Date: Sat, 24 Jun 2006 07:09:41 -1000
From: S turner <scotty.13411@hotmail.com>
Subject: Strange Bedfellows:  Chapter 12

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS
Chapter Twelve


Disclaimer:  The following story is a mostly fictional account of the
author's experiences and associations while a college student.  It contains
graphic depictions of sexual activity between consenting men and women, and
consenting men and other men. Any resemblance of the characters to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  If it is illegal for you
to read such material in your locale, then please move on to something else.
  This story is copyrighted, 2006, and may not be reprinted, reposted or
reproduced without the expressed consent of the author.


>From Chapter 11:

     "More of the no-more-we shit, huh?"

     Scott nodded.  "Yes!  I probably didn't express it well enough earlier.
  I tried, but obviously failed.  But you gotta get over it.  This is the
way it's gonna be.  I got elected.  Kip got elected.  Marty Anderson did not
get elected.  Me and Kip have a responsibility to work together now.  And,
by the way, if there is any jealousy running around the room right now, it
sounds like it's running both ways." Scott wiped his own eyes and took
another deep breath.  "But the truth is, I did see you there, and heard you
call, and I did run away.  I was, and still am, so fucking pissed at you
because of your stupidity Tuesday night, and I didn't want to speak with
you.  We would have had this conversation in front of forty or fifty other
people in the cafeteria. Shit, Marty, I struggled to merely tolerate being
in the same room with you this afternoon.  You have no fucking idea how
shitty that fact alone makes me feel.  I hate being pissed at you!"

     "Well then, allow me to offer you, one more time, my heartiest
congratulations.  You survived.  Let me get you off the hook.  I won't
pollute your rarified air any more.  You don't have to stoop to associate
with the pitiful likes of Marty Anderson!"

     Marty stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.



CHAPTER TWELVE:

     In the days and weeks to come, Scott would struggle too often to find
the right adjective to describe his feelings as he took the elevator up a
few floors.  `Angry...hurt...betrayed...jealous ...pissed off...shit
upon...jealous...contemptuous...gauled...jealous...irate...outraged?'  It was none of
the above.  It was all of the above.  Jealous?  Twice during the short ride
up, he swung his fist into the stainless steel wall of the compartment.  The
bruises would be evident on the side of his hand for several days.

     "Okay, I'm coming over."  Marty closed his cell phone and stepped off
the curb in front of the dorm.  It was only about five blocks, but he found
himself jogging.  There was a sense of urgency in his stride that he wasn't
quite fully aware of.

     Scott lurched forward before the elevator doors had even really begun
to part, and he had to turn sideways in order to slither through the parting
barriers.  Pivoting left on his right foot, he could already hear
Springsteen's "Born to Run" blaring through the James Brothers' door.  He
rapped twice and tried the knob.  Locked.

     "Scott?"

     "Yeah, Jesse, it's me."  He knocked again.

     The door opened, but nobody was there.  Scott stepped in, and Jesse
slowly pushed it closed from behind, pulling Scott forward by the band on
his sweats in order to make room to move the door all the way to its frame.

     The light from behind him cast Randy's silhouette onto the shade on the
front door's window.  Before Marty had even touched the doorbell, Randy
opened the front door.  Marty pulled the screen door open and Randy backed
up a little to allow him entrance.  "What's up, Bud?"

     Randy was standing shirtless, donning only a pair of old sweatpants.
Marty pushed him back against the wall and shoved his tongue in his mouth.
Although somewhat stunned, Randy quickly recovered, and happily engaged in a
fierce, passionate tongue battle.  Warming to the surprise even more, Randy
reached around and grabbed Marty's ass as the two men ground their cocks
together through the fabric of their sweats.

     Jesse was standing in a jock strap and nothing else.  His chin, and the
area around both lips glistened in the soft light, wet from the work he'd
been giving to his roommate.  His big, smooth pecs heaved in and out, the
nipples looking more like pencil erasers than anything else.  He smiled at
Scott, a smile that quickly devolved to a leer.

     Frank was laying on his back, on his bed.  He pulled one hand up behind
his head to prop it up and look toward Scott.  The other hand never left the
huge pole he was stroking.  "Where's Marty?"

     "Don't know.  Haven't seen him since I left the room."  He leered
hungrily at the jock-clad muscle boy walking toward him.

     Jesse took hold of Scott's sweatshirt and pinched the zipper.  "You're
over dressed."  He unzipped it and rubbed both hands over Scott's pecs and
began licking and nibbling his neck.  Scott closed his eyes, and felt his
shoes being untied.  He toed each one off as Frank untied the drawstring of
his sweatpants.  Jesse stood off to the side a bit, and went to work on his
nipples with his tongue and lips alternating back and forth.  Scott placed a
hand on the back of his head and breathed a deep sigh.  Frank massaged his
growing cock through the heavy cotton of his sweats, then placed a hand on
each side of the elastic and quickly slid them down to his ankles.  Scott's
hardening cock stood straight out, perpendicular to his body.  Frank stared
at it and licked his lips.  "That's what I want," he whispered, and
swallowed it in one swoop.

     Marty broke off the kiss and his eyes locked onto Randy's.  Nothing but
unbridled lust could be seen in his gaze.  "What the..."

     "Fuck me!"

     Randy was startled again.  "Huh?...er...ah...Marty..."

     Marty mashed their lips together again, and began roughly kneading
Randy's large, hard pecs.  Randy moaned into Marty's mouth as he felt him
pinch his nipples.  Marty broke the kiss.  "Just shut up and fuck me...Now!"
Marty grabbed Randy's forearm and led the way down the hall into the living
room.  "Where's the fucking bedroom?"  Randy pointed through the kitchen,
and Marty led the way.

     "Ooooohhhh, fuck, man!"  Scott moaned.  Frank's head moved leisurely
back and forth, swallowing Scott to the pubes on each trip.  Jesse's mouth
had traveled down to his abs, but he continued to work on the nipples with
his thumb and forefinger.  Jesse was bent at the waist now, and Frank
sloppily wet his middle finger, reached over and quickly found his buddy's
quivering pucker.  He massaged it for a while, then slowly inserted the
digit up to the first knuckle, never breaking the pace of the slow blowjob
he was administering to Scott's growing tool.  Jesse joined his roommate,
leaning in and licking on Scott's balls.  He reached around and began to rub
Scott's tight ass, encouraging the slight hip thrusts that had him slowly
fucking Frank's mouth.

     Frank brought his face away from Scott's cock, which now was pointing
at the ceiling, and lightly tapped Jesse's ass.  He motioned with his head
toward his bed.  "Let's bring it back here, boys."

     "Whatever the fuck you say, Bud.  You guys are in charge."  Scott was
breathing heavily and beginning to sweat.

     Frank licked the head of Scott's dick one more time, savoring the
pre-cum.  He smiled. "Like your attitude, man."  He stood and stepped
backward, lying back on his bed with his upper back and shoulders leaning
against the wall.  He spread his legs, and Jesse dove between them, picking
up where he'd left off when Scott had knocked on the door.  He took hold of
Frank's huge, hard tool and stood it straight up.  He stuck out his tongue
and slowly ran the tip up and down the nine-incher.  Scott went around to
the end of the bed, and leaned in and joined him.  Together, their tongues
flicked and licked, and came together at the top of Frank's dick.  They
kissed each other, sharing the head together as Frank slowly massaged the
back of both their heads.

     Marty pushed Randy back and down on the bed.  He peeled off his own
shirt as he kicked off his shoes.  He leaned over and grabbed both sides of
the waistband of Randy's sweats, and pulled.  Randy obliged by lifting his
ass, and Marty tugged them off in one swift motion.  Randy rose up on his
elbows, but was met by Marty's insistent hands.  He was pushed back down on
the bed as Marty climbed on top of him.  Once again, Marty's tongue was in
his mouth, and he could feel Marty's stiff cock rubbing against his own
growing member through the heavy cotton of his playmate's sweats.  Marty
quickly worked his way down Randy's heaving chest with his lips and tongue.
He paused only briefly to nibble each nipple, eliciting a gasp and a moan
from above.  Marty brought a hand to Randy's lips.  He sucked on two fingers
and began to writhe under Marty's mouth.   In an instant, he felt the warmth
of Marty's mouth surround his cock to the root.  "Ooooooohhh shit!  Fuck,
Marty.  Suck that dick, boy!!"  Marty slowly raised and lowered his head,
using his tongue to massage the tool that was now steely hard and throbbing.

     Jesse got greedy and swallowed Frank's pole on his own, and Scott
leaned back, and he stared in amazement as Jesse managed to take the entire
thing down his throat.  "Shit, dude!  Your are a bottomless fucking pit when
it comes to sucking dick!"  Jesse smiled, his lips never leaving the target
of his affections.

     "Speaking of bottoms," Scott knee-walked around to the side of the bed.
  He placed a hand on each one of Jesse's muscular globes.  "I love this
sweet bubble butt of yours."  He massaged Jesse's ass, which was still
framed by the leg straps of the jockstrap.  It was tan and smooth, and the
lamp on the desk made its hairless surface shine.

     Scott parted the cheeks and nuzzled his lips between them, and he could
feel that Jesse's hole was still damp from Frank's massage a few minutes
earlier.  Scott's tongue came out, and danced around the crevice before him,
then finally found Jesse's rosebud.  He teased it for several minutes, never
quite penetrating it with the tip of his tongue.  Jesse wiggled his ass a
little, and thrust it backward as he moaned, begging with his body for Scott
to shove his tongue through his wrinkled entrance.  Scott finally obliged,
and pushed his tongue forward, Jesse's hole grabbed on to the tip and he
moaned his thanks.  The vibrations from his throat shot through Frank's big
dick, forcing him to come away from the wall.  "ssssshhhhhiiiiiit!  Oh,
fuck, man.  Too fucking much!"

     After several minutes of eating him out, Scott decided that it was time
to give Jesse's ass what it really needed.  Leaning back on his feet, but
never letting his hands part from Jesse's  meaty backside, he could finally
see Frank's face over Jesse's rising and falling head and shoulders.  Frank
faced the ceiling, his eyes closed and breathing hard.  His head tilted back
down, and their eyes met.  `Do him' Frank mouthed.  Scott's eyes asked
`what?'  Frank pointed down Jesse's broad back toward his ass.  "Get in
there," he whispered this time, not bothering to try to remain silent.

     Scott stroked his cock a few times.  With his free hand, he reached
between Jesse's legs and slid his fingers up to the hem of the jockstrap.
He couldn't get too far.  The pouch was stretched so tight that it was hard
to even wiggle a finger between the fabric and the skin, but he was
determined to move the front pouch to the side and free Jesse's cock.  They
all heard the netting rip, so Scott wormed another finger inside next to
Jesse's sack and tore the rest away.

     He grabbed Jesse's missile and stroked it downward several times, but
he felt he had to be careful.  Jesse's dick was so fat and so hard, Scott
worried it would explode any any minute, if not break.  He felt the precum
wetting the palm of his hand, and Jesse moaned in gratitude for the freedom
Scott had unleashed.  Frank nearly freaked again, as Jesse's guttural voice
blazed through his groin.

     With no warning, Jesse's mouth let go, and he turned his head, his
handsome face appearing over the mound of his left shoulder.  "Yeah,
Scott...he's right dude!  Get the fuck in there."  He licked his lips and
swallowed hard. "Fuck me man!  I need that hot cock inside of me."

     His mouth never leaving Randy's dick, Marty managed to shuck his pants
off.  His own member was dripping precum, and he used it to full advantage
as he slid his right hand up and down.  Randy's hands clutched the comforter
on each side of him and his hips bucked easing his cock in and out of
Marty's mouth.  Suddenly the sucking stopped, and Randy opened his eyes.

     "Condom?"  Marty asked, and Randy pointed to the nightstand next to the
bed.  Marty quickly found a rubber and some lube in the drawer, and he had
Randy's prick wrapped in an instant.  Randy laid back and closed his eyes
again.  He felt the cool lube being applied and there was a pause in any
sensation while Marty worked a generous amount of the slippery liquid in and
around his hole.  Randy felt Marty's thighs on either side of his ribs, and
sighed when Marty's hand reached back and pulled his dick straight up.
Marty easily met his hole with the head of the big tool and paused.  He took
a deep breath, and pushed out a little as he guided the missile to pop
through his sphincter.  "Uuuuurrrrrrrggghh...Shit, man!"  He paused to allow
for some adjustment as Randy slowly rubbed his thighs.  He shook his head,
and placed one hand on each of Randy's pecs.  Slowly, he lowered himself,
"mmmmmppphhhh...oh, fuck!"  Finally, he hit bottom, and rested for a moment.
"Yyyyeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh.  Fuck, yeah, man!"  Slowly, he brought his ass
upward until only the head was still inside of him.  He glared into Randy's
eyes, then quickly impaled himself a second time.  He smiled as he recalled
the look of both lust and amazement in Scott's eyes the first time the two
of them had done practically the same thing together.  Marty began a slow
rhythm of up and down with his tight ass, and Randy moaned his appreciation.
  "Yeaaaaah, Marty, ride that dick, man.  Work your hole on that pole!"

     Scott had noticed that couple of condoms and a bottle of lube on the
desk, near the lamp.  He quickly wrapped his dong and squeezed an ample
amount of the oil into his hand.  A few short strokes and his aching cock
was well-greased.  He got on his knees behind Jesse's swaying butt, and put
his left hand on the small of his back.  With his right, he guided the head
of his cock between Jesse's moving cheeks.  The head found its target, and
Jesse held still for a moment.  Scott applied a small amount of pressure,
and felt his friend open up.  The head squeezed through the ring, and
Jesse's head came up off of Frank one more time.  He gasped.  "Aaww, yeah.
That's it man!"  Scott paused to take a breath and wipe the sweat from his
forehead, and he felt Jesse slide his ass back and down, engulfing his dick
in his hot, tight hole.  Scott put one hand on each of Jesse's hips and
withdrew most of his member, then looked down and watched it disappear once
again.  His pubes rested against Jesse's ass.  His hands roamed over the
muscular back below him.

     As Scott got into a rhythm, pumping in and out of Jesse's hole, Jesse
lowered his head and began licking and sucking Frank's balls.  Frank's knees
were bent, and he spread the legs wider to give his hungry roommate better
access to whatever he wanted.  His hands gently stroked Jesse's black hair,
grabbing hold of it occasionally whenever Jesse's mouth gave him particular
pleasure.  Jesse tilted his head and craned his neck, and pushed Frank's
legs higher, providing access to his sweaty hole.  Moaning under the
hammering Scott was giving his hole, Jesse eagerly buried his face between
Frank's ass cheeks and began licking with a frenzy.  "Oooohh, fucking-a,
Jesse!  Yeah, man!  Eat me, buddy!  Eat my fuckin' hole, man!"

     Frank lowered his legs, and gently tapped Jesse's head.  "Got an idea,
men."  He looked down at Jesse's wet face, then looked up at Scott.  He
motioned for Scott to move back and stand up.  "Just a second, dude."
Scott, disappointed that his ride was being interrupted, went along anyway,
and slid his cock out of Jesse's beautiful ass.  Frank put a hand on Jesse's
shoulder and patted the bed below him.  "Here, buddy, lay down on your back.
  We're gonna fill you up right."  Jesse wiped his mouth and chin with his
forearm.  As Frank got off the bed, Jesse took his position on his back.
Frank patted the bottom edge of the bed.  "Move down.  Head over the edge of
the bed."  Jesse smiled and scooted to the bottom of the bed, and hung his
head over the edge.

     He lifted his legs as Scott positioned himself between them.  Frank
reached out and took the bottom of both feet in his hands, lifting them
toward him, opening Jesse's back door far and wide.  He pushed his big cock
down toward Jesse's open mouth.  Simultaneously, Scott slid his in from
behind, as Frank filled his mouth and throat with his huge, hot meat.  Both
men began pumping, soon driving in and out of each of Jesse's holes with a
fury.  Scott leaned into the task at hand, placing one hand on each of
Jesse's glistening pecs.  Frank leaned forward and brought his face to
Scott's.  Their hot breath warmed each other's face for a moment before they
locked into a passionate, tongue-lashing kiss.  For several minutes, the top
studs abused Jesse's asshole and his throat, as he gasped and moaned in
ecstasy.  His fists slammed down on the mattress and he tugged at the
sheets.  The sound of Scott's groin slapping his ass cheeks with each thrust
was a constant drumbeat amidst the grunts and groans of all three men.
Jesse's fat cock was coating his hard abs with a shiny layer of precum,
though he was oblivious to that fact.

     Frank slid his cock out of Jesse's mouth, spread his own legs further
apart and stepped forward, giving his roommate full access to his crotch and
balls.  Jesse craned his neck upward and eagerly lapped at Franks nut sack
and perineum.  Seeing the huge tool bobbing in front of him, above Jesse's
chin, Scott leaned down and forward and swallowed as much as he could, never
pausing the power fuck he was delivering to the stud below.  He continued to
drive in and out of Jesse's hole as he bobbed up and down of Franks man
meat.

     Randy was bucking his hips hard now, to meet each of Marty's rapid
bounces up and down.  Marty's eyes were closed and his head was tilted back,
and he muttered a whispered "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" with each thrust.  His
hard cock swung up and down wildly, often slapping Randy's ripped abs, and
dotting his abdomen with splotches of precum with each swoop.  "Oh, God!
C'mon, Randy, fuck me you stud!  "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Randy bit his
lower lip and redoubled his efforts to drive deeper with every thrust.  He
held Marty's hips, trying to slam them down harder with every drive.  He was
amazed at the young guy's appetite, and his seemingly endless capacity to
take it, and he had considered himself a fairly talented bottom himself.

     All of a sudden, Marty blurted out, "Shit, man, gonna cum!  God I need
to blow this fucking load!  He slammed his ass onto Randy's groin hard and
clenched his ass cheeks.  He grabbed his aching cock, and it seemed like the
moment he touched it, it exploded.  Stream after stream of hot white jizm
splattered across the breadth of Randy's chest.  Marty's eyes blew open and
he gasped.  "Fuuuuuuuuccck!  Oh!  Oooooh! Ooooooooooh!"

     Randy thrust upward again, and his shoulders came off the bed as his
body stiffened and violent but fantastic spasm ripped through him.
"Aaaaaawwww fuck!  Eeeeerrrrrrrrgghh!  Fuck!"  Marty felt the condom expand
deep inside his hole, and he constricted his muscles, then relaxed them, and
constricted them again.  "Fuuuuck!  Marty!  Goddammit!"  Marty reached down
and rubbed his cum into Randy's massive, heaving chest.  Randy just started
to laugh, spewing spit spewing onto his chin.  "God Dammit!  You little
fucker!"  He reached up and grabbed Marty's biceps.  "C'mere!"  He yanked
Marty downward into a long, slow kiss.

     Scott had released Frank's tool, and it was again sliding in and out of
Jesse's drooling mouth.  Suddenly, Jesse's moans turned in to a long,
stuttering whine, and Scott felt the muscles that gripped his dick
constrict.  Hot moisture hit his forearm and the back of his hand, so he
opened his eyes and looked down.  Even though it had scarcely been touched
throughout the ordeal, Jesse's cock was firing cum in rapid bursts.  His
hips were bucking and the shooting member rose and fell with every blast.

     Scott bit his lower lip and clenched his eyes closed.  "Jeesuz Fucking
Christ!  Ohmyfuckinggod!  Fuck!  Fuck!"  He quickly withdrew and stripped
off the condom.  Two quick strokes and his body stiffened.  The bright red
cock burst forth with a huge stream of thick, white jiz.  Jesse's face and
neck took the first two shots.  "God Damn!  God Damn!  Oooh fuck!"  Four
more blasts hit the back of Jesse's right leg, his stomach and his fat cock.

