Date: Mon, 06 Mar 2006 18:10:00 -1000 From: S turner Subject: Strange Bedfellows, Chapter 5 It was the striking auburn hair he saw first. Walking down the sidewalk along the front of the Memorial Union, Scott could see just the beautiful head of hair bobbing up and down among the shoulders of the three guys she was strolling with. They were coming across the library mall, all of them headed toward the Union. She hadn't seen him, or at least he didn't think she had, so he picked up the pace. Kelly went one way while the guys went another, and Scott was waiting at one of the four front doors on The Union when she got there. The door opened when she hit the second step. "Ms. Abbott. Come right in," he spread one arm while holding a door with the other. "Thank you very much, Mr. Turner!" She walked past him as he held the door. She smelled fantastic. "So, havin' a good day?" he asked Kelly thought about it. "Not bad... not great... as always, hoping it'll turn into a real doozy." "I'll see what I can do," Scott offered with a smile. After making their way through the cafeteria-style serving line, Kelly, good to her word, paid the tab. "You didn't have to do that, you know." "I told you I was buying lunch, and I meant it.. I don't say stuff I don't mean." "I'll remember that." She gave him a `you'd damn-well better' nod. "Want to sit outside?" "It's a bit breezy, but let's give it a shot. We can always relocate if it's too bad." It was a little windy, and the patio was only about forty yards from the shore of Lake Mendota, so the breeze was quite cool. But there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and Scott's black sweatshirt absorbed the sun's heat, keeping him warm. They had one of those get-to-know-you-better conversations. Childhood, high school, family, likes, dislikes, all the standard stuff. Scott quickly saw, actually he'd seen it in class and during their conversation at the fundraiser, that when Kelly hit a topic that meant a lot, her expression said so. Her eyes narrowed just a bit and they seemed to turn a more brilliant green, if that was possible. Kelly was very involved in her sorority, and ran a couple of miles every morning. Scott's runs were usually scheduled for the afternoon hours. She had perfect, pearly-white teeth and an infectious laugh, and he was happy that when he tried to make her laugh she did so. So, you're gonna intern in the governor's office next year?" "Actually it's gonna be over the summer. My course load next year is gonna look pretty ambitious, so I wouldn't be able to do it after school starts." "Sounds like a good gig." "Yeah, I guess," she said casually, with a slight shrug. "Aunt Mo' says the governor's kind of a putz, but he and I are on the same page politically, so it shouldn't be too hard working to support him. Besides, internships are a lot of grunt work, so it's not like I'll be faced with anything that would cause me to compromise anything I believe in." Suddenly, a smile lit up her face and she threw a fast wave across the patio. Scott glanced over his shoulder and saw one of three guys at a table behind him waving back. Hje was a great looking guy with Greek letters on the front of his sweatshirt. Kelly continued, "So...Aunt Mo' tells me she's urged you to run for a WSA seat." Scott rolled his eyes a bit and shrugged. "Yeah, she thinks it would be good for a poli-sci major to dig into some campus politics. Plus, she's just so devoted to this place, she wants me to dive into campus life with both hands." "Are you gonna do it?" "I'm thinking about it, but wouldn't know where to start. It's not like I have I have an organization or group of students to draw any support from." "Oh...hang on a sec. Maybe we can change that." She leaned to her left to look around and behind him. "Kip! Hey, Kip! You got a minute?" She waved the guy over. "C'mere...there's somebody I want you to meet." Kip Monmouth stood up and walked, or more like swaggered, across the patio. It occurred to Scott, as he watched him approach, that this was a guy who spent a lot of time working waaaayyy too hard to look like an A and F model. Truth be told, though, it was working. `He could do it.' Scott was certain. Kip was about six foot three, and probably weighed about one eighty, very trim, and he moved gracefully. His sandy brown hair, with some subtle blond highlights, was cut short on the sides and spiked a little on top. He had a very masculine, square jaw. The neck that rose from the collar of his sweatshirt wasn't thick, but it was very muscular. The gray sweatshirt hugged his broad chest, and flattered his physique quite nicely. "Hey, Kel, how's it going?" Kip leaned over and kissed her cheek. She did one of those air kisses, the kind of smooch they do on talk shows when a guest is introduced. "Kip, I want you to meet a friend of mine...Scott Turner. Scott, this is Kip Monmouth" Scott half stood and extended his hand. "Good to meet you Kip." Kip had large hands, and his grip was very firm. "Oh, keep your seat! Good to know you, Scott." He had a great `pleased to meet you' smile, and then he turned, "So, what's up, Kel?" "Hey...Scott's mulling over a run for WSA. I know that you and the guys are working to run a full slate of candidates next month." "Yeah, we are. I'm talking to a couple of our recruits right now. If one of them agrees to get on the ballot, we still have to round up one more to join the effort. I'm thinking we can pull this off." He shoved his hands into his hip pockets and gave a little shrug. "So, Scott, you're thinking of making your own mark on student government?" Scott half shrugged, half nodded and started to answer. Kelly jumped in ahead of him. "Oh, Kip, he'd be great! He's smart, he's articulate, he's funny, and his ties to the `U' go back a couple of generations. If you're still looking for candidates, maybe you two should talk." Scott was a little surprised by her enthusiasm. Scott jumped back in. "So, Kip, who's this `we' your representing? You got, like, a party or something you've organized?" "Well, I guess you could call it that, and we'll probably find a name to identify our folks. What it is right now is an agreement by the members of the Greek Council to elect a majority to the WSA." The "IFC," Intrafraternity Council, commonly known as the Greek Council, was the coordinated effort by fraternity and sorority leadership to deal with interests involving them both. "Really? So what are you and `your folks' aiming for?" Kip pulled out a chair and sat down. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. He was getting into a serious teaching mode, and was going to enlighten Scott. "It's not so much-not right now anyway-about any specific agenda. It's about dumping the loosers, drunkards, dopers and fags that have held sway over the WSA for far too long. Scott tried not to wince, but wasn't sure he had succeeded. "What d'ya mean?" "It's just that the WSA has been in the hands of such lefties for so long. Everybody manning those offices is, like, either a total doofus or some theatrical politically correct idiot who wants to squander student funds on the homos, the homeless or the hapless. It's an embarrassment to a Division I, Big Ten institution that deserves a lot better. Don't you think?" Scott thought for a moment. "You know, Kip, I honestly haven't paid close enough attention. I guess I can't say for sure." "Well, we're happy to entertain some new talent among the ranks, and I'd like to tell you more." Out of habit, Kip was sliding into sales mode. So, what house are you pledging?" Scott muffled a chuckle. "None." He grabbed the last whole potato chip in his basket and popped it into his mouth. Kip's face showed a mixture of surprise and confusion. In his eyes, Scott certainly looked the part...very attractive, indeed...great shape, decent dresser, friend of one the most popular sorority sisters on campus, good friend of a state senator. "No, dude, I said which house..." "Oh, I heard you okay..," Scott's fingers pinched some of those small potato chip pieces that populate the bottom of the of a bag or a burger basket. He tried to guide all of the little flakes into his mouth, but failed. A few stuck to his bottom lip. He licked them off, and took a generous drink off of his Coke. "I just said I'm not pledging anybody." "Really!" Kip seemed a bit dumb-founded. "I just sort of assumed...I mean, you're..." "Naaaahh...not really much of a joiner here, Kip." "Aw, Man! Pledging a frat isn't about just oining something. It's not just signing up for some club. It's a fucking way of life. It's about what the name implies...it's about brotherhood, about commitment, about giving yourself over to something bigger than yourself. It's about being a piece of something that's a helluva lot bigger than the sum of its parts..." Kip was on a roll now, even though pledge week was long past for the current year. "No, Kip, I get all that stuff, and it makes sense on one level. It's just not an interest, nor is it a need of mine right now, or probably ever." He emphasized the word `need', wondering what kind of reaction he'd get. Kip was exasperated, and felt like he was being dis'd. In reality, he was