Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2006 16:43:45 -1000
From: S turner <scotty.13411@hotmail.com>
Subject: STRANGE BEDFELLOWS CHAPTER 18

Disclaimer:  The following is a mostly fictional...yada, yada, yada...please
refer to Chapters 1 through 17 for the details.  It's been a long time since
the last chapter, and some of you are getting a bit impatient, so let's
refresh your memories and move on.  Okay?  Thanks for coming back.  You know
I love ya'!     -S.T.


FROM CHAPTER 17:

     "So, I guess Gran's not too good today, huh?"

     "Not too good?  She's gone!"  Scotty started toward the back door,
slowly crossing the patio.  "I don't know who that lady tied down to that
bed is, but that is NOT my grandmother.  The loveliest lady ever put on
Earth is gone, Dad!"  He turned and faced his father.  "And you're not
helping matters any, you know!"  Even he was surprised that he'd actually
said it.  He hadn't planned on this for the weekend.

     Big Scott looked shocked.  "Huh?  What?  Scotty, what am I...?"

     Scotty forged ahead.  "Will you please tell me what the fuck is going
on around here?"

     The father took his son by the shoulders.  "And will you please tell me
what you're shouting about?"

     Scott sat on one of the patio chairs he'd promised his mother he'd move
into the shed for the winter.  "Dad, what the hell is going on with you and
Maureen?"

     "Maureen?"

     He looked his father in the eye.  "Dad...first it's Homecoming weekend.
I call your room after you and Maureen dropped me off at the dorm, and
you're nowhere to be found.  About a week later, you tell Mom you're going
up to Eau Claire, but I find your car parked outside Maureen's apartment in
Madison.  Then, Kelly happens to see you leaving her apartment again about a
week after that.  Makes me wonder why you'd come to Madison without so much
as giving me a call, and lie to Mom about where you're going.  Mom's
spending practically every weekend away from home, and when she's not, she's
hiding from you at church.  She hardly speaks, let alone leaves her room.
For the first time in my life, she can't or won't even do Thanksgiving
dinner.  You disappear for the night in Madison, you forget my birthday,
you're secretly visiting Maureen at her place and God knows where else, and
my mother's obviously miserable."

     Big Scott hung his head.

     "So tell me, Dad.  Exactly what in Sam Hell is going on here?"

     His dad's face slowly rose, and Scott could see his pursed lips through
the darkness.  He patted his son's shoulder.  "Let's go inside, Scotty.  We
were going to wait a while, but I think your mother and I need to have a
talk with you tonight."


CHAPTER 18:


     Big Scott grabbed the back door handle.  "Come on, Scott.  We need to
go inside, sit down and talk.  Me, you and your mother."

     Scotty stormed through with his father a step behind him.  There was a
little more than half a pot of coffee in the carafe.  Big Scott picked up
the two mugs that had been in use for awhile, and took a third out of the
cupboard "Why don't you pour us some java and I'll go get Mom."  He heard a
gentle knock on the bedroom door.  "Suzanne?  He's home.  He's okay."

     The bedroom door opened with a rush.  "Where is he?!  Where the hell
has he been?!"  His mother's voice sounded frantic.

     Scott filled the third cup and shouted over his shoulder.  "I'm okay,
Mom!  I'm right here."  He picked up a napkin and blew his nose.  His
fingers still felt cold against his face.  "I just went out for a drive and
to think, that's all."

     Suzanne strode into the kitchen and she threw her arms around her son's
neck.  "You scared the hell out of us!  And, don't tell me you're an adult!
When adults go missing without explanation like you did, other adults have
the shit scared out of them, especially when those other adults happen to be
the parents!"  Suzanne wiped her cheek with the back of one hand, and
stroked Scott's face with the palm of the other.

     Scott pulled back a little to look into her eyes.  "I know, Mom.  I
know.  I'm sorry.  I wasn't thinking about the two of you.  I just needed to
get away.  I needed to think."

     Suzanne wiped her eyes again.  "Wade called us from Pineview.  He said
that your Gran is having a bad time, and that you took the brunt of it.  He
said you fled the place.  And then four hours go by without any word from
you.  Jesus, Scott!  It's bad enough that you had to confront that, but
please don't drag us to hell and back without a word!"

     Scott rested a hand on each of his mother's shoulders.  "I know, Mom!
I'm sorry!  It's okay."  Then he recalled Evelyn's rantings and the image of
her staring blankly at the ceiling from her urine-soaked bed as he left the
room.  "Well, it's not okay, really...it sucks!  Big time.  But I'm alive and
well.  Okay, not quite well, exactly, but I'm here."

     "Gran's not good, huh?"  She took his hand and led him to the dining
room table.

     Scott inhaled deeply and shrugged as he sat.  "Well, when I left, she
was rotting in a southern jail and spitting at the `Uncle Tom nigger' who
was working for `the man.'  By now, she's probably babbling "We Shall
Overcome" or bellowing out Dr. King's "I Have a Dream."

     Big Scott sighed.  "You shoulda been there...well, maybe not...but the
night she was sure I was working for Nixon..."  He looked vacantly at the
wall, sorrow spilling from his face.  "Wheeewwww!"  He looked back down at
his son.  "Actually, Scott, by now she's probably sound asleep.  Who knows
what tomorrow is going to dish up for her?"

     Scott gazed back up at his father, torn between abject sympathy and the
disgust he had managed to muster up on the drive back from the bluffs above
The Mississippi.

     Big Scott looked down into his Scotty's eyes, then took a seat at the
table.  "But we have another issue to deal with."  He reached across the
table and took his wife's hand.  Suzanne looked back with a mix of concern
and confusion.  He squeezed her hand.  "My dear, our son is convinced...not
without reason, I admit...that your devoted husband has been boinking Maureen
McCarthy."

     Suzanne's eyes popped open wide, and her jaw dropped.  Her head darted
back and forth between husband and son several times before she finally
muttered, "What?  How the...?  You and Maureen?"  She finally fixed her gaze
on Scotty.  "Maureen?  You think your dad is messing around with Maureen?
How in the hell...?  Good Lord, Scotty!  What in God's name could ever make
you think...?"  Finally, her hands flew to her lips and she cackled.  "Haa
Haaaaa!  Oh My God!  What the hell has been going on in your mind, son?!"

     Scott couldn't answer.  He couldn't begin to describe for his mom what
had been going on in his mind.  He'd avoided the mental visuals, although it
wasn't always easy, but he didn't want to envision his old man humping his
mother, either.

     Suzanne reached over with her left hand and grasped Scotty's right.
"Well, the first thing you should know, in no uncertain terms, is that..."
she held up her husband's hand... "if I thought for one minute that my husband
was out there doing his old flame, I'd have cut off his balls and shoved
them down his throat by now."

     Big Scott winced and nodded his head in agreement.  "She would, you
know."

     Scotty was still trying to recover from hearing his mother say she'd
`cut off his balls' as she continued, still grinning.  "Then, I'd take half
of everything he has, including this house, his retirement and his law firm.
  Finally, I'd throw him out on his ass and take up with some hot buff stud
with a hankering for a woman with experience."

     Big Scott was still nodding.  "She would, you know."

     Scott's head shot back and forth between his mother and his father for
several moments.  He didn't know where to start.  His complete confusion was
obvious to both parents.  Suzanne let go of both mens' hands.  She leaned
back and folded her arms, then looked back at her husband.  The smile
disappeared from her face.  "Well, are you going to set the poor lad
straight?"

     Big Scott took a big sip of coffee and looked down at his knees.  From
a bowed head, his eyes peeked upward to look at his son.  "Fact is, Scotty,
I have been meeting with Maureen and not being straight with you or your
mom.  I'm still in the dog house with her, and I guess I deserve it."
Suzanne pursed he lips and exhaled through her nose, and he continued.
"No...I know I deserve it, but my intentions have only been good, despite what
your mother might still think."

     Suzanne rolled her eyes and Big Scott continued.  "Okay, here we go.
Homecoming weekend.  We...me and Maureen...dropped you off at the dorm, and
Maureen suggested we have a nightcap.  That's when she first brought it up.

     Scotty frowned with mouth and with his brows.  His dad paused again and
looked back and forth.  "Scotty...I've decided...well, we've now decided...that
I'm going to run for Maureen's seat."

     Scott coughed on a chug of coffee, and had to cover his mouth to
prevent spraying his dad.  He fought through a swallow and gasped.  "What?
You're going to fun for the senate?"

     His dad held up a hand.  "Well, at first, that was my reaction, too,
especially given our long friendship.  But the early discussion focused
strictly on the politics of the situation.  This is a swing district, and
could go either way when Maureen leaves.  The party is in a position to make
some positive changes, but they have a razor thin majority as it is.  That
could reverse in a couple of years.  They're looking for a candidate with
appeal on both sides of the aisle.  Her thinking is that she and I are alike
enough politically, and that my practice has connected me to good people in
both parties.  She believes I'm well enough known already, and that, if I
begin quietly working in that direction now, and with Maureen's support, it
wouldn't be too hard to win it.  And, it would be for good reasons."

     Scott stared blankly at the family portrait on the wall behind his
father's head.  He was only fifteen at the time, his dad's hair was darker
and there was more of it.  He thought back to all the times his dad had said
he'd never put himself out there publicly on the political `market' the way
Maureen had.  Then there were all the snide remarks he'd made over the years
about the self-serving office seekers who'd do practically anything for a
political advantage.  His old girlfriend was, of course, the rare exception.

     Scotty was skeptical, to say the least, but he wanted to hear more
about what had been going on the past several weeks.  "And...?"

     "Well," his dad shrugged again apologetically.  "I was sure that your
mom would stomp it out at first mention, so I did some more homework on my
own before I said anything.  I didn't know if I was up for this, but didn't
know that I wasn't, either.  I don't like to slam a door closed until I'd
looked through it to see what might be on the other side.  So, I told
Maureen I'd listen.  I needed to make up my mind and, if I decided it was a
good idea all the way around, then come to your mother and ask her
permission."

     Suzanne shot him one of her trademark steely glares.  "You should have
asked for that before you started sneaking around entertaining your ego."

     Big Scott looked back at his son.  "As you can tell, we've been over
this once or twice, and are still working through it."  Scott's glance
toward Suzanne asked for confirmation.  She gave it with a hesitant nod.

     "So, anyway, the week after Homecoming, Maureen hosted lunch at her
apartment with the governor and a couple of other party leaders.  We went
over the issues that are coming up, and they were pretty adamant that
someone like me...well, me specifically... could make a positive difference.
I'm guessing that's when you saw my car parked outside her apartment."
Scotty's brows were still conveying dismay.  "Scotty!  I didn't want to
float this balloon past either you or your mom until I knew for sure if it
was a good idea.  I might have decided `no way!' and then I'd have just
chucked it all and said nothing.  If I wasn't sure it was a good idea, then
why stir up a hornets nest for no reason?"  He was speaking once again to
his wife more than to his son.

     Suzanne's eyes hinted grudging agreement with his point, but it was
clear that she was still more than a little miffed over all the secrecy her
husband had hid behind for the past month.

     Big Scott contined.  "Then, my questions went to whether or not I'd
really be a viable candidate, so it was another meeting in Madison.  They
brought in pollsters and consultants, a fund raising guru, a couple other
`rah-rah' party guys and they broke out all the numbers."  Scotty was
becoming engrossed in the tale.  He thought back to his own analysis of the
district he'd done for his Poli-Sci class, and began to see his dad, in many
ways, as an ideal candidate for the job.