     Frank withdrew and rapidly pounded his massive tool.  He gripped it by
the base and slapped Jesse's smiling face with it.  "What do you want, bud?"

     "You know what I want, Goddammit!  I want your cum, Frankie!  Gimme
that load, man!"

     Frank grunted and pointed his tool and Jesse's open mouth.
"Uuuuurrrrrrgh!" and he fired several big, thick loads.  Much of it landed
squarely on Jesse's extended tongue.  The rest painted his chest, chin,
cheeks and nose.

     Jesse sighed, contentedly and he sucked on his cum-coated tongue.
Frank collapsed to his knees, bringing his own face to his roommate's.  He
placed a hand on each side of his head and lifted it, licking the rest of
his own seed from his friend's smooth, shining face.  As Scott fell back on
the bed and tried to catch his breath, the James Brothers exchanged a long,
passionate kiss.  They laughed together, cheek-to-cheek, while Frank gently
stroked Jesse's muscular chest, coating him in the juice of all three guys.

     Scott spoke first.  "Fucking A, guys!  That was incredible!"  He
coughed and cleared his throat, then shook his head.  "As much as I always
appreciate your hospitality, I gotta call it a night."  He planted his feet
on the floor.  Frank grabbed a washcloth from the back of the sink, rinsed
it in warm water, and tossed it to Scott.  He wiped his sweaty face and
brow, then his oil-covered groin.  Scott rinsed it out, and dropped it on
Jesse's chest.  "You need this more than I do, dude."

     Jesse propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed his torso. He
smiled broadly.  "No shit, man!  You guys make a hell of a mess."

     "You inspire us, my man."  Frank patted his head.

     As Scott was putting on his shoes, Jesse stood up and peeled the torn
jockstrap off.  "Dude, you owe me a jock," he teased Scott.

     "You got it.  Any time.  If that's the only price of admission, I'll by
a dozen or so to keep in stock.  You look so fuckin' hot in that strap."  He
patted Jesse's ass.

     Scott checked his watch.  "Shit!  Gotta get back.  Have some phone
calls to make."  He put a hand on the doorknob and looked back one more
time.  "Thanks boys.  Like I said, always a delightful adventure with you
two.  G'night now."

     Randy returned from the kitchen, his semi-hard cock bobbing with each
step.  He tossed a warm washcloth to Marty, who wiped himself off, and then
he went to his dresser to find a pair of boxers.

     "Thanks, dude.  I really needed that!" Marty offered as he pulled on
his sweatpants.

     Randy chuckled.  "No shit?  Jeez, Marty, you were a man possessed.
What the fuck is up?  Did Scott tell you no or something, when you really
needed it?  How could he possibly say no to you?"  He was teasing.

     Marty grew more somber.  "No.  I didn't even offer it up to him
tonight.  But, I'm not sure he'll ever speak to me again, anyway."  He sat
down on the bed and pulled on his shoes.

     Randy pulled on his shorts, and stopped.  "Huh?"

     Marty settled one elbow on each knee, and looked directly at Randy.
"He saw us in the parking garage, that night in the back of your truck, and
he's sooooooo pissed off!"

     Randy was stunned at first but then shrugged.  "Well, if he's mad `cuz
it was you I was with and not him, you may remind him that he's had that
chance.  He coulda had a piece of this weeks ago," he smacked his own ass,
"and he walked away from it."

     Marty grinned, but shook his head.  "No, it's not that.  At least, I
don't think it is."  He went back to tying his shoes.  "Think about it...we're
in a public place, at a fairly big political event, and you even parked in
next to a news van.  Suppose the TV crew had decided to call it a night and
had gotten to their van at that moment when we were both oblivious to
anything going on outside the bed of your truck.  The reporter tells his
crew to roll camera, and we're on "Good Morning Madison" the next day."  He
mocked a TV reporters voice.  `Well, that's the traffic report at this hour.
  Coming up next, the week's weather.  But first, two guys fucking at the
governor's victory party.'  Or a print reporter tells his camera guy to
shoot some film.  Or, suppose old Gus, the security dude, is watching it on
a camera and decides to call the cops.  I do have a pre-trial at the DA's
office coming up over the streaking thing, and the hope is that they'll drop
the `lewd and lascivious' charge.  Don't think getting busted there would've
helped much.  `Course, in that case, it would've been irrelevant, cuz my old
man would've simply driven up from Rockford and killed me himself."

     Randy was nodding.  "Yeah, I guess.  Honestly, I've thought about it
too.  It was high risk.  Would've cost me my marriage, and could've cost me
my position at the university.  Not to mention what it could've done to my
dad with the party.  He's still got plans in that department, and I s'pose I
coulda fucked that up royally."  They were both silent for a moment, until
Randy looked back at Marty.  "So, what are ya' gonna do, with Scott,
anyway?"

     Marty pulled his sweatshirt on.  "Don't know yet.  It got ugly tonight,
and I said some pretty nasty things.  I'm thinking the best bet is to give
it some time, then try to find a way to admit we were wrong, and apologize.
I just don't think he'd be listening to that right now...not to anything I
have to say."

     "Well, he's pissed at me, too.  He was a whole different guy in class
this week, and I couldn't figure it out.  Now I know.  I won't say anything
to him until I hear that you two have talked.  I mean, he has no choice but
to deal with me, academically, anyway.  I wish it were on the same old
friendly terms.  Fuck, who am I kidding?  I wish it was very friendly!"
Marty chuckled as he headed through the doorway, Randy following.

     "Well, Marty, that was a pleasant surprise.  Made an otherwise
uneventful weekend one for the books!"

     Marty blushed a little.  "Well, don't get used to it.  I can be an
unpredictable maverick, I know, but this was way beyond the pale, even for
me.  Still, thanks again man."  He opened the front door and a chilly gust
of wind blew through the screen.

     "My pleasure, believe me!"  Randy patted him on the ass as he stepped
out, and the screen door closed behind him.



     Three minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin, the three of
them emerged from a conference room in The Union.  Bart Morrison led the
pack, with Kip following, and Scott shut off the lights and closed the door.
  As they walked into the small lecture hall, Scott's eye caught Craig
sitting on the aisle.  He paused to thank him for coming, and looked down
the row.  There sat Jesse, Brett, Frank and, finally, Kelly.  He gave them
all a quick "hi" sign and thanked them silently, locking eyes with Kelly for
an extra second or two.  He caught up with Bart and Kip, and they took their
seats as Scott gave Walter a nod to proceed.

     "Radar" stepped to the podium, and the room hushed.  "Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.  My name is Walter Jamieson, and I've had the pleasure
of meeting most of you already in the WSA office.  I have been serving the
WSA, as its clerk, for the last three years.  Tonight, it is my job to get
you started on the path to selecting this body's officers, who will serve
the WSA in their various capacities for the next calendar year.  As your
agenda indicates, your first order of business will be to select a presiding
officer for tonight's officer elections.  This person will call for
nominations and will certify the results of the vote that follows.  The
rules for electing officers are pretty straight-forward, and are outlined in
the Bylaws that I've provided each one of you.  Should any disputes arise
regarding policy or procedure, the presiding officer will make a ruling to
resolve it, in accordance with those Bylaws and Robert's Rules of Order.  I
am happy to act as Parliamentarian, should the need become apparent.  Are
there any questions before I entertain a nomination for your presiding
officer?"  Walter scanned the thirty-one elected members immediately in
front of him.  "Yes. Mr. Turner?  Or, rather, Senator Turner?"

     On Scott's nomination, and Kip's second, the body unanimously selected
Walter to preside over the election of president.  It usually didn't go that
way.  Normally, the group chose the same person they were about to elect as
the next president to preside this evening.  Walter was honored, and he
appreciated Scott's small gesture.  It was a little thing, but a big thing
just the same.

     "Okay!" Walter sighed, and a chuckle rippled through the room.  "That's
not normally the way it goes, but I'll do my best.  Thank you!"  There was
more laughter and light applause.  The members appreciated Scott's idea to
put Walter in charge, if only for a little while.

     He cleared his throat.  "The first item of business is to elect the
President of the WSA for a term not to exceed one year.   The chair will now
accept nominations from the floor.  Yes, Mr. Monmouth."

     "Mr. Jamieson...uhm, Mr. Chairman, I mean, I nominate Scott Turner, Jr.
for President of the Wisconsin Student Association."

     Walter was pretty sure this was going to happen, but he wasn't
positively certain.  He was relieved, and happy.  "Scott Turner has been
nominated as president.  Is there a second?  Mr. Morrison?"

     Bart stood, and did his best to not appear to be too pissed off.  "Mr.
Chairman, I happily second the nomination.  Further, I make a motion that we
close the nominations, and I ask unanimous consent that Mr. Turner be
elected president by acclamation of the body assembled."

     Walter was stunned.  `Jeez!' he thought to himself.  `The guy's really
done the job on this one.'  He looked at Scott with heightened admiration.
He cleared his throat yet one more time.  "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a
unanimous consent request for the election of Scott Turner, Jr. as WSA
President for the next calendar year.  Are there any objections?"

     There was silence.  This was unprecedented, so Walter asked again.
"Does any member have an objection to the unanimous consent request before
you?"  Nothing.  "Okay," he said as he adjusted his spectacles, "I know
you're all new to this, so let me explain.  If somebody here doesn't want
this to happen, all you have to do is say so.  Otherwise, it counts as a
unanimous election."  He gave it another five seconds or so, as he picked up
the gavel.  Bang!  "Hearing no objection, so ordered!  The Student Senate of
the Wisconsin Student Association has selected, unanimously and by
acclamation, Mr. Scott Turner, Jr., as President."  Walter banged the gavel
and shouted again, "So Ordered!"

     Bang! Bang! Bang!

     There was a round of applause as Scott stood and approached the podium.
  His stomach was in knots and he was sweating heavily.  Walter was grinning
widely, and had joined in the applause.  He tucked the gavel under his left
arm so that he could clap, and then stabbed forward with his right.  Scott
took his hand, and put his left hand on his shoulder, leaning in.   "Good
work, Walter!"

     "Jeez, Scott!  I was afraid they didn't all know what `unanimous
consent' really meant!  This has never happened!   I didn't want your
election to be questioned after the fact.  I just wanted to be sure..."  He
was really worried that Scott would be ticked off by his apparent pause in
the decision-making.

     "Relax, `Radar'!  It was perfect!  You just added the exclamation point
to my election that I wanted.  Plus, I want this group to learn about
`unanimous consent.'  I really hope that they'll all sort of gel, and get
used to setting stuff in motion that will lead to unanimous consent.  You're
a great teacher!  You're an ace, man!  You're the best!"  He patted Walter
on the shoulder as the gavel was pushed into his fist.

     Scott cleared his throat and took a drink from the bottle of water
Walter had left for him.  "Thank you ladies and gentlemen.  I am honored and
humbled by the faith you've shown in me.  I will have some additional
remarks before we adjourn for the evening."

     He picked up the copy of the agenda Walter had left on the podium.
"I'll likely have to rely on our trusted clerk and parliamentarian tonight,
as this is all new to me; as are most of you.  I'm afraid that while I've
read all of your names, I've not had the chance to attach all of them to
your faces.  So, please, bear with me.  If you rise to offer a motion or a
question of the chair, identify yourself, if you would."  Many heads nodded,
and there was a quiet chuckle and some shuffling of seats.  "Okay.  Next on
the agenda is the election of this body's vice president.  I will now open
the floor for nominations."  A large, but pretty, young woman in the back
left corner stood up.  "Yes." Scott pointed in her direction.  "Please state
your name and your motion."

     She blushed a little, as new to this as just about everybody else.
"Mr. President, my name is Aubry Beaudette, and I am proud to nominate Mr.
Christopher Monmouth as the next Vice President of the WSA."  She
practically gushed in Kip's direction as she took her seat.  He ignored her.

     "Christopher, `Kip,' Monmouth has been nominated as our vice president.
  Is there a second?"  A hand went up and a voice called out, "Second!"

     "Will the second please identify himself for the record?"  Scott was
going to get this all on the record.  Walter was writing furiously, but, as
Scott had suggested, he'd brought along his own second to make sure nothing
was missed.

     Chet stood up, sneering more than just a little bit.  "Chet Blakely
happily seconds the nomination of Kip Monmouth for vice president, sir."
Scott contained his disdain.  Chet was obviously a clueless fuck who wasn't
entirely on board.

     "Thank you, Mr. Blakely.  We have one nomination for vice president.
Is there another?"  A guy sporting a skater look, even in this environment,
stood.  Scott suspected he was rolling already.  He pointed at the dude.
"Please identify yourself and make your nomination."

     "Yeah...heh, heh.  I'm uh, Senator Reginald Ellingson, The First, and I'd
like to nominate Mr. Bart Morrison for Vee Pee of our institution."

     Scott fought to conceal his amusement.  "Thank you, Senator.  Bart
Morrison has been nominated for vice president.  Is there a second?"

     "Mr. President," a voice came from the side.  She was standing and
speaking before Scott could recognize her.  "I'm Valeria Matthews, and I am
happy to second the nomination of Mr. Morrison."

     "The nomination of Bart Morrison has been made, and has been seconded."
  Scott surveyed the room.  "Is there another nomination from the floor?"
All the member sat silent.

     	"The chair declares the nominations closed.  Two of our members have
been nominated for vice president.  Christopher, "Kip," Monmouth and Bart
Morrison.  We will proceed to vote by show of hands.  Those voting for
Senator Monmouth for Vice President, please raise your hands.  The clerk,
Mr. Jamieson, will please confirm my count."

     Hands went up, and Scott went through the motions of appearing to
count.  Walter counted in earnest.  "I see fifteen votes for Mr. Monmouth.
Mr. Jamieson?"  Walter nodded.  Scott continued,  "Let the record show
fifteen votes for Christopher Monmouth for vice president.  Will those
voting for Bart Morrison please raise your hands."  They went through the
same ritual.

     Scott looked at Walter.  `Fifteen?' he mouthed.  Walter nodded back.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the vote is tied.  According to our bylaws, it is the
president's vote that shall break the tie.  After careful consideration, and
with much due respect for Mr. Morrison's experience in this body, I cast my
vote for Kip Monmouth as our vice president."  Half the room applauded.
Chet was not one of them.

     Scott moved on to accepting nominations for the offices of secretary
and treasurer.  Morrison's people were elected to both seats, without
opposition.  Scott had convinced Kip that it was worth it, to keep Bart
placated as far as they could, for now.  The offices were superficial at
best.  One was purely clerical, and Walter would see that most of the
secretary's job was done right.  The other job had to deal with the hassles
of book-keeping and semi-annual audits by the UW, the state's revenue
department and the IRS.  It didn't take much to convince Kip to let them go.

     When the elections were over, Scott paused and scanned the crowd.  "My
friends, and I hope I can call you all my friends, even though I don't know
most of you very well.  Still, I want to call you my friends, because we
share a common bond, and that's a sure basis for friendship."  The room was
silent.

     "In the great scheme of things, a student government on a college
campus might not count for much.  But, our collegiate experiences do matter
one hell of a lot to each one of the more than forty-thousand students on
this campus.  We, the student body of the University of Wisconsin, come here
from every state of our nation, and from seventy-three other countries.  We
expect much from this experience, and we aspire to even more."

     "A university has many missions.  One of the most important is to
cultivate the individual and the collective mind, and to raise the human
condition; to make the world a better place.  In this day and age, it also
stands to serve, and serve well, the individuals who pay through the nose
for the privilege of attending."  There was laughter and light applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have been asked by our peers to do what we can to
enhance all of this for our fellow students, and for the community at
large."

     "Folks...here's the deal.  I'm going to present you with a committee
structure that challenges us all to get along for the good of every student
attending this university.  We're united in our attachment to this
institution and in our membership in this body.  We're divided through our
recent electoral experiences, and by our own biases.  Ladies and gentlemen,
we're going to have to rise above those divisions, and I intend to organize
this body in a way which will challenge you to do just that."

     "I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to both
Mr. Monmouth and Mr. Morrison for their counsel and their support.  They
have been instrumental in paving the way for a fresh start for the WSA, and
we owe them both our thanks."  Scott paused, and the applause he expected
was the result.

     "Each of you will receive, in about a week, the details of our new
committee organization.  I'll be contacting the committee chairs personally
in order to confirm your willingness to serve in each capacity.  I am
confident that we can forge a practical and workable chemistry here that
will serve the university and our student body extremely well."

     Scott saw the back door of the room opened a few inches, and he could
see a Nike and the bottom of some black sweatpants.  In the opaque glazed
glass that made up most of the door's upper half, he could make out the
reflection of a figure.  The specific features weren't discernable, but
there was no mistaking whose outline shone in the vague reflection.  Scott
looked back down at his notes. "Before I close, I need to extend my sincere
thanks to a few other people who are very important to me and to my efforts
here.  Frank Manconi and Jesse Williams, you guys are the best!  Brett
McKinley, you're a nut, but you're a great nut to have on my side!  Craig
Bostwick is the greatest roommate, and most tolerant s.o.b. you'd ever want
to meet."  Craig joined the crowd in a light laugh, and nodded his head in
appreciation.  "Kelly Abbott has encouraged me every step of the way, and
you should all hope that she'll help me keep a healthy perspective."  He
paused again to prompt a polite round of applause.  He winked at her and she
blew him a kiss as discreetly as she could.  "Big Scott Turner and his wife
Suzanne, my mom and dad, are my pillars, and you'll all be lucky if you ever
have the chance to meet them.  Remember how dumb our parents used to be?  It
amazes me how much those two have learned in just the past several months."
Most of the heads nodded, and most of them gave way to laughter.  It was
typical of so many college freshman to start to see, through their own
experiences, that maybe the parental units actually did know what the hell
they were talking about.

     "And finally, Mr. Marty Anderson deserves my greatest thanks and
affection."  Everybody recognized the name, and several looked around the
room to see if he was there.  He was not, or so it appeared.  "Marty
believed that this was possible, even more than I did at times, from the
get-go, and I'll always treasure the support and the friendship he gave me
from beginning to end."  Marty's eyes grew wide at the mention of his name,
and at the expression of thanks that Scott shared publicly.  Then he winced
at the past-tense context of the statement, especially his use of the word,
`end.'  Scott saw the image in the window  bow his head and shake it left
and right three or four times.

     "And, with that, I will entertain a motion to adjourn."

     "I move unanimous consent!" Bart intoned from the back of the room.

     "Senator Morrison asks unanimous consent that we stand adjourned.  Is
there an objection?  Hearing none, so ordered!"  Scott rapped the gavel
once, and stepped away from the podium.  There was one last round of
applause.  He nearly backed into Kip, who raised a hand to pat him on the
shoulder.  Kip stopped just short of making contact, and Scott stopped just
short of swiping his shoulder blades across Kip's chest.  Scott turned, and
his face gave way to a slight smile.  He extended his hand.  "A good start,
Kip, don't you think?"

     Kip took the hand firmly and shook it.  He pursed his lips and looked
at his shoes for a second.  He was glad that he'd shined them before leaving
the house.  He looked up at Scott directly, still shaking his hand.
"Honestly, Turner, and you know this, it's not what I'd hoped for a few
months back.  But it's probably the best of a less-than-ideal situation, I
have to admit it."

     Scott smiled for the crowd, his eyes never leaving Kip's.  "First...it's
Scott, please.  And, I agree.  This is probably the best of a not-so-perfect
arrangement.  I can deal with that and it's done.  Either way, it's official
now.  It's a clean slate, as far as I'm concerned, and we need to work with
each other, whether or not we work truly together."