being dis'd, in a big way, and didn't know quite how to react. The frat boy in him kicked into high gear. "Well, sorry, Scott. We're only taking in...we're only ready to support other members of ours for election to the WSA. If you're not Greek, I can't recommend you." "What?!" Kelly protested. "That's a little nuts, isn't it?" Kip raised his palms to the sky and tried to look innocent, as if a decision that was outside of his control was imposing on his desire to recommend Scott for the political support of all the frat houses on campus. "Kel, it's not up to me! The council voted the other night to limit our endorsements to other chapter members. We're only gonna get behind fully qualified members of a fraternity or sorority." He shrugged, "You could've been there, ya' know.." Scott learned that Kelly was also a member of the Greek Council, representing her sorority, but she had a previous engagement the night that vote was taken. "I was at that thing for my Aunt Mo'. You know that. I told you about it a while ago." Kip nodded his understanding. "Yeah, I know. Still...it's done. We're supporting only members of the various local chapters." He looked at Scott and put on one of the most bogus smiles any human being had ever seen. "Dude, I'd love to give you a hand on this, but if you're not `Greek' I can't help." "Don't sweat it, Kip. I'll survive...somehow." He sniffled a little and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. Scott was fucking with the guy, and they both knew it. Kip smiled a sneer at him, then looked back at Kelly. "So, what'cha doin' next weekend? My folks are coming over for the game on Saturday. Wanna join us?" She did her best to look disappointed. "Oh, sorry Kip. I already have plans." Scott finished his chips and took the last draw from the straw in his Coke. He slurped the last drops as loudly as he could, then repeated the effort just for hell of it. Kip just frowned. Kip looked around, and then glanced at his watch. "Shit! I gotta get moving." He looked back at Kelly. "But we're still on for the whole Homecoming thing, huh?" She put her hand on Kip's forearm. "Of course, silly! That's going to be a lot of fun. I'm really looking forward to it." "Good! Me too." Kip went to stand, and half-way up he leaned in and kissed her cheek one more time. "I'll call ya'...okay?" "You'd better!" "Scott, it was great meeting you. I'm sure we'll see you around." Scott took his hand, thinking that the "we" in his last statement was like the royal "we," as in `We are not amused.' "Hope so, Kip." Scott shook the guy's hand, but he didn't enjoy it. As Kip walked away, Scott couldn't avoid thinking, `that's the best looking mother-fucker that I'd never fuck." He looked back at Kelly, his face showing a moderate level of amazement. As impassionately as he could, he surmised, "There goes, without a doubt, the most pretentious, self-absorbed...how many synonyms do you know for the word arrogant...? Anyway, the biggest fucking prick I think I've ever met!" "Ooohh, Scott, he's not that bad." She put her hand the arm he had laid on the table in front of them and she squeezed it a little. "Whatever you say...or whatever you see in him...but, for my money, he's a white-collar redneck. You know...he's the country club Fascist. He's the `our kind of people' kinda guy. Archie Bunker in pinstripes. What a complete and total ass-wipe!! How do you know this guy? And what kind of fucking name is Kip, anyway? Who the hell names their kid Kip?" Kelly giggled a little. "His given name is Christopher, after his grandfather. When he was a little boy, his family all agreed that he was a `chip off the old block,' and started calling him `Chip.' As a little boy, he mangled the nickname to Kip, and it just sorta stuck. "Oh, how friggin' cute is that? But how do you know this asshole? I'll bet everything in my wallet that he has a roman numeral behind his name, too, doesn't he?" There wasn't that much in his wallet, but he thought the gesture was appropriate. Kelly laughed hard and clapped her hands together, nodding,. "As a matter of fact, he does. Formally, he's Christopher U. Monmouth The Second." "U?" "Ulysses." It was his grand-dad's full name. He's a "second" because he was named after his gramps, and not his dad. That's why he's not a "junior." "Christopher Ulysses Monmouth, II.." Scott just shook his head. "Okay, I get it, not that I care, but I see why he'd prefer Kip. So what's your connection?" "Well, we met when we were both in high school. He was in Brookfield and I was in Waukesha. We were both active in our schools' student governments, and we met at a regional conference, and then we ran into one another again when I started school here. His dad has this huge PR and advertising firm in Brookfield...one of the biggest and best in the state!" She tried to sound enthused. "Anyway, we've kept in touch through the Greek thing." "And, Homecoming?" "Well..." Kelly sounded tentative now. "Looks like we're both gonna be on the court." The Homecoming Court was selected by, and from, the various fraternities and sororities around the campus. "And, Kip asked me last week if he could be my escort for the various events. I think it'll be fun!" Scott had to dig deep. "Sounds like it. So... you really have plans for next weekend?" "I hope so." "Hope?" She leaned in and put her hand over his. "Here's what I'm thinking, Scott.. I have Aunt Mo's tickets for next week's game. Forty-five yard line." Maureen had owned the same season tickets to the Badger's home games for a few decades now. "I'm thinking you'll buy dinner on Friday night, and I'll treat you to great seats on Saturday to see Ron Dayne break the record." The Badgers' Ron Dayne was poised to break the all-time NCAA rushing record, and all of Madison...all of Wisconsin...for that matter, was abuzz. It was going to happen at a home game against Iowa, and these were the hottest tickets in the state that week. Scott was taken both by Kelly's seductive expression, and by the idea that he could watch it with her, on the forty-five, and not in the student section's end-zone's seats. "Sounds like fun!" Their fingers were now entwined, somewhat casually, somewhat sensually, fondling each other. Scott felt his dick swelling, if only a bit. He cleared his throat. "Sounds like fun. Where do ya' want to eat on Friday?" Kelly gazed at him, wanting to say all sorts of naughty things about eating. "You pick. You're buying." They both laughed a low, quiet chuckle. He slapped the table with his other hand and broke the spell. "Hey!! This was fun, but I gotta get goin'! I'm really glad you suggested this, Kelly. I like this `clean slate' deal better than the `asshole' deal we started off on. "You told me you'd wiped that from your memory." Both started to stand. "And so I have. We'll talk in class this week, and make a plan for Friday. Gotta decide where we're gonna go. Anything you don't or won't eat?" She leered at him. "Not a thing..." "Good. I like that in a date. This is a `date' isn't it? I mean, I can tell my buddies, `Sorry guys...can't get together tonight, `cuz I GOTTA DATE...YOU PATHETIC LOOSERS!!" She blushed and giggled. "You tell `em whatever you guys tell each other, but, yeah, it's a `date.' Scott leaned over and kissed her cheek. They parted a bit and stared into each others' eyes for a moment. Then he leaned in and gently kissed her lips. She returned the kiss. Kip hadn't yet left the Union, and he watched from a distance. * * * * * Scott decided to skip his anthropology discussion section and call it a week. He headed back to the dorm. On the walk back, he did a slow boil over most of what Christopher U. Monmouth II had to say, and how he'd acted. `What a prick. Just the perfect fucking dick-head,' he thought. His trip back to the room brought him past the office of the Wisconsin Student Association. `What the fuck...' he mumbled and walked up the steps of the small brick building. After standing at an office counter for a few minutes, a nerdy looking guy with really bad acne asked, "Can I help you?" "Um, yeah. I'd like to find out what it takes to become a candidate for the WSA," he sounded a little tentative, and he knew it. The clerk nodded and very efficiently pulled a single sheet of paper off of several different stacks arrayed on a table behind the counter. "Well...this gives you a list of the active parties that have run in the past. You're already affiliated with a party?" "Aaahh, no! Do I have to be?" "Of course not, this is just informational. Now, this one spells out the duties of any elected member." He reached under the counter and grabbed a booklet. Scott was reminded of Radar O'Reilly from M*A*S*H*. "Here's a copy of the WSA Constitution. This one's a timeline with deadlines and due-dates." Radar laid another single sheet down and he pointed on the page. "You'll see that you only have a few days to get it in. The deadline is next Tuesday. This is a sheet for bio information. We like it in case the WSA makes any press and we get calls here at the office about a particular member. Keep that in mind as you write your bio...don't include anything you wouldn't want to see in print. And