     Big Scott sat back in his chair and dropped his hands to his thighs.
"Scotty, I think I could do this.  I've begged your mother's forgiveness for
my lack of candor.  It's the only thing I've ever done in this marriage when
I wasn't completely up front and honest.  I feel terrible about that, and
would do it differently if I had it to do over again."  Silence for another
minute hung over all three.  "But, I won't ever have that chance.  So, I'm
going to continue to take my lumps in the hope that she'll see her way clear
to support me on this, or at least forgive me for the duplicity.  And, you
too."

     Scott took another drink of coffee and blinked several times.  He
ignored his father for a moment and looked over at Suzanne.  She was still
glaring at Big Scott, so he reached over and put a hand on her forearm.
"Mom?  Where have you been on all of this, and where are you now?"

     She pushed aside the mug she hadn't yet even sipped from, and sighed.
"Well, I can tell you, Scotty, that I never once thought your father would
be messing around behind my back with anyone, let alone with Maureen.
They're more like brother and sister than anything else.  In a lot of ways
they're cut out of the same quilt.  But they both charted their own courses
twenty years ago, and it was a separate one for each of them.  That's how he
got lucky enough to find me.  You know the story."  A small grin started
because of the well-worn tale of Maureen's introduction of Big Scott to
Suzanne.  "And, he loves me, and he loves you, and I know that he'd never
knowingly take a step to damage any of this."  Scotty didn't look his way,
but he heard the appreciation and devotion in his dad's sigh.

     She continued.  "For the past month, my own life has been a whirlwind.
Between the demands of the business and the weekend trips up to Duluth, we
haven't seen nearly enough of each other.  It wasn't hard for your dad to
explore the possibilities of Maureen's ideas.  He's right, that I would have
said `No! Drop it!  Don't even go there!' if he had tried to clear it with
me first.  I would have pulled the plug on it, and he would have gone
along."

     Scott's right elbow had been planted on the table, his chin firmly
perched in the crook between the thumb and forefinger.  He thought back to
one of his dad's maxims, though one he said should be rarely relied upon.
He glanced at his dad with a move of his eyes to the left.  "So, this is one
of those, `sometimes it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission,'
situations, huh?"

     Big Scott sighed heavily and shrugged.  "Well, I don't know about
easier...but, yeah, I guess."

     Scotty flopped back in his chair.  He was drained, and still had nearly
a two-hour drive back to Madison.  He inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly
through his nose.  "Whew."  He checked his watch and rubbed his face.  "Well
this is a relief, I guess."  He looked back at his dad.  "It makes sense on
one level, but not all the way."  Big Scott gave him a questioning look.
Scott answered before he could ask anything at all.  "I dunno, Dad.  Lots to
absorb in one day.  I'm just kinda overloaded.  I want to get back to the
sanity of my dorm room and sleep `til about Wednesday."  He started to
stand.

     His mom and dad got up at the same time, and Suzanne gave him a worried
look.  "Are you sure you're okay to drive, honey?  You look exhausted."

     He walked around to her side of the table and reached out for a hug,
and she leaned into him.  "Yeah, mom, I'm okay.  My stuff is all packed up.
I'll grab a tall thermal mug of coffee for the road."  He looked up at his
dad.  "A couple hours on the road by myself to think is just what I need
right now."  His dad looked at him anxiously.  "Just let me get back into
the routine, and we'll talk this week."

     Big Scott nodded, and he let out light moan of relief when his son
stepped over to hug him goodbye.  "Okay, son.  Sorry for all the unnecessary
stress and strain you've been hit with.  I hope you'll be able to make this
all make sense.  We'll talk again soon."

     Scott stepped back from his dad.  "Shit.  Some of it's never gonna make
sense."  His mind replayed his last image of Evelyn.  "And a lot of it's
never gonna be fair.  But, it is what it is, I guess."  A silence of several
seconds settled around the family before Scott went back to his room to get
his stuff.

     Mother and father waited by the front door for another round of hugs.
Suzanne leaned up with a hand on each shoulder and kissed his cheek.  "We're
going to be okay, Scotty.  Really.  I'm with your dad on this."  Then she
whispered in his ear.  "But I'm gonna keep bustin' his balls a little while
longer.  I don't get the chance to do that too often."

     Scott's head jerked back and he snorted.  "Go for it, Mom.  It'll help
me to remember to always play straight with you."

     Big Scott had heard most of the exchange, and he winced his
embarrassment once more through a final hug.  "I know.  I've got it coming."
  Then he pulled back and looked at his son seriously.  "But, Scotty."  He
paused for emphasis.  "This is something we need to keep under our hats,
probably for about another year.  It wouldn't help Maureen within the party
if it came out now that she's been actively recruiting someone to replace
her.  If there's anyone else in the party thinking about this seat, and if
there's going to be a primary race before the next general election, she
can't be seen as taking sides."

     Scott nodded.  "I understand.  Mum's the word, Dad."  He picked up his
bag and pre-empted both parents.  "And, yes, I'll drive careful, okay?"  His
dad held the door and patted his back as he left.



     David Schachtner arrived at his law office at a little after 9:00 on
Monday morning.  He was tired already, and the cup of coffee he was pouring
didn't promise to improve his condition.  Leaving the little kitchenette
with his mug in one hand and briefcase in the other he paused sighed in
front of his secretary's desk.  "What's on deck today, Brenda?  Speeding,
shoplifting, bounced checks?"  Brenda put another piece of Nicorette in her
mouth and handed him the daily calendar she had mapped out.

     "Same old, same old, Dave.  Not a lot of skullduggery going on in
Rockford these days, huh?"

     He surveyed the names on the day planner.  The newer ones had short
notations about the nature of their legal issues.  He shook his head.
"Christ, when's the last time we had a good attempted murder?  Bring me a
dark heart with a fat checkbook, a plausible alabi and some clumsy cops
violating his civil rights.  I mean, nobody's actually gotta die or
anything, but where the hell is everybody?"

     Brenda picked the envelope off the top of the files next to her
computer and waved it in his directioin.  "And here I was sure you were
starting to dig into the `cloak and dagger' stuff without telling me.
Recognize this penmanship on the front?"

     The lawyer's brows peaked as he surveyed it.  "Attorney David
Schachtner, Esquire?"  He chuckled a bit.  "Hhhmmmm.  Any ideas?"

     Brenda snorted.  "What's it say on the front, Dave? `Personal and
Confidential!'   My x-ray vision isn't what it used to be."

     He rubbed his thumb across the surface.  "Feels like there's a disk in
here.  Boot up the computer in the library, will you?  I'm not gonna load
any anonymous disks onto my office drive or any of the networked terminals.
We need a new one in there anyway, in case this is infected with something."
  He went to his office, dropped his briefcase and took a long slurpy sip
from his coffee.  He sat down at his desk, picked up the letter opener and
sliced across the top of the envelope.  He unfolded the single sheet of
paper.

     "Mr. Schachtner,

     "My name is Martin Anderson, and I'm the only son of Michelle Anderson,
a new client of yours.  As you know, she is stuck in one of those
marriage-in-name-only relationships with one of the biggest assholes to ever
breathe our air.

     "Mom shared with me her recent meetings with you, and with your
assistant.  I'd like to thank you now for the comfort you've been able to
provide her thus far.  During our heart-to-heart, Mom explained your view
that absolute and irrefutable proof of Dan Anderson's infidelity would
provide a healthy momentum to her cause of action against him.

     "Here you go, Mr. Schachtner.  On this disk, you will find fifteen
images of Michelle's husband of twenty-one years, Dan Anderson, in the
throes of a rather rambunctious outing with a member of his office staff.
You should know that this coupling took place last week, on the evening of
Thanksgiving.  He excused himself from our family holiday gathering under
the guise of needing to go to the office to get some work done.  The
location is one of his company's main trailers on the outskirts of Rockford
at the intersections of highway 20 and Meridian.  For your convenience, you
will notice that each image is time and date stamped.  Should you need to
establish further foundation for their reliability, I can provide you with
the actual digital camera with which these were taken.

     "Please be advised that my mother is not aware of the existence of
these images of Mr. Anderson and the whore he's banging.  She's been through
quite enough at the hands of that worthless bastard, and I don't think she
should be subjected to the gross reality of his crimes against her heart.
If you can avoid sharing the substance of these pictures with my mother, she
and I will both be grateful.  If you do have to show them to her, I hope you
will use that as adequate rationale to put his balls in a vice and turn the
handle once or twice more.

     "I hope this will help you in advancing my mother's cause, and in
providing her a quick and permanent end to her misery.  He's a waste of a
human being, Mr. Schachtner, and he deserves the worst you can dish out.

     "Should you need to reach me for any reason, all of my contact
information is beneath the signature.

     "Thank you very much.

     Sincerely,

     Martin J. `Marty' Anderson"

     Schachtner plucked the disk out of the envelope, got up and walked
toward the library.  He wasn't tired anymore. "Whew!" he muttered under his
breath.  "This is one bitter kid.  Didn't even refer to the guy as his dad,
his father, anything."

     Twenty minutes later, the door to the library opened.  Schachtner wore
a smug grin.  "Brenda, Amy's at the county jail, finishing up an interview
with a client.  As soon as she gets in, tell her to come into my office.
Then, pull the Michelle Anderson file and boot up the standard, boiler plate
divorce templates on your hard drive, but leave some space for the details
we're going to include."  He paused before disappearing again into his
private office.  "And, Brenda. If it ever appears that I'm about the piss
off Mrs. Anderson's son, stop me, will you."  He took half a step and paused
again.  "No, just shoot me."


     None of them could remember the last time they'd found themselves in
the dorm's dining room at the same time.  So, Monday evening was a boon on
two counts.  First, all four of the friends walked in together and, second,
the kitchen's supervisor was smart enough to schedule something other than
meat and mashed potatoes and gravy.  Helena Burchardt knew that the day
after a holiday weekend, you put out something that Mom wouldn't prepare for
Thanksgiving.  It was lasagna night.  The guys loved lasagna night

      "Okay, who wants to go first?"  Brett stuffed his mouth with more
Caesar Salad than he should have tried, and ended up looking like a pig for
his efforts.  "C'om on guys!  First holiday weekend back home, four-day
weekend at that, and you gotta have some family joy or misery to share for
our analysis."  There was an awkward moment of silence.

     Scott decided to go first.  "Up and down on my end, that's for sure.
You guys know my grandma has Alzheimer's?"  Three pained expressions and a
chorus of soft "oh no" accompanied his munching into a slice of Italian
bread.  "Yeah.  The weekend started out great!  She joined us for
Thanksgiving dinner, and she was as close to her old self as I've seen her
in a long time.  Feisty and funny and all that stuff.  Really cool!"  Smiles
of anticipation followed his abridged version of his weekend.  "Then on
Sunday, she had this...like...friggin' meltdown.  Just totally lost it.  Didn't
even know who I was.  First I was my granddad, then some civil rights lawyer
who should have got her out of jail."  He shook his head and sighed.  "It
was freaky."

     There was about a minute of somber silence before Craig broke the ice
again.  "And, how are the `rents?"