     Kelly was watching, and they both knew it.  Both men smiled before
parting ways.  Scott joined his posse, minus Marty, all of whom were
lingering in the aisle.  Kelly walked toward and threw her arms around his
neck, then kissed him on the cheek.  "Congratulations, Mr. President!"

     "Thanks, Kel."  He shook his head and shrugged.  "Gonna be an
interesting year."

     "Looks like you and Kip are learning to play nice."

     "We're not gonna talk politics, remember."

     Kelly put a finger to her lips.  "Right!  Still, I'm happy for both of
you."

     The other guys all shook his hand or patted his shoulder.  Brett chimed
in.  "Marty wanted to get over here too, but had a big study session he said
he couldn't miss.  He sends his best, too."

     "Thanks, Brett, and tell him the same."

     "I'm going to go over and see Kip for a second.  Don't go away just
yet?" Kelly asked, but with a tone that suggested there were still one or
two items on her own agenda.

     Scott chatted and joked with the guys for a few more minutes, but he
couldn't help but watch Kelly go over to the huddled Greeks and give Kip the
same kiss and a hug that he'd just received.  The two smiled and talked
animatedly, and part of him wanted to listen in.

     A young woman with strikingly black hair interrupted.  "Mr. Turner, can
I ask you a few questions for `The Cardinal?'

     "Of course, but only if you'll call me Scott." and he excused himself
from the huddled friends.  Each one said goodnight as they filed out of the
room.  During the interview, Scott offered up broad generalities and painted
a picture of a very bright and harmonious future for the WSA.  The girl
actually rolled her eyes a couple of times, clearly a cynic when it came to
political matters.  Just as she was closing her notepad and thanking him for
his time, an arm wrapped around his waist.

     Kelly got up on her tip-toes and leaned in toward his right ear.  "The
State Senate recessed until next Tuesday, and Aunt Mo's gone back to the
district for the weekend.  Meet me at her place in about a half hour.  I'll
be the one lounging on the couch, naked."

     "Leave the front door unlocked.  I'll be the one with the raging
hard-on" he whispered back with a naughty giggle.

     "Ooooohhh, raging, you say?"  Her fingers walked up his back and
stroked the back of his neck.

     "Keep it up, my dear, and I'm going to have to sit down for a time
before trying to walk out of here."

     "See you in a bit."  She licked her lips and turned to saunter out the
door with a little more wiggle of her ass than was usual.

     Across the room, Kip watched the whole little show, and he scowled.

     Ninety minutes later, Scott was face down, on top of Kelly.  He was
drenched in sweat, and panting heavily.  He had just had one of the most
incredible orgasms of his young life.  He had bent her over the arm of the
couch and fucked her wildly.  She had ridden him as he lay on his back,
grinding into his groin while he licked and nibbled on her beautiful tits.
He had thrust his cock in and out of her, holding onto her ankles as she
whined his name, until they both came in a lust-filled, harmonious moan.

     "Good God!  You are amazing, Kelly Abbott!" he whispered into her ear
between heavy breaths.

     Kelly giggled as she slowly stroked his back.  "You're quite a piece of
work yourself, Mr. Turner."

     He rolled off of her, his softening cock sliding out of her.  Kelly
playfully bent down and slid the condom off and carefully set it, folded in
half, on the floor next to him.  "Jeez, Scott, you just lost about a pound
or two in sweat, and another half in seed."  She took him in his mouth and
carefully sucked.

     Scott jerked his head up.  "Careful, Kel!  Sensitive...sensitive!"

     "Just making sure `Little Scotty' is nice and clean.  Besides, you
taste good."  She ran her tongue up his torso, over his pecs, up his neck to
his chin.  She gently bit his chin and then gave him a slow, passionate
kiss.  He could taste himself in her mouth.  Kelly broke the kiss, and lay
her head on this chest.  It was still heaving from the exertion they'd just
spent, and she could hear his heart still pounding rapidly.

     He wrapped his arm around her back and drew her close as her right leg
bent and lay on his thigh.  They lay there quiet for several minutes, softly
stroking and petting each other.

     Kelly broke the silence.  "Hey, Scott?"

     "Uhm hm?"  He didn't open his eyes.

     "What are we doing here?"

     "At the moment, we're quietly basking in the afterglow of some
incredible, mind-blowing sex.  Ain't it great?"

     "I know that," Kelly whined, "I meant in the big picture."

     Scott laughed.  "I knew what you meant, Kelly.  I've been mulling it
over myself.  You know...I don't really know, for sure.  I mean, I think the
world of you, you're beautiful, you're smart, you're funny, you give great
head..."

     She slapped his chest and he giggled again.  "...you've got guts..."

     Kelly interrupted.  "But...?"

     "Well, I don't know where we're headed.  I'm not looking to get into
the whole expectations and demands thing.  I'm comfortable where we are.
Hell, it's more than comfortable.  I feel lucky to have things just the way
they are.  I don't want you to feel like there are any necessary obligations
goin' on here, and I don't want to feel that way either."

     "Aaah...the `I love you but don't think I'm in love with you' thing,
huh?"

     "Yeah...No!...well, yeah, sort of."

      Scott was squirming a little bit, Kelly was loving it, and Scott knew
it. "Somewhere in between `let's be friends who fuck,' and `please be the
center of my universe' she teased.

     Scott mulled it over. "Yeah, that's pretty good.  I mean, take this
week, for instance.  Tonight we're having sex and cuddling afterward.  In a
few days, you'll be spending practically an entire weekend with Kip, and I'm
totally cool with that."

     "Totally?"

     "Well, would I like to spend the weekend with you?  Sure!  But you guys
are friends, and you've had this thing planned since before we even met."

     "You're not worried that something will go on between him and me?"

     "Honestly, I have thought about that and it's really none of my
business.  But since you mentioned it, are ya' gonna do him this weekend?"
Scott sported a naughty grin and wiggled his eyebrows, but Kelly couldn't
see his face.  Still, the expression was obvioius in his tone of voice.

     Kelly pinched his nipple.  "Hell no!"

     "Ouch!  Jesus, Kelly!"  they both laughed.  "Well...have ya ever done it
with him?"

     She put her head back down on his shoulder and gently stroked his
chest, then sighed.   "I wondered when you'd ask.  Honestly?  We've messed
around, a little, a couple of times, only after some frat/sorority thing
when both of us had too much to drink.  But, we've never `done the dirty
deed.'  And he knows it's never gonna happen."

     "That is such a dumb expression!  If it's done right, there's nothing
dirty about it."  He kissed the top of her head to let her know that they
did it right.  "But, he knows that?  For sure?"

     Kelly shook her head in the affirmative.  "I had to tell him flat out
the last time we were making out and doing some groping.  That was just when
school was starting a few months ago.  He hasn't really made a move on me
since."

     "Well, if you're going the whole weekend without any sex, we need to
make a plan to meet your hungry needs as soon as we can next week."

     "Plan on it.  I'll probably be ready to rape you Sunday night.  Monday
at the latest."

     They both laughed quietly.  They dozed quietly for another half hour
under an afghan Kelly had pulled off the couch.  Kelly finally nudged Scott
back to consciousness.  As Scott sat up to begin searching for various
articles of clothing, Kelly's hand went to her mouth and she gasped, then
giggled a little.

     "What?"

     "You're going to take some shit tomorrow morning in the shower, if you
run into anybody.  I'm sorry, Scott."

     "What!?

     She put a finger to his upper back, and he winced.  "Ouch!  Shit!  What
the hell?"

     "Apparently, I left my mark tonight, Scott.  Well, several, in fact.  I
didn't even realize.  Apparently, neither did you, though."  She looked at
her fingers.  "Seems I'm gonna have to trim these nails before you take
advantage of me again."

     He pulled her into a face-to-face.  "Kelly, my dear, don't do a thing.
Remember, I'm a guy.  We're pigs.  When somebody notices, I'll brag about
how I got the scratch marks.  Makes me kind of a stud, don't you think?"

     She rolled her eyes.  "Oh, Christ!  You're going to be walking around
all day without a shirt on, hollering `Look what I made Kelly Abbott do to
me!!' Aren't you?"

     He looked at the ceiling.  "Oooohhhh maybe."  He kissed her
passionately, and she returned the affection with gusto.  He took her face
in both hands and whispered.  "Babe, you can mark up my back any friggin'
time you want to."

     They tidied up the apartment, she fed the cat, and then they walked out
together, hand in hand.

     "Scott?" she asked as they were about to part ways in front of the
building.

     "Yup?"  he pulled her into a hug.

     "About what we were talking about a bit ago...you know...about us?"

     "Yup?"  he continued to hold her.

     "It's really good for me to know that we're totally on the same page."

     Scott sighed, and she looked up into his eyes.  "I was going to ask you
that, Kelly, `cuz you didn't really say where we are in your own head and
heart.  Good answer, Ms. Abbott."

     He kissed her gently.

     "Good night, Mr. Turner.  And, thanks...for everything."

     Scott smiled.  "G'night, Kelly.  Sleep tight."

     They each turned and headed off in opposite directions.

     The cell phone rang while Scott was on the phone with Kelly.  "It's my
mom on the cell.  I gotta go.  I'll see you tomorrow in class.  Yeah.
G'night.  Sleep tight."

     "Hello...mother unit."  He was trying to sound upbeat.

     "Scotty!  How are you?  I tried calling your dorm room, but kept
getting `not available at this time' messages.

     "Yeah, mom.  We don't have voicemail set up unless we pay extra.  Craig
and I both have cells, so we figured, what the hell?  Why pay for call
waiting or voicemail on the dorm phone when you can still reach us with the
other numbers?"

     Suzanne considered it, and decided it made sense.  "Honey.  I have some
bad news."

     Scott sat up straight.  "What!?  You?!  Dad?!  What's up?!

     "No, honey.  It's Aunt Corrine.  Duluth had its first major storm of
the season, and she managed to break a leg while tending to the dogs."

     Aunt Corrine was a mystery to Scott, but easily his favorite relative.
On top of that, she was his godmother.  A `pixie of a woman' Scott would
describe her to others, who was twice-married, and twice-divorced, and who
now bred and raised Huskies all by herself, just west of Duluth, Minnesota.

     "Oh, shit!  Is she okay?  Is she gonna be alright?  What does she need?
  What can I do?!"

     Suzanne frowned at the language, but was warmed by the sentiment.
"Honey, please don't swear at me over the phone, or ever for that matter,
but Corrine's going to be just fine.  She just needs a hand until she can
hire the help.  She said she has two pregnant bitches on her hands..."

     "Mom, please don't use such fowl language with me over the phone."

     Suzanne laughed, and Scott beamed at having `busted' his mom for her
language, no matter how bogus it was.

     "One for you, smart guy, but you know what I mean."

     "Yeeeessss...mooommm," he played the obedient son part with his voice.
They shared a laugh.

     Suzanne took over.  "But the reality is this:  I'm driving north after
closing the shop on Thursday.  Sonja and Kate can handle the store for a
long weekend.  Corrine's in a cast, apparently a big one, so I'm going to
feed dogs, shovel poop and maybe deliver a litter or two through the
weekend."

     "Wow!  Sounds like quite the adventure."  His sarcasm dripped off of
every syllable.  "Sorry you can't come here for the game, but I'm glad for
Corrine that she still has you to lean on...and I'm kinda glad for you that
she knows that.  It must be nice to know that somebody who matters needs
you."

     Suzanne paused, and swallowed hard.  Her little boy was growing up
after all.  "Scotty, I'm so happy you realize things like that.  It is so
important.  I wanted nothing more than to come and see you this weekend, and
to visit the campus again.  But somebody important to me needs me.  I know
you'd like me there with your dad, but you're not in need.  Hell, I'm not
sure you'll ever be in need."

     Scott swallowed hard, and sniffed.  "Mom.  I'm always going to need
you."

     Above and beyond being choked up, his voice didn't seem right.
"Scotty, are you doing okay?  Your voice sounds heavy, thick, hoarse.  We're
coming into cold and flu season.  Are you feeling well?"

     "Yeah, Mom.  It's fine.  I'm tired.  Have a couple of mid-terms this
week.  Burning the candles at all ends...you know the drill.  I'm young, I'm
healthy, and all is well.  You know that if I were sick, or getting sick,
that I'd be on the phone whining to my mommy about feeling icky.  I'm a guy.
  That's what we do.  How many years have you been telling that to me and
the big guy?"

     Suzanne laughed.

     "And, is he around?  So, what are his plans?"

     "He went to a county party meeting tonight.  With Maureen's situation
changing, he's paying closer attention to the political landscape.  He wants
to be there to help, if need be, and he knows she'll never come right out
and ask for it."

     "But what's his game-plan for the weekend?"

     "Well, we were going to come into town on Friday, and meet you, and
maybe your friend Marty at the game.  We were all going to have dinner at
Smokey's...and,"

     "Marty's included in those plans?  Where'd that come from?"

     Suzanne was confused.  "Well, honey, he talked to your dad last
Saturday, just before the Badger game.  Is there a problem?"

     "No, it's not a problem.  It'd be great."  He lied.  "But I've been
really busy and we haven't talked in a while.  I thought he'd made plans for
the game and the rest of the weekend.  Aww...whatever.  It's just like him.
He's a nut and doesn't always pay very good attention to stuff like this.
I'll give him a call and we'll work it out...it's no biggie, but I'm glad you
said something."

     "Good.  Wish I could be there to meet him."  Scott rolled his eyes.
"So, anyway, your dad talked to Maureen.  You need to stop by her office and
pick up her tickets."

     "Huh?"

     "Well, apparently, she's got to go to a conference of state law-makers,
in Indianapolis, but will be flying back into Madison that afternoon.  Your
dad's planning on you guys having dinner with her Saturday night."

     "Got it."  Scott yawned.  "Hey, mom...?  Really glad you called, but I
need to hit the sack.  You know I love you, and that I want you to share the
same with my dear godmother.  Do me a favor, will you?"  There was some
mischief in his voice.

     "Anything, honey."

     "Pick up a top-shelf bottle of bourbon on your way up there, and tell
her it's from Dr. Scotty."

     Suzanne giggled.  "She'll love that, but probably will drink it all
while I'm there."

     Scott was beaming now, but feeling very tired.  "What better time to
ply a fifty-something single woman with liquor than when she's in a cast?
You should join her. Why don't the two of you tie on a good one?  God knows
me and Dad are going to do that.  Just keep the sauce away from the dogs.
I'm told that Huskies on bourbon is not a pretty sight."

     Mom laughed again.  "You're too much, you know that?"

     "Yeah, I know.  Your fault, and the Old Fart's!  And, Mom, buy the
booze out of the secret college fund you've been stashing away for me.  I
got those costs covered."  He had caught her off guard, once again, and he
knew it.  He loved it.

     "Love you. And, yeah, I know you love me, too.   G'night!"  He hung up
the phone before she could react.  He smiled, knowing that she was sitting
on a chair in the kitchen, staring into the receiver, marveling one more
time at her son.



     "You know I miss your mom, but this is great!"  Big Scott was sipping a
second screwdriver at a bar across from Camp Randall with his pride and joy.
  Had Suzanne been along, he probably would not have been imbibing at such
an early hour and, while he was sorry she couldn't be there, he was content
with the liberty he was feeling this morning.

     He was happy his son had decided on Madison, and couldn't help but
reminisce, both to himself and out loud to Scotty, and he welcomed any
opportunity or excuse to visit the campus again.

     "You look like a little kid, Dad," Scott teased.

     "I haven't been to a Homecoming down here in...oh, hell...it's got to be at
least ten years.  Hey, I thought your buddy, Marty would join us."

     Scott shook his head.  "He volunteered to work the game.  He works
through most of the first half, then gets to watch the rest from the
ground."  He anticipated the next question.  "And he's been sniffing around
some babe the past week or so, and probably will follow her trail tonight
instead of coming do dinner."

     Big Scott chuckled.  "Smart man.  Good priorities."  He looked at his
son, somewhat slyly.  "And so, does the old man get to meet the fabled Kelly
this weekend?"

     Scott blushed a little.  "Maybe, but probably not today.  She's all
into the sorority Homecoming stuff this weekend, and will be tied to her
frat-boy date."  The old man looked confused.  "Something she had set up
before we even met."  Scott shrugged. "The guy's basically a dick, in my
opinion, but he's an old friend of hers.  Funny thing is, Dad, he's my vice
president."

     He related the "negotiating" that went on leading up to officer
elections, and his dad laughed his admiration for the political savvy his
son was cultivating.  "So that's all what you were talking about when we
were on the phone a couple weeks back."

     Scott nodded again.  "But, I'll bet we'll see them from our seats when
the court does a lap around the stadium at halftime.  Maybe she can have
breakfast with us tomorrow morning before you leave."

     They had a third beverage before pulling up stakes and heading across
the street, and young Scott was regaled, yet again, with the umpteenth
telling of any number of stories involving Madison lore.  A lot of it was
the drama, both real and imagined, that was the anti-war movement in his
dad's day.  The University of Wisconsin, along with Berkley, Ohio State and
Columbia seemed like crucibles of the anti Vietnam scene, at least in the
media.  Some of the other recollections were of Big Scott and his mom.  And
still, after all these years, Big Scott had room in his mental archives for
stories about himself and Maureen.  "Big Scott" was, if only for this one
weekend, a college kid again that emerged with every syllable he uttered and
every expression to cross his face.

     At the end of the band's halftime show the announcer launched into
introductions of the attractive young couples that made up the Homecoming
court and the shiny new convertibles entered the south end of the stadium.
The announcer got to Kip and Kelly's names and Big Scott noted out loud,
"Fourth in line.  Have to check her out closely when they get around to this
side."

     "C'mon," Scotty stood and tugged at his dad's coat sleeve, then started
side-stepping down the row of spectators.  "Let's go down to the fence."
His dad followed, thinking it was a good idea.  He wanted to get a good
look.

     Marty was chatting it up with a pretty young lady near the sidelines,
one of the team's equipment manager's.  He spied the two Turners standing
near the fence next to the track.  When the girl went back to work, getting
gear ready for the second half, he started to stroll over in their
direction.  Scott's eye caught the uniform headed in their direction.  Their
eyes met, and Marty managed a hopeful smile.  Scott shot him a glare that
said "Keep your distance."  Marty walked past without saying a word.

     When their convertible neared the forty yard-line, Kip saw Scott first,
but did not point him out, and instead tried to engage her in conversation
so she'd be looking away from the crowd.  Big Scott took a good, long look
and patted his son on the back.  "Atta Boy, Scotty!"  He leaned a little
closer and nearly whispered, "Nice rack on that one."

     His son jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow, but then leaned back into
his dad.  "I know, you dirty old man." and he winked.  Then he shouted her
name.

     Kelly heard her name called, and turned to scan the fence.  After a
second, she saw Scott's waving hand several yards ahead of them and her face
lit up with a dazzling smile.  Scott pointed to his right.  "Say hi to my
old man!"

     Kelly waved.  "Hi, Mr. Turner.  Nice to meet you!" she had to shout.

     "Same to you, Kelly."  He actually blushed a little bit as he hollered
back.

     Scott shouted back, and held up his cell phone.  "Hey, if you wanna do
a late breakfast tomorrow before Dad goes back, give me a call."

     Kelly nodded and waved once more before the car was too far away.

     Kip managed a slight smile and a weak wave of the hand, and nodded at
Scott, who returned the subdued greeting.

     The father put his arm over the son's shoulders.  "She's definitely a
babe, my boy, and you gotta love the cut of that dress."