finally, this is what you use to actually file as a candidate...it gets you on the ballot. Any questions?" Scott thought for a second. "Er, no. Not really. I've only recently thought about it, so I guess I don't know enough to actually have any intelligent questions yet. If I do, I'll call. What's your name." "I'm Walter." Scott almost laughed in the poor guy's face. `How fucking perfect is that?' he wondered. "Okay, Walter," he extended his hand across the counter. "I'm Scott...Scott Turner." Walter shook his hand and nodded. "You've been very helpful. If I do have any questions, I'll call and ask for you." Scott squared the pile of papers. "Thanks very much." As the door closed behind him, Walter called out, "No problem, Scott. Good luck." Scott had plenty to think about, but decided to keep this to himself, for the time being anyway. He returned to an empty room and took a short nap. The plan was for all the guys to gather upstairs in Marty and Brett's room tonight, so a little extra sleep seemed prudent. After about an hour of sack time, he decided to don his sweats and go for a run. He'd lost the discipline he once had about his daily running routine, and had been promising himself that he'd find it again. When he got back from a modest three miles, Craig was on his bed reading. He looked up from his book. "Hey, Bud!" "'sup?" Scott was still a bit winded. "So...?" "So what?" "So lunch, meathead! How'd your lunch with Kelly go?" "Oh, that...it was fine, `cept I had to endure a meeting and conversation with a royal, and I mean ROYAL fucking prick." He mulled it over for a sec. "Maybe an old flame, too. Couldn't quite tell. But he was one of the biggest fucking assholes I have met since setting foot on campus. Some jerk of a frat rat who clearly believes his own shit doesn't stink." "Don't they all think that? I thought that quality was, like, baseline criteria for putting Greek letters on your sweaters." Craig smiled, amusing himself with his rhyme, `letters on your sweaters.' He made a mental note to turn that into a lyric some day. As a hobby, he liked to write song lyrics, even though he'd never played an instrument. "Well, if it is, it's clear how he made it in, and then stayed." Scott just shook his head and shrugged. "Oh, well...I'm gonna grab a quick shower, then you ready to eat?" Scott stripped down to nothing, wrapped a towel around his waist. "I'm in! Didn't have any lunch today, and could probably eat just about anything they put in front of me." "'kay...back in a few." "Hey! Gonna see her again? "Uh...yeah! Looks like we're having dinner next Friday, and then gonna hit the game together on Saturday. She has Maureen's tickets. Forty-five yard line. Eat your fuckin' heart out, baby." He grabbed his key and headed out into the hall. * * * * * Almost everybody was there...Marty, Craig, Scott, Jesse and Frank...but not Brett. And he was supposed to bring the weed. The Badgers were on the road against Penn State this weekend, so it couldn't be a band thing, and they were all wondering where in the hell the guy had gone. The James Brothers had brought a couple of joints, but the second one was almost gone, and they were pretty much tapped out. The guys were pretty buzzed, but getting more than a little impatient. Marty had worked out some kind of deal to keep the room stocked with beer and liquor, at a minimal price, and nobody had asked how that had been arranged. Scott had a suspicion or two, but kept those thoughts to himself. Beyond that, Scott and Craig supplied most of the liquid and some of the herb. Craig had an older cousin who worked for a liquor store not far from campus, and he and Scott split the costs, fifty-fifty. Jesse and Frank were always good for some of their outstanding dope, and Marty's job was to bring "Mr. Whitey" to the party. They were all there, but where the hell was Brett? Loud voices in the hallway stopped the conversation about the Packer's prospects in the season that was just heating up. "That's just fucking stupid... just plain fucking stupid!! I'm only a college sophomore, and I can see more clearly than those morons!" It was obviously Brett, throwing a tantrum, but only Marty had ever heard him yell...about anything. There was the sound of a key in the door as Brett continued to wail. "How could the Dean's office, or whoever the hell makes that kind of call, stumble upon such a stupid fucking decision. Talk about a fucking mismatch..." the door to the room swung open, and Brett, red-faced, looked around the room. He smiled sheepishly for a second, and then his face got all screwed up again, and he turned on his heels. He stuck his head out the door and looked to his left. "We're in the fucking Big Ten, and this is the goddamn best college marching band in the U-S-of-A! I'm gonna write a goddam letter." He slammed the door. They all stared at the floor. Nobody had ever seen Brett go ballistic. Marty, being Marty, looked up and smiled sweetly and sang, "Hi hon...so...how's your day?" "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on...and somebody gimme a drink...and I don't give a fuck what it is." Scott grabbed the bottle of bourbon, Marty reached for the gin, and Jesse stretched out across the floor trying to reach the door to the refrigerator to find a beer. Both Scott and Marty looked down at his sweet bubble butt, encased in gray sweat pants, obviously wearing only a jockstrap underneath. Frank felt a little guilty for not having the mind to offer Brett a vodka-and-something, or just a vodka for that matter, but he'd been busy staring at Marty's crotch, arms and chest for the past fifteen minutes. Jesse was the quickest, unscrewing the top off a bottle of beer and holding it straight up as Brett sat down on Marty's bed. "So, `Ward," didn't you hear `June' over there...how's your day?" Marty laughed. Brett glared down at Jesse for a second and then cracked up. "Fuck you, too, Eddie Haskell." He knocked back half the beer in one huge swig, sat forward and belched. He belched big. "God, I needed that. Gets the evil spirits out of your system." The other guys continued to mix the cocktails they'd each started, and then Marty took control of the situation. "Okay, Brett, get it out, now. Lighten your load...unpack your baggage...piss your pants...puke your guts out...do whateverthefuck you gotta do. You're raining on the parade, bro. But, I'm beggin' ya...give us the Readers' Digest version." "Okay...in a nutshell." He finished his beer in a second drink, then grabbed the bourbon that Scott was holding. "Our most important assistant director took another grad assistantship at Ohio State...dumb shit! Dumb fucking shit! He must be on serious drugs to take that job." He scrunched his eyes and shook his head back and forth, "Ohio...fucking...State!" He took a big sip from of the whiskey and coughed. "Anyway, everybody knew that my buddy David was next in line, and they tapped this totally lame, limp-wristed fruit-cake to take his job. Totally unacceptable. Un-fucking-acceptable all the way around!!" Some of them whinced. Others remained as stoic as they could. Brett could be such a red-blooded pig at times. "Awful fucking casting...just pathetic...It's like when the Batman dopes cast Vincent Price to play The Joker, or something stupid like that..." He was grasping at straws as he gulped down another one-third of the bourbon and coke. Scott was simply appalled...no, he was dumbfounded...at the stupidity of the statement. Granted, he had a pretty good buzz going by this time, but Brett had hit a nerve. Scott was about to bust loose, and he welcomed the chance. "DUMB SHIT!!" He sat up straight on the floor and pointed, damnation in his voice. "You, sir, are a Neanderthal, a Troglidite, a Heathen, a Blastphemer! You are obviously starved, intellectually, and I'll take that into account before judging you too harshly. Perhaps your parents should be thrashed for raising you so poorly. I'll reserve judgment on that count, out of consideration for your obviously neglectful youth." Brett was caught off guard, and stared back with his mouth open. The others, save for Craig, were just stunned. They'd never seen nor heard a hint of anger coming from the level-headed Scott. They all suffered through a brief, uncomfortable silence staring at the floor, except Craig, who knew what was coming. "Vincent Price, you fucking fool, was Egghead. Cesaer Romero played The Joker. And both, by the way, were near-brilliant. You...fucking...maroon!" Jeeeeezus Christ!! Next he's gonna tell us that Dawn Welles played Ginger and Tina Louise was Mary Ann!! You foool...you poor, poor fool! Ohhhhh, the humanity!" There was spit on Scott's chin, but nobody cared. Suddenly, they were all, including Brett, enjoying the show. "Has it escaped you entirely that the beauty of that show was in the casting of serious actors, or at least established ones, and giving them room to really go over the top? That was one of the cool things about TV Batman. The villains made the fucking show!! Other than Nicholson playing The Joker, the movie villains have all been pathetic...really fucking pathetic." "Oh, listen to Mr. TV trivia over there...So, who was The