     Marty stared intently looking for some sign of emotional reaction.
Before Scott could respond, Craig added, "So, does Maureen, like, join you
guys for the holidays now that her husband's gone?  I know how tight she and
your folks are, and she doesn't have any kids, does she?"  Marty's gaze only
became more focused.  Scott avoided any eye contact.

     Scott had anticipated this.  "Big Scott and Suzanne are fine, really.
Dad's pretty beside himself about my grandma, but dealing with it pretty
well, and Mom's a lot of solid support for him.  But, it's tough on
everybody."

     Marty wanted to reach across and grab his arm and shake him.  `So what
the fuck is really going on with your dad and Maureen?' he shouted in his
head.

     Scott interrupted Marty's imaginary inquisition with a hopeful glance.
"And how `bout The Anderson's, Marty?  Good holiday on the home front?"

     Marty shook his head.  "Well you know the old man's a dick, and that
was just more of the same.  But it's not like it's some surprise, and my
ma's doin' good, all things considered."

     `Not enough information!' Scott's brain shouted back.  Their eyes
locked for a moment and each guy shrugged off their weekends as though it
was mostly business as usual with a couple of minor bumps in the road.

     Craig got everybody's attention when he leaned over and nudged his old
friend.  "And..." he sang, "Marty's got a girlfriend."

     He got an elbow to the ribs for his efforts.  "Fuck off, douchebag!  We
went to the damned circus."

     A chorus of  "Whoa!"  "Do Tell!"  "Gimme, gimme!"  "Spill it, Marty!"
assaulted him from around the table.

     Craig swallowed a mouthful, and he chuckled through another shot to the
ribs.  "Our boy ran into an old friend.  His cousin's best gal from way
back, and it seems she's had the hots for him for some time.  They basically
drooled at each other over the pool table most of Friday night."

     "Shit!"  Brett wiped his mouth, but kept on chewing.  "I knew I should
have come out and joined you guys that night!  Is she hot, Craig?"  Craig
nodded and wiggled his eyebrows.  "So...d'you bang her?"  Brett ducked away
from Marty's flying napkin.

     "No...I did not bang her, dipshit!  She's my cousin Bridgette's best
friend for, like, forever, and we ran into each other and played some pool.
Next day, I went with her and her little girl to the circus.  That's about
it."

     Scott's ears perked up.  "Little girl!?"

     Marty put down his fork.  "Yup.  Cute little sweetie, too.  Jill...that's
the girl's name...Jill, married a guy from a nearby town not long out of high
school.  They'd just found out that Ashley was `in the oven' when he was
sent to The Gulf.  Never came back.  They've been alone for the last three
years, but she's doin' great, all things considered."  He retrieved his fork
and played with the pasta and sauce on his plate, then broke into a grin.
"And Ashley's an absolute angel.  Golden blond hair and huge blue eyes to
die for, with dimples to match.  The kid should be on magazine covers."  His
smile widened.  "And, she's obviously a great judge of character.  She
adored yours truly!!"  His fingertips tapped his inflated chest.

     "That'll pass," Brett smirked.  "Ouch!"  The toe of Marty's shoe
connected squarely with his shin.

     Scott took a sip of his coffee.  "So, there a future here?"  Marty
shrugged.  "Well...you going to see her again?"

     Marty shrugged again.  "We're gonna get together over the Christmas
break, but it's not like we're makin' any plans or anything.  She's got her
own plan for the next couple years, and so do I."  He got lost in a thought
for a moment.  "But, we'll see."



     Scott was horny, plain and simple.  It had been nearly two weeks, since
the trip to Minneapolis, that he'd busted a nut with anything other than his
right hand and his fluid imagination.  `A mind is a terrible thing to
waste,' he reasoned.

     So, paying attention in class that morning was a struggle.  As his TA
reached up to begin scribbling his outline for the day's lecture/discussion,
the small of his muscular back was exposed and his glutes flexed beneath the
tight-fitting denim.  He turned and stretched a bit as the rest of the class
wandered into the room in ones and twos.  Randy's full, hard pecs and taut
six-pack were evident beneath the tight-fitting sweater.  He looked up at
Scott and nodded with a grin.  Scott removed the pen from between his lips
and raised it in a `good morning' salute, then looked down and doodled,
pretending he was writing something of substance.  Throughout the hour-long
discussion, Scott's eyes wandered more than once to Randy's tight package,
and he marveled at the gymnast's trim waist above those very muscular
thighs.  He shifted his weight to try and subtly accommodate the chubbing
member held prisoner by his own Levi's.

     As the day's discussion ended, and they all filed out of the room,
Scott held back.  "Got a second, Randy?"

     The TA nodded as he squared the pages of his notes and slid them back
into a file folder.  He grinned as the last student exited, then looked back
at Scott.  "I thought you'd never ask.  I got as many as you want."

     Scott pursed his lips to suppress a grin.  "I'm not gonna be here on
Thursday.  Can you clue me in on what I'll be missing?"

     Randy mulled over the question.  `I'd love to tell you, in graphic
detail, all that you're missing,' he said to himself, and then blinked as he
jerked his mind back to the question before him.  "Oh, that's right!  The
LaFollette Scholarship interviews are this week, right?  Dr. Cushing said
he'd scheduled yours to pull you out of this section.  He figured, rightly,
that you could afford to miss one day of our class, since you're all over
this stuff the way you are."

     `All over this stuff.' Scott's eyes drifted slowly from Randy's Doc
Marten's to his thick neck, and he wanted to push him back on the table and
get all over that stuff.  `Easy boy,' he told himself.  "Yeah, I can get the
notes from somebody in class, but wanted to make sure I won't be missing out
on anything big."  His eyes paused on Randy's crotch for a moment.

     "We'll be the ones missing out by your absence, Scott.  You're a great
help in your contributions to discussion."  Coming into the last days of the
syllabus, the class was now working to apply a lot of the concepts they'd
been covering to current goings-on in state politics.  "Just keep an eye on
the state newspapers, and be back next week with a couple good examples of
headlines and stories dealing with what we've been covering.  You'll be
fine."

     Scott decided it was time to leave.  "Great.  Can do!  Thanks a lot.
See you next week, then."

     Randy's gaze was captivating.  "Good luck in the interview.  I know
you'll knock their socks off."

     Scott shrugged.  "Hope so.  That scholarship would be sweet!  Well
gotta get going."  He thought he felt Randy's leer follow him out the door
and down the hall.  On the walk back to his room, he couldn't help wonder if
the two would see each other outside the classroom after the semester was
over.  In his mind's eye he replayed the very hot scene of Randy and Marty
rutting around in the back of Randy's truck nearly a month earlier.  `Lucky
fucker,' he grudgingly admitted about his friend.

     Back in the room, he opened his e-mail and clicked on Kip's name in his
`contacts' list to open a blank message.

     "Kip,

     "I'm hoping we can have time this week to review your take on the
Regents' meeting you attended a couple weeks ago.  The governor has sent me
a formal request to recommend a new appointee from the student body.  We'll
take it up at next Monday's meeting, if only to refer the matter to a
committee for their consideration.  But, I'd like to have a sense of what
the Board is up to these days, and where you think their attention will
focused in the coming year.  Let me know what your calendar looks like.

     "Thanks.  Scott."

     He checked the clock and realized that Kelly was probably in class, so
he opened a second email.

     "Hey!

     "Hope you had a good trip home, but I'm missing you.  It seems like its
been ages since we spent any quality time together.  Want to have lunch
tomorrow, or make plans to get together another time...soon!?!"

     After an hour of reading a very dull American Lit. assignment, and
about a thirty-minute snooze, he heard the faint `ping' of his e-mail elert.
  Kip had gotten his message, and wasted no time in responding.

      "Scott,

     "I'm coming into the deep shit in most of my classes, so this is a
terrible week for me.  As long as you're sending the Regents thing to
committee on Monday, can we plan on sitting down in the office afterwards. I
can be ready to report to you by then.  I assume you'll be sending the
matter to Morrison's committee, UW System Relations?  I'm pretty sure that's
been the first step in previous recommendations.  Just wondering.  See you
Monday.

     "Kip."

     Scott was annoyed.  "Jesus Christ!" he muttered.  "I don't need a
fucking dissertation on the inner-workings of Congress.  I just want some
idea of the `lay of the land' with The Regents."  He realized he was
scolding a computer screen and laughed a little at himself, then thought, `I
just want to know if there are any landmines in their world, if I'm going to
slide into that seat.'  His fingers reached for the keyboard.  "Okay.  See
you then.  Scott."



     Upstairs/Downstairs Deli occupied a very cool triangular building on
one of State Street's major corners.  The streets intersected at about a
forty-five degree angle, requiring the buildings on each corner to conform
to the odd angles.  Scott met Kelly downstairs near the take-out counter.
They hugged and kissed lightly right there in front of a pair of
single-digit-aged kids who giggled. Then he grabbed her hand and led her up
the turned staircase to the sit-down dining room.  It was snowing hard that
day, and she quietly cursed him for making her walk the several blocks up to
the trendy eatery as she shook the melting flakes off the hair.

     "But they have the best friggin' lentl soup and freshest bread!
Perfect for a cold, wet, shitty day like this.  Hot, thick soup with warm
crusty bread and butter.  A good cup of coffee or strong hot tea, and the
company of a charmer like yours truly."

       Scott asked her about the Thanksgiving weekend first, hoping to keep
the attention away from the Turner family's events.  Unfortunately there
wasn't any real drama or great humor at the Abbott's to occupy an entire
lunchtime conversation.  Maureen had joined the family, as she had been
doing since her husband passed away.  Kelly's brother and his family joined
the fray, and Kelly did have a few amusing observations on her niece and
nephews.  The older sister, whom Kelly had cursed more than once in Scott's
presence, was on hand to contribute further to their father's ulcer.  But
all in all, it was a pretty drab account of her weekend at home with the
family.

       "So what about the Turner's?  Big doings all weekend?"

       He had rehearsed a relatively casual demeanor on the topic.  He knew
that Kelly was aware how much his grandma meant to him, but he wasn't really
ready to talk about the crushing blow he'd absorbed at the end of an
otherwise awe-inspiring few days with her.  "Well, the Alzheimer's is giving
Gran fits, of course, but she was generally great all weekend long.  It was
fun!"  And, his dad had been adamant about keeping his and Maureen's
conspiracies below the radar for the time being.  He felt certain the time
would come that they'd talk about it, and that Kelly would understand his
unwillingness, maybe his inability, to discuss it freely right now.   `But,
I wonder if Kelly's one of Maureen's two,' Scott had already asked himself.
He recalled Evelyn's analysis of human nature and keeping or sharing
secrets.  `And I don't know if I'm one of her two or not.'  It only
highlighted the fact, in many ways, they really know each other all that
well.  That bothered him.  Most of the rest of the conversation proceeded
with mostly one and two-word answers about his trip back home for
Thanksgiving.

       They munched on crusty bread and butter and slurped hot soup, and
soon they were lost again in one another's company.  Before long, they were
laughing about nothing and teasing each other, but he still seemed pretty
distracted, as if his fun-loving flirtations were a bit forced.  `Stress,'
she reasoned.  They hadn't really been together since the night they'd
celebrated his birthday with the leftover dessert sauces, and it seemed his
long weekend home had left him burdened.  `Maybe I can put a shine on his
day, lift his spirits, so to speak,' she considered.