     Maureen returned to Madison just in time to listen to the fourth
quarter on the radio during the drive from the airport.  After a short rest
and a quick change of clothes, she headed to meet the Turner boys.  She was
looking forward to this evening, a chance to visit with her two favorite
guys in the world, without her former roommate scrutinizing every glance,
every sentence.  She and Suzanne had been close, and Maureen had always been
happy for the part she played on bringing her together with Scott Turner.
Still, there was always some level of tension in the air when they were all
together.  Nothing serious, but it was palpable nonetheless.

     "My two Scotts!"  Maureen had to shout above the din of the celebratory
diners.  The Badgers had won the day's contest handily, and the restaurant
was packed with groups like this one.  Student with alumni parents and
friends, dressed in a sea of red and white, most of whom had tipped a few
doctored colas throughout the game.

     Each man warmly welcomed the hug that she offered, and each returned
the kiss on the cheek.  More than a few passers by interrupted their
conversation once they recognized Maureen, and even two students came up and
extended a hand to Scott.

     "Shit, Maureen, the lad is going to give you a run for your money in
the celebrity status department.  There had to be thirty or so students and
a few staff members who caught the kid at the game to give him a pat on the
back or a howdy."

     Scott rolled his eyes.  "Jeez, Dad.  It might have been ten.  And I
already knew almost all of them.  It's not like they were seeking
autographs.  Chill, will ya?"

     Maureen beamed.  "He's going to kick my ass in the political
maneuvering department.  Kelly filled me in on what you pulled off with the
WSA last week."  Maureen was fighting to hold back a smile, trying to look
like a stern taskmaster.  "A little Machiavellian, don't you think, young
man?"

     Scott met her gaze directly and held it.  As seriously as he could, he
mustered, "And... exactly what you would have done, if you had the chance."

     Maureen busted out with a howl of a laugh and pulled him into a hug.
"Damned straight!!  Kickin' ass and taking names!  That's my boy!"

     Scott gestured toward his dad with his head as he finished the Old
Fashioned and Big Scott ordered another.  "Besides, it was kinda his idea."

     "Huh?"  He had his dad's complete attention.

     "You said, if I could get into a position where I didn't owe anything
to anybody, and I wasn't holding any potentially worthless IOU's, I should
do it.  I think I did it.  I don't owe anybody squat.  My election was
unanimous.  And both sides might not owe me, necessarily, but they still
need me.  The two groups will have to work out compromises in committee, or
neither one gets a friggin' thing.  If it's a good year, I'll only have to
set the agenda and play referee for most of the time."  He sat back, feeling
genuine pride for the first time, basking in the glow of two of the most
important people in his life.  "See...?  It's all good!"

     The old folks at the table both laughed and shook their heads as their
waitress set down big, beautiful steaks.  Big Scott's eyes got wide, and he
smiled approvingly at his plate.

     Scotty cut into his.  "And the thing is...kind of a bonus...Kip feels like
he owes me, cuz it was my vote that made him V.P.  And I told him that if he
screws with me, I'll call on Bart Morrison and the gang to make him wish he
hadn't.  Frankly, I don't think he has the balls to cross me, and I think
he's grateful that I've given him a second chance."  He popped some hot red
meat into his mouth and sighed contentedly.

     Maureen's face turned sour at the mention of his name.

     Scotty caught it.  "Oh, you know him, Maureen?"

     She nodded as she wrinkled her nose.  "Kelly's introduced us a few
times.  Brought him to a few things of mine last year.  I think he's a
snake.  And his dad's a big-time contributor against us in Brookfield."
Then she laughed.  "I just thought of something.  Wonder what Kip's daddy
had to say when he learned that his former state senator is a cock-sucker.
Mr. Monmouth's been giving thousands to a guy who gets on his knees in
public restrooms."

     Scotty almost sprayed bourbon and mix through his nose.  He wanted to
say "you have no idea...for four years now, he's been paying tuition for
another guy who does the same thing, only that one's his son!"

     They laughed and told tales on each other and laughed some more.  Big
Scott kept the liquor coming to both him and his son, but Maureen stuck with
her second glass of red wine, and no more.  When the plates were cleared,
Scott Sr. ordered one slice of mud pie, one slice of key lime, three clean
forks and three cups of coffee, black.  The waitress had handled goofy stuff
like this before and was happy to oblige.

     Scott's cell phone buzzed.  He rolled his eyes, and hoped it was Kelly
calling to say she was having a shitty night, and couldn't wait to join them
for brunch in the morning.  The number on the screen told him it was his
mom.

     "Hey!  Mom's calling.  She can kinda join us after all!"  The other two
exchanged a glance and what looked like a knowing smirk.

     Scott opened his phone.  "Hey, hope you're having some pie and coffee,
or you don't belong at this table."

     "Hi, Scotty.  I just had to check in, and make sure my boys weren't
going astray in Madison.  I remember too well the kind of guy your dad can
become when left to his own devices back on the college stomping ground."

     "Not to worry, mom.  I'm keeping him on a short leash, but he was
making some serious puppy dog eyes and drooling at Kelly when she drove by
us during the Homecoming half time thing."  He winked at his dad as Maureen
smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand.

     "That's my niece, you know!"

     Big Scott just shrugged.  "And, she's a hottie!  I might be old, but
I'm not dead for Chrissake!"  He briefly put a hand on Maureen's forearm.

     "No, mom, we're doing good...having a great time...did you catch the game
today?  Oh...sorry."  Suzanne wasn't the football fan that the guys or Maureen
were.  "Yeah... big win...not a bad day...cool, but not too windy and sunny, and
the snow that fell is all gone... for now anyway.  Yeah.  Uh-huh.  Want to
talk to dad?  Yeah, it is kinda loud here.  Okay.  I'll tell him.  Hang on."
  Scott held the phone away.  "What time you figure you'll be back home
tomorrow?"

     Big Scott shrugged.  "Well, if I get outta here `round noon or a little
later, it'll pro'lly be three, or so."  He looked at Maureen.  "Maybe
four...it all depends."

     "Okay."  He went back to the phone.  "Looking like an ETA of three or
four in the afternoon.  Yeah, I'll tell him.  Okay.  How's Corrine?  Yeah?
Really?  Okay.  Give her my love.  I will.  Love you.  G'night, Mom."

     He closed the phone.  "She won't be back `til five or six tomorrow.
Said she has to go back up next weekend, too.  Corrine's usual hired help
can come in this week, but not next weekend.  After that, she should be good
to go with an easier cast and more regular help."

     Big Scott brought Maureen up to speed on the family situation while
Scotty excused himself to hit the restroom.  When he rose, he felt the
effects of the Old Fashioneds his dad was so fond of, and for which he was
growing accustomed to.  It wasn't yet a major buzz, but it was a good one.
Plus the game, the company, the whole thing had him feeling good.  He was a
happy camper.

     He got back to the table just as the Old Fart was signing the credit
card slip and Maureen was chatting it up with another apparent fan, one
who'd taken his seat at the table.  It was Professor Cushing.  Scott stood
back and took several breaths, trying to will himself back to absolute
sobriety.  Then, Maureen saw him standing there and waved him over.

     "Ellison, I believe you know my favorite Badger on our campus."

     The professor stood up.  "I'm so sorry, Scott.  I didn't want to take
your seat."  He extended a hand.  "So good to see you again, and in a more
relaxed setting."

     "Oh, Professor.  So good to see you.  I've meant to get back in touch
to thank you for..."  the scholar waved him off.

     "No need, Scott.  In fact, I don't want to `talk shop' in a venue like
this."  He stood and paused to take in the garish, happy scenery, then
smiled broadly.  "It's been a great day, a great game, and I got to see one
of the best looking former students I ever had," he smiled at Maureen,  "and
to briefly renew an old connection with your father.  What a bonus."  He
gestured toward the chair.  "Well, thank you for giving up your seat for a
moment.  I'm getting damned old, you know."  The professor took Maureen's
hand in his own.  "Maureen, I'm so glad our paths crossed here tonight," he
glanced at young Scott, "and I'm so glad you and Randy have introduced me to
this fine young mind.  He's going to go far, you know."

     Maureen placed a hand on the back of Scotty's neck and drew him toward
her.  "I know, Ellison, but if we go there, we'll be talking shop.  Plus,
I'm beginning to think his ego needs a rest."

     Scott looked surprised, but before he could react, Maureen drew him in
closer.  "I'm kidding, boy.  You're the most humble human being I've ever
known, although I'm slated to attend a meeting next month where it's rumored
Mother Teresa will speak, so you might get knocked down to number two."

     "I'll leave you folks to your Homecoming celebration, then."  Professor
Cushing turned to the father and extended his hand.  "Scott, so good to see
you after all this time!  Glad to know your practice is going great.  You
have a real mover on your hands here." His head tilted toward the youngster.
  "Keep an eye on him.  You might some day be able to say `I knew him
when...'"

     "I'll be telling him, `I brought you into this world, and I can take
you out of it, you little shit!!  Don't you tell me where I'm wrong."  They
laughed together and the professor excused himself.

     Big Scott handed the book with the receipt back to the waitress, then
began digging for his car keys.  Maureen held up a hand.  "Forget it."  She
had her own keys in her hand.  "I'm driving, and you can call me for a ride
or get a cab back here in the morning."  She glared at the father with a
look of amusement in her eye.  "But you, sir, are not driving anywhere.
You've had, by my count, four or five cocktails since I arrived, and you
were already working on one when I came in.  Driving drunk anywhere is just
stupid on every level.  Driving drunk in Madison is particularly stupid on
the legal scale.  The cops here drool over DUI's."

     Scott watched his dad carefully to gauge his reaction.  Big Scott was a
little embarrassed, but just shrugged and grinned, sheepishly.  He looked at
his son.  "When she's right, she's right.  I don't want to be back here
defending myself in court."

     "And the attorney who represents himself has an ass for a client,
right?"  Scott was being doubly smug, knowing that the statement, or
something like it, was an old adage that every lawyer had burned into their
brains from year-one.

     Both Maureen and dad chuckled together as they headed for the rear
entrance, toward Maureen's parked car.  The old man put his arm over his
son's shoulder again.  "Had a great time, today, son."



     "Fuck!"  Scott sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands,
coming to terms with what he'd done wrong here.  This was serious.  He and
Craig had talked about it a dozen or so times the past two weeks.  He'd just
been too busy.

     "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  How stupid can one guy be?" It's just that he'd
been so goddamned busy the last two weeks, and didn't have or make the time
to take care of life's little details.

     A couple weeks ago, he'd promised Craig that he would vacate the room
tonight, so that his roomie could ride the wonderful Stephanie to his
heart's content, and hers, for that matter.  At the time, he thought he'd
crash with Brett and Marty.  But now, all things considered, that was out of
the question.  He made another drink, then went down the hall to see if
there were signs of life at Frank and Jesse's place.  Silence.  He knocked
on the door.  Nothing.  Where the hell were the guys?  Well, it was fairly
early, on a college student's clock anyway.

     He took a leak in the empty bathroom and walked, stumbling a little
along the way, to the room.  "Now what?" he asked himself.  He sipped the
bourbon and water he'd left on the dresser, and sat down to think.

     "Dad!"  He smiled.  "We could have, like, a guys' camp out.  He'll
understand that I need to vacate.  I'll call the hotel and tell him that my
original plan to dive into Marty's room tonight fell through...he'll
understand that...and that I want to come over there to get some sleep.  It'll
be cool, and mom will totally be into the male bonding, father/son thing. "

     "The guest you are trying to contact is currently unavailable."  He'd
heard the message twice.

     "What the hell?  Maureen was gonna drop him off.  He oughta be back by
now, easy. Shit!"

     He thought the situation over. "Okay...can't stay here...well, you can, but
Craig will never speak to you again, and he might even try to throw your ass
out, but you'd win that fight and embarrass him in front of Stephanie.  Bad
idea.  Gotta go someplace else."

     Scott tried the Inn on the Park one more time.  "The guest you are
trying to contact is currently unavailable."

     "What the Fuck?!"  He slammed down the receiver.  He went back to the
john to see if anybody else was alive and home on the floor.  Still nobody.

     One door was cracked open with some cool jazz playing, but no signs of
physical life other than that.  Scott didn't catch they eye in the slit
between the edge of the door and the frame.  On the return trip, the same
door was wide open.  Scott peeked in.  Teddy was sitting in at the computer,
in his boxers.

     He looked up and smiled.  "Hey, Scott...what's up?"

     "Teddy!  You got to save my life, man...will ya?"

     "What d'ya need  Yur life??  Count me in, dude.  Don't wanna see you
lose ya' life."  Teddy slurred his consonants a bit.  He was pretty loaded,
as was Scott.

     "Been out and about?  Looks like you had a few."  Scott sat on the bed.
  John Coletrane floated through the room, and Scott grinned at Teddy's
bobbing head.

     "Yeah.  Party over on Mifflin Street.  But, need to get up and moving
early in the morning, so thought I'd get the party in early and call it a
night.  You?  How do I save your life tonight?"  Teddy turned away from the
computer and leaned back in his chair.

     "Went out for dinner with the old man and a friend of ours.  He's real
partial to the bourbon Old Fashioned, and made me keep pace.  If I'm
shit-faced, it'd daddy's fault.  But Craig's gonna be bangin' his old high
school sweetie tonight, so I told him I'd make myself scarce.  Figured I'd
crash with Frank and Jesse, but they're not around, and Big Scott's not in
his hotel room...called three times and he's either too sound asleep or
sitting in the hotel bar with a nightcap."

     Teddy smiled.  "Aaahhh...well, dude, the roomie's gone for the night."
He spread his arms to gesture around the room.  "Me casa, su casa."

     "Cool.  Let me go get out of the heavy clothes and into my `jammies'
and pick up some shit so I don't have to bother the love birds in the
morning.  Be right back.  Need anything to drink in here?  We're pretty well
stocked."

     "Bring what ya' want.  I'm up for anything."

     Scott ambled back to the room and shucked his jeans and sweatshirt.  He
pulled on some shorts and a clean tee, dug out his shaving kit and checked
the contents, and was good to go.  He reached back into the closet and took
the Jim Beam off the top shelf.  On a whim, he put everything down on the
bed.  He peeled off the shorts and the boxers, and then slid the gym shorts
back on.  "Gonna go commando to this party," he muttered to himself,  "just
in case ol' Teddy wants easy access to the goodies."  He giggled at the
thought, but figured, `what the hell?'

     He closed the door behind himself and Teddy looked up from the computer
and grinned.  "Welcome to Teddy's Flop House."

     "Thank you, my good man.  Can I offer you a drink?"

     Teddy spied the bottle and gave a thumbs up.  "Hey...I'da figured you'd
be balls deep into Kelly by this time tonight."

     Scott sighed.  "Damn, I wish, bro'.  She's had this Homecoming thing
lined up since the start of the semester with some other dick-wad who's an
old friend.  It's all very Greek, they're both on the Court, and besides, I
don't do the frat/sorority thing real well anyway.  Got any ice?"

     Teddy checked the bucket on the dresser.  "Nothin' but water in here,
man.  I'll go get some.  Could use the stroll anyway, just hang tight."
Teddy strolled down to the common room to the ice machine.  "What are the
chances...?" he wondered about the possibilities.

     Scott sat down on in front of the computer.  For whatever reason, he
wiggled the mouse and the screen-saver dissolved into an image of a buxom
brunette on her back, playing with her tits.  The strong back and firm ass
of the blond guy fucking her was impressive.  More intriguing was that
another greek god was standing over her, his big dick in the other guy's
mouth.  A click of the "Back" button gave him a view of a second busty
vixen, this one a red-head, on her back, legs spread, also massaging her own
tits.  Between her legs, a Latino was on all fours, his face buried in her
crotch.  Behind him, on his knees, a hairy-chested Italian-looking guy was
fucking his ass.

     Teddy opened the door, and Scott jumped a bit.  Teddy chuckled.  "See
an'thing ya' like?"

     "It's ahem...interesting...I guess."

     Teddy chuckled again.  He stood behind Scott and gazed at the screen.
"How the hell to they do that?"

     "Which?"

     "Take it up the ass like that, man.  I mean, that's gotta hurt like
hell."

     Scott shifted in his chair and Teddy reached over his shoulder to pick
up a glass.  Scott heard ice hitting plastic, and said, "Well, I'm told it
hurts like a sonofabitch at first, but that it gives way to incredible
pleasure after a little while."

     Teddy started to pour some bourbon, and he raised a brow and looked
over his shoulder.  "Your told?  Ooops!  Shit!  These are gonna be kinda
strong."

     "Yeah, like I said the other day, I know a few guys who really get into
this.  We've talked."

     Teddy was very interested.  "Ever done it with any of them?"

     Scott smiled and shook his head.  "Told ya' Teddy...I'm not one to talk."

     "So, do I, like, know him...or them?"

     Scott rolled his eyes. "Next question."  A drink appeared next to his
face from over his shoulder.  "No...my turn.  What about you?  Ever get it on
with another dude?"  He clicked back once again.  Two hot twinks were
engaged in a sixty-nine position, obviously enjoying it immensely.  No women
were in sight in this one.

     Teddy sat next to him.  "I guess it was the usual stuff back in middle
and high school.  The `you show me yours and I'll show you mine' sort of
thing.  Some jackin' off and shit like that with some buds."  Both guys took
a large gulp of bourbon and water.  "A couple times jackin' each other.  You
know...everybody does that kinda shit at some time...right?"

     He almost sounded defensive, but still very interested in the topic.
Suddenly his face lit up with a smile. "But Dude!  This one time, a couple
years ago, I was at a summer baseball camp?  And me and four other dudes
were doing this circle jerk kinda thing...ya' know?"

     "Been there, done that," Scott assured him with a wry grin.  Teddy felt
relieved, emboldened, in fact.

     "And outta nowhere, this one guy from another school leans over and
goes down on this very hot, built, big-dicked kid.  Funny thing was, they
were from opposing schools in the same conference, and it was this huge
rivalry during the season.  But that night, the dudes were playing for the
same team alright."  Teddy laughed, and adjusted his cock and balls as
discreetly as he could.

     Scott's eyebrows raised and he smiled.  "Aaaannd?"

     "And the rest of us all just sat there, beating our meat, and watching
this blowjob go on in front of us."

     "Aaaaaannnd?"

     Teddy sighed and shrugged his shoulders.  He took another drink.  "And
I gotta admit, Scott.  It was kinda hot.  Fuck!  It was very hot."

     "And you wished it was you...what...sucking or getting sucked?"

     Teddy thought about it.  "Both, I guess."

     Scott chuckled a small chuckle and took another drink.  He put down the
glass.  "Dude...I gotta piss."  As he stood, there was no mistaking that he
was getting hard.  Teddy glanced down, and adjusted the growing bulge in his
own boxers.

     When he got back to the room, Teddy was at the computer.  He'd
freshened the drinks, and had found some short porn video clips.  One guy
was fucking a beautiful young blond, doggy-style, and taking it up the ass
from behind at the same time.

     Scott got bold.  "So...Teddy...never had a cock in your mouth, huh?"

     Teddy's nervousness showed.  "Uh...no."

     "But you want one?"

     He paused a long while, then looked up at Scott.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I do."

     "And," he stepped forward as Teddy's eyeballs bounced rapidly between
Scott's eyes and his tented shorts.  "Unless I'm misreading you, you want to
start with this one?"  Scott grabbed his member, the outline pressed into
the cotton shorts, extending up and to the left.

     Teddy stared at the ample package in front of him.  "Yeah, man.  Yeah,
I do."

     Scott smiled and picked up his drink.  He took a long sip.  "Well, my
man, no time like the present. Let me be your first."  He took another sip.
Teddy's mouth was god-awful dry, and so he did the same.  "Help yourself,"
he whispered.