Penguin?" Craig was goading him on. He knew where this was headed. Scott reached over and slapped his roommate's left knee. "Oooh...gimme a fuckin' break. Burgess Meredith, on TV, and he was also great!! Danny DeVito had a sad-ass reprise of the role in an awful movie. Now, who has the joint?" Craig handed the smoke to Scott with a grin on his face. They'd had this conversation once before. He knew, `don't mess with Scott on TV trivia, especially not on Batman.' He hoped that nobody would go to Hogans' Heroes, either. Craig thought he'd get the ball rolling. "And Cat Woman?" "Which one? Number one or number two?" "Number Two." "Ertha Kitt." Frank joined in. "Number One?" "Julie Neumar. God! you guys are sad!" "You know `em all, blowhard?" Jesse had joined the fray. "Blow hard?! Blow Me!! I'll bet any motherfucker in the room that I can name any actor who played any bad guy, or bad gal, on TV Batman." Marty showed a very naughty grin, and went to work trying to think of a stumper. The thought of Scott sucking him off had pretty grand appeal at the moment, especially if he could win the bet and shame him into blowing him in front of the other guys. "So, ya' lose and you'll suck me off right here...tonight?" Marty dared him as he was unfolding the now familiar little packages he always brought to the party. Frank and Jesse were perking up, and Craig and Brett were just laughing. "Do it, man," chimed Craig. "I do believe that you could win that bet." Emboldened by his roommate, Scott offered, "Okay, I'll suck the cock of any of you who can name a Batman villain and I can't tell you the actor who played them on TV. Even you, pencil-penis," Scott taunted Marty, even though he new better. Marty was intently chop-chopping on the mirror, and with his free hand flipped the bird, never missing a beat with the one-edged razor in the other. "And if I, or rather WHEN, I win? Who's gonna do me?" Scott asked grabbing the semi-hard in his shorts for effect. "You pick from anybody who's in the bet," said the usually quiet Frank. Marty: "I'm in," not looking up from the small pile of white powder he was scraping off the paper and onto the mirror. Jesse: "Me too." Frank was sitting on Brett's bed, with Jesse on the floor below him. "I'll have a go," he dared. "Haven't gotten any really good head in a while. You any good, Mr. Turner?" Jesse leered up at him, mostly because he'd had Frank's huge tool for breakfast that morning. Frank looked down and smiled sweetly. Getting up off the floor to retrieve a beer, Jesse knocked Frank's knee with his empty, considerably harder than was necessary. Scott muffled a chuckle, and he thought he saw Marty react similarly. "You ready for one, bud,?" Jesse inquired. Frank smiled and nodded, then threw back his head to drain the beer he'd been working on. Jesse looked back as he opened the door to the fridge. "So, Craig, what about you?" "I know a losing proposition when I see one, and while I've grown to admire my roommate, I have no desire to have him sticking his dick in my mouth. I'll be the judge, in case of a dispute." He moved over to Brett's computer, turned the screen so that only he could see it, and he Googled "Batman." "And you, Mr. Bandman?" Scott asked Brett directly. "Shit, I don't know squat about TV Batman. Besides, I'm getting all the head I need." That brought a round of "oooohhhhh..." from the gang. "Do tell!" Craig encouraged. Before Brett could answer, Marty jumped in. "Some ho' in the marching band is doing him every night after practice." "She's not a ho'! She's actually a real babe. And..." he paused for effect, and to make sure he had everyone's attention..."she swallows!" "Sounds like a ho' to me," Frank said rather plainly, remembering the mouthload of his own cum that Jesse had eagerly taken earlier in the day. Marty returned with a couple of bottles and handed one to Frank. They clicked bottle necks, and Marty settled back in on the floor, this time a little bit closer to his roommate's right leg. Frank nudged Jesse's shoulder with his knee. "Actually," Marty observed as dryly as he could, "he's been a hell of a lot easier to live with since the ho' started polishing his knob." "She's not a ho, asshole!!" Brett continued to protest. Scott returned to the matter at hand. "Okay, we've done the easy ones: Joker, Penguin, Egghead and Catwoman. Who's next?" Jesse tossed out, "King Tut." "Victor Buono, and he was hilarious. I loved the way they could cast all those cool, legit actors and get them to do those parts so...well...off the deep end. He was a classic!" Scott knew he was showing off, which usually wasn't his style, but at the moment he didn't care. Marty handed Scott the small mirror with two lines remaining. "The Riddler?" "I get them both and I'm taking both lines." Marty shrugged, hoping that Scott would've forgotten that there were two actors. "Frank Gorshin was the good one. He always reminded me of Kirk Douglas on speed. John Astin sucked. I could buy him as Gomez Addams, but The Riddler? Gimme a fuckin' break." There was disdain in his voice as he turned to Jesse. "Here, hold this a sec," handing him the mirror. Straw to his nose, he lowered his head. This went on for quite some time, each guy taking turns. Marty continued the grilling. "Okay, who was the Mat Hatter?" "David Wayne." "False Face?" Jesse asked, Pause, then a smile. "Malachi Throne." "Louie the Lilac?" It was Frank this time. "Milton Berle." Frank shot right back. "The Siren?" `Whoa,' Scott thought. `Mr. Big-Dick knows his Batman. Maybe I should lose this one.' Then, `Nope...can't do it.' "Joan Collins." Marty shouted out "Bookworm?" "Roddy McDowell." Craig was watching the computer screen, nodding his head and smiling with each correct answer. They continued... Jesse had to grope for the character's name, but finally got it. "Ma Parker?" "Shelly Winters. You guys ever see her in her prime? She was, once upon a time, a fucking big-titted babe!! But that was long before she helped sink the Poseidon.." He was showing off again. Since Scott's back was to him, Craig felt safe in mouthing the names of the villains to his buddies. He feared they'd run out of challenges, and he was enjoying the show. "The Minstrel?" Frank had correctly read Craig's lips. "Van Johnson." "Lord Fogg?" Jesse was determined. "Rudy Vallee." "Dr. Cassandra?" Marty remembered on his own "Ida Lupino." "Chandrell? Blurted out Brett, just having finished the gin and tonic someone had handed him. Scott rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. "It was Chandell, ya' maroon. No `R' in the name. And it was Liberace. Besides, you're not even playing, so shut the fuck up." "Colonel Gumm?" Someone asked, but Scott wasn't sure whom, but didn't care. "Roger C. Carmel." He reflected on it for a second. "Just about the only real character actor in the mix. He did, like, a million things in the movies. A lot of westerns...played a really good sleaze bag. The mustache and the eyebrows were his biggest acting assets." The man was on a roll "The Archer?" "Art Carney." "The Minstrel?" Brett shouted. "Van Johnson, you dumb ass. Didn't you hear me the first time? You wanna sit in my class, then pay attention. After a moment's silence, as each one tried to remember just one more villain, Marty leaned over and glared at Scott. "I got it, you won't remember this one." It sounded like Marty was drawing a line in the sand. "Nobody remembers the old dust bag who played... the Black Widow." Silence. Scott closed his eyes and rested his head back against the dresser. `Oh shit...you know this...think...what was that old hag's name... THINK!' His faculties were indeed impaired by the combination of alcohol, dope and "Mr. Whitey," but he knew that he knew this. It was just a matter of tapping into that part of his cranial archives, but it seemed the door was locked. Marty was about to open his mouth to lay claim to his just reward when Scott's eye's opened wide. A grin slowly emerged. He leaned over and locked into Marty's gaze. He said it very slowly, "Ta...lu...lah...Bank...head." He emphasized HEAD. "Tallula Fucking Bankhead!" The guys roared, and Marty just slumped back in his chair. "Okay, okay, okay...I admit it. You're a TV Batman God! I'm not worthy to share the air you occupy. I bow to your greatness." "Oh, you'll bow alright, and we'll be sharing something, but it ain't gonna be air, bitch! But I'll save my prize and claim it some other time. Just don't forget." More laughter followed. Marty just grinned and winked Both Craig and Brett were wondering if either or both guys were serious about collecting on the bet. It sort of sounded like it, but neither imagined their roommates would actually go through with it. `Ah, what the hell...' Craig finally rationalized. `We're all pretty buzzed,' and he dismissed it as macho bravado by a couple of messed up college guys. He fired up another joint, and offered it to Marty. "Meantime, suck on this." Marty gladly complied. Brett came out of his temporary daze and blurted out, "Hey, guys! Halloween's comin' up in a few weeks. We goin'?" "Hell yeah" was the chorus response. Halloween on State Street had become a stupendous local tradition. It