       As he reached for his glass of water, he noticed a decidedly naughty
glimmer in her eye.  He tried to dismiss it, but before he could, the top of
her foot had hooked the back of his calf.  Their eyes locked, and Scott slid
his right leg forward to give her foot easier access to slowly rub its way
up the back of his leg, to the crook of his knee.

       Scott cleared his throat when Kelly's eyebrows raised.  "So...uhm...how's
your soup?"

       "It's good.  It's excellent, in fact."  She wiped her mouth with the
napkin, then slowly slid her tongue across her parted lips.  "But...it's
somehow not quite fully satisfying."  Her foot nudged his calf once more.
"Could be hotter, I guess."

       Scott's lips slowly curled into a knowing grin.  "Hhhhmmmm...could be
hotter.  Could be more satisfying."  The pressure building beneath the
zipper of his Levi's could not be denied, or ignored.  He shifted his weight
in his chair hoping his equipment would shift enough to provide a little
relief, to no avail.  He checked his watch.  "Well, Craig's gonna be gone
from the room `til about dinner time, and I don't have class `til 3:00."

       Kelly's eyes bore into him.  "3:00.  A little more than two hours to
kill, eh?  Wonder if we could find something hotter, perhaps more satisfying
somewhere else?"

       Fifteen minutes later, Kelly practically slammed the door closed in
Scott's room and she grabbed his wrist as he reached for the light switch.
"Don't bother.  Let's not waste any energy."  Her lips locked onto his as
she clutched the collar of his coat and pushed it over his shoulders.
Scott's arms stretched behind him to let the jacket fall and, once they were
free, he encircled Kelly's trim waist.  His tongue roamed her mouth, and she
gently bit down, grasping it between her front teeth.

       Scott's eyes shot open wide, and he lightly slapped her butt.
"Yyeeesuuuhh Criiiiiii!"  He snapped his head back and retrieved the tongue
from her toothy grip. "You are still hungry, aren't you?"  Swept up in the
spirit of her mounting attack, Scott pressed her against the door and buried
his face in the crook of her neck.  He nibbled and licked his way up to her
earlobe as his hands wandered over her slim waist.  The depth and rate of
her breathing increased rapidly as his teeth grazed across her jawbone and
he found her waiting mouth once more.  She moaned into his, as his fingers
danced across the firm round mounds beneath her sweater.

       "Fuck!"  From inside his coat pocket on the floor, his cell phone was
ringing.  Scott wiped his mouth and smiled a shy smile.  "Let me at least
see who it is I'm going to ignore."  Kelly looked back with a hint of
exasperation as he bent to retrieve the jacket and reached into the inside
pocket.  "Shit!  It's Maureen's direct office number.  Better take this."
Kelly faked a pout.  Scott grinned and put a hand on each shoulder,
directing her to sit on the bed  "I'll only be a minute.  Make yourself as
comfy as you can."  He saw Kelly begin to grin again as he turned to speak
into the phone.

       "Scott Turner."

       "Hey, Scotty!  It's Maureen.  You busy?"

       He turned and perched his butt on the edge of his desk just in time
to duck away from the navy blue sweater that was sailing toward his head.
"Uuhhhmmm...a little, but I got about a minute."  Kelly's jeans were being
peeled off now, and Scott sat, transfixed.

       "Okay, honey, I won't keep you long.  Can you meet for lunch some day
next week?  I'm thinking Wednesday."

       Kelly sauntered toward him with a lusty look on her face.  Her hands
slid down over her bra, lightly pinching the erect nipples, and then slowly
rubbed her ribs and tummy.  In no time, she stood about an inch in front of
her quest.  Her hand slid up his right thigh and groped the swelling denim
package beneath his belt buckle.

       "Aaaahhh...W...We...Wednesday?"  He fired an `I don't believe you!' look of
shock, and she stifled a giggle with the back of her free hand.  "Le...let me
check, okay?  Hang on, just a sec."

       "Is everything okay, Scotty?  You seem kind of flustered."

       "No!  It's all okay!  Hang on and let me check my calendar."  He sat
the phone down, as if to check his calendar and pushed Kelly's hand away
with an incredulous grin on his lips.  He mouthed `will you please give me a
second here?'  Kelly shook her head `no!' and grabbed the strap of his belt
and the buckle as she went to her knees.

       Scott picked up the phone again.  He quickly thought about it, and
was pretty sure he was clear for lunch the coming Monday.  "Yeah...that
works...is something up?"  Kelly unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper
down.  She reached in and grabbed his stiff member through the fabric of his
boxers.

       She nodded and whispered.  "Uh-huh!  Sure is."  Scott rolled his
eyes.

       "Nothing too much, dear.  It's just that I know you're interviewing
for the LaFollette Scholarship this week, and I'll want to hear how that
goes, and I really wanted to speak with you again about the Regents thing.
The Gov' has called for the WSA recommendation I assume?"

       Scott looked at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on her voice, but
he felt the elastic of his boxers pulled down and over the head of his cock.

       "Uhhhhh...yeah, he...he..." Her tongue swiped across the head.
"...yeah...he...uh...has."  His jeans were tugged down to his knees, along with the
boxers, and his cock sprang up and hit the bottom of his sweatshirt.
Kelly's hand slid the shirt upward as it roamed over his heaving pecs.

       "Are you sure everything's okay, Scotty?"

       Kelly's lips slowly sucked in the head of his member and she savored
the sweet tang of precum by rolling her tongue back and forth under the top
couple of inches.  Scott practically yelped.  "Yyyyeeeah!  Fine!
Everything's fine!"

       "Anyway, I do want to encourage you to make a serious bid for that
appointment.  I'm sure you can work through the WSA effectively to assure
you'll be recommended to the governor, right?"

       Kelly's head moved back and she pressed Scott's dick up against his
stomach, craning her neck to get access to his sack.  Her tongue flicked at
first his left nut, then the right, and she took that one into her mouth.

       "Uuuuuuhhhhh...working on that, Maureen...working on it."

       "Well, good.  We'll talk more about the possibilities on Wednesday,
then.  See you around 12:30 at the Inn on the Park?"  Kelly swallowed him in
to the back of her throat, and Scott pulled the phone away from his face to
gasp.  She pulled back most of the way, then looked up and smiled with the
head of his tool resting on her bottom lip.  She mouthed the word `Now!' and
gently took his cock back in between her teeth.

       Scott's eyes widened.  "Okaymaureenseeyouthen...gottago!"  He pressed
the button to end the call and tossed the phone onto Craig's bed.

       Nearly an hour later, Kelly's index finger slowly roamed through the
light circle of hair that surrounded Scott's right nipple and he sighed
deeply.  She finger-walked the first two digits up his chest.  That
landscape had slowly stopped heaving about fifteen minutes earlier, although
it still displayed a sweaty sheen.  He lay on his back, eyes closed, with
his right arm pressing behind her, holding her into his torso, and he had a
contented half-smile on his face.  She gently tapped his chin and his lips
parted.  She pressed her index finger into the crevace and he puckered his
lips around the tip, then sighed through his nose.  "You're incorrigible,
you know that?"  He shifted his weight on the hard floor and adjusted the
comforter he'd pulled off of his bed a little while earlier.

       Kelly giggled.  "That's why you keep inviting me back here, isn't
it?"

       He grinned and nodded, eyes still closed.  His eyelids parted and he
looked down at the auburn hair resting on his ribs.  "Geez, Kel!  I was
talking to Maureen for God's sake!  And you just go for the groceries while
I have your aunt on the phone?!"

       She giggled again.  "It's the only time I've ever really competed
with her for anything.  You didn't expect me to just give up and let the
other woman in my family take your undivided attention from me, did you?"

       "Well, I guess not, but..."

       She slapped his tummy to cut him off.  "Okay, then!  Next time I have
your cock in my mouth and you want me to stop it, just say so.  Just tell me
you're too busy, or that you have better things to do, or...whatever."

       He let out a slow, low laugh as she reached up and wiped the sweat
soaked hair away from his forehead.  "Yeah.  Like that's gonna happen."

       Kelly scooted up and laid her head on his shoulder, pulling the
comforter up to cover him up and draping her arm across his chest again.
"You were pretty quiet at lunch today."

       "Huh?"

       She shrugged.  "Well, it felt a little like you didn't want to talk.
Something go on over your weekend home?"

       Scott opened his eyes and he stared at the ceiling.  He inhaled
deeply and slowly let the breath go through his nose.  "Oh, Kel...my Gran's
not doin' very well.  Pretty bad, in fact."

       Her brows came down and together.  "Ooohh, no.  It's Alzheimer's,
right?"

       "Yeah.  Shitty...shitty stuff, that.  She was so great most of the
weekend.  Then, on Sunday, she just lost it.  From Thursday, through Friday
and Saturday, here was that one-time little lioness of a woman who didn't
suffer fools or take any shit from anybody.  One of the smartest...no...
wisest...people I've ever known.  Personality to spare and a grand life lived.
  All of a sudden, she'd become a drooling, blithering shell of her former
self,  just a few hours before I left."

       Kelly reached up and wiped a tear from the corner of his right eye.
He stuttered a deep inhale and pursed his lips together, then swallowed
hard.  She stroked his cheek with the back of her index finger.  "It's okay,
Scotty..."

       He shook his head.  "No!  It's not okay!"  He choked back a sob.  "It
fucking sucks!"  He clamped his eyelids together trying to hold back the
tears.  "I mean...I know I'll see her again.  But, I just don't know if I'll
ever see HER...ever  again!  If that doesn't happen..." he gasped, "if I don't
get to talk to my old Gran at least one more time...then how will I get to
tell her all she means...all she means to me...and has meant to so many others?
I don't know when she's going to leave us...I mean...I don't think she's that
physically or medically sick yet, but I don't know shit about this fucking
disease!  I'm so fucking scared that I won't get to really say goodbye.  The
lady I talked to on Sunday wasn't my Gran, and the last thing I said to that
crazy old bag that I'd see her again after I'd talked to some imaginary
judge!"

       Kelly's face flashed nothing but confusion.

       He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.  "Ooohh...I can explain
later.  It was part of the hysteria she was going through at the time, and I
just played along.  Wade, the orderly or whatever he is, said it would go
easier that way."

       Kelly nodded and she stroked her fingers through his hair.  "Scott.
Who ever does get to really say goodbye?  I mean, we all go around saying
we'd like a quick stroke of death, or that we want to go quietly in our
sleep.  But when that does happen, the rest us are left behind wishing we'd
done this or that...said this or that.  It's part of the deal.  When the
departed get what they want in a quick, unexpected death, the rest of us get
left behind, kinda screwed.  Mo' lost Uncle Greg to a drunk driver out of
the blue, and she didn't get to do or say a lot of things before she lost
him."

       Scott nodded, and she wiped some more tears from beneath his bottom
lids.  "Don't you think your Gran's always known what she's meant to you?
Even if she would never say it out loud, if she's as wise as you know she
is...don't you believe she's had a good sense of the impact she's had on you?
And, the satisfaction you want her to get out of that...don't you believe
she's felt it?"

       Scott sighed again deeply.  "Yeah, but I want to tell her again, and
I want to know that she knows it."

       Kelly kissed him gently, then trained her emerald green eyes squarely
on and into his own.  "She knows it, Scotty.  If she were to die tonight...and
God forbid that should happen...but you need to know that if she died tonight,
she'd take your love and your honor and your respect and your gratitude with
her.  She already has it, locked deep inside.  And, whether it's your Gran
speaking, or the incomprehensible old woman you saw on Sunday, she's going
to leave this place with a peace of mind and confidence in you...that you're
going to change people's lives, because she helped to teach you how.  Her
spirit is going to live on, through you and others that she's inspired, and
she already knows that.  Truly great and truly wise people don't admit that
out loud, but they know it, even if they're too humble to admit it to
themselves."