     Teddy slowly slid out of his chair and was soon on his knees in front
of Scott.  He grabbed the shorts and tugged.  Scott hadn't even bothered to
tie the drawstring around the waist, so they easily slid down his thighs and
hit the floor.  Scott stepped out of them and smiled.  He took another long
drink.  Slowly, Teddy's hand rose and he gently gripped Scott's swelling
cock.  He looked at it intently before sticking out his tongue and slowly
licking the tip.  His head jolted back, and he looked up at a smiling Scott.

     "Go for it, Teddy.  It's all yours, for now."

     Teddy wrapped his lips around the head, left it there for a few
seconds.  He was mesmerized by the silky feel and somewhat salty taste of
just an inch or so in between his lips.  He closed his mouth around the
head, and lowered his own.  Scott winced a bit at the clumsiness of Teddy's
teeth.  In an instant, Teddy's head was bobbing up and down rapidly, his
thumb and index finger wrapped firmly around the base.  It was too much for
Scott.

     "Dude!  Dude!"  He tapped his shoulder.  "Teddy, man...slow down!"  Teddy
looked up, pleadingly and apologetically.  He gasped for a breath and smiled
nervously.

     "Huh?"

     "Teddy.  You gotta slow down.  And Damn! You've GOT to watch the
teeth."

     Teddy looked embarrassed.   "Oh...sorry man."

     Scott muffled a soft chuckle.  "No harm, man."  He tapped his shoulder
again and motioned `up' with his fingers.  "Here...stand up, man.  Let Dr.
Scotty take you to school."

     Teddy's face broke into a broad, lurid smile.

     As he stood, Scott grabbed both hips and pulled him close.  He drew
Teddy into a chest-to-chest, groin-to-groin embrace, and reached around and
rubbed both cheeks of his ass.  "You just need to take your time.  Enjoy it
all, man.  You gotta know that it oughta feel almost as good giving as it is
getting."  Scott moved in and their lips barely touched.

     Teddy suddenly jerked his head back, but not much.  "Whoa," he
whispered.  "Not ready to go there yet."

     Scott laughed softly and put his forehead on Teddy's.  "No sweat, dude.
  Been there, done that.  You might be ready for that someday, but I'm not
gonna try or expect anything you're not into.  You just need to find out
that if you trust the guy you're with to give as much pleasure as he gets,
it's all good.  Do ya' trust me, Teddy?"

     Teddy sighed.  "Thanks, Scott.  Yeah...I trust you."

     "And, what about this?"  Scott put his slightly parted lips on Teddy's
neck, just below his right ear.  Teddy's hands came up and rested on the
sides of Scott's hips.  He didn't make a sound, but he didn't move, either.
Scott's tongue glanced the salty surface of Teddy's strong neck.

     "Mmmmhhhmmm," was all he could utter.  Teddy's eyes closed, and he
moved his head back and to the left in order to give Scott more complete
access.  Scott's hands came off Teddy's ass cheeks and slowly slid up his
sides.  He brought them both to Teddy's hairy chest, and lightly rubbed
while his soft kisses and licks went lower and lower on Teddy's neck.  He
could feel Teddy's hands shaking lightly as they rested just below his
waist.  "Aaawwwww...nice.  Very nice," Teddy sighed.

     Scott rubbed his hands down Teddy's firm chest and his hairy stomach,
and slid both thumbs into the band of his boxers.  He straightened both arms
downward, pushing the shorts half-way down his thick thighs.  With some
struggle, Teddy's hardon sprung free, and the boxers rested on his upper
legs.

     Scott reached one hand down and groped at Teddy's ass.  It was hairy,
but hard, and it pulsed and moved with every slight shift of his weight.
Scott took the left nipple in his mouth, and Teddy jerked slightly,
unprepared for that particulars sensation.  "Ooooohh!  Jesus, man."  Scott
sucked and swirled his tongue around the nipple.  "Yeeeeaaahh... nice, man."
He put a hand on the back of Scott's head and rubbed.  "Very, very nice."
Scott smiled a bit with Teddy's nipple still between his lips.  The guy was
clearly getting into this.

     Scott brought his lower hand around front and cupped Teddy's balls.
"Big fuckin' nuts, my man" he moaned into Teddy's chest.  Teddy just kept
stroking the back of his head.

     He released the nub, and moved back a step.  Slowly, he lowered himself
to his knees, and took the boxers by the bottom of each leg.  He pulled, and
Teddy shifted his weight from side to side to allow their easy removal.
Teddy's uncut cock was standing straight out, the head poking half-way out
of the foreskin.  With his hands on Teddy's thighs, Scott's head moved
forward slowy.  The musky smell of Teddy's groin greeted him, and he inhaled
deeply as his tongue slid out of his mouth.  The tip of his tongue met the
head of the pulsing cock in front of him, and he swirled his tongue around
it.  It moved in a small circle as the tip of Scott's tongue chased it
around.  Scott continued to rub Teddy's thighs.  He heard a deep, throaty
sigh seep from Teddy's throat above him.

     Scott smiled a little and looked up.  "Having fun yet, Teddy?"

     Teddy's hands were on his hips now, and he looked down into Scott's
admiring eyes.  "Aw fuck, dude!  Take me to fuckin' school, Dr. Scott.  Show
me how it's done."  Scott pulled back the foreskin and he took the bare head
firmly between his lips, and sucked pretty hard.  Teddy lurched slightly
forward, impulsively.  "Fuck man!  A-fucking-mazing!"  His hands seemed to
have a mind of their own, and they slid their way over the surface of his
skin and finally found each nipple.  He fondled, then stroked and pinched
each one.  The tip of Scott's tongue became a sharp point, and it traced its
way lightly down the underside of Teddy's fully erect member.  He eventually
reached bottom, then danced the tip in and out and around the surface of his
sack.  He took the right, then the left nut into his mouth.  Teddy parted
his legs a little further, and leaned back as Scott grabbed the hot tool and
held it against Teddy's stomach, and took both nuts into his mouth and
sucked.  "Wwwwhhhoooooooo!  Fuckin-a-dude.  Yeah...suck my nuts, Scott.  Shit,
that is soooo fuckin' hot."

     Scott leaned back on his feet.  He pushed his host back toward the bed.
  "Lay down, Teddy.  On your back.  I want to claim this dick for my own
tonight."

     It was a matter of moments before Teddy had kicked his boxers from off
his feet, and he was laying on his back.  "Do it, man.  Do this dick, Scott!
  C'mon, dude!  Show me the best fuckin' blowjob you know how to give.  Show
me how!"

     Scott took Teddy's cock firmly in his fist, sucked the head back in
between his lips and paused.  Slowly, he swallowed the tool until it hit the
back of his throat.  He guessed it to be a good eight inches hard, and
didn't think he could go down all the way.  Maybe some day, but not tonight.
  Teddy would not be disappointed, though, even if he were to stop now.
Teddy laced his fingers together behind his head, holding it up so he could
watch his cock slowly disappear between Scott's lips, then reappear, slick
and glistening, as Scott's tongue did a few laps around the head.  He looked
up at Teddy and smiled.  Teddy grinned and shook his head.  "Un-fucking-
believable, dude."

     After several minutes of Scott's slow up and down, slurping and
slobbering over the hot piece of meat, Scott grabbed Teddy's forearms and
pulled him down onto the floor.  "Okay...ready to try again, bud?"

     "Fuck yeah!"

     Scott scooted back several feet and leaned back on his hands, his legs
spread wide.  Teddy crawled in between them, looking like a wild cat hunting
some prey.  His face came down between Scott's legs, and he carefully hooked
Scott's fully erect cock with two fingers, pulling it toward his parted
lips.  His tongue flicked and danced around the head for several seconds,
before his lips wrapped around the top few inches.  He sucked and continued
to wiggle his tongue, and Scott rubbed the back of his head in approval.
"That's it, boy.  Patience is a virtue.  Take your time.  You can enjoy this
almost as much as me, if you savor the feeling."

     "Mmmh Hmmm" Teddy nodded, Scott's cock still in his mouth.  Then the
began his descent down the hot pole.  Slowly and steadily, he swallowed as
much of Scott as he could before he gagged.  Scott leaned back on one elbow,
and gently rubbed the back of Teddy's neck and his shoulder.  Teddy stayed
down for several seconds, then just as slowly brought his head back up.  The
cock exited his mouth with a "Pop" and both guys chuckled at the sound.
Teddy's tongue started at Scott's pubic hair and slowly trailed up one side,
then down the other, then back up and down once more.  He paused, licked his
lips and swallowed.  He looked up and his eyes met Scott's "Shit, dude!  Hot
fuckin' cock you got here Scott.  Thanks for letting me borrow it."

     Scott grabbed it by the base and tapped Teddy's mouth a few times.
Teddy closed his mouth and eyes and extended his neck a bit, inviting Scott
to spank his face with his man meat.  Scott whispered, "There's more to
come, if you want it.  You should see...and feel...what I can do with this bad
boy when I really get serious.  Anyplace else you want to put it?"

     Teddy smiled and a laugh escaped through his nose.  He opened his eyes.
"Dude!  I don't think I'm ready for that.  Not tonight, anyway.  Maybe some
time.  But this is good, for now.  This is very good!"  He stuck out his
tongue and wiped it over and around Scott's waving cock.

     Scott nodded.  "That's cool.  I thought you'd say that.  Okay, then
let's try this."  Scott came forward and got on his knees.  "Just lay down,
on your side."  Teddy did as he was told and Scott positioned his shoulders
and head a few inches from Teddy's crotch.

     Teddy sensed where he was heading.  "Awsome, dude!  I've seen this in
pics and videos.  Prime idea, Sssssscoooootttt!!" He was in mid-sentence
when he felt Scott grab him and suck him entirely into his mouth.  Teddy
hungrily responded in kind.  In a matter of seconds, each guy had an arm
wrapped around the other's ass, and their heads were bobbing in and out in a
fury.

     After several minutes of sucking, grunting and groaning, Scott pulled
Teddy toward him, rolling the two of them with Teddy on top, one knee on
each side of Scott's head, his cock still in Scott's mouth and his balls
barely above his forehead.  Scott sucked mightily and greedily grabbed
Teddy's hairy ass on both sides.  Teddy grasped Scott's cock in a firm grip,
and stroked it fiercely, twisting his grip on each stroke.  Scott released
Teddy's member and lifted his head in order to suck both of the nuts above
him into his mouth.

     "Whooooa.  Dude.  Be gentle with those!  They're the only two I got!"

     He removed his mouth.  "I got `em now, Teddy, so watch yourself.  Shut
up and suck that cock."  Scott sucked them back in as Teddy plunged downward
on the spike in his fist.

     Scott was nearly out of his mind, and he got adventurous with the
virgin on top of him without really deciding to do so.  Acting on impulse,
struggled to free his arms from underneath Teddy's legs, and was impressed
that Teddy never missed a stroke of his slobbering mouth.  He grabbed onto
each side of Teddy's ass and parted his cheeks, and plunged his face upward,
his tongue extended.

     "Wwwwhhhhhhooooooaaaaaa!"  Teddy's hands slapped flat on the floor, and
pushed himself upward and back.  "Jeeeeesus!  I...oh...god...goddammit!"  Scott
bore his tongue forward.  "Fuck!  Fucking fuck!  Oooohhhh.  I never..."  Teddy
was now wiggling his ass over Scott's open mouth.  "You sonofabitch!!"

     Scott pulled back, giving himself room to breath, and reached up and
around and grabbed Teddy's aching dick.  "Having fun yet, bud?"

     "Damn!  God-fucking-damn man!  I sure as hell didn't see that coming.
Shit, yeah!"  Teddy dove back down on Scott's tool.  Scott took the
opportunity to slobber over several fingers.  He started playing with
Teddy's quivering pucker, and heard his buddy start to purr.  Slowly, he
inserted the middle one through the tight ring, up to the first knuckle.

     Teddy was suddenly startled.  "Ooooooooohh!  Careful.  Oh!  Oh!  Scott!
  Wait!  Don't wanta go there."

     "Teddy!  Relax.  I'm not gonna try to fuck you.  I know you don't want
that.  Just go with me on this one."  Scott wet his other hand, reached up
and over his thigh, and grabbed Teddy's blazing cock again.  Teddy took a
deep breath, and didn't move anything other than his wrist, which kept the
twisting, short strokes on Scott's member.  He removed the finger, and
brought his open mouth up a few inches to Teddy's perineum.  He licked and
sucked between his ball sack and hole, and Teddy started to rock back and
forth a little bit.  When he stated moaning again, Scott's finger returned
to his target.  This time, he invaded Teddy to the second knuckle.

     "Fffffuuuuuck!"  Teddy froze.  Scott's grip around his dick tightened
and the pace of his stroke quickened.  Reaching forward a little further, he
found Teddy's prostate.  Three rubs of the magic nut deep inside and his
buddy went wild.  "Aaaaaawwww!!"  His hips were bucking wildly, pushing
Scott's finger deeper inside.  "Wwwwhhhhhooooo... gggooooooooddddddd!  Aw!"
Scott felt the first few splots of hot goo hit his knees and shins.  "Aw!
Aw!  Uuugghh!"  It continued to splatter on his thighs and abdomen.

     Teddy dove forward and down, and he fiercely swallowed as much of Scott
as he could.  He continued to spew forth on Scott's stomach and chest while
Scott started bucking his hips, fucking Teddy's mouth.  Scott was rapidly
beginning to boil, or boil over.  His toes curled and his thighs instantly
became taut, stone hard.  As his hips jolted upward one more time, the first
shot of cum slammed the back of Teddy's throat.  Much to Scott's amazement,
Teddy sucked even more hungrily as his cock continued to fire rapid bursts
into his mouth.  Teddy whimpered as his own cock was finishing it's own
display, yet he devoured all that he could from Scott.  Some of the cum slid
over his bottom lip and drooled down Scott's tool, but Teddy caught and
swallowed all that he could.

     Teddy fell to his right, off of Scott and onto his side.  He rolled
onto his back, and laid the back of his left forearm over his eyes.  Neither
man said a thing for most of a minute.  Finally Teddy coughed, then lifted
an arm and wiped his mouth.  He reached over, laying the arm across Scott's
right thigh, and rested his hand on Scott's forearm.  "Oooohhhh  Fuck!"  He
started to laugh quietly.

     Scott reached over and put a hand on Teddy's wrist.  After several more
deep breaths, he mustered a quiet "Well?"

     Teddy lifted his head off the floor, somewhat meekly.
"Un-fucking-god-damned-believable."  His head went back down.  "Ha!" His
hand squeezed Scott's forearm.  "That was incredible, man.  Whew!"

     "Ready for another drink?  I'm buying."

     "Scott, just about anything you're offering tonight, I'm up for."
They laughed and Scott rolled onto his side and looked down into Teddy's
eyes.  "Except..."

     "Relax!  Dude!  I don't want to go there if you don't.  Tell you what.
You're gonna have to beg for it in order for me to get all over that ass and
make it my own.  Until that happens, it's a closed subject."

     Teddy smiled.  "Good idea.  Now get your ass off the floor and make me
a drink."

     Teddy shut down the computer and piped the Coletrane back through the
speakers.  They both lay on their stomachs on the floor, face to face, and
sipped their drinks.  They compared stories of messing with guys in the
middle and high school days, and Scott eluded to one or two college
experiences, being careful to omit both the wilder times and the names.
They bragged about experiences with women, Scott being careful not to
identify Kelly specifically in any of his tales.  Without planning to fall
asleep, Scott laid his head on his folded arms, and he was soon breathing
deeply and regularly.  Teddy struggled to free his roommate's pillow from
beneath the comforter, and he lifted one of Scott's arms in order to prop as
much of the cushion as he could beneath his head.  He threw a blanket over
him, and stumbled over to his own bed and crawled between the sheets.  Teddy
quickly fell asleep with a contented grin on his face.

     	Kip's frat house was slated as the last stop on the Homecoming
roundabout.  Strolling up the front walk, Kelly had to admit to herself that
she'd had a fun day.  Riding in a convertible as part of the court, right
behind the marching band, during the parade down State Street had been a
corny good time.  Repeating her "queenie wave" for the football crowd as
they drove around the track during half-time of the game was just as absurd,
but a jazz nonetheless.  She liked dressing up and she liked the Greek
scene, although she secretly felt a bit guilty about that.  She knew that
she looked good in her cardinal red formal, and was glad she'd had it
tailored with a low cut on top.  The cleavage was short of risqué, but not
by much.  Aunt Mo' had scolded her on that count when she'd modeled the
dress, but she did so with a wink.  They both knew it was the dress that
Maureen would've worn, and could probably still pull off herself, were she
so inclined.  Maureen wished, out loud, that the school's colors included
emerald green, as Kelly's auburn hair and brilliant eyes looked better in
green clothes, but it was what it was.  Cardinal Red and White was the order
of the day.

     Kelly had only thought about Scott around a hundred times that
Saturday, but still, she had to admit that Kip looked like a million bucks,
maybe a couple million bucks, in his tux.  He had been charming and funny
and a devoted gentleman all weekend long, and she appreciated that.  She
found herself wishing that Scott could get to know this guy, not the
arrogant prick whom he'd first met at The Union.

     This was the unofficial part of the Homecoming Weekend celebration; the
one about which the university brass played dumb.  The kegs were tapped, the
bar was opened, the joints, pills and powder were all shared and the music
was loud.  The house's ground floor living area had been stripped of all
furniture to make way for a large dance floor.  The guys had all shucked off
their coats and vests; the bowties were gone and the top few buttons of the
shirts were undone.  The girls could afford to lose their shoes, but that
was about it, for now.  There was much partying, bumping, grinding, groping
and making out.  Pity the poor guy who was not in his own frat house at the
moment.  Kip was a lucky sonofagun.

     Mr. Monmouth and Ms. Abbott drank and danced and laughed, even hugged
and engaged in some fairly heavy petting at times, at least he did. Kelly
was trying to watch her p's and q's, not wanting to mislead Kip in any way,
as if misleading Kip was relevant in any way.  She thought for a moment when
he invited her up to his room, but ultimately decided she was safe.  The
crowd and the music were very loud, and they'd tried several times to
continue a conversation about his family that had begun during the court's
dinner earlier that evening.  Besides, Kip had been a great date all weekend
long, and he had to know about her and Scott.  She'd mentioned him several
times, always in passing, since the previous afternoon.

     	The bass of the music downstairs pulsed through the floor of his room,
but the soft jazz that Kip put on did a nice job in setting a quieter,
calmer mood on the room.  Kip had one of the underclassmen make sure there
was a bottle of champagne on ice in the room, and he made quite a production
over uncorking and decanting the bubbly.  Kelly was a bit uneasy with the
whole ambiance thing that Kip had obviously worked to create, but figured
she'd go with the flow, for now.

     He handed her a glass, and as he sat down on the bed next to her,
leaned over and kissed her cheek.  "I had a great time this weekend, Kel."

     "Me too, Kip.  I'm glad we could do this whole Homecoming thing
together.  I've heard horror stories about court members who got paired and
stuck with guys they didn't know at all, and who were complete duds."  She
giggled about a couple of such stories she'd heard from older sisters in her
house.  "I'm glad I could do this whole thing with a real friend."

     "I hope I'm a cut above a `complete dud.'"  He took a long drink from
his glass.

     "Don't be silly, Kip.  We're coming up on `old friend' status."  She
put her hand on his.  "I had the advantage of knowing what I was getting
into."

     "And you showed up anyway."  He faked some modesty, as he slid his
fingers between hers.  "My lucky day."  He leaned over again and kissed her
cheek, lower this time, on the jaw line.  Kelly gasped a little and raised
her chin.  Kip nuzzled his way toward her exposed neck and licked her
lightly before closing his lips around the soft skin.