had actually gained so much attention that chartered busses from colleges throughout Wisconsin, in fact the whole upper Midwest, would converge in Madison for one weekend-long drunken community bash. On a good year, there were a few dozen arrests and practically no vandalism. Other years, store windows were broken and fires were started. But the police had it down to a near-science, and tried hard to strike a healthy balance between controlling the crowd and not unduly antagonizing the revelers. "Gonna dress up?" Brett asked, scanning the faces. "Don't know," said Jesse. "Hadn't really thought about it." Scott was mulling over a number of possibilities for costuming the James Boys, each one filthier than the other. "Lemme take care of it," Brett slurred a bit. "Huh?" Marty could tell that his roommate had an idea. "Don't know if I can pull it off, so I don't want to spill the beans just yet. But, Angie works for a costume shop out on the Beltline, and she could fix us up. And, a few of the band members are also connected to the theater department, and I could lean on them if need be." "Who's Angie?" Craig wondered out loud. "She's the ho" Marty blurted before Brett could respond. Brett shot an angry look at his friend, one that quickly melted into a sheepish grin. "No, Dudes!! I'm fucking serious. I have it all planned out in my head and you're gonna love it. We'll look great!" "I ain't wearing no dress," Frank warned. "Don't worry. No dresses. Nothing embarrassing. You're gonna love it. Leave it to me." "I'm not promising anything, but I'll give it a shot." Craig was more than a bit apprehensive.. "You in, roomie?" Scott shrugged and nodded. "I want somethin' that won't let me be recognized. I like the mystery and anonymity of a good Halloween costume." He struggled more than a little to pronounce `anonymity.' "Give it y'rall, Brett." "Cool. This is gonna be fuckin' cool!" Brett was like a little kid. "You ain't thinking, like, The Village People or anything like that, are you?" Marty wanted a hint. Brett was getting frustrated. "Numb-nuts, there's only five Village People, and there are six of us. Trust me, dammit!" "Okay...have at it maestro." Craig abruptly changed the subject. "Oh, HEY!! New Topic!! You guys are gonna love this! Remember Scott's `Maureen?' He had everybody's attention, each hoping they'd hear some lurid detail of Scott's social life. "Get this...that Maureen is Maureen McCarthy!" Silence. Each of the guys had heard the name, and they were pretty sure it was in the news from time to time. "Isn't she some big wig up at the capitol?" Jesse wondered out loud. "Oh, you fuckers are hopeless! I'm not even from Wisconsin, and I know she's a big-time senator. She's probably gonna be the most powerful woman in the state after the next election. Dude in one of my journalism classes says she could be governor some time in the not-too-distant future." Marty gushed, pointing at Scott. "Duuuuude! You been holdin' out on us. You're connected! You are seriously fucking connected!!" He slapped Scott's knee. "I didn't hold out anything. I told you she was a lawyer who does a lot of work in Madison. That's the truth. She is a lawyer, and she does do a lot of work in Madison. I'm just not a name-dropper, that's all." "So, `dyou bang her yet?" Brett asked as seriously as he could. "That is fucking sick, you mutant. We did have lunch a few weeks back, and went to a fund raiser she had up on `the square' last week." Craig put his fingertips to his chest and put on an air of haughtiness. "And...I got to be his date!" "So, you guys were up there rubbin' shoulders with the big ass mucky-mucks, huh? You getting your political ducks in a row already?" Frank was teasing a bit. "It's not like that," Scott protested. "The fuck it isn't," Craig shot back with a smile on his face. "That's exactly what it is. Get over it, man. Marty's right, you are connected. Enjoy it, man! It is what it is. If pretending it's something else makes you feel better, then continue to live a fantasy. But it is what it is." Scott knew there was a lot of truth to Craig's summation, but it bothered him more than just a little bit. His `I'm gonna do this by myself' sensibilities were offended by the notion that he could benefit unfairly from any patronage that Maureen might want to bestow, and that he might accept. "I'm went because she invited me." He pointed at his roommate. "You went `cuz she gave me an extra ticket and told me to bring a friend, and `cuz you been sayin' you want to get to know Wisconsin politics better...and `cuz I'm a helluvaguy! And we both went `cuz it was an open bar and free food. Whose got the fuckin' joint?" Marty passed him what was left of it. Even though the words had become a challenge to get out of his mouth, he hit the thing anyway. "Ooohhh but it gets soooo much better boys," Craig continued with his torment, "the bastard scored with the senator's niece, Kelly. She's a fuckin' fox, big tits and a very hot ass, and she was throwin' some serious `fuck me' vibes at our boy here." "She was not! We have a class together, and a common connection to Maureen, so we had a lot to talk about." Frank, Jesse and Marty were giving Craig their full attention. Brett started shuffling a deck of cards. "She looked like she was having a conversation with your member, ya' big stud." "So he scored with her?" Marty was very interested. "We had lunch." "D'ya bang her yet?" Brett wondered out loud. "No." "Ya' gonna?" "Maybe. I'm picky about who I let play with little Scotty." He grabbed his crotch. `Not that little,' three of the guys all thought at the same time, but each was gratified by the assertion that he was picky. "They're goin' out again next weekend. He'll bang her then." Craig insisted. Scott just smiled and shook his head. He did want to bang her, though. Jesse began to stir on the floor. "Well, gents, as always it's been a real pleasure, but it's after two in the a.m. and I gotta work at noon tomorrow...make that today." Frank stood up with a "yeah... it's time." He held out a hand to help his friend off of the floor. Jesse stumbled a bit. Brett was suddenly paying attention again. "Oooh...Hey!! Wait up!!" He grabbed a notebook and tore out a piece of paper. Taking a pen, he drew several vertical lines making columns, then put a heading atop each one. It was a struggle, and the lines weren't very straight, but he got it done. "I need your sizes. Write down your pants size, waist and inseam...your shirt size, neck and arms...your shoe size...and your hat size, if you know it." "Who the fuck knows their hat size?" wondered Craig. "What...not my dick size?" Frank asked, taking the pen and paper from Brett. "I'll just note `ginormous.' `No Shit!' a couple of brains echoed at the same time. Scott sighed. "Yeah, I should probably hit the road too, and he held up both hands for the James Brothers to assist in his effort to haul his ass off the floor. You comin' bud?" Craig looked at his beer. He had just opened it. "Gonna finish this up first. Be down in a bit." "kay...g'night guys." Then he stopped in his tracks and hung his head. "OH SHIT!!" "Huh?" "My fucking housing payment. The second quarter needed to be in today, and I got side-tracked and forgot to drop it off." Craig frowned a little and shrugged. "Do it on Monday." "If it's not in the drop box when that old housing bitch opens the office Monday morning, they'll clip me a surcharge. I gotta get it in there tonight, or this morning to be exact. That way the Saturday staff will have it on her desk when she comes in. But Ieft my fucking checkbook in the car. Gotta go down there and get it." He looked right at Marty, who was trying not to smirk, wanting to appear preoccupied with other matters. "I thought you said you paid housing for the full year up front..." Criag wondered. He was right. "Naah, that was for the food plan. I gotta do housing a quarter at a time. Want to keep what's mine as long as I can." He was lying. "Awright, then, it's out to my car. Hope I can find that goddam checkbook. Haven't used it in weeks, and my noble chariot's a fucking disaster area." He looked at Craig. "If I'm not in the room by the time you get back, send out a search party." "Gotcha covered, bud. S'later." Scott stepped out and started to close the door. Before it shut, it stopped. Then, it slowly opened again. "Oh...and...by the way, Mr. Anderson?" "What now...?" Marty whined, still smarting a little after having been shown up so mercilessly earlier in the evening. "Alan Napier." All three of them looked at Scott like he was speaking Latin. "Huh?" "I said Alan Napier, dumb shit." Marty rolled his eyes. "O.K., I'll bite. Who the fuck is Alan Napier?" "Not is...was. He played Alfred the butler. You remember Alfred...the loyal and humble servant." He winked at Marty and put one hand to his crotch and squeezed, and flipped the bird with the other, and then he started to close the door again. Before it shut, he stuck his head back in. "Oh...and...when the time comes, you'd better not bite. `night hon." When they'd stopped laughing, Brett asked, "anybody wanna play cribbage? I'm still good for a bit and can give someone a