       Scott sighed and gave a reluctant nod.  "God, I hope you're right,
Kel.


     After his last class on Thursday, Scott stopped into the WSA offices.
Walter was dropping mail, most of it junk, into the various officer's
mailboxes.  "Hey, Radar!  How's it goin' today?"

     Walter shrugged.  "Same old, same old, chief.  Hey!  Why the tie?"

     Scott patted his back.  "Had a scholarship interview today, so I had to
put on the monkey suit."

     The clerk cussed at a paper cut and sucked the tip of his thumb into
his mouth.  "Went awright, I hoe."

     Scott giggled.  "Yeah, went good.  So, anything else we need to add to
the next meeting, or is there a chance I could make it back to the dorm in
time for Monday Night Football?"

     Walter grabbed his last draft of the agenda.  "Well, I sent Morrison
his copy of the letter from the governor, asking for the WSA's
recommendation for the Regents, but that's about it.  Should be a short
night."

     Scott frowned.  "Hey, has he been in here at all?"

     Walter chuckled.  "Who, Bart?  Nah.  He's not as enthused as he used to
be about being the big mover and shaker in our little group.  Hardly ever
stops by."

     "Well, I sent the goofball an email and left him a voice message asking
him to call.  Nothing from him here, huh?"  Scott pointed to the handful of
flyers and envelopes in Walter's hand.

     Walter shrugged.  "Nope.  But it has been a couple days since you've
checked your office email, right?"

     As usual, the clerk's perception was right on.  Scott's email had
explained that he'd be referring the Student Regent thing to Morrison's
committee, and he asked for a chance to speak to him about how it might go.
The answer was brief, even terse.  "President Turner," Bart began.  Scott
could smell the sarcasm oozing from his computer monitor.  "I have been duly
noticed of your intent to refer this matter to the Committee on UW System
Relations.  The committee has its charge, and will meet twice after Monday
night's meeting of the WSA Student Senate.  Once to establish a process the
members can agree upon.  The second time to act on a formal recommendation
to the whole body.  You will be duly informed once the committee has a
recommendation."

     "Asshole," Scott muttered.  "He's not going to make this easy, is he?"

     He picked up the phone and dialed Radar's extension.  "Yes, sir!" the
clerk chirped into the phone.

     "Okay, Walter, the agenda for Monday is final.  Will you send it to The
Cardinal and The Herald so it gets in tomorrows papers, and post one on the
bulletin board outside the front door."

     "Consider it done, Scott, then I'm going to head out, unless there's
anything else."

     Scott smiled.  "Not here, buddy.  I'm going to putz around at the desk
a little while, then run out and grab a sub.  I think I want to do a little
homework on the Regents' operations and recent issues."

     Walter nodded.  "'kay.  Have a good night then."


     Randy walked across the Mall between the library and the museum, and he
noticed that the office light on the second floor was on.  `Wonder what the
chances are?' he thought to himself.  `Might as well give it a shot.'

     The bell hanging over the front door clanged, and Scott stepped into he
hallway.  `Shit.  Forgot to lock the door when I came back with the food.'
"Hello?" he called out.

     Steps sounded on the stairs, and Randy's voice called out.  "Mr.
President!  Glad I caught you in the office.  You're just the guy I wanted
to see."

     "Randy!  This is a surprise!  C'mon in.  Welcome to our opulent
offices."  He stepped back in and cleaned the sandwich wrapper and empty
potato chip bag and curled them into a ball.  He tossed an arching shot
toward the wastebasket in the corner.  Randy entered just in time to see it
bounce of both walls and drop into the can.

     "Nice shootin' Tex!"

     Scott shrugged, and motioned to a chair.  "Have a seat.  What's up?"

     "Hey.  Remember the first paper you did for our class?  The analysis of
the 29th district that you did so well on?"

     "Sure.  You kept a copy, right?  I remember we talked about that.  What
about it?"

     Randy was suddenly a bit tentative.  "Yeah, I did save a copy.  It
really was outstanding work.  In fact, I sent a copy back to my dad.  You
know he's the county party chair back home, right?"

     "Oh, yeah!  That's right.  I think Maureen told me that."

     "Well, he and some of his people were very impressed by the analysis
and the thoughtful detail, and they asked me to extend an invitation your
way...a request, if you will."

     Scott's face showed some surprise and a little confusion.  "The county
chair of the party has `people'?"

     Randy chuckled.  "Well, not normally.  But lately, he's been doing some
early organizing in anticipation for Maureen's expected vacating of the
seat."

     Scott didn't respond, but sat up straight in his chair.

     "Scott, you can't share this with anybody, okay?  I mean it's waaaay
too early for certain cats to get out of the bag."

     "I'll do what I can, Randy, but it'd help if I knew what we were
talking about.  What's so hush-hush back home?"

     "Well, and again, this is totally off the record."  He paused for
dramatic effect and Scott nodded again.  "Scott, my father's going to run
for Maureen's seat."

     Scott muffled a gasp and tried to look pleasantly surprised.  "What!?
Your dad is..."

     Randy nodded enthusiastically.  "Yeah! And, he and his little gang
would like you to come back next year and work on the campaign.  We don't
know yet whether there'll be a racee in the primary, but they really like
your stuff.  They'd like to enlist you and your insights into the district
as they make plans."

     Scott's mind raced for something intelligent to say.  "Well, that's
very nice, but it's awfully early, Randy.  Christ!  It's two years out."

     Randy's head never stopped moving up and down.  "To be sure!  But we
want to nail down as much support as we can early on.  Dad's paid his dues
back there for the last couple of decades, but we want to discourage anybody
else from tossing their hat into the ring.  We know we can't get her to go
public if there's a fight inside the party for the nomination, but we're
sure Maureen will be in our corner on this one."

     Scott's brows shot up.  "She said so?"

     Randy chuckled.  "Oh, hell no!  She doesn't even know Dad's thinking
about it yet, but she owes him.  You know that he basically put her in this
seat, right?  Shit!  Marshall Oakes has carried more political water than
anybody has for Maureen McCarthy.  She knows that, and we're confident that
she'll quietly get in line when the time comes, and then publicly support
the old man when it really matters.  How could she not?"

     Scott sighed.  "Wow!"

     "Anyway," Randy was practically rambling with excitement by now.  "Can
I tell them you'll get with us on this?  Can we pick your brain further when
the time comes?  If the fundraising goes well after we kick it all off,
there could be some modest pay in it for you if you really want to dig in
when it's going to count the most."

     Scott leaned back.  "I'm flattered, Randy.  I really am.  But I don't
know what I'm going to be doing next week, let alone where I'll be a year
from now, or two, in this case."  Randy looked like a puppy begging for a
treat.  "Tell them I'll think about it, and I'm glad my paper was a help.
That's about the best I can do right now."  He stood up to encourage his
teaching assistant to excuse himself.

     Randy extended a hand.  "We'd really like you on board, Scott.  There's
a lot of talent in there that ought to be put to more use than you can even
find in this office."

     Scott grasped the strong hand.  "Yeah, I appreciate it.  But my plate
is pretty full right now, so it wouldn't be fair to you or your dad for me
to make some kind of commitment that I might feel I need to back out on
later.  Again, I'm glad you've asked, and tell your father and `his people'
the same, but I'll just have to say I'll think about it."

     Randy nodded and smiled.  "Good enough then.  Well, I'll let you get
back to the business of the good students of the UW.  See you next week, if
not before."

     Randy's Doc Martens clumped on the steps as he walked back down.  Scott
fell into his chair, folded his arms on the desk top and dropped his
forehead in the center of them.  "Fuck."  He shook his head.  "Fuck, fuck,
fuck!"


     It wasn't a foul mood, but it was tense.  It was preoccupied, but
without any focus.  It was burdensome, but without any specific heavy mental
lifting.  Scott stared at the sidewalk, shiny from the December wet, with
small mounds of snow on his left, and larger slushy drifts on the curb to
his right.

     "Just too much shit!" he muttered.  "Gran's lost it, and so has Dad.
His explanation makes sense, but then again it doesn't.  He never wanted
something like an elected office, and actually spoke against it so many
times.  And Maureen's the source of it and is only flaming the fires.  And
then there's this friggin' Regents thing.  Bart and Kip are bein' dicks
about that...won't even communicate with me...the assholes.  And now this shit
with Randy's dad planning to go after what he thinks, probably with good
reason, what he's got coming to him."

     He flinched in mid-stride, ducking to the left because a blur in his
right vision.  "Pfwat!"  A large ball of snow exploded on the sidewalk one
step in front of him.  Scott's head darted around.  All the cars on the
street had a good three inches of clean, white snow settled on their hoods
and roofs, and areas on each side of the walk had enough of the heavy wet
stuff to form a decent missile, but there were no suspects in sight.  "What
the fuck?"  Scott scowled as he even scoped out the roof of the one-story
square mall he was walking past.

     He continued at a brisk stride.  "Wonder what made Dad change his mind
so far and so fast?  He's awfully friggin' busy with his practice, and with
Gran's situation so fucked up, and..."

     "Thwd!"  He was jarred a bit to the left with the impact on his
backpack.  A second hefty snowball had hit the bag slung over his right
shoulder, and globs of frozen rain clung to the side zipper as the rest
dripped to the walk below.  He was being watched by someone, somewhere.
Nobody on the walk across the street, though he was certain that's where it
was coming from.  `Fucking kids!'  He grinned.  `But they know how to hide.'
  Scott checked his watch.  He was already late for the Friday morning study
group he'd joined, and their final exam was only a week away.

     "Whack!"  The third one hit it's mark, hitting the upper right side of
his head.  He felt a couple of chunks of snow rest in his ear, and swung to
his right in rage.  "Fuckers!" he shouted to no one.

     Marty popped up from behind the Taurus on the other side of the street
and he whooped a victory yell, then did a little dance.  "Watch yer
language, professor!" he shouted as he jogged across the street, beaming.

     Scott used his pinky to scoop the slush from inside his ear.  He tried
to, and failed, to suppress a broad smile.  He hadn't seen his friend since
they'd all had dinner together on Monday.  Just the previous night, he'd
laid in bed wondering if Marty had gone into hiding.

     Marty's last stride landed him on the curb, still brandising his
devilish grin.  His breath steamed in the cold December air as he brushed
the snow off Scott's collar and shoulder.  "Looks like you been deep in
thought, Scotty.  Good thing you weren't sharing the sidewalk with anybody
else.  You'da bowled them over."

     "Where you been hiding, ya' shit?  Haven't seen you all week."  They
turned at the corner of and continued up the sidewalk.

     "You should talk!" Marty challenged him.  "You've been pretty scarce
yourself, bud.  I was gonna ask Craig if you moved out or something."

     Scott nodded to his left, toward a small bakery, and grabbed the door.
"C'mon.  I'll buy a couple coffees, then I gotta fly.  I'm late already for
a study group."  Marty walked in ahead of him, and blew on his cold hands.

     As they stood in line, Scott turned and sighed.  "Yeah, been busier
than hell this week.  WSA stuff and finals, and my interview with the
scholarship committee..."