     "Kip!" Kelly giggled.  "Now be good!"

     "Why?"  His hand wrapped around her waist and he pulled he closer.  His
cock was already hard.  His tongue brushed her neck again on his way to
lightly sucking her neck.  "It's not like we haven't been here before, and
you've never wanted me to behave."  His right hand moved up and grasped her
left breast.  He moaned a bit, breathing into her ear.  "C'mon, Kel, let's
do this."

     Kelly put down her champaign and grabbed Kip's wrist.  "No!  Kip, we're
not going to go there." she was speaking to the ceiling, trying to keep some
civil good humor in her voice.

     Kip was becoming annoyed.  "What's the problem, Kel?  We had a great
time last time you joined me here.  You didn't have any trouble getting into
it during pledge week.  How about we stroll down memory lane."  He put his
hand on the back of her neck and tried to pull her into a kiss.

     "Kip...I was drunk...you were drunk...we were both horny and it was all good
for what it was.  But, I'm not going there with you again.  Honest."  She
recalled the heavy making out, and the blowjob she'd given him a couple of
months earlier, and the fact that she didn't have an awful time, but that
was about the best that could be said.  She also recalled that he had a
pitifully small cock, not that she'd had that many, and that he came in her
mouth very quickly without any warning.  She remembered spitting his jism
out, fairly certain that it had landed inside of the shoe he'd kicked off
near the side of the bed.

     Kip's grip on her neck and head stiffened.  He leaned back on the bed
and tried to draw her nearer.  "C'mon Kelly.  Do me."  He grabbed her wrist
and brought it to his crotch with some force.  She tried to pull away, but
his grip was strong.  He held it there, grinding her hand into his hard
cock.

     "No...Kip!  Stop it!  This is not going to happen!  Let go!"  She shook
her head free of the grasp of his other hand, only to have him use it to
grab her other forearm and pull her toward him.  The grip hurt.

     His face, especially his eyes, flashed anger.  He pulled her close and
breathed into her ear.  "Don't be an uptight bitch now, Kelly.  You know you
want this cock again... don't you?  Play hard to get all you want, but you are
going to take this cock, just the way I want you to."

     Kelly's eyes were filling with tears.  "Kip!  You're hurting me.  Stop
it!  I'm not going to do this, and you're not going to make me!"

     Kip's grip tightened.  "You fucking whore!"

     "Ouch!  You pathetic asshole!"  She steeled here gaze and gritted her
teeth.  "Kip!  Stop or I'll scream my fucking lungs out!  You're stronger
than me and can hold my arms all night, and I'll knee you in the balls so
hard you'll end up losing at least one of them and you'll piss blood for a
month.  If I put my mouth near that little thing you call your cock it'll
only be to bite it off."

     Kip was enraged.  He wanted to slap her face.  He released her forearms
and jolted from the bed.  He ran his hands through his hair, glaring down at
Kelly.  "It's Turner, isn't it?  You're too busy fucking Scott Turner that
now you're too goddamned good to lay yourself out for one of your own."

     Kelly stood up, tears rolling out of her eyes.  She was terrified and
enraged all at the same time, but relieved that they were on the second
floor of a very busy fraternity house.  Her hands were shaking as she
pointed between his eyes.  "What Scott and I are doing is none of your
fucking business."  She wanted to slap him, to gouge his eyes out, but she
moved toward the door instead.  "One of my own?!  That's fucking rich!
Scott's right!  You are an arrogant, stuck-up wanna-be!"  She wanted to hurt
him now.  "And yeah, we are having sex...great sex!  He's fucked me every
which way from Sunday, and I've loved every fucking second of it.  I
actually sucked his cock in front of the Lincoln statue up on Bascom...and a
big fucking dick it is!  And he didn't have to beg for it, you pathetic
shit.  It was MY idea.  And, you'd be right in the estimation that he's more
than a cut above your sorry ass and you're puny little pecker.  I'd call you
a pig, if you were bigger, but you're nothing but a fucking piglet.  Face
it, Kip...you can't carry Scott Turner's jockstrap!"

     Kelly opened the door, then turned, pointed and whispered.  "Talk to me
again... come near me again...and I'll make it my mission in life to fucking
ruin you.  Do not fucking underestimate me, or I'll become your worst
fucking nightmare!"

     She stormed down the hall, but regained her composure before descending
the staircase.  Everybody else still at the party was too preoccupied by
whomever it was they were wanting to bed down for the night that nobody
noticed her as she lurked along the wall toward the front door.  Kelly
quietly made her exit.  She paused on the porch, grabbed her right wrist in
her left hand and rubbed it.  It still hurt.  She walked to the end of the
block before both hands involuntarily flew to her face.  She sobbed.

     Bradley wasn't happy about being there on a Sunday to begin with.  As
hard as he worked the crowd during the week, he was jealous about his
weekends, and he knew he was entitled. He preferred to be out and about on a
Saturday night, waking up next to his loving partner of fifteen years, and
lounging all morning long with coffee, the New York Times and his lover's
silk-robed embrace.

     Nonetheless, there was no mistaking that his second-in-command had been
in very ill health the day before, and he felt he had not choice but to
order her to leave early, and to stay at home today.  And on Homecoming
weekend nonetheless!  So, Bradley would be the trooper, in this case the
martyr, that he always was, but would make all the peons suffer for his
suffering.

     He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes rolled.  He was about to
turn around and deliver a sharp "may I help you!" until he heard Scott ask,
"Mr. Manning!  Don't you work hard enough during the week to deserve at
least a day of rest on Sunday?"

     Bradley swung around, eyes wide and smile bright.  "Miisssterrr
Turrrrnerrrr!"  He grasped Scott's hand in both of his.  "How
deelllllllightfuuull to see you again."  He looked over Scott's shoulder.
"Brunch with Senator McCarthy today?  An early birthday celebration,
perhaps?"  He was talking waaayy too fast.

     "No, Bradley.  My dad's in town for Homecoming.  We all went out last
night, and I'm meeting him for brunch this morning before he leaves.  He
hasn't checked in with you, has he?  Scott Turner, Sr.?"

     Bradley glanced toward the phone and reservation book, then dismissed
the notion.  "Oh, no Scott!  I'd have remembered the name had he made a
reservation.  Trust me, I'd have caught that.  I didn't even know he was
staying here.  I'm sorry."

     "No problem.  Do you have room for up to four?"

     "For you, Scott?  Puhleese!  You know I'd throw the bums out to make
space."  He winked at Scott, and scanned the dining room.  He bit his lower
lip.  "Up to four, huh?"

     "Well, Maureen could be planning to join us, but I didn't want to
bother her too early.  And, I've been trying to reach her niece, Kelly
Abbott, and can't get in touch with her.  So, all I know is that the "Old
Fart" is gonna be down here in a little while, but that the ladies might be
joining us too."

     Bradley seemed to fret a bit.  "As you might imagine, we're booked
solid for the weekend, but I'll move mountains for the Turner/McCarthy
party.  Would you mind having a seat at the bar while you wait for your
party and your table?"

     "The bar?  Ooohh...I suppose I could handle that.  If, of course, you
could scare up a Bloody Mary for me.  The old man will vouch when he gets
here."

     Bradley winked at him and took him by the arm.  "You're always set
here, Scott.  You know that."

     "Birthday, huh?  Maureen's?"

     "Oohh, I'm sorry.  I just figured you knew.  The Senator's is next
Saturday.  I just thought..."

     Scott thumped his forehead.  "Oh, shit!  That's right!!  Mine is
Saturday and that means hers is Sunday.  Dammit!  I knew that!"

     "Well, then, Happy Birthday in advance.  Sweet nineteen, I take it?"
Bradley gestured toward a barstool, and he waived the bartender over.

     "Yup.  The last of the teens.  Getting old, I guess."

     Bradley rolled his eyes and dropped a limp hand.  "Oh, Scott!  Give me
a break!"  He snapped his fingers.  "Bruce!  Bruce!"  He sounded like the
task-master.  The bartender blazed a trail over to Scott and Bradley.

     "Yes, sir?"

     "Bruce, please give Mr. Turner here our best Bloody Mary."  He looked
intently at Scott once again, then back to Bruce.  "And, unless my guess is
off, a cup of strong, black coffee."

     Scott shook his head and grinned broadly.  "Mr. Manning, you're a
wonder, you know that?"  He looked over at Bruce.  "That, my man, would be
perfect.  Both olive and pickle in the `bloody' if you please."

     Bruce practically leered at Scott.  "Anything you say, sir."  He paused
and sized him up further.  "Anything at all.  Just say the word."

     Scott winked at him.  "Thank you, Bruce, and it's just plain Scott, if
you will."

     Bruce winked back.  "Anything you say, Scott."

     From behind Scott, Bradley looked at the bartender and said "you
behave!" with his eyes.  Bruce pretended to not notice, and just smirked.
So did Scott.

     Bradley barked some more directions.  "Whatever Mr. Turner wants,
Bruce, and his father, too, when he arrives.  Scott, I'll see to your table
at once."

     "Thank you Bradley.  You're the best.  You know that don't you?"

     His smile and his eyes said, `I know," but his voice gushed, "Oooohhh,
you're too kind, as always."

     Bruce looked over Scott's shoulder and his face lit up.  "Mr. Turner!
Welcome back!"

     Big Scott sat down.  "'morning Bruce.  How's it hanging today?"  Bruce
laughed and shook his head.  The dad looked at the son's drink line-up.
"I'll have whatever he's having."

     "Good choice, sir, as usual."

     Scott smirked.  "So, you two know each other?"

     His dad shrugged.  "Met Bruce last night.  He's a good shit."

     Bruce put the father's Bloody Mary down on a coaster, and grabbed a
coffee mug.

     "Cool...cool."  It appeared that the father had had a late night, and
Scott was about to ask about it, but Bradley interrupted.

     Bruce had just finished filling and refilling the coffees when Bradley
proudly announced, "Messers Turner?  Your table is ready."

     Bruce produced a tray and started gathering the drinks and the coffee
cups onto it. "I'll bring your beverages right over, right behind you."

     Scotty caught his eye.  "Lead the way...I'll be right behind you."

     Bruce's eyebrows jumped once.  "Of course!  Right this way."

     Scott took his seat, and Bruce's knee nudged his thigh as he put the
drinks down.  He looked at the younger Scott.  "And you'll let me know if
you need anything else from me, please?"

     Scott looked up.  "You know it, Bruce."

     Big Scott took a long sip from the straw in his Bloody, then stirred
the mixture before discarding the straw.  He stuck a few fingers in the
glass of ice water, retrieved a few cubes and dropped them in the steaming
coffee mug.  He picked up the spoon and stirred the java, cooling it off so
that he could drink it as quickly as possible.  He looked at his son,
admiringly.  "Ya' know what, ya' little shit?  I had a great time
yesterday."

     Scotty loved seeing the appreciation and the affection on his dad's
face.  It seemed obvious that he had needed some time away, for himself, for
his son.  "Yeah...it really was a great day, Dad!  I'm really glad I got to
spend it with you.  Thanks so much for everything."

     The old man waved off the gratitude.  "I bought a few rounds of drinks
and a good meal.  Big deal.  Maureen gave us the tickets, but we could've
gotten some anyway.  It's not who did what for whom, it was just the whole
circumstance."  He looked out into nowhere in particular.  "Madison, Camp
Randall, decent weather in Wisconsin in November, successful son, old
friend, good meal, good drinks...the stars just aligned into the perfect day."
  He paused and soaked in the sight of his admiring son.  "And, you know,
now don't get this wrong, but Mom not being here was kind of bittersweet.
Of course, my first choice would've been to have her along.  But, in a weird
way, her not being here, I think, let us both be more of
ourselves...together...a dad and son thing we haven't done since years ago when
we'd go fishing, or go down to a Brewers' game.  But you were a little kid
then.  It's been too long since we've had some `guy time' together," he
looked briefly regretful, "and that's been my fault."

     "Dad!  No!"

     Big Scott waved off the coming protest and he locked on his son's eyes.
  "But now you're a man, and one I'm so friggin' proud of."

     Scott was feeling a lump in his throat when his dad's smile and a hand
on his shoulder distracted him.  "Good morning, boys!  Look what I found
this morning?"  Maureen patted him.

     Scott looked over his shoulder, expecting a kiss on the cheek from
Maureen.  He bolted from his chiar.  "Kelly!  Jeez! I tried calling about
six or seven times this morning.  Your cell phone not working?  I didn't
want to call the room and wake up that wench of a roommate of yours, so I
kept trying the cell."

     Maureen patted his shoulder again.  "Sunday morning, Scott.  You have
to go get her.  I marched into the house, insisted that she get her ass
moving, and here she is."

     Scott hugged her, and it felt like she had to work at hugging him back.

     Kelly smiled at the father and extended a hand.  "Mr. Turner, nice to
meet you up close and personal."

     Big Scott offered his own hand.  "The pleasure's all mine, Kelly!
Leave it up to Maureen to make sure you could join us before I have to
leave.  Too bad my son's not sharp enough or persuasive enough to figure out
how to do that."

     Scott nudged him, and they took their seats.  The ladies both ordered
plain orange juice and coffee, and they chatted for several minutes.  Scott
kept looking at Kelly.  It seemed she was working hard to remain both
engaged and engaging.  More than that, it felt like Maureen was hovering
over and around her, if only verbally, and that she was making an effort to
direct the conversation before, during and after breakfast.

     Big Scott caught Bruce's attention, and held up his empty Bloody Mary
glass.  Bruce nodded enthusiastically, and winked.  In a flash, he was at
the table with fresh drinks and a pitcher of water on a tray, and a hot pot
of coffee in the other hand.  "Well, hey!  Maureen!  I didn't even see you
come in."  She smiled as he set down the cocktails and picked up the
empties.  "How we doin' this morning, my good woman?  Hey! I like the casual
look, too."  Maureen had dressed down to jeans, a sweatshirt and a baseball
cap that she didn't remove when they entered.

     "Ahem!"  Bradley's voice was stern.  "May I see you Bruce?!"

     Without a word, Bruce stepped away.  They could all hear the
barely-whispered scolding.  Bradley's eyebrows were all screwed up, and his
teeth were gritted, and one could nearly see the steam rising from his
forehead.  "That woman is never! and I mean NEVER! `Maureen' to you, young
man!  That is Senator...Maureen McCarthy.  To you, and to me...she is, and will
only, be Senator McCarthy, or just plain Senator!  Do you understand?!"

     Bruce gasped.  "But...but...I didn't..."

     Maureen was immediately behind Bradley with one hand on each shoulder.
"Bradley, relax!  I introduced myself to this outstanding bartender as only
Maureen.  He knows me as Maureen.  He served us cocktails, and did an
outstanding job, by the way, knowing me only as Maureen."  She turned the
host to face her.  "Bradley."  She shook her head.  "Don't expect every
twenty-something young maverick," she winked at Bruce, "to know precisely
who I am.  I like a little anonymity now and again.  I was Senator McCarthy
the first time you met me.  Last night, I was just Maureen."  She looked at
him sternly.  "So, my dear Bradley, do not bust his balls!  He's an asset to
this place.  Not the blue-chip that your are, yet, but he could be there
some day." She patted his shoulder as Bradley let the reality sink in, and
he relished the complement.  He visually dismissed Bruce to finish heating
their coffee cups with fresh brew.  Bruce whispered, `she's amazing!' to the
rest of the table, and they all smiled and nodded their agreement.

     The two Scotts shared several anecdotes from their previous day's
adventure.  Maureen piped in from time to time with some of the more
dreadful travel or conference experiences she'd just had, but found every
opportunity to toss out a `remember when?' either from her own college days
or from Scotty's childhood.  Young Scott managed to coax Kelly into sharing
bits and pieces of her business major, or the pending internship in the
governor's office, but it felt like he was prying teeth.  He did notice that
she kept tugging at the sleeve of her sweater, almost nervously at times.

     Bradley offered crepes as dessert after the corned beef hash, the
omelets, the French toast they'd enjoyed.  Each one deferred, with thanks,
as Bruce refilled the cups of coffee one last time.  Scott, Sr. handed
Bradley his room key, though, and asked that his bags be brought down from
the room and that he be checked out.

     "Of course, Mr. Turner.  It will all be ready to go when you're ready
to go."

     Big Scott put a hand on the boy's shoulder.  "Well, what's your game
plan for the day?"  Before Scotty could answer, the dad looked at Maureen.
"Your first order of business is to get me back to my car."

     Scotty employed more than a little drama.  "Shit!  I have a truck-load
of school work, then another truck-load of WSA stuff to read and organize.
Then, I fear I'll catch a coma when it's all over.  I think I'm coming down
with something."

     Maureen jumped in, putting a hand on Big Scott's forearm.  "Lets you
and I leave the youngsters to themselves.  I'll take you to your car.  If
you can hang around for a bit, you and me should shop State Street...you
know...just like the old days...one more reminiscence on your Homecoming
weekend."

     The old man smiled.  "Sounds like a plan."  He looked back and forth
between his son and Kelly.  "You kids want to join us?"

     "Dad, I gotta get back and get some work done."

     Kelly echoed the sentiment.  "And, thanks, Mr. Turner, but I have
hardly been paying attention to real school stuff for the past three days.
I'm buried!"

     Maureen demanded that the bill be put on her tab, and instructed
Bradley to personally see that Bruce got half of the thirty-percent tip.
Big Scott's weekend bag was waiting at the front desk, and he simply
scribbled something like his signature on a piece of paper, and the foursome
was headed for the door.

     Scott looked at Kelly.  "Good weekend?"

     Kelly's smile was less than genuine.  "Yeah!  It was great!"

     The valet delivered Maureen's car to the garage's exit.  Big Scott
hugged his son, fiercely.  "Do you have any idea..."

     Scott patted his dad's back.  "Yeah, I think I do.  I can see it and I
can hear it, and I love you all the more for it.  Thanks again for a great
weekend, you Old Fart."  He kissed his dad's cheek.

     "Got a plan yet for Thanksgiving?  Your mom's going to want to know."

     "Probably back home Wednesday night, back here some time on Sunday."

     The father nodded.  "Been there done that."

     All the while, Maureen and Kelly had been quietly huddled.  The
conversation, from where Scotty watched over his dad's shoulder, seemed
serious, solemn.  Maureen hugged her niece, then took the keys from the
valet.  "C'mon, Turner!  We gotta go!  Love ya' Scotty!"

     "Love ya' back, Maureen.  You kids have a good day!"

     Big Scott leaned out the open door over her car.  "Kelly!  It was great
finally meeting you!  Hope to see you again, soon!"

     Kelly smiled and waived.  "Same here, Mr. Turner!  I look forward to
meeting Mrs. Turner when the time is right!"  Big Scott nodded.

     Maureen and Big Scott drove off to spend a lazy Sunday in Madison.
Scott walked over to Kelly and started to reach out to take her hand, but
she quickly thrust it into the pocket of her jeans.

     "You're pretty quiet today."

     Kelly shrugged.  "I'm just tired.  Long weekend...too much shit on my
plate right now."

     "I'm pretty sure Craig and Stephanie are out for the day.  Want to come
back to the room?"  He put an arm around her waist.  "The Packers have a Bye
weekend, so all the guys will be busy with other shit.  We could just chill
over there and do...whatever...for the day `til you gotta go home."

      Kelly leaned in, but did not return the embrace as they walked.  "I'd
like to, Scott, but I really do need to get back to the room."  She sighed.
"I just want to veg out for the afternoon by myself."  She looked up at him
and gave a hopeful smile.  "Okay?"

     Scott looked down.  "Kelly, everything's not okay.  I can tell.  Do you
want to talk?"

     Kelly didn't answer.

     He squeezed her waist a little tighter.  "Kel?"