lesson." Craig mulled it over and looked at his beer. "Sure." He looked at Marty. "You guys know how to play three-handed?" "Yeah," Marty said, and forced a yawn. "But count me out. I'm gonna go down and take a shower, and chill to some tunes for a while." He dug out his ipod and tossed it on his bed. "You give my roommate a lesson, will you Craig?" Brett flipped him off and pulled the cribbage board off the shelf. He struggled with the cover on the back of the board, trying to retrieve the pegs. Marty fished out a towel and grabbed his kit as Brett started dealing the cards. Neither noticed him fishing in his dresser drawer for a second set of keys. "Back in a bit." and he was out the door. He walked past the bathroom door and hit the "down" button to call the elevator. After about a minute, the bell rang and the door opened. Marty looked up and registered a huge smile. "Fancy meeting you here," Scott said as non-chalantly as he could when the doors opened. "Fuckin'-A, man, I was wondering how many times I was gonna have to ride this mother before you'd show." "So, Batman, I have this problem..." Marty moved in close as the doors closed. Scott lowered his voice so that it registered deep and kind of breathy. He was no Adam West, but he tried. "And how can I assist, good citizen?" Marty pinned him against the corner of the elevator car and looked up only inches from his face. He reached down and rubbed the front of Scott's shorts. "I have to repay a debt and am not quite sure how to go about doing it." He kissed Scott lightly. Staying in character, Scott tried to appear is if he were looking off into the distance, even though he was in an elevator car. "Well, if you are a man of your word, and I'm certain that you are, you have to do the right thing and comply with the terms that you and your creditor had agreed to." He looked into Marty's eyes. "That's the American way, after all." He kissed him a bit more forcefully, and reached around to grab Marty's ass. Marty smiled, "My creditor is a wonderful human being, and I'm feeling that I should give him more than we had agreed to. That's my problem." The elevator had begun to slow, and Marty stepped back and turned to face the elevator doors. Before exiting, Scott grabbed the wasteband of of Marty's shorts and pulled him back. Seeing nobody in the dorm lobby, he ground his hardening cock into Marty's ass and whispered, "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, citizen." He licked the back of Marty's ear before releasing him. Marty looked both ways, and motioned Scott to follow him to the left. Scott had no idea what he had in mind, but was confident that he knew what he was doing. He was also crazy horny and would've followed Marty outside and done him at the corner of University and Lake Streets. At the end of the hallway, Marty fished out a set of keys and jingled them at Scott with a gleam in his eye. "What the fuck?" Marty laughed. "My work study finally came through. I got placed with Buildings and Grounds, and work all the dorms on this corner of campus. I have keys to every storage and maintainence area...everything accept a master key to the dorm rooms or access to the offices." Scott smiled. "Saweeeeeet." Marty opened the door and stepped through, holding it open for Scott while he switched on a light. As Scott stepped through, Marty quietly closed it and motioned down a flight of stairs. As Scott turned left, Marty grabbed his ass. "Straight down and to the left. This is the `command center' for the dorm." "Any chance we'll have any company?" Scott was suddenly a bit apprehensive. But started down the stairs with Marty close behind, admiring the moves of Scott's ass with each step of his desent. "Not a chance. It's almost 3:00 in the morning. Nobody's due `til 6:00 a.m. and the Saturday morning dipshit is always catching hell for being late. Besides, if he walked in on us, he'd only want to join. The dude's a serious cock-hound." Marty reached around with both hands and started rubbing Scott's cock through his shorts. "C'mon...I have a debt to pay." "I wasn't sure you were serious about paying up." Marty put on his most hurt voice. "Are you kidding? Me? I, sir, am a man of honor." He borrowed a line from Dr. Seuss. "I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, and ol' Marty is faithful, one hundred percent." There was a bank of lockers for employee use. Marty stopped and opened one, and stored his kit and his towel. A few steps away was a table with a computer and a phone. The rest was plain industrial basements space. Gray, concrete walls and floor, pipes and wiring running along an unfinished ceiling. Poor lighting and lots of heavy equipment, most of which Scott didn't know the purpose, though he was sure it kept the building's environment regulated. And it was noisy, which Scott took as a good thing, even though they were about twelve feet underground. "What about Brett and Craig? Craig'll be back in our room soon, and they'll both be wondering where we are." Marty turned and moved toward Scott, forcing him to step back a bit, until the backs of his thighs were up against the table. "Just chill! They started a game of cribbage, and that could go on for hours, knowing Brett. I told them I was gonna take a shower. I take long showers, and then I'll tell them I stopped in the community room to shoot the shit with some of the other guys on the floor before coming back. Maybe I'll tell `em I fell asleep in there for a while. Dude!! You think waaaayyy to fucking much." He grabbed Scott by the hips and pulled him so that their crotches were grinding together. He had that `I'm too fucking horny to waste time worrying about other people' leer in his eye. "Now just shut the fuck up, will ya?" "Yeah, but..." Marty cut him off by grabbing the back of Scott's head and pulling their mouths together. Scott reached around and grabbed both of Marty's ass cheeks. Marty let out a low moan that echoed in Scott's throat while their tongues danced and darted in and out of the other's mouth. While Scott man-handled Marty's ass, Marty lowered his hands and went to work unbuttoning and unzipping Scott's shorts. After reaching in and stroking Scott's hard tool for a while, then reaching down and juggling his nuts in one hand, he grabbed the bottom hem of Scott's tee-shirt with both hands. They broke the kiss as Marty pulled the shirt up. Scott raised his arms to allow the tee to be removed. Marty then started bathing his ears and neck with his lips and his tongue. Scott tossed his head to the right when Marty found a sweet spot on the left side of his neck. "No marks!" he admonished. "No marks," Marty moaned. Marty lowered his face a bit and lightly licked Scott's nipples, first the right, then the left, then the right and then the left again. He paused to suck and gently nibble there as Scott took several deep breaths. He grabbed Scott's left arm and lifted it, running his tongue upward off the left nipple, flattening it and running it slowly through the armpit. "Oooooohhh fuck!" told him he was hitting the good spots, so he lingered on the armpit for several seconds, eliciting the same response. If Marty's shirt had been tucked in, it probably would have ripped when Scott tore it off. In an instant, it was draped over the computer monitor, but was intact. He pulled Marty in for another deep kiss, and raised his hands to work a bit on Marty's nipples. He pinched and tugged a bit, rolling each nub between his thumb and forefinger. "Ohhh, goddam!" Marty sighed into Scott's open mouth. Scott reached down and undid the drawstring on Martys shorts. He wasn't wearing any underwear, so Scott just had to push the waistband past Marty's hips and let them fall to the floor. They stood for a few more minutes, locked in the embrace in front of the table. Lips and tongues enjoyed nearly every inch from the tipples to the eyebrows. Hands rubbed and grabbed, pinched and teased, and cocks were ground together with a vengence. Marty broke the embrace and gently pushed Scott back so that his ass was resting on the table's edge. Scott laid both hands flat on the table, just a bit behind his ass. When Marty started in again on his neck, his head went back to give his hungry friend full access. Slowly, Marty licked his way down, between his pecs, already glistening a bit with sweat and down to his flat but heaving stomach. He traced the tip of his tongue back and forth, first to the right then to the left. When he reached his "innie" navel, he paused to tease it, darting his tongue in and out. All the while, his right hand was massaging and gently tugging on Scott's balls. He was intentionally leaving his aching cock alone, for now. Scott wasn't quite sure where the hell he was anymore, and couldn't give a flying fuck. Now all the way down on his knees, Marty nudged Scott's legs a bit further apart, and he readily complied. He pulled back, and just stared for a few seconds at the throbbing piece of rock hard meat in front of him. Precum was dripping from the piss slit, slowly sliding down the underside of Scott's aching tool. Slowly, Marty brought his face closer, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the