     `And family stuff?' Marty wondered.  He grabbed a couple napkins off
the counter and blew his runny nose.  "Yeah, I can relate.  I picked up a
couple extra shifts on Building and Grounds, and the clock's been ticking on
the community service hours the DA gave me, so I've been spending another
hour or two a day over at the stadium dancing to the tune of the building's
superintendent."

     Scott's eyes lit up.  "Oh, yeah, that's right!  You have, `til what...end
of the year to finish the hours, right?"  He asked the girl at the counter
for two tall, black coffees.

     "Yup.  And since I'm going back to Rockford right after my last final
on the 21st, that means I have to have the super over at Camp Randall sign
off on the time before then.  If I don't, the DA will haul my ass back in on
a violation when I get back in January."

     Scott paid the clerk and handed Marty a tall paper cup.  They each
grabbed a cardboard sleeve to mute the heat and secured plastic lids, then
took a tentative sip.

     "Hey, Scott.  What're you doin' tonight?"

     He shrugged.  "Not much.  Craig's got a concert to cover, and I just
thought I'd lay low for the night.  Haven't enjoyed any plain old quiet down
time in a while.  Seems like I've been running my ass off since we left for
the Minneapolis trip.  I just wanna veg out for the night."

     Marty's face welcomed the thought.  "Perfect!  I was thinking the same.
  Why not come on up and lay low with some quality down time in our room?
Brett will be around for a while, but he's going to head over to Angie's,
and that'll prolly mean he'll be gone all weekend.  We could kill a few
brain cells...nothing brutal, mind you...but just relax, maybe order a pizza
after we get a good case of the munchies, and just kinda get caught up."

     Scott smiled kindly with something like relief, maybe a hint of
gratitude.  "Great idea."  He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the
sidewalk.  "I'll be back a little after five, then want to take care of some
shit around the room.  How's 6:30...maybe 7:00?"

     Marty tapped his shoulder. "Got it!  See you then."  He winked.  Just
as Scott was turning, he saw Marty look across the street, then reach onto
the roof of the nearest car to grab a couple large handfuls of snow.

     Brett was bent over, up to his elbows in the basket of laundry he'd
just brought up from the basement, naked as the day he was born.  "Those red
fuckers are in here somewhere.  Angie likes the red ones."  There was a
knock on the door, but he didn't even acknowledge it.  So, Marty sat down
the crossword puzzle, stretched up from his spot on his bed, and grabbed the
doorknob.

     Scott pushed and the door swung open.  Instantly, his right forearm
went to the bridge of his nose and blocked his eyes.  "Ohmygod!!  I've gone
blind!!  Lord have mercy!!  Let me see again!!  Please, God!  Don't let that
skinny, hairy, bony ass destroy me forever!"

     Brett didn't stand up, but bent his knees, stretched an arm between his
thin thighs and flipped him off.  Marty laughed as Scott's slammed the door.

     Scott gasped.  "Jesus, Brett!  You have, without a doubt, the ugliest,
skinniest and harriest fucking ass I have ever, ever seen."  He set down the
small cooler of drinks he'd taken from the little fridge from his and
Craig's room.

     "Ahaa!  Got `em!"  Brett stood up straight, proudly displaying his
thin, cut cock, capped by a generous mushroom head dangling over his
low-hanging balls, and a pair of bright red CK boxer briefs.  "Angie loves
seein' me in these."

     Scott opened the cooler.  "Right now, dude, I'd love seein' you in
anything.  Put some fuckin' clothes on...please!"

     Brett wiggled his hips into the tight shorts, adjusted his package into
a comfy pouch, then turned around and smacked his own ass.  "You're just
feelin' lucky you got here in time for the show, bitch!"  He did present an
attractive sight wrapped up in the bright red cotton, even if his butt was
pretty skinny.  The workouts he did in the marching band was evident in his
muscular thighs and calves, and it had kept him from getting the gut that
lazier college students could so easily fall prey to, especially one with
Brett's drinking habits.

     Marty goaded him as Scott handed them each a beer.  "Hey, Brett.  That
shade is almost the cardinal red of our teams.  I want to hear that you
dropped trou' and showed `em off to all the fans at the Rose Bowl!"  The
Badgers had recently received the official bid to represent the Big Ten
during the New Year's contest, and the band would certainly be on hand to
provide their special measure of school spirit.

     "No shit, roomie!  I'm gonna bring Angie down to the beach one night
and ravish her in the moonlight."  He crooned a la Tony Bennett, "I left my
load...in Pa-sa-deeee-na."  He buttoned his shirt, then pointed down to the
floor near Marty's feet.  "Bro' slide that tray out and fire up one of those
before I gotta head out."

     Marty reached under the bed and found his stash tray with a couple of
joints already rolled.  He picked up a lighter, lit one of them, and handed
it to Scott.  Scott took an unhealthy drag, then handed it to Brett.  Brett
took a hit, held it then exhaled heavily.  After a small cough, he took
another gulp of beer to cool his burning throat, then turned and started to
fish around on the desktop near the phone.  "Almost forgot!"  He found a
slip of paper.  "Marty, you got a call this afternoon from this guy, David
Schachtner.  Said he wants you to call him back Monday morning, if you can."

     The name registered with Scott immediately, since he'd gotten the
recommendation for the attorney from his dad and passed it onto Marty.  Not
certain how much Brett was aware of the marital strife in the Anderson
household, he kept his mouth shut, but exchanged a knowing glance with
Marty.

     "Will do.  Thanks," was all Marty said.

     Brett finished his beer, muffled a belch with his cupped hand, and bit
into a piece of gum.  "Boys, I gotta go.  You two have fun tonight.  I gotta
go make a girl happy."  And, he was out the door.

     "Shit!  Wish we could go to that game.  How cool would it be to do New
Years in Pasedena?"  Scott took a spot on the floor next to Marty's bed.

     "Very cool.  Very fucking cool.  Even if I had the cash, I'm gonna have
to be home for mom, in a big way."

     "Yeah.  We didn't have much chance to talk the other night during
dinner.  How's she doing?"

     "Mom?  She's great.  She's a friggin' rock, all things considered.  She
has her shit together.  Plus," he nudged his buddy, "she's got me covering
her back."

     Scott snickered.  "That's always a good thing, I know.  But, really,
Marty, how's she doin'?  More than that, how're you doin?"

     He shrugged.  "Well, I talked to her once this week, and don't know
much that's new down there.  I didn't want to press her on it.  She needs to
own this, and I don't want her to end up looking back and thinking she left
the miserable fucker for my sake.  I mean, it is partly for my sake, but
only to the extent that it's going to improve her quality of life in a big
way, and that's what matters to me."

     Scott believed every word, and admired him all the more for it.  "So,
whatcha think Schachtner wants from you?"

     Marty giggled and took a final gulp of his beer.  "Well...you know
me...always trying to be the little helper."

     Scott's head fell back and it hit the mattress.  "Oh, fuck!  What'dya
do?"

     Marty reviewed his mom's account that she'd been advised that clear-cut
proof of Dan's infidelity would ease her way to a quick separation and a
`good' divorce, "if there is such a thing," he hastened to add.  Then there
was Dan's Thanksgiving Day phone conversation with the bimbo that he'd
overheard outside of the house.  He described, in as little detail as he
could, the clandestine trip to the construction trailer with his camera.
Finally, he recalled the note and the stop by Schachtner's office the
previous Sunday, before driving back to Madison.

     Marty forgot his mom's suffering for a moment and flashed one of his
impish grins, then winked.  "You know me and my camera, Scott.  Its' my
weapon of righteousness, jamming up the gad guys.  If Marty's got a disk of
pics, somebody's gonna be in deep shit.  First it's that fucker Kip, and now
it's this worse piece of shit in the person of Dan Anderson."

     The room fell quiet as Scott felt a tug of sadness.  He looked back at
Marty and said softly, "Let's not even go there, bud.  That other disk
caused enough trouble between the two of us.  I'm still trying to forget all
about it."  Marty nodded his understanding, and Scott's face brightened
"But, good work for your mom, Marty.  I hope Schachtner has nothing but good
news."  He stood up to get a couple more beers.

     Marty felt the urge to change the topic and lighten things up, and
lighten them up a lot.   They'd hit a couple of dark topics and things were
getting pretty somber, but he was working on a pretty good buzz, and Scott
was looking good.

     "Hey!  I got this outrageous email last night!"

     "Yeah?"

     "Remember Danny?"

     Scott grinned widely and his eyebrows arched.  "How could I forget?"
He pictured the hot blond bent over the work table in the mall's maintenance
closet.  "He sent you a note?"

     "Unbelievable!  Well, not for Danny, but for most of us."  He reached
up and accepted the beer that Scott was holding over his head.  "So,
remember when we pulled away from the hotel...he was just standing on the
sidewalk waving?"

     Scott thought.  "Not specifically...but okay."

     Marty opened the beer and took a sip.  "And, remember the hottie from
room service and the front desk?  Dude's name was Kory."

     Scott smirked.  "Curly blond hair and a butt that screamed for
attention, as I recall."  He plopped down on the floor next to Marty and
leaned back against the bed.

     Marty elbowed him.  "I knew you were checkin' him out, you whore."
Scott elbowed him back.  "Anyway, seems that while we were checking out and
loading up the van and saying `bye to Frank's uncle Sal, the dude slips
Danny a card with a room number on it, and then just winks and licks his
lips."

     Scott giggled.  "No shit!  And..."

     "And, for starters, Danny should write porn.  His email gave a detailed
`blow by blow' if you will.  The guy's got more than a talented mouth.  I
had to sneak down to the john and whack off after I read it."

     "Well...let me see it."

     Marty leered, and spoke slowly.  "I uh...got a better idea.  Stand up."


     When Danny got to Room 311, as Kory had discreetly invited, the door
was propped open a few inches.  With the back of his hand, he eased it
inward a few more inches and tried to peek inside.

     He heard a soft voice, just above a whisper.  "Don't be so shy, stud.
C'mon in."

     He grinned slyly and pushed further.  The owner of the voice hadn't yet
come into view, but he stepped inside nonetheless.  The door swung shut and
a hand instantly rested on his package.  Kory smiled and moved forward until
they were chest to chest, Danny's back resting against the wall.  Their eyes
met and Kory's breath was warm against Danny's neck.  With one hand, he
kneaded the growing bundle of denim and lightly rubbed the other up his firm
stomach and then groped at Danny's right pec.

     Danny moaned.  "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.  Too bad my buds had to hit the road."

     The tip of Kory's tongue flicked at his neck muscles.  "Oh well.  I
guess we'll just have to make due then, won't we."  He slid his fingertips
into the waist of Danny's jeans and slowly walked into the hotel room with
Danny in tow.

     Marty dropped to his knees.  "Then he did this."  He clutched at
Scott's thighs and gnawed at bulging denim.  Slowly, both hands slid upward
and underneath Scott's sweatshirt, all the way to his heaving chest.  Scott
placed a hand on each side of Marty's rolling head to encourage his hungry
friend.  One thumb flicked back and forth over each of Scott's hardened
nipples.  Scott just sighed and closed his eyes.