     "I'm good.  It's all good."

     Scott shrugged.  He was becoming a little annoyed.  "Okay.  If you're
sure."  They'd reached the top of State Street.  He turned her toward him.
"You know where to find me."

     She nodded.

     "And you would, wouldn't you?  I mean, if you needed to?"

     She hugged him around the waist, and put her head on his shoulder.  "Of
course, silly!"  She pulled back.  "Let's talk this week, and maybe do
something?"

     Scott's gaze bore into her eyes.  "You call me...when you're ready."  He
kissed her forehead.

     She kissed his cheek.  "Thanks.  Know that I will.  It was great
meeting your dad.  See ya'."

     "Bye."

     Kelly walked across State Street toward the fraternity/sorority row
that is Langdon Street in Madison.


     Marty was beside himself.  He was due at the courthouse in a little
over two hours, but he he'd hardly spoken alone with Scott in nearly two
weeks.  He thought about calling an attorney, and had even looked at a
couple of legal aid ads in the yellow pages, but ruled them out.  He figured
he couldn't afford the first, and didn't want to trust the second,
especially on such short notice.

     He swallowed hard, and finally dialed Scott and Craig's dorm room.  No
answer.  He tried Scott's cell phone.

     "Yeah," the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.  He
wondered, `did the guy have company last night?  It's Tuesday, for Christ's
sake!"

     "Yeah...I am...uhm...looking for Scott Turner.  Is he there?"

     "Marty, it's me."

     "What the fuck's wrong, Scott?!  You sound absolutely like death warmed
over!!"

     "I have the Mother Of All Fucking Colds.  It's November in Wisconsin,
remember?"

     "Sorry if I woke you."

     "Don't sweat it.  I'm at that point where you sleep for three hours,
awake for two, sleep for three, sit up for two...yada yada yada.  I was barely
dozing anyway."

     "Shit man!  That sucks.  I had no idea."

     "Uh-huh."

      "Need anything?"

     "No."  Scott sounded a bit too adamant for Marty's comfort, and it
grated.  "You lookin' for Craig?"

     "No, actually.  I called to talk to you.  I need to go to my pretrial
in a couple hours, and I'm feeling kinda lost."  There was silence on the
line.

     "Hang on, Marty.  I need to get something to drink."  Scott laid the
phone on his bed.  Marty could hear some rustling around the room, and the
familiar sound of the ice trays from their refrigerator cracking the cubes
out.  It was accompanied by some heavy coughing and hacking up of what
sounded like serious phlegm.  Scott spit a big glob into the sink and took a
heavy hit of Gatorade before picking up the phone.

     "Alright.  Whatd'ya need from me, Marty?"

     There was silence for a long period as Scott rubbed his eyes, then his
forehead.

     "Scott, I'm just scared.  I don't know what to do when I get there!
You think the TV or radio guys are gonna be in court today?  I'm afraid I'm
gonna blow it, fall flat on my face.  If anybody can fuck this up, it's me."
  He'd seen this Marty once before.  It wasn't the cocky, smug and
self-assured guy you just wanted to hug so the attitude might rub off on
you.  It was the scared, sometimes abused little boy he'd met one night in
his room.

     "C'mon down."  He coughed several times, trying unsuccessfully to cover
the phone.  "We'll talk through it."

     When Marty got to the door, he was going to hesitate and gently knock,
still not sure he could ask for Scott's help.  But the door was propped open
by a book of matches stuck in the jam, and there was a Post-It note above
the knob.  "In the shower, cmon in.  Back in a sec—S."

     Marty sat on Brett's bed and waited.  His hands folded tightly between
his knees, he just stared at the floor.  After what seemed like an eternity,
the door opened.  "Hey.  Sorry, but I forgot today was the big day."

     Marty smiled a genuine smile.  "No problem, man.  I really appreciate
this.  I know that..."

     Scott cut him off.  "You need to go back up to your room."

     "What?  I need to be there in like..."

     "An hour and a half."  Scott pulled on some boxers and gestured with
his hands.  "If I were a hundred percent, I'd read you the riot act for your
attire."  He reached into his closet.  "Instead, I'll just give you some
friendly fashion advice.  You're wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, yet you're
going to meet with an assistant district attorney to ask for a certain
measure of forgiveness.  This just aint gonna won't work, Marty."

     Marty looked down and assessed the fashion situation.  He suddenly felt
stupid.

     "Gotta dress shirt?"

     "Not really."

     Scott picked up the phone and dialed.  "Yeah, Frank?  It's Scott...yeah,
really, it's me.  I know how I sound...but it's me.  You gotta pressed dress
shirt in your closet?...No time for the details, but Marty's doing his song
and dance at the DA's office today, and we're getting him ready."

     Marty felt embarrassed and relieved at the same time.

      "Good...what color?  Okay.  He'll be there in about two minutes."  Then
he started to chuckle, which only made him start coughing again.
Recovering, he took a breath.  "Sorry...got a bitch of a cold... Just hang it on
the doorknob if you don't feel like welcoming any company at the moment.
Oh, he is?  Too bad for you."  He started to laugh a bit, prompting another
coughing jag.  "No...I'm gonna be okay. But thanks.  Marty thanks you too."
He hung up the phone.

     "Okay.  You head back down the hall.  If there's a shirt on Frank and
Jesse's doorknob, just pick it up.  If not, knock on the door.  Frank's your
size.  He's got a light blue dress shirt with a button-down collar.  You got
a pair of dress slacks, or casual dress...like khaki or gray or navy...even
black?"

     "I got a pair of beige Docker's."

     "Fine."  He reached back into the closet.  Put on the Docker's with
Frank's shirt and this."  He thrust a maroon tie toward him.  "Then, come
back here and we'll go to the courthouse."

     Marty stared at the tie with trepidation.

     "You don't know how to tie it, do you?"  Marty shook his head `no.' Now
he was really embarrassed.

     "Don't sweat it.  You're sure as hell not alone there."  Scott laid a
flat palm and covered his mouth with the other as he gently coughed yet
again.  "Give it."  Marty draped the neckwear over the outstretched hand.
"Just go change and get back here."

     "Got it, professor."  Marty thought he saw room to be conciliatory, but
didn't get the response he'd hoped for.  He sheepishly exited the room and
shut the door behind him.

     He could hear Scott's thick, hoarse voice shout through the door.
"Don't forget to bring your checkbook, or credit or debit card.  You gotta
be ready to pay a fine before you leave the building!"

     When Marty got back, Scott was ready to go.  The slacks from his
charcoal suit, a white shirt and a bright red tie looked great.  The black
Cole Haan's had a high polish, his hair looked perfect. But, his eyes were
puffy, his complexion was pale and his mouth turned down at the corners.

     The necktie had been properly knotted, and Scott held it up and out at
eye-level with both hands, opening the noose.  "Here."  Marty turned up his
collar and ducked slightly, extending his neck to ease his head through the
circle of silk.  "Okay, now hold still."  Scott buttoned the top button.
Marty stood firm while Scott slid the knot up under his chin.  "Too tight?"
Marty shook his head `no.'  "Okay."  He buttoned down each side of the
collar as Marty stood motionless.  "You're driving, you know.  I have a
shit-load of cold meds in me, and you don't want to be in a moving vehicle
with me behind the wheel."  He handed Marty his suit coat.  "Hold this and
help me on with it, will ya?"  Marty held it open as Scott slid his arms
into the sleeves.  His hands paused on Scott's shoulders while they shrugged
a couple of times to adjust the coat.  Scott started coughing heavily, and
he leaned forward out of Marty's light grasp.

     Marty was driving up West Washington Avenue, but he was still shaking
at the knees.  Scott continued,  "You're going in there by yourself.  You
need to remember the whole goddamn thing we talked about way back when.
Your position is, `I can handle the disorderly charge, and will plead
no-contest to that...' Do NOT offer to plead guilty to anything!  Then, your
message is that the `lewd" charge has to go away in order for you to agree
to any pretrial agreement.  If the guy has a sense of humor and a brain in
his head, you should be out of there in less than thirty minutes.  Don't
smile too much, unless it's to say `thank you,' and do NOT wink at anybody.
It's an endearing habit, but makes you look like a smartass."  Marty hadn't
stopped nodding since he drove out of the dorm's parking lot.

     He had also been chewing on his bottom lip the entire way, but was
listening intently.  "Uuhhmmm...but what if the guy's a dick?  What if he
suggests something that doesn't sound right, or that doesn't make sense to
me?"

     "That's why I'm coming along, and that's why I put on the monkey suit."
  Scott sniffed, then blew his nose.  "You feel like you're in a jam, and
you tell the guy...or the gal...that you need to take five to think about it.
Apologize for the delay, and thank them profusely for their understanding.
Come on out and I'll be sitting there.  We'll discuss it then.   Maureen
told me she knows the D.A.  If I have to, I'll go back in there with you and
suggest that we thought that Senator McCarthy had spoken with the boss, and
that you would be met with a decent degree of understanding."  Marty pulled
up at a stop sign, and Scott turned in his seat to look directly at him.  "I
do not...I repeat, I DO NOT...want to do that!  You understand?"  Marty nodded
as he started through the intersection.  "But, the fact remains that no
publicly-employed attorney is going to want to run the risk of disappointing
the woman whose probably going to be the next Attorney General of the State
of Wisconsin."  He coughed into a handful of Kleenex.  "And they'd be nuts
if they didn't try to ingratiate themselves to the same woman."

     Scott leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes, letting go of a
sigh that bordered on a moan.  "Scott...?"

     "Yeah."

     "I really appreciate this.  You don't know how much..."

     Scott held up a hand.  "Yeah, I probably do.  Don't sweat it.  I'm
happy to do it."  He spoke with no emotion, and didn't bother opening his
eyes.

     They parked in a ramp next to the Public Safety building, a block from
the capitol.  They both signed in and Marty gave the receptionist his name
and handed her the citation for her inspection.  She made a check mark on
her clipboard.  "Have a seat over there, Mr. Anderson, and you'll be called
when it's your turn."

     Assistant District Attorney Brian DePalma came out of a conference
room.  "Mr. Martin Anderson?"  He scanned the dozen faces in the waiting
room.

     Marty was on his feet in a flash.  "Yessir!  That's me."

     DePalma looked at him sternly and nodded.  He motioned through the
door.  "Come on in, Mr. Anderson."  Marty looked anxiously down toward
Scott, as if to plead for some additional wisdom.  Scott continued to stare
at the floor between his feet and motioned with his head to get going.  When
the door closed, Scott leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

     Twenty minutes later, he felt Marty's hand on his shoulder.  "Scott?"

     He sat up and opened his eyes.  "Yeah...yeah."  He coughed and cleared
his throat.

     Marty was nearly beaming.  DePalma was leaning in the doorway to the
conference room, arms folded, smiling.  "We're good to go.  I just gotta pay
a fine, and then I'm free and clear.  I got..."

     Scott cut him off with a hand.  "Tell me later...outside...let's just get
going."  Scott blew his nose as Marty stepped up to the counter, set down
some paperwork and reached for his wallet.

     "See ya' round, Marty!  Well, hopefully not!"  DePalma chuckled and
shook his head.  Marty turned and smiled.  "Good luck, okay?"

     "Thanks."  Marty winked.

     On the drive back, Marty started to hum.  Suddenly he smacked the
steering wheel, jolting Scott out of his haze.

     "What!?!"

     "Sorry, man.  I'm just so...psyched...so jazzed!"  Marty wiggled in his
seat.  "A few hundred dollars less than I thought in return for a shit-load
of public service hours cleaning shit over at the stadium.  HA!  I do that
already!  All I gotta do is put in some more time each game day I'm getting
time-and-a-half for workin' already, probably for the whole next season, and
I'm good with the State of Wisconsin."  He slapped the steering wheel.

     Then he got very serious.  "Scott?"

     No answer.

     "Hey, Scott...can we talk?"

     "Not now, Marty.  You got through this."  He coughed and wiped his
nose.

     "But I want to...I think I need to...Man!  I have to thank you."

     Scott held up his hand and practically whispered, "Marty.  Not now.
Not today.  I need to get back to the room.  I need to get out of this suit,
eat some soup, drink some more Gatorade, maybe have a shot or two of liquor,
a few Anacin and a shot of Nyquil, and then sleep for the rest of the day."

     Marty's mood turned south immediately.  "But...buddy..."

     Scott barely contained a snarl.  "Really, Marty.  C'mon, cut me some
slack.  Time and place, man."

     "Can I at least thank you for today?"

     Scott opened his bloodshot eyes and looked to his left.  A wry,
friendly smile escaped.  "No need, Marty.  I owed you, and I didn't need to
lift a finger or open my mouth today.  You did, as I knew you would, handle
this on your own."  Marty's face registered disappointment, as Scott knew it
would.  "But no, I didn't just go `cuz I thought I owed it to you.  I did,
and I do owe you, but I went along today `cuz I wanted to help."  He put his
head back on the headrest as they pulled into the dorm's lot.  "And no, I
don't want to go any further about you and me today.  For now, anyway, I'm
done thinking and I'm done talking."



     Marty was in a sing-song mood.  He strolled through the halls of the
library, nodding happily at passers-by, whistling "Don't Worry, Be Happy."
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the shock of auburn hair resting
above and upon the hood of a gray sweatshirt.  He stopped and smiled, then
made a sharp right turn and tip-toed into the reading room.  He made a broad
sweep behind and to the side of his target, wanting to make sure he wasn't
about to make an ass out of himself with a total stranger, not that that had
ever stopped him before.  Her head was down, chin buried in her ample
breasts, but Marty was able to make visual confirmation.  Stealthily, he
moved directly behind the studious young woman, snuck up and put both flat
hands over her eyes.  "Whatd'ya say you dump that loser Turner, and you and
me go make lots and lots of babies?"

     Kelly mustered a giggle and held his wrists in place.  "I'll give you
just one hour to knock that off,  you perv!"

     Marty kissed the top of Kelly's head, then removed his hands.  His
fingertips were wet.  Quickly, he moved around the chair, nudged Kelly's
feet and sat on the ottoman in front of her.  Her eyes were puffy and red.
His face went to stone.  "Kelly...what the hell?  What's goin' on?"

     She shrugged.  "Oh, nothin'  Nothin' that you need to worry about,
anyway."

     "Kelly, my dear..."  He tried to keep a nonchalant voice as he picked up
both feet and laid her calves on his thighs.  He looked into her swollen
eyes.  "You're worried, I'm worried.  You're bothered, I'm bothered."  He
gently rubbed her shins.  "I'm jealous enough that Scotty got a hold on you
before I did, but you know I love him too, so I don't hold it against him."
Kelly giggled.  "I figure...if you don't want the best..." he shrugged as he
jabbed a thumb into his chest, then squeezed her right foot... "you might as
well settle for second."  Kelly needed a laugh right now, and indulged to
the fullest.  Having broken through her icy "don't ask" façade, Marty's face
went to stone again.  "Now" his chin went to his chest and he peered up at
her from just below his own eyebrows "...spill it!"

     Kelly looked around nervously.  It was just enough to prompt Marty to
reach over, take the book out of her hand, grab her backpack and stand up.
He reached out a hand.  "Let's take a walk.  You need some fresh air."

     Kelly took her backpack from Marty.  As she slung it over her shoulder,
the right sleeve of the sweatshirt rode up a few inches of her forearm.
Marty saw the bruises around her wrist.  "Jeez!  Kel, what the hell did'ya
do?"

     She didn't answer, but nodded toward the library's exit.  "Thought we
were gonna go for a walk."

     Kelly spied a woman she knew behind the front desk.  "Hey Marge, can we
leave these here for a few?  Gonna catch some fresh air."  She smiled
politely as she plopped her backpack on the counter.  Marty did the same but
his anxious gaze never left Kelly.

     "No problem, hon."  Marge shoved the packs into some cubby holes
against the back wall.  "Gonna be gone long?  Cuz I'm only here another half
hour."

     "Nope.  Too chilly out for a long walk.  Be back in a few."

     They zipped up tight, and both raised the hoods of their sweatshirts
over their heads.  They walked, rather slowly and, at first silently.  Kelly
didn't want to lie to Marty, and part of her really wanted to tell him what
had happened with Kip.

     Marty put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.  "Okay,
Kelly, what gives?!  Talk about it.  It might make you feel better."  A gust
of wind from the lake knocked his hood off of his head.  He looked around.
The Humanities Building offered some protection from the wind.
"C'mon...there's a place to sit up there, out of this breeze."

     Walking up the steps, she looked around.  "Marty, you have to promise
me something first."

     "Promise?  Promise is a big word, Kelly.  What is it I have to promise
in order to maybe help you lighten your load?"

     "Promise me you won't tell Scott what I'm going to tell you.  You'll
understand why that's important in a little while."

     Marty mulled it over.  He wasn't sure when, or if, he'd ever have a
chance to tell Scott anything again, so this seemed easy.  "You got it.
Scott will never hear anything you tell me tonight from me."

     They sat on a ledge around the corner from the steps, out of the wind
and out of sight or earshot of anybody else.  As soon as she sat down, she
started to sob again.  Marty put his arm back on her shoulder and pulled her
into a hug.  "Ssssshhhhhh...there, there.  Go ahead and cry if you have to.
That's okay, Kelly.  It's all gonna be okay."  He patted the back of her
head.  "Whenever you're ready."

     "God, Marty...he is such a fucker!!  Scott was right!  You were right!  A
total fucking asshole!"

     "Only one guy we both know who meets that mark.  What'd Mr.
Monmouth-the-second do?"  Then he paused.  "Oh, shit!"  He took Kelly's hand
and pushed the sleeve up her forearm.  "He did this to you?"

     She just nodded, then put her face back in his chest and cried some
more.  Marty surveyed the damage.  The bruises weren't awful, and didn't
extend too far, but they were bruises nonetheless.  "You got any more of
these, like, anyplace else?"

     She just shook her head, `no.'  "Never gave him the chance."  She let
out a bit of a laugh, recalling her exit from the frat house.  Marty smiled,
thinking that a good sign.  "So...tell me all what happened."

     Kelly related the events of Homecoming evening, from the time they
arrived at the frat house to the time she stormed out.  Marty expression
grew darker and darker as his pressure rose.

     She sniffed.  "So I went over to Aunt Mo's.  I didn't want to go back
to the house.  I was a fuckin' wreck.  I knew Scott was out with his dad,
and couldn't call him anyway, so I went over to Mo's.  It was after one
a.m., but I have a key, so I let myself in.  After about an hour, I fell
asleep on the couch.  God knows what time she got back there.  But, at about
eight in the morning, she's waking me up and demanding that I go to brunch
with Scott and his dad."

     "And you didn't call the police?!" he finally blurted out.  She just
shook her head.  "Shit, Kelly, he needs to be punished."

     That opened the floodgates again, and Kelly stared up at the ceiling,
tears streaming down her face.  "That's the thing...I am the one being
punished."

     He looked confused.  "Huh?  How's that?"

     "Well, to make me pay, Kip and some of his brothers started all these
shitty rumors about what supposedly went on that night.  If you believe some
of the versions I heard, it was a freaking gang bang in his room with me the
star player, and supposedly with three...four...five other guys."

     Marty's jaw slacked and his eyes bugged out.  "NO!"

     "Oh yes!  And then, they're saying all of them ended up with crabs, and
that some are being tested for syphilis!  The speculation with a lot, of
course, is that any STD's I have I must've gotten from Scott."

     Marty just shook his head as his mind raced around for a remedy.  His
heart ached for Kelly, and, regardless of the current state of their
friendship, it hurt him to know that Scott might be smeared as well.