manly scent that his partner was throwing. With a hand on each of Scott's thighs, gently massaging and rubbing, he stuck out his tongue and, starting just above his sac, he very patiently ran just the sharp tip of it up the complete length. He paused at the head and slowly ran his hot, wet tongue round and round. Marty had hardly touched his cock, but Scott felt like he could shoot any second. `Relax, relax, relax!!!" He commanded himself. Marty sensed the urgency in his friend, and slowed the pace a little. With the head of Scott's cock resting on his flat tongue, but not moving, Marty looked up and threw one of those fucking killer smiles. He let the dick just rest there for a second while the guys locked eyes. The view from above was incredible. "Oooohhh, you little fucker. You are just too fuckin' hot, ya' know that?" Scott pleaded. Scott heard "uuuh-huh," though Marty's lips did not move. In a split-second, Marty went in for the kill. He plunged his mouth down the full length of Scott's cock, taking it all in a single swoop. He came back up, just as quickly, just as Scott was half way through "Oooooh my ffffuuuuucking Gaaaawwwwd!" Marty giggled a little. "Like that, professor?" as he stroked the cock a few times. "Oh, you little fucker! You're amazing!" Without even nodding so much as a `thank you' Marty went to work in earnest. He sucked, licked slobbered over Scott's smoldering meat. Scott could only throw his head back and utter the occasional, "shit!" "oooohhh fuck!" "suck that thing, man!" "mmmmhhhhmmm." Marty was thoroughly enjoying himself too. He'd known for a long time that he really loved sucking cock, and he was learning that this one was just about his favorite. It wasn't a huge mushroom head, rather more in the shape of a missile, but a nice cut head nonetheless. He preferred that. Mushroom heads could be hard to swallow. The seven inches were straight as an arrow, but it was thicker than most. The balls were average size, and he liked being able to get both of the in his mouth at the same time, which was what he was doing at the moment. Scott reached down and encouraged the ball bath with a hand on the back of Marty's head, and was a bit relieved that the attention had moved south a little bit. With a hand on each side of his favorite cock-sucker's head, he eased Marty off and urged him to stand up. He could have chipped a tooth with the force with which he plunged their mouths together, and he liked the wet, slippery feel of the whole area around Marty's lips. Scott took Marty by the biceps, and nice biceps they were, and turned him around to switch positions. He eased Marty up, so that he was sitting full on the table. With one hand on Marty's hard, now wet, cock and the other on his sternum, he eased his friend back so that he was laying flat with his legs dangling off the table. He spread Marty's legs, and stood between them at the edge of the table. Getting down on his knees, Scott went to work on the balls. He held the cock in one hand and began stroking while he teased each nut with just the tip of his tongue. Then he took one, then the other fully into his mouth, sucking fairly hard at first, bring an appreciative moan from up on the table, and then gently rolling it around with his tongue. Scott stood and bent at the waist as he held Marty's tool straight up. Taking just the head in his mouth, he held there and swirled his tongue around and around as he gently rubbed Marty's legs from his shins to this thighs. Slowly, he lowered his head as far as he could go, and gagged a bit when it hit the back of his throat. `Note to self...find a way to learn to deep throat. Ya' gotta learn how to do that.' But now was no time to pause and ask for directions. Everybody knows that guys don't stop to ask for directions. Slowly and deliberately, Scott administered the best, wettest blowjob he knew how, pausing at the top and the bottom to suck just hard enough to avoid inflicting any pain. Holding Marty's slippery member in his right hand, stroking in a twisting motion, he went lower again, licking and sucking Marty's balls as his hands went behind his knees and he lifted. Marty happily complied, hoping that we knew where this was going. Scott's hands were now pushing his legs up from the back of the thighs, and Marty's knees bent and went toward his chest. When Scott's tongue began probing the crevace of his ass, Marty grabbed the back of each knee to invite Scott in for a better taste. Scott parted the cheeks with his hands and slowly licked each one, nearer and nearer the hole. Marty's pucker was winking at him, begging him to zero in with his tongue. He acquiesced. In increasingly smaller circles, the tip of Scott's tongue traced its way around Marty's waiting hole. Finally, he flicked the tip dead center, barely entering his friend. Marty gasped. "Ooooohhh yeeeaaahhh, man. God I fucking love that." He let go of his right knee, still keeping the leg in the air, and placed the free hand on the back of Scott's head, urging him on. "C'mon bud," he begged, "please eat me...fucking eat my ass!!" Scott dove in with a fury. He shoved his tongue forward until it began to hurt, and Marty whimpered a bit in his gratitude. He licked and sucked and nibbled on the pucker until his jaws began to ache. Marty was thrusting his hips as his head rolled back and forth on the table. Suddenly, Marty grabbed the edge of the table with both hands, and used the leverage to lift his upper body up off the surface a bit. "The locker!!" The expression was one of near-desperation. He pointed to where he'd left his kit and towel. "Huh?" Craig was confused, and a bit frustrated by the interruption. Between heavy breaths, Marty managed to convey his true intent. "Hurry... dammit!!... grab...my...kit...rubber...lube...fuck me...HURRY!" Scott took two long steps, threw the door open and grabbed the kit. Nearly ripping it open, he saw a couple of Trojans and a bottle of Wet near the top. He grabbed one of the condoms with both hands and had torn the wrapper before even clearing the top of the shaving kit. Unrolling it an inch or so, he wrapped the head of his cock and unrolled the rest with one move. He was so tightly wound that he feared the friction right then could make him shoot. He squirted a generous amount of lube in his right hand and greased his pole. Marty's waiting hole was already very wet, but he used the excess to prepare his entrance, sliding a single finger past his ass ring. Marty looked up, almost in panic. "Fuck the fingers, man!! I need your dick inside of me. PLEASE!" Scott smirked and cozied up to the table. He kind of got off on the notion that Marty "needed" his cock inside of him. He lifted each of Marty's legs, resting the calves on his shoulders. Taking aim, he placed the head of his cock in contact with Marty's hole. He heeded his friend's cries for relief, and slowly inserted himself, the head clearing the entrance ring with relative ease. Marty let out a long sigh. "Oooohhh yeeeaaaaahhh, man!! That's what I need! You got exactly what I need, you fucker." Marty reached up and grabbed both sides of Scott's head and pulled him down with force. He mashed his mouth into Scott's and repeated his gratitude, mumbling between licks and sucks of Scott's mouth. "Yeah, baby, just what I fucking need." Scott began this hot jock with blind purpose. Their eyes locked together, he began slowly, pulling nearly all the way out, pausing a second, and then slowly returning to the hilt. Each time back in, he loved watching Marty's face. Sometimes he smiled. Sometimes his eyes got suddenly wide and he looked a little shocked. Another time, he threw his head back and rolled his eyes. These were the many faces of bliss, and Scott was delighted to provide them. He quickened the pace and increased the force. Marty reached down and around, placing his hands on Scott's ass, urging him on. Through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, he was staring upward and muttering, "yeah!...yeah!...yeah!" with each thrust. Scott suddenly stopped. When he began to withdraw, Marty looked stunned, then nearly betrayed. "Stand up and lean over the table!! I want to fuck you from behind." Marty just nodded and quickly stood up. He leaned over and placed his hands flat on the table, with his legs slightly spread. He felt a hand on his left shoulder and, without warning, Scott drove his hard cock all the way in. "OOOOhhhh, fuck...yeah." Scott had hold of both of Marty's shoulders now. "Gimme that ass! Gimme that tight fuckin' ass!" He was pounding from behind, his thighs slapping Marty with each thrust. The banging was so intense that the table had been nudged back nearly a foot, and the guys had to adjust their footing to keep up with it. Marty lowered his chest and face to the table's surface, his forearms and hands flat on either side of his head. Scott raised his hand and brought it down on the tight smooth ass below him, not violently, but smartly and with authority. Marty's head shot off the table, and he slapped the table's survace with his own flat hand. "Yeah, man, make that ass all yours!!" A second smack was met with the same approval. Scott grabbed hold