     Danny felt his belt being undone as Kory continued to tease and lightly
tweak his right nipple.  He continued to run his fingers through the blond
curls beneath him.  In an instant, his jeans were at his knees.  His
jockstrap had been absent-mindedly left up in the hotel suite, so his
half-hard member sprang upward, glancing Kory's chin.  The tongue snaked out
and Kory's face followed the bobbing tool in front of him.  As he groped and
squeezed his own bulging crotch, he teased Danny's skin-covered head with
just the tip of his tongue.  Danny grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and
shucked it off over his head, dropping it on the bed behind him.  He wet
both thumbs with his tongue, and continued to tweak both of his own nipples.
  He looked down in amusement and slowly swayed his hips to tease the hungry
bellman with his swaying meat.  Kory looked up and smiled, then grabbed hold
of his prey.  He slid his tongue underneath the foreskin and slowly circled
the head several times, eliciting several gasps from above.  He put a hand
flat on the firm six-pack and gently pushed.

     Scott took the cue and allowed himself to fall back onto the bed.
Marty pulled the jeans down further, to his ankles, then half stood as he
gripped the pant cuffs and pulled them off with one fell swoop.  Scott
locked his fingers behind his head and raised it off the mattress to watch
his friend do a slow strip tease.  Once naked and at full mast, Marty
gestured with his hands, and Scott scooted further up on the bed.  His legs
were nudged further apart as Marty slowly crept up between his knees,
grinning and ogling his primary target, Scott's leaking pole.

     Marty started on the inside of his right upper leg, a couple of inches
above the knee.  He kissed, sucked and licked his way, back and forth
between the tight thighs.  He appreciated Scott's continued efforts to stay
on something of a running regimen as his fingers lightly danced across the
twitching flesh and his lips, tongue and, occasionally, his teeth, caused
Scott to gasp, whimper and moan.  Marty's left hand slid up the mattress and
his fingers gently teased the nuts has he continued his mouth-dance between
the left and right thigh.  When he felt Marty's tongue finally wisk across
his sack, Scott bent his knees and spread them a bit further to provide
complete access.

     Kory took the hint and he greedily sucked Danny's right nut into his
mouth as far as the smooth-shaven scrotum would permit.  He held onto it and
rubbed the heaving abdomen, then grinned with his mouthful of manhood when
Danny sighed through "Oooooohhhhh ffffffuck!"  He released the nut, then
assaulted the other one, repeating the sucking and tugging that had Danny
clutching the comforter beneath him.  His belly was slick and shiny with
precum and he was vaguely aware of the moisture forming on his forehead and
brow.  He allowed himself to look down at the broad, muscular shoulders and
back of the smooth blond below him.  With one hand, Kory gripped Danny's
aching pole, and he grasped his own drooling tool with the other.  In one
swoop, his nose was buried in Danny's trimmed pubic hairs and the head of
his cock was nestled in his throat.  In unison, each man moaned his
appreciation.

     "God!  Ooooohhh you fucker!" Scott sputtered.  Marty held him deep for
another couple of seconds, then came up for air.  His chin glistened in his
own saliva and the tip of his nose bore some of the precum that had nestled
in Scott's pubes.  He grabbed hold of Marty's biceps and pulled him upward.
"C'mere, dammit!  Get up here!"  Marty readily complied, and their slick
cocks criss-crossed and pressed together when he descended on top of his
friend.  His elbows landed on either side of Scott's head and he mashed his
lips down onto the waiting mouth below him.  His hips rolled and swayed,
slowly rubbing their cocks together.  Scott reached down with both hands and
he roughly grabbed each of Marty's ass cheeks, and a low, lusty moan filled
his mouth.

     Kory was surprised by the sudden shift in Danny's weight, and his eyes
shot open as he was rolled over onto his back.  But their lips and tongues
never broke contact.  After another minute of tongue dueling and cock
grinding, Danny raised his torso and propped back on his knees.  He grabbed
Kory's seven inches and admired the mushroom head.  His thumb swiped back
and forth across the head, smooth and slimy with precum, causing a shudder
to rock Kory's body.  Danny grinned broadly.  "Maybe it's a good thing that
the guys had to leave.  This way, I don't have to share."  He winked before
squeezing the hot cock in his grasp and sliding off of the bed.  "I'm not in
a sharing mood right now."  He quickly stepped to the side of the matress,
lifted his right leg, and straddled Kory's face.  He grasped Kory's pole
again and dove forward and down.  The wide cockhead caused him to pause and
gag a bit, but he relaxed, and quickly felt a blast of hot air hit his own
sack as Kory coughed in delighted amazement.  Kory wasted no time in sucking
both of Danny's nuts into his mouth as he delighted in the wet warmth that
had engulfed his pulsing rod.

     Scott's shifting weight had nearly caused them to roll off of the dorm
bed, so they both giggled as they gently eased themselves onto the floor
below.   Scott's head slowly and deliberately rose and fell as he worked his
tongue, lips and cheeks up and down Marty's straight, stiff muscle.  He
tucked his hand under the scrotum and playfully juggled Marty's twin boys.
Marty nudged his face upward, and attacked Scott's perineum with a vengence.
  The moan it caused sent shock waves through Marty's groin, and his hips
bucked involuntarily as he continued his effort devour the sweaty flesh
surrounding his face.  Scott's head rose and he roughly grabbed Marty's legs
behind each knee and lifted his ass in the air.  Locking one leg under each
armpit, he gazed down at Marty's taut cheeks and spread them with his
fingertips.  He buried his face in the crevace and thrust his tongue
forward.  A muffled "ooooohhhh!" came from beneath him, urging his tongue
out and down, further, deeper.

     Kory tilted his head back and opened his mouth to encourage Danny's
encroaching cock.  Danny continued to slurp up and down and around the shaft
and flaring head while bucking his own hips backward and forward.  Danny
guessed that the whimpers from below him signaled his partner was getting
close now, and he redoubled his efforts to bring the guy home.  A hand from
below landed firmly on his left cheek, bringing a nod and moan of approval.
The other one hit the right, only harder as he swallowed Kory to the base of
his shaft.  Kory clutched the hot flesh between his palms and fingertips and
his hips shot into a fierce, thrusting spasm.  He released Danny's dripping
meat as his head rolled back and forth between the knees on either side.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, oooohhhh, fuck!"  A ferocious volley if jiz filled
Danny's mouth.  He quickly inserted his middle finger past Kory's sphincter
and his thumb pressed down on his quaking perineum.  Kory shuddered
violently and thrust four or five more times, adding to the treasure that
was already leaking from the corner of Danny's mouth.

     "Yyyyyeaaaaaaaah!  That's it!" Marty was almost begging now.  "Tongue
fuck me goddammit!  Eat that ass!  Make it all yours, Scotty.  Encouraged,
Scott spread his fingers further and pulled up and back, nearly sitting
straight up.  Marty's hands parted the ass cheeks inches above his face, and
he joined his buddy in a fierce sixty-nine of rimming.  When Scott's middle
finger probed the tight pucker beneath his open mouth, Marty dove forward
and upward with his tongue.  He wiggled his head back and forth as he
pierced Scott's twitching hole.

      Scott came up for air and he growled, wiggling his own hips back and
forth.   He smacked Marty's ass firmly.  "Want that, boy?  Like eatin' that
hole, don't you?"  He could feel the mouth in his crack move as Marty nodded
and moaned.  "Goddamn!  I love it when you eat me.  You know that, don't
you?"  He swatted Marty's ass once more.

     Danny jolted upright, and he gasped.  Some of Kory's seed slid down his
chin when he grimaced at the start of his own incredible orgasm.  "Oooh, oh,
oh!"  Kory sucked a nut into his mouth once more, just as the first load of
cum hit his shin.  His own eyes still closed, he clutched Danny's cheeks
once again.  "Fffffuuuuuuuuuuck!  Oh fuck!  Oh fuck!"  Danny's goo shot over
both thighs through his gasps and moans, then Kory felt a last few shots
land in his pubes and onto his quivering stomach.  Danny's body quaked once
more and he collapsed forward, his head and chest landing next to Kory's
shins on the mattress.  He sighed, and both guys began to giggle.
Playfully, Danny looked over and spied a small glob of semen on Kory's big
toe.  He wrapped a hand around the foot and leaned over, sucking it into his
mouth.  Kory patted his ass and took a deep breath of absolute contentment.

     Marty was on his knees, leaning onto the bed with his arms outstretched
flat.  He looked over his shoulder.  "Come on!  Hurry!  Scott!  Dude!  Fuck
me now, man!"

     Scott had fumbled with the condom a bit, adding a second of frustration
to the situation for them both.  He couldn't get inside his friend's ass
fast enough for either one of them, but he was feeling naughty...playful.  He
gripped his aching rod and rubbed the head up and down in Marty's crack.
"What do you want, bud?"

     "I want your cock!"

     "Huh?"  He poked lightly at Marty's entrance, then swatted his ass once
more.

     "Ooohh, Scotty!  I want you inside of me!  Pleeeeeeeease.  C'mon...buddy!
  Do me now, man!  You just gotta!  You're killin' me here!"

     Scott smiled.  "I'm not killin' you, ya' little cock hound.  You're
lovin' it!  Tell me again, whad'ya want from old Scotty."  He grasped both
cheeks and parted them a bit further, then squeezed his sliding shaft
between them.

     Marty reached back and he smacked Scott's thigh with his right hand.
His head rested on the left forearm.  "Goddam you!
I...want...I...need...your...sweet...dick...up...my...sweet...ass!"  He swatted Scott's thigh
again and scowled over his shoulder.

     Scott leaned over and kissed the back of his neck.  "You did say
please."  His head had just popped through the tight sphincter when Marty
lunged backward with the full force of all his 140 pounds.  "Wwwhhhoooooooa!
  Hang on there, cowboy."  Scott's hands flew behind him and found the floor
for support.

     Marty's head turned upward but his eyes were tightly closed.
"Yyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaah.  Fucking stud!  That's what Marty needs," he
croaked.  He reached back and grabbed Scott's ass, holding his friend buried
deep inside, and flexed his muscles `hello...welcome back.'

     Scott's hands rested on Marty's shoulders, and he pushed him back down
onto the bed.  "Okay, Marty, let's go for a ride."  He withdrew slowly, all
the way to the head, and then slid all the way back in.  He laid forward and
down, his chest resting on the slippery back beneath him and breathed into
his ear.  "I fucking love your cute ass, you know that?  It's been a while."

     Marty smiled a soft contentment and turned his head as far as he could.
  "Too fucking long, stud!"  He opened his mouth and welcomed Scott's
invading tongue.

     Scott's hips began to rock in a constant rhythm and he moved back
upright to watch his manhood appear and disappear with his best friend
moaning and sighing his satisfaction beneath him.  Marty's hair was matted
in sweat down onto his neck and around his ears.  Scott's hands roamed the
taught, glimmering back muscles.  Marty's head laid on the mattress as Scott
gripped his hips and picked up the pace.  Marty muttered with each
quickening thrust,
"Fuck...me...fuck...me...fuck...me...ooohhh...Scotty...fuck...me...oooh...yeah...fuck...that... hole!"

     Scott leaned over and reached around, gripping Marty's drooling member
in an iron clasp and began rabbit-punching his hole.  Marty turned his head
face down into the bed and uttered something that sounded like a squeal.
Without even realizing it, Scott's teeth closed on Mary's shoulder and his
eyes rolled in his head.  He'd lost track of time and location, but knew the
voice and the ass beneath him.

     Without warning, just before the shooting started, Marty jolted upright
and he grunted.  The back of his head smacked Scott just below the left eye,
but Scott kept his grip.  Marty continued to thrust his impaled hole up and
down as he splattered the side of the bed with hot pearly stripes and globs.
  Scott released his friend's gushing dick and reached up with both hands,
grabbing him by the chest.  His whining moans were the sound Marty was
hoping for.

     "Wait!  Not yet, stud!"  To Scott's dismay, he quickly felt his cock
pop free, and his eyes flew open.  Marty spun around and scooted his legs
between Scott's knees.  "I want your load, Scotty."  He reached down and
roughly slid the rubber sheath off and away from its turgid prisoner.
"Shoot it on my face, dude!  Gimme your best shot, you fucking stud!"
Scotty smiled and put a hand on his shoulder as Marty scooted his head down
on the side of the mattress, and opened his mouth.  He reached up and cupped
Scott's balls, and gently squeezed.

     Scott's eyes rolled back again and he took a deep breath.  It escaped
in spurts as his body, from the knees up, quivered and quaked.
"Uuuuurrrrrrrgggghhhhhhh..."

     Marty cocked his head forward and a shot of cum hit his forehead.  He
giggled a quiet cheer, as several more followed in rapid fire, hitting his
open mouth, his chin and his cheeks.  "Fuck...fuck...fuck...fuck!" Scott wimpered.
His eyes were locked tightly shut, and Marty watched the jaw muscles flex
and relax. He thrust his hips again and again and again, glazing Marty's
neck and chest with his juice.

     A sublime smile emerged as his stroking subsided and finally ended.
Scott's forearm wiped across his forehead, and his hands rested on the
mattress on either side of Marty's head.  He looked down at the smiling face
looking back, and it winked at him.  Scott started to giggle, as his knees
scooted back on the floor and his face descended.  He leaned down and licked
a sizable smear of his cum off of Marty's cheek, then shared it with his
friend in a slow, satisfying kiss.


     Marty put on a t-shirt to answer the door.  He'd found his boxers about
forty minutes earlier, and slid them onto his sticky crotch.  Scott stayed
under the covers, propped on a couple of pillows against the dresser on the
dorm room floor.  He was mostly behind the view from the door, except maybe
for his feet.  It depended how far the delivery person stepped into the
room, and he knew that pizza people knew better than to walk through a
customer's doorway.

     "Large sausage, pepperoni and half-mushroom, sir?"

     Marty opened his wallet and read the tag on her shirt.  "You're a
genius, Lizzie!  How'd you know?"  He winked at her as he retrieved a
twenty.

     She was disarmed, as most people are when they first encounter Marty
Anderson.  She blushed.  "Well, I...ah..."

     Marty took the box from her hands and handed her the bill.  "Okay.
You're my angel of mercy.  Let's leave it at that.  Keep the change, my
dear."

     Lizzie quickly calculated the nearly twenty-five percent tip, with the
coupon he had included in the payment.  "Thank you, sir!!"  Her eyes roamed
from his engaging glare, down to his cute toes, and then back up, pausing
along the way.  "Call us any time...and ask for Lizzie!"

     Marty winked and mouthed a smooch.  "You got it!  Have a good night
now, and be careful out there."

     Before she could say that she would, the door was closed.

     He set the box on top of the comforter next to Scott's thigh and opened
it up.  The aroma of Italian meats with a hint of mushroom surrounded them.
Marty scooped up a large slice and held it.  "Sounds like your grandma is
one ballsy old broad, huh?  I think I'm in love, and I never even met the
old gal."  He winced as a hot string of mozzarella slung down from his lips
and onto his chin.  He pulled the cheese back into his mouth with his tongue
and chuckled through a quiet curse.

     Scott picked up a piece.  "You would love her, Marty, and she'd take a
shine to you, too.  You're a lot alike, actually.  She's always been all
full of `piss and vinegar,' as my old man would say.  But on Sunday..." Scott
took a bite and gazed at nothing at all.  In his mind's eye, he could see
and hear Evelyn hurling racist epithets and spitting at Wade, her caregiver.

     Marty chomped down again on his slice and talked through his chewing.
"I look forward to meeting her.  It's gonna happen, you know.  She's gonna
be okay again, maybe only for a while, and I'm gonna come up there and
visit.  Consider me invited."  His expression darkened.  "But you do know,
right, that this is only gonna get worse...that she's not going to be the
grand ol' gal you used to cuddle up to, right?"

     Scott rolled his eyes.  "Shit.  Of course I do.  It's just that it's
too soon."

     "Never a good time for the wheels to fall off part of your world,
professor.  Life happens, but you don't get to set the schedule."

     "I sound like I'm whining, huh?  Aw hell, I guess I am.  Sorry, buddy.
You have enough going on already without me dumping my bucket on your shoes.
  Besides, it's my dad who really has to deal with this shit, practically on
a daily basis."

     Marty waved him off, and wiggled his toes.  "Ain't wearing shoes, but
dump away.  And...speaking of `Big Scott?'  What'd you learn on that Scotty?
Anything?"

     Scott put down his second slice and wiped his mouth with the back of
his forearm.  He could hear Evelyn reminding him of her `Rule of Two.'
"Yeah.  I guess you're one of my two."

     "Huh?"

     "Gran has this take on talking about in-house shit.  She calls it her
Rule of Two."  Marty's eyes fixed intently on Scott's.  "She says we all
have one...or often, two...people that we trust enough to tell just about
anything to.  The thing is, one or both of those people also have two
others, so they're prolly gonna share it with somebody else because they
trust them.  They're one of the two."

     Marty nodded.  "And he or she has two...and each of them has two..." He
processed the logic quickly, then smiled.  "And I got promoted to one of
your two?"

     Scott laughed.  "Not promoted so much as...uhm...reclassified.  I figure
since I've had your dick in my mouth and my tongue up your ass...and
more...you're a good risk."

     Marty threw a mushroom at him.  It hit the dresser drawer to the left
of Scott's head and stuck for a second before dropping behind his shoulder.
"So, you're saying this is hush-hush about the old man, huh?"

     "Yeah."  Scott pondered the situation one more time.  "Marty, this
doesn't make any fucking sense to me at all."

     "So?  What's up?"

     "Well, the good news is he's not been humping Maureen.  He and Mom both
made that abundantly clear."  He took the last gulp out of his bottle of
beer and swallowed through a light laugh.  "Actually, Mom was a friggin'
riot!  Never heard her refer to Dad's nuts in any context, let alone talk
about the prospect of shoving them down his throat."

     Marty clenched practically every muscle above his armpits, and then
swallowed hard to prevent spewing beer through his nose.  He hacked out a
delayed cough.  After a gasp, he muttered, "Are you shitting me?"

     Scott thought back on Sunday night's conversation around the dining
room table.  "I shit you not, my man!  And my old man has some serious
balls...big mother fuckers that'd choke a horse, I guess.  It's been a while,
but I've seen `em and they're friggin melons!"  He chomped down on his pizza
slice.  "I got the old boy's eyes, but not his gonads."

     Marty reached over to pinch a nipple, only to have his hand slapped
away. "I like your nuts, Scotty.  They're just the right size."  He surveyed
the two beer bottles and saw that they were near empty.  He leaned back
toward the cooler and retrieved the last two bottles.  He opened them both,
then scooted around and crawled under the quilt to join Scott.  "So...what
doesn't make sense?"

     Scott swallowed, and then gulped the fresh beer.  "He says he's gonna
run for Maureen's seat."

     "What?!"

     "Yup.  Maureen and some party big wigs, even the governor, have been
recruiting him to run for her seat once she announces her bid for the
Attorney General's office."

     "And, that's what all those secret meeting have been all about?"

     Scott nodded.  "You got it.  He's been down here about three times
since Homecoming weekend while he checked out the possibilities.  Didn't
tell me or Mom about it until he'd made up his mind.  Said he was sure she'd
veto it right out of the gate if he'd discussed it with her first."

     "And she's okay with that?"

     Scott chuckled.  "Well, apparently not at first.  She was pissed off
that he'd been so secret about it, and I don't blame her, but she's mostly
over it.  I knew there was something bugging her the whole weekend I was
home, but I didn't say anything.  Figured I'd just let it ride until they
decided they had something to tell me.  Then, after Gran had her meltdown in
the nursing home, I was really wound up...pissed at the world, in fact,
especially at him.  So, when I got home Sunday night, before coming back
here, I really went off on him.  I wasn't planning on it...I just sort of
blew."

     "Okay, so what doesn't make sense?"

     Scott shrugged and shook his head.  "It's just that...well...he's never
said anything except that Maureen was crazy for putting herself through all
the shit she needs to in order to win and keep a political seat.  Admirable,
but crazy.  We volunteered on her campaigns, and he never hesitates to write
a check here and there when it's somebody or some cause he believes in, but
I've heard him say a hundred times that he'd never, ever do something like
this!  Something just doesn't compute about the whole thing."

     Marty patted his thigh.  "Well, he's a big boy, Scotty, and I'm sure
Maureen can be pretty persuasive.  You did say he'd put more than a little
thought into it."

     Scott chewed and swallowed another mouthful and took a long swig from
his beer.  "And THEN!  You're gonna love this now.  I'm sitting in the
office last night, and who drops by?  Randy Oakes."

     "Ooooooh, a little after hours `extra credit' with the TA, huh?"
Marty's eyebrows danced.  "You holdin' out on me, big guy?"

     Scott swatted his arm.  "In yer dreams.  Only one person in his room
has been in Randy's pants, and I'm lookin' at him.  No...get this...he tells me
his dad is gearing up to run for that seat too!  Asked if I'd be interested
in joining the campaign when the time comes."

     Marty's jaw dropped.  "You are shitting me!"

     "Nope.  Real deal.  Said they were sure Maureen would get behind him.
Says she owes him, I guess I don't blame them for thinking that.  She's said
it herself, that Marshall Oakes, more that any one other person, was
probably responsible for her being where she is today.  In fact, I remember
her saying exactly that in front of Randy at the fundraiser me and Craig
went to a couple months back."

     "Did you say anything?"

     "About Big Scott?  Hell no!  I just sat there with what I'm sure was
this dumb ass `deer-in-the-headlights' expression and muttered something
about it being too early to make any commitments for something like that,
and told him to touch base with me again when his dad decides to announce."

     "So, you gonna tell your dad?"

     Scott was quiet for a moment.  "Not sure yet.  I'm just going to mull
it over for a while and see how it all plays out."

     Scott was growing weary of the topic.  "So...speaking of holding out...what
about you?  Fill me in on this Jill chick.  What's up with that?"

     Marty grinned, and actually blushed a little.  "She's a sweetheart, and
her daughter's adorable.  We had a really good time."

     Scott's eyes asked, `And...?'

     "And that's about all there is to report right now.  Her husband was
killed in action in The Gulf over three years ago, before Ashley was even
born.  The little girl never knew her dad, but she doesn't seem much worse
for it.  And Jill's like, the perfect mother.  I really admire her.  And, I
gotta admit, she's very easy on the eyes.  Smart, and funny, too.  All
things considered, she's really got it going."

     Scott reached over and tapped his chest.  "Atta boy.  Good for you."

     They were quiet for a minute and then Marty broke the silence.  "Hey.
Why don't you plan on coming down to Rockford over the holidays?  Things
could be a little stormy around the home front, depending on how things play
out the next couple weeks.  But, my mom would love to meet you, and then you
can meet Jill and Ashley."

     "