     Kelly sniffed and nodded adamantly.  "Oh, yeah!   It's all over Langdon
Street, though the versions apparently vary.  Those assholes are very
effective when they set their filthy little minds to a task."

     She sniffled again.  Marty pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down
over half of his hand, and wiped her eyes and nose.  He pinched the loose
fabric between his thumb and forefinger.  Cupping the makeshift hanky over
her nose he smiled.  "Blow!"

     Her brows furrowed.  "Marty! That's gross."

     "Had grosser stuff than a little snot on most of my clothes.  Now
blow!"

     Kelly complied, and giggled a little as he wiped her nose and upper lip
again with a dry corner of fabric.  He looked at the sleeve, still holding
it in his hand.  "God, Kelly, even your boogers are beautiful."  Then he
kissed her forehead, and she smacked his shoulder.

     "You're sick, you know that?"

     He just leered and nodded, wiggling his eyebrows.  "I may never wash
this sweatshirt again," and rolled up the sleeve to conceal the wet area.

     He took both of her hands in his.  "Better?"  No answer.  He lowered
his head and looked up into her eyes hopefully.  "Mabye just a little
better?"

     Finally a small smile emerged.  She sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
"Yeah...I suppose."  Then she looked him straight in the eye.  "Yes,
Marty...Yes.  Thank you very much," and she wrapped both arms around his neck
and kissed his cheek.  "Let's get back."

     They started down the stairs.  Kelly suddenly sounded determined.  "I
know what went on in there, and I'm just going to bank on the notion that
anybody who really knows me will realize it's all a vicious rumor campaign
by a guy I wouldn't do."

     "Atta, girl, Kel.  Now you're talking."

     She looked up pleadingly.  "You're really not going to tell Scott, are
you?"

     "Kel...what'd I tell you?"

     "That you promised you wouldn't."

     "Then, do you have to ask?"

     She looked at the ground, embarrassed, but properly chastened.  "No.
I'm sorry, Marty."

     He put his arm over her shoulder one last time.  "No prob., Kelly.
It's all good."

     She still felt compelled to explain her concern.  "It's just that he's
worked out kind of a truce with Kip on the WSA.  He's positioned to have a
very good year, politically.  This could really throw a wrench into it all.
If he finds out what Kip did that night, and after, I don't know what he'd
do."

     Marty held the door to the library and she walked through.  "Scott's
too smart, Kelly.  And, I don't think it'll come to that, anyway."  Marge
saw them coming, and retrieved the backpacks, lugging them up onto the
counter with some effort.

     "Huh?"  Kelly lifted hers and slid one loop up over her shoulder.

     Marty did the same, shrugging as he adjusted it.  "Just a hunch."

     "Maaaarrrrty?  Are you plannin' something?"

     He put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in and smooched one last kiss on
her forehead.  "Don't you worry this pretty little head of yours."  He
smiled and stabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward another exit.  "I gotta
head out, Kel.  You have a good rest of the night."  He turned and headed
down the hallway at a quick pace.

     She called out after him.  "Marty...what're you gonna do?"

     He waved over his shoulder.  "G'Night, Kelly.  Sleep tight!"



     Marty was on a mission.  In his head, he kept saying he was on a
FUCKING mission.  "I oughta castrate this motherfucker once and for all" he
thought, and actually mumbled it out loud, on his way out of the library.
Two heads turned in his direction.

     He jogged back to the dorm, and ran the five flights up to the room.
Brett was busy at his computer, and nearly jumped out of his chair when the
door burst open.  He clutched his chest and took a deep breath.  "Jesus
fucking Chirst, man!  You scared the shit out of me!"

     "Only people who are guilty of something, who know they have reason to
be looking over their shoulder, jump when doors open."  Marty scanned his
bookshelf.  "You can unburden your guilty conscience when I get back.
Forgot a book, and need to get back to the library."

     Brett had recovered from the initial scare.  "Who actually needs a book
anymore, dude?  Anything you might need for a class is available on-line,
isn't it?"

     Marty grabbed a used philosophy text off his shelf.  "Not this one,
it's highlighted, and I know exactly where the material is that I'm looking
for."

     "I didn't know you were in a philosophy class this semester.  You're
not, are you?"  Brett's antennae were up and his radar was beeping.  His
life-long friend had "that look."  He knew better to ask too many questions.

     Marty was talking fast, but not really engaging in a conversation.  He
didn't  ever really look at Brett, but just kept digging around "It's not
for me...helping a friend."  Marty went to his computer, opened his email,
clicked a few times and printed something.  From a distance, it looked like
some sort of list.

     "Philosophical question, bro'...Is not telling somebody the entire truth
about a matter that matters to both of you the same as telling a lie?

     "Uh...well, yeah, I think it is."  A sin of omission, is what it's
called, I think.

     Marty looked directly at his roommate.  "Even if you weren't directly
asked the question that would lead to the whole truth?"

     "Does the whole truth matter to the other one?"

     Marty nodded.  "Pretty much...I think.  If only `cuz the other one has
reason to believe they know the whole truth of the matter, when they don't."

     Brett scratched his chin.  "Well, even if it isn't an outright lie,
it's...er...deceitful at least."  He furrowed his brow.  "You lie to me about
something Marty?"

     "Shit no!  Well, maybe I have somewhere along the way, I'd have to
think about it, but not in this instance."  For the first time since he
entered the room, he cracked a grin, looking at Brett out of the corner of
his eyes without turning his head away from the computer.

     Marty continued.  "Okay, and is deceiving one friend in the course of
helping out another mutual friend okay?"

     Brett thought about it for a minute, and shrugged.  "I guess it depends
on the magnitude and impact of the deceit, when compared to the magnitude of
the benefit to friend number two."

     Marty clicked a few times on the mouse, hit "save," popped the disk
out, and he looked at his roommate.  "I don't care what anybody says, Brett,
my man.  You're deep!"  He patted his cheek, and dashed out the door.
"Later, bud!"

     Fifteen minutes later, Marty strode into the library's computer lab.
He didn't even glance at Kip on his way to his seat.  He took a chair in the
back row of monitors, and Kip tried hard to ignore him as he performed
mundane clerical duties and assisted a few of the less computer-savvy dolts
who were stumbling through various research and writing assignments.  He
slid the disk out of the philosophy text.  A pang of guilt tweaked his
conscience for a moment as he held it, then he pushed it into the drive.
After an hour, Kip checked the clock and sighed with some relief.  "Ten
minutes, folks...save or print what you're working on, then please log off
before calling it a night."

     Marty waited for five minutes and, when there was only one other
student in the room, he got up and strolled toward the door.  He paused at
the desk, leaned over and looked intently at Kip, without so much as a
little smirk.  "You've got mail," he said softly, motioning toward the
computer terminal with his eyes.  "I'm going to use the can, and will be
back here right at closing time.  You're going to extend the hours for a
little while tonight."

     Kip looked back dismissively.  "What the fu...?"

     Marty ignored the question.  "I'll be back in five" he insisted as he
walked out the door.  Kip logged on to his student email account and clicked
the mouse a couple of times.  He went pale and lost his focus for a minute
or so.  Then he quickly darted his head around to see who, if anyone, could
have seen the screen before closing it.

     The door was closed, but unlocked, when Marty got back.  Kip was alone,
sitting at the desk and staring at the floor.  All but one row of lights had
been turned off.  "Come with me," Marty demanded, nodding toward the back
row and the computer he'd been working on for the past hour.  Kip followed.
Marty was clearly in charge.  As he sat down, he pulled the chair next to
his out and motioned for Kip to have a seat.  He complied.  The computer
next to him was up and running along with his own.  Marty motioned to his
screen.  "Read the distribution list, and then make sure of the content of
this message."  Every Frat House's, every Sorority House's general contact
address was on the list.  The president of every house was also on the list,
individually.  Each member of the Greek Council's e-mail was also there.
The "to the editor" link to both campus newspapers was there.  The last two
were his dad's company's general `contact us' e-mail and the old man's
personal business e-mail contact.  The attachment was unopened, but it was
connected to the blank e-mail, and it contained the dozen digital pictures
of him and Brandon going at it in the basement of Marty's dorm.  Kip
recognized the title of the attached file: "C.U.M...a-k-a `Kip'"

     "My Father?!  My fucking father?!  What the fuck...?  What are you going
for here?"  Kip wanted to pull Marty's sweatshirt over his head, throw him
on the floor and kick the shit out of him, but he knew he was already
beaten.  What did this little fucker want?

     Marty was torn between rage and amusement, and his mood swung all too
easily between the two.  He tried to cling onto amusement.  "Well, Kip, if I
may call you that," he couldn't suppress the giggle,  "were the
circumstances different, I'd try to kick the shit out of you.  I don't know
that I could do that, but I'm guessing it'd be a pretty even match.
Instead, I'll be happy to ruin you at the UW and elsewhere, unless you do as
you're told."  He put his hand on the mouse and moved the arrow to hover
right above "Send."  The little arrow had turned into a little hand.

     "NO!  Anderson!  What the fuck do you want?!"

     Marty slid the mouse off its pad and leaned back in his chair, but
never took his hand off it.  The computer screen's little hand sat poised,
ready to command the machine to do what he told it to do, at the blink of an
eye.  Less, even.

     This was the first time Kip had ever seen Marty come close to being
serious.  Marty's eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered to a near whisper.
"This is not going to be a conversation.  That's two-way.  This is not.
This is a speech.  Actually, it's going to be a command.  You're going to do
it, or I'm going to put a very little bit of weight on my index finger and
everybody whose anybody to you, including your old man and the folks who
work in his office, are going to be treated tonight, or tomorrow morning, to
images of your face trying to shove itself into my buddy Brandon's ass."  He
grinned a little.  "I've reordered the images so that that's the first one
they'll see."

     "I asked, what do you want?"

     Marty held onto the mouse, but slapped his left hand onto his knee.  He
shook his head, then pointed his free index finger right at Kip's mouth.
"And I told you to shut the fuck up!  I'm gonna talk and you're gonna
listen.  The next time you speak without an invitation to do so, I click
`send' over here.  Don't fuck with me, Kip.  I'd like nothing more than to
ruin you at this university.  Instead, I'm following a higher calling."  He
motioned with his head toward the screen in front of Kip.  "Open your
e-mail." Kip stared straight ahead and typed in a username and password.
"Now open a new message.  I'm going to send you this distribution list, but
I'll leave your old man off of it.  Everybody else remains.  I want you to
cut and paste it into the "To:" line of a blank e-mail."  Marty watched
closely as Kip manipulated the mouse correctly and did as he was told.
"Okay, that's better.  Now, I'm going to dictate and you're going to type."

     "Dear Friends and Colleagues, Brothers and Sisters,

     "As many of you are aware, some vicious and hurtful rumors regarding
the personal, private life, and the health, of Ms. Kelly Abbott have been
circulating through some quarters of campus, most notably among our
fraternities and sororities.  I need you to all understand that these
stories are complete and total fabrications.  They are lies.

     "I know this for a fact because I initiated this smear campaign.  With
the help of some of my own brothers, I set out to intentionally ruin Ms.
Abbott's reputation."  Kip typed as he was told, and Marty noticed the
muscles in his jaw and his neck flexing and relaxing because of the stress
and tension wracking his mind.

     Marty continued, "I began my effort to harm Ms. Abbott out of anger..."
he paused for a moment as Kip finished the line, and he reflected, then
smirked as he went on, "...and frustration over the inadequate size of my own
penis."  Kip's head spun, his eyes wider than they'd ever been, and his
mouth fell open.  Marty cackled.  "Okay, delete that last part.  Leave
`anger and frustration,' and end the sentence there."  Marty leaned over his
shoulder and reviewed the text thus far.

     "Good," he judged.  Now, to continue.  "As you all know, I was
fortunate to have escorted Ms. Abbott to our Homecoming activities, and it
was my honor to have that privilege.  But, be assured that her conduct
throughout that weekend was completely beyond reproach.  You all know Ms.
Abbott for her warm personality, her sharp intellect and her selfless giving
and serving the university and surrounding community.  She deserves our
respect and admiration.

     "While I do not deserve it, I will always hope that Ms. Abbott may some
day forgive me for my reckless conduct this past week.  Either way, this
message represents my one small effort to set the record straight and to
undo any harm I may have done to her.  I will also extend that apology to
anyone whose judgments or opinions have been affected, or who has been
impacted in any way by my mean-spirited behavior."

     Kip's face was contorted with rage, and his complexion had turned
several shades redder.  Marty saw a tear roll out of the corner of his eye
and stroll down the side of his face.  He dug into his backpack and found a
napkin.

     "Now sign it."  Kip typed his name.  Marty reached over with the napkin
to wipe the tear off of Kip's cheek.  Kip clenched his eyes shut tight,
squeezing a couple more tears from between the lids. He flinched and jerked
his head away, but not before Marty had dried the tears. "Now, add your
address and phone number under your name.  Some may want to contact you to
confirm.  I know you'll do the right thing if and when that happens."  Kip
typed in two more lines below the signature.  "Okay, buddy, that'll do it.
Hit `Send'."  Kip moved the mouse, but he froze.  He re-read the message on
the screen and closed his eyes once again.  Marty had returned to his seat.
Kip opened his eyes and turned to him with a pleading expression.
"Something to say?" Marty asked.  "You can talk now."

     "I can't.  Anderson, don't make me do this!!  Please, I'm begging you!!
  I'll do anything...anything else you want...don't make me do
this...plleeeeeeeaaase!"  Marty considered the possibilities.  Truth be told,
he'd thought of them before.  More like malicious fantasies, really.  Kip
was, after all, a pretty stunning looking guy.  The image of his head
bobbing up and down on Marty's stiff pole, then bent over one of the chairs
in the computer lab as Marty pounded his ass from behind as he begged to get
fucked harder made Marty's cock stir.

     "But, Anderson!  This letter accuses some of my brothers of trying to
hurt Kelly, too.  Everybody's going to know who else this refers to.  A lot
of the guys in the house are gonna want to kick my ass!"

     Marty shrugged.  "Guess it sucks bein' you, doesn't it?  Deal with it."

     He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs a bit wider.  "Ya' know
what, Kip?  I'm tempted to make you my bitch.  Part of me wants to stand up
and force-feed you my cock.  Then, I'd lay you on the floor and sit on your
face and have you eat my ass as I tortured your nipples.  And then, I'd bust
open your hole, fuck you silly and cum all over your face."  Kip was
listening intently, and it seemed to Marty that he'd actually do whatever he
ordered at the moment.

     But then, Marty grew stern again.  "You know, if you weren't such an
ass-wipe, I'd fuck you in a heartbeat.  But I don't do scum.  Change your
ways, become a human being, do the right thing without being blackmailed or
forced to do it, and you could have some of this."  He gripped his cock
through his sweatpants.  "Now, Kip, one of us is going to click on the
`Send' tab on one of these computers."  He let go of his member and cupped
the mouse connected to his terminal.  "Either you send that one in the next
five seconds, or I'm sending this one.  One truth is going out into the
world tonight; either the reality that you've been trying to ruin Kelly by
spreading dirty, ugly lies, or that you're a sleazy, easy cock-sucker.  Five
seconds, Kip... four...three...two..."

     Kip's chin fell to his chest and his eyelids slowly came together.  His
index finger moved and his message was sent.

     Marty hit the X to close the message, then "NO" when Microsoft asked if
he wished to save the content.  He closed the pictures, saving them back to
the disk.  He got out of his chair and stood behind Kip.  "See?"  He put a
hand on each of Kip's shoulders.  "It doesn't kill ya' to do the right
thing."  Kip's head was still bent downward, and he shrugged Marty's hands
away.

     Marty let go and stepped over to grab his backpack.  "Couple of things
you need to know.  First, and you already know this, but I obviously worked
with Brandon to set you up for that session in the basement.  I gotta admit,
it was very hot, man, and you obviously had a great time.  The dude sucks
cock like a champ, don't you think?  So, you should thank me for that.  But
more than that, I took the pictures hoping we could use them against you in
the campaign.  I'm kind of a shit that way.  I'm sure you can understand.
We sort of have the same moral compass in that department.  I know you'd
have done the same thing, if given the chance."

     "Anyway, when I gave them to Scott Turner, he put the kibosh on my
entire plan to somehow use them against you.  I wanted to roast you with
these weeks and weeks ago, and Scott wouldn't allow it.  In fact, he thinks
that he destroyed `em when he reformatted the original disk.  He doesn't
know that I'd already copied them to another disk before showing them to
him.  I guess I knew he'd get rid of them, and I figured I should keep a
set, just in case."  Marty looked down and kicked at a scrap of paper on the
floor.  "I deceived one of my best friends in the world, and he'd be pissed
as hell if he knew I was here for all this shit.  Pissed for a lot of
reasons, but really pissed at me for still having these shots of you and
Bradon.  These woulda been circulated back then, but Scott wouldn't allow
it, and I followed his lead on the matter.  He's a man of incredible
principle."

     Kip was stunned, angry and envious all at the same time.  How could a
guy be so decent?  He hated the feeling that was settling in, that he
somehow owed something to Scott Turner, Jr.  Then, Marty twisted the knife.
"So, you gotta know that the only reason this shit hasn't hit the fan long
before tonight is because Scott Turner wouldn't allow it.  Plain and simple.
  He saved you from me.  Like it or not, Kip, you own him, big time."

     Kip scowled.  He wanted to vomit.  "Got it.  What was the other thing?"

     "Huh?"  Marty was already near the door.

     "You said there were a couple of things I needed to know. I got the
first.  What's the other?"

     "Oh, yeah.  Actually, there are two more items.  One, you're going to
personally apologize to Kelly.  I don't care when, where or how, but you're
going to make a sincere demonstration of atonement for your sins against
her.  She's a quality woman, a quality person all the way around.  You're
going to tell her that, and let her know how deeply sorry you are for
lashing out against her, last Saturday night in your room, and especially
for the shit you and your guys tried to pull off this past week.  She needs
to hear `I'm sorry,' and she damn well better believe it."

     Kip's elbows were planted on his knees, his hands folded in between.
He looked at the floor, and nodded his head.  He meant it.  He looked up at
Marty.  "The other?"

     Marty chuckled and leaned against the inside of the doorway.  He shoved
both hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.  "Oh, yeah."  He shrugged and
hesitated.  "For what it's worth, I meant what I said a few minutes ago.  If
I thought you were close to being a decent human being, I'd do you in a New
York minute.  Let's face it, Kip, you're a hot fucking stud.  In some ways,
you're the total fucking package.  You've got the bod by Da Vinci, model
good looks, a winning charm when you use it, and I think you've got brains.
But, dude! Your character and your usual personality make you repulsive.
Remember last spring?  When we were working together on that marketing
project?  I thought you were fucking hot.  And, I caught you stealing
glances at my package quite a few times, never mind the times your leg would
casually brush, or even sometimes rest, against mine when we were working.
I stroked off more than once to the image of you and me doing it all.  But,
once you showed me what a prick you are...that you insist on being, when you
tried to pin the plagiarism on me with a straight and indignant face, all
that went away.  I've hated your fuckin' guts ever since.  I'm probably not
alone in that department, if it matters.  Just quit being such an arrogant
fucking asshole, and guys like me won't persecute you, and some might even
hit on you."

     Their eyes locked in silence for most of a minute.  "Have a nice life,
Bud."  Marty winked at him, and then he was gone.  Kip flopped back in his
chair and stared at the ceiling.  Tears seeped from the corner of each eye.

Author's Note: My apologies for the time it's taking me to spin this tale,
and my thanks for your patience and continued interest in the story.  Please
continue to contact me with your comments, up or down, on Scott's little
adventures.  The e-mails really do mean a great deal to me and Nifty's other
authors.  scotty.13411@hotmail.com