of Marty's hips and pumped another half dozen times. "Ooohh god...oh my fuckin' god!!! Marty could feel Scott's body becoming more rigid, and the strokes he was taking were shorter and shorter. He knew that the man was gonna blow. "Wait!! Not Yet!!" Marty begged. He reached behind him and pushed Scott back a step forcing his cock to spring from the chute. Before Scott knew what was going on, Marty was on his knees again in front of him. He grabbed the red rod in front of his face and quickly peeled off the condom. He stroked it with his right hand while he pounded his own little monster with his left. A few quick strokes and Scott's knees locked. Marty locked his lips around the head of the cock and stroked several more times. The rest of his body went rigid and Scott uttered a few guttural whimpers as he fired shot after shot of hot jizz into Marty's hungry mouth. "Oh god!...oh shit!...oooooh mother fucker!..goddammit!!...good...so fucking good!" As Marty was hungrily gobbling up his heavy load, Scott felt a warm shot hit this thigh, then another hit his knee, and a third on his foot. Marty remained in place, breathing heavily through only his nose, as Scott's cock twitched a few more times and began to deflate. He moved his head up and down a couple more times, prompting Scott to grab his shoulders and gently push him back a little. "Easy boy! Awfully sensitive there right now." Marty looked up, the semi-hard bobbing at chin level, and smiled. He slowly inhaled a chest full of air, held it, and slowly released. "Wwwwhhhhheeeeeewwww. Un-fucking-real. Un-mother-fucking-god-damned-real!" Then he sat back on his ass, knees bent and feet flat on the floor, propped his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands. He ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, and took several more deep breaths. Still looking down at the floor, he chuckled a few times. Scott had joined him sitting on the basement floor, but he was staring up at the ceiling waiting for his breath to return to near-normal. He heard his friend's laugh and looked over. "What?" Marty turned his head without lifting it up, and glanced over out of the corner of his eyes. "What? You...me...this. That was some of the most incredible sex I've ever had." Scott slowly smiled, but then got suddenly solemn, and tried to put that deep, breathy Adam West voice into gear. "Yes, citizen, you've performed nobly. I knew you'd do the right thing. You can be proud." It was a bad impersonation to begin with. At this time of the morning, following the night's activity, it was even worse. Marty found a roll of paper towels and cleaned up as much of the mess as he could find. He tossed the roll to Scott who wiped off his leg and his foot, then gave some attention to his cock and balls. They pulled the table back into its original position, and Marty checked to see that everything else appeared in order. As they were getting dressed, Marty turned. "So, you really gonna go after her?" "Who, Kelly?" "If that's here name...the senator's niece. Yeah, you got your sights set?" Scott thought about it as he shook his boxers. "Not sure yet. Craig's right. She is awfully fuckin' hot, and I ain't had any of that for a good, long time." He pulled up the boxers and adjusted his dick. "So...your coworker is a `cock-hound' huh? You doin' him?" "Swapped bj's a couple times. He's good, and pretty well hung. He's really very good. Brandon's a thousand percent gay, and he's out...very out...and doesn't give a shit who knows. But he's totally cool with me wanting to keep it all on the down-low, and he's on the market for a boyfriend, so I don't gotta worry about him wanting to get all serious and shit. Maybe next time we get something going I should give you a call...ever done a three-way with two other guys?" Scott was dressed and looked at his watch. "Shit...I gotta be up in less than six hours. Gonna be a long fucking Saturday." Marty wasn't deaf to the fact that Scott had intentionally ignored that last question, but didn't push it. He was dressed by this time, too, and grabbed his towel. "C'mon, man," and led the way back up the stairs. He paused before opening the door and turned around just as Scott hit the landing. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in for one more kiss. It was firm, wet and warm. As their faces parted, each one whispered, "thanks, bud." Marty opened the door a few inches and listened. Then he stuck his head out a little and looked both ways. Secure in the fact that the hallway was indeed empty, he opened the door and stepped out. Scott followed. On the stroll to the elevator, Marty looked up and asked, "d'ya think Frank and Jesse are doin' each other?" "Ya' think so?" "Can't say for sure, but they're throwing some awfully cozy vibes, `specially when they're together, and even more when they've got a buzz goin'." Scott thought about it for a minute. "Hard to say..." and stepped into the elevator. As the door closed, Marty interrupted. "Damn, I wish they were, or I hope they are. I'd love to get in Frank's pants...the dude is packing some serious equipment there. And Jesse's just plain one...serious...fucking...stud." Scott chuckled. "My boy, you are a fucking machine, aren't you?" "Gonna get it when I can. We're in our prime, dude! Gotta take advantage. Besides, I ain't hearin' any complaints." Scott shook his head as he laughed. "And you won't here `em from here, buddy." He wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air in the elevator. "But, Dude! We reek!! We're both gonna need a hot shower. Too bad we're not on the same floor." Marty knew he was right. "Yeah...'I love the smell of sex in the morning.'" Robert DuVall, he was not, but that was just fine. As the door was opening on the third floor, Scott reached over and squeezed Marty's ass. "I do too. And, no complaints here, my man. Probably see ya' tomorrow." "G'night, stud." Marty winked. As he walked by the James Brothers' door, Scott heard Aerosmith. Not loud enough to wake any neighbors, but enough to cover any low moans or grunts. He smiled. `That,' he said to himself as he shook his head, `would be a hell of a night.'" He began to mull over how to pull this off. To be continued... Emboldens him to run independently. On his walk back to the dorm, he's decided he's going to run, but as an independent. Later, talks to the guys about it, and they begin to organize an independent campaign for Student Senate. I'm gonna run, but without any obligations to any organization. Sort of the college version of Senator Kohl's "Nobody's Senator But Yours" theme. Goes online and gets to the frat's webpage, and find's a picture of Christopher U. Monmouth, II. Anybody know this guy? Explains why. They're all, like, "fuck him." Brett cracks up. Gentlemen, the look at the dude's initials—he's CUM. No, Craig gasps, he's CUM II. Marty's grinning and staring at the image. Scott can nearly hear the gears turning in his head. Dinner w/ Kelly at the Avenue Bar. Craig's back in Rockford for the weekend for his parents' twenty-fifth anniversary party. They go back to Scott's room and have great sex. Organize the campaign. Scott will chair his own. Craig will handle public relations. Brett will deliver the marching band. Jesse and Frank will handle a lot of the leg work, and word of mouth. Marty will be special advisor to the chair/idea man/advance man and all around utility guy. Announcement, Craig got some good press in both the Herald and the Cardinal. The "hook" is that he's running as an independent. Decent interview with a good photo. Runs into Kip. You really gonna take us on? Who the fuck do you think you are? Football game vs. Ohio State. Scott accepts Maureen's tickets instead of joining the guys in the student section. They're on the 40-yard line. Cold, so they've got a blanket over their laps. Much handsy-pansy under the blanket. Scott opens his program, and a red slip of paper, about the size of a dollar falls out. Says nothing but "TURNER!!" on one side and "INDEPENDENT!!" on the other. Kip's sitting with his parents, as it's his birthday, and they've come to Madison to treat him and his roommate. He's livid when he gets his slip. Then, as is the tradition, sections of the marching band parade through the stands during the second half. About fifty of them each had a hundred or so of the bills. They're serruptitiously handing them out, or just dropping them, through the student section as they go. The Turner Mystery makes the evening news during the sports report. Marty. Has to be Marty. Scott gets a call from one of the local radio stations. What's up with this? Are you "Turner?" Don't know for sure. I didn't have anything to do with that, but I will tell you that an awful lot of folks have called or emailed me to voice their support. As far as I know it could've been just about anybody on campus." How many d'you get in there? Game days I work Camp Randall w/ buildings and grounds. Over 70,000 seats, but only about 50,000 programs. I think we missed about 40 cases of programs, so that's about 4,000 we missed. Piece of cake; sorry we didn't get the rest. You're unfucking believable. "Professor, I'm just warming up."