Jean - Hot and Crazy
Chapter 3: One Little Swimmer
This story takes place in the summer of 1972 before cell phones, computers, or the Internet.
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My girlfriend was screaming and futilely flailing her fists at Randy's leering face as he tried to drag her out of my car. The former star running back was determined to get revenge for Jean's unintentional insult to his manhood. According to Jean, he had been too drunk to take her virginity the night of their Senior Prom despite her best efforts to get him aroused. Her mistake was telling her best friend. After everyone in school learned of his impotence, the arrogant bastard wrote a threatening comment under her yearbook picture. Several of his friends signed the nomination for 'Girl most deserving of being gang raped.'
I had only seconds to rescue my girlfriend, but what chance did I have against a raving maniac who outweighed me by sixty pounds of muscle? Randy screamed a curse and yanked harder on Jean, who was bracing her legs against the floorboards. In a desperate move, I grabbed the brick the asshole had used to smash the passenger window from the seat where he had dropped it. Randy grunted and fell to the ground when I cracked the brick against his forehead.
I finally remembered the trick for starting a flooded carburetor. I kept my foot off the gas and cranked the engine until it caught. I floored the gas pedal and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. We managed to get a couple of blocks before the car stalled. We had run out of gas. I coasted into a parking space on College Avenue close to the bridge to the Cornell campus. I suspected one of Randy's friends had siphoned my gas tank.
"Crap! We'd better run for it."
We were out of breath when we reached the Cornell Student Union building and had to stop running. I was trembling from the adrenaline flooding my brain.
After bending over and panting for a minute, I said, "I think we lost them."
Jacob laughed. "We lost them a long time ago. They stopped before reaching the guard shack at the entrance to the campus."
Jean leaned against a lamp post and laughed hysterically. She had been acting strange since she walked into the bar to apologize to her boyfriend, but now she appeared gripped by mania. Looking back at that night, I realize that Jean was acting like a prisoner condemned to be executed soon. She may have temporarily escaped the clutches of her former boyfriend, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught her and exacted his cruel revenge. Jean was a dead man walking. I believe the combination of too much alcohol and her utter hopelessness explains her actions that night. Nothing else I knew from my short relationship with Jean explained her hot and crazy behavior that night.
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I looked up at the cloudless sky and tried to break the gloom hanging over our heads. "I'll bet the view from the top of Library Slope is amazing tonight."
Jean put her arms around our shoulders, and we headed across the Cornell campus. Soon, my girlfriend was giggling and skipping along between Jacob and myself. The three of us were laughing and singing as we stumbled along. Mathematicians consider random motion to be similar to a drunkard's walk. We were doing a good imitation as we half-carried Jean. When we got to Library Slope, Jean handed me her shoes and ran ahead. She did a decent cartwheel with bare legs flying. I'd noticed her G-string was still pulled to the side, leaving her pussy exposed. Fucking Randy, I hated the bastard.
Jacob and I tried to copy her cartwheel but failed miserably. Jean laughed hysterically at our feeble attempts before lying on the grassy slope. We lay down beside her and admired the view. The city lights were twinkling below us. A half-moon shone down on Cayuga Lake.
Jean said, "Guys, those were some pretty sorry cartwheels. But you deserve a reward for trying."
Jean turned to me and gave me a warm kiss. After a few minutes, she rolled over to Jacob and wrapped her arms around his neck. I watched as she gave him a longer, more passionate kiss. My loving girlfriend was still on a mission to break my best friend out of the depression he'd been in since his girlfriend dumped him.
Jacob lay on his back with Jean in his arms. The French kiss seemed to go on forever. My friend's hand slid down her back, and he cupped her ass. Jean moaned and ground her lithe body against his. Finally, Jean broke from the kiss and looked into Jacob's eyes.
"Jacob, you've still got it. We need to warn all of the California girls to be alert. Otherwise, they won't know what hit them when you arrive."
I was delighted with Jean's achievement. I had been worried about my best friend. Jacob had started the evening in a suicidal depression. Now, he was wearing a smile that went from ear to ear.
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We got to our feet and continued our stumbling walk to my apartment. We soon reached the suspension bridge over Fall Creek and stopped to enjoy the gorgeous view. The faint light from the moon illuminated the creek below. A breeze carried cool air from the dark gorge, cooling our sweaty bodies.
I said, "Oh man, that feels nice. It's been so hot all week. My apartment is probably an oven. Let's go down and sit by the creek."