would attempt such an experiment together, with great results.

I continued my tale. "He just blinked and completely changed the topic. I've noticed that guys will say something provocative to get a girl rattled or upset. If you just push back a little, they usually are caught flat-footed and they just fold."

My later Tinder guy with the same question was more persistent, however, and he kept going. When I got tired of his banter about masturbation, presumably while looking at my photos, I simply deleted him. That was the one advantage of apps. If an online meeting was not going well, one can just swipe them away.

I got into another sexualized dating story. That was the time at a coffee shop when a guy asked me if women masturbated. I suspect it was a serious question, but I couldn't really be sure.

Lucy was surprised again. I said, "I laughed at him and said, 'of course they do.' I was ready to tell him all the nitty-gritty, to see how far

I

could get, but he chickened out too."

Lucy replied, "There sure are a lot of guys on that campus making cold approaches. And yet you will go out with some of them."

"As I said, I might as well try, although nothing was worked yet."

"I'm a bit more cautious, or I should say discriminating, than you are." Later I found out that she had less than half the experiences that I had gone through.

I had been on enough dates that didn't work out to recognize one that was working, namely the one I then was on with Lucy. As we finished, I said, "Let's go sit in that park over there."

She continued to go along with my ideas. Later on, I would be more discreet with her in public, but at that point, I wasn't particularly concerned about who saw us smooching.

It was still light out when we sat on a bench together. For a couple of minutes we talked, and then I made my moves. If she didn't like what I was doing, well, then I would find out, wouldn't I?

She was sitting to my left, and I put my arm around her shoulders. I gently tugged on her and she moved closer. In about another minute, I knew enough not to ask,

May I kiss you?

I was just going to try it.

I pushed my glasses to the top of my head and I put my face closer to hers. She was looking right at me, and I saw her close her eyes and part her lips slightly. That was enough for me.

All right, go ahead!

I started by kissing her eyelids, then her face, and then her mouth. She kissed back. Then we put our arms around each other. Not long after we had started, she stopped to say, "Now I know what the big deal about all this is."

Often she was right on target with her remarks. I replied, "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

We had our fill with that first make-out session. We said some things that I don't remember now. I only touched her arms; I made no attempt to go further than that. There was really no need for it at that early stage.

Eventually, we just sat there holding each other and talking. I was sure we were not going back to her dorm room. For one thing, we hadn't gotten clearance from her roommate; we didn't even know where she was. Lucy confirmed it. "You should be going home soon, I think."

"Yes, I should get moving."

The College Park station was about a block away. We hugged and kissed as we stood by the fare gates. The last thing she said was, "Amanda, I want to call you tomorrow."

That would be a Saturday, and she already had my home number. "Sure, late in the afternoon is best."

On the train, my emotions hit me hard. One was simply lust. I did not feel guilty about it; I accepted it as inevitable. Then I thought,

she is going to be my first lover ever.

That sounds easy, but it can be daunting to realize it. I felt both excited and anxious at the same time.

I knew that, in my bed that night, I would masturbate thinking of her. It would be the first time she had been in my imagination.

*****

Lucy's call the next day resulted in an awkward conversation. I'm not sure why, but we hardly referred to what we had done the day before. After twenty minutes, she ended the call.

We had no contact for the next two days. Then there was more awkwardness when we had our class together on Tuesday. She sat next to me as usual, and we briefly talked before the class started. I thought,

has she changed her mind and decided to discount what we had done the previous week?

As the class ended, I knew I had to do something to find out what she expected. I said, "Let's get some lunch at one of the cafeterias."

That broke the jam. As soon as we left the classroom building, we started kissing while standing at the doorway. Our lunch together was very relaxed and we talked about various things.

Afterwards, I held her hand and led her to a nearby campus bench. We had just enough privacy there to have another make-out session. During that one, I dared rub her breasts through her blouse, and then she started rubbing mine.

She soon said, "This feels so good, better than I had expected."

"I feel the same way about it."

She responded, "I've often done this to myself, I mean my nipples. But . . ."

Since she seemed stuck about what to say, I finished it for her. "It is a lot better when someone else is doing it to you."

The only issue was that I was very turned on for the rest of the day. I wasn't one of those students who masturbated in a restroom or somewhere else at the school -- well, at least not at that time in my life! I was still intensely aroused when Lucy walked me to the bus stop, the one that would take me to the station.

That night, I took my dildo to bed with me (I only owned one at that point) and I whacked off until I was fulfilled. It took three orgasms for me to be satisfied. In the first session, a few days earlier, only one had been sufficient.

In my mind, I said to her,

Lucy, you are so sweet, I love you so much.

I certainly had not said the word love to her in person yet.

When I came, I tried to keep my voice down, but I couldn't control my body. I sort of hissed through my teeth as I climaxed, just as I propped my feet on the footboard (an appropriate term, I'm sure) and lifted my hips off the mattress.

As I've noted, I had to do it twice more before I was ready to sleep. Just before I drifted off, I thought,

Lucy must have done the same things as I just did.

*****

In the following week, Lucy escalated our affair. We were outside one of the buildings when she said, "I'd like you to come to my room this afternoon. My roommate is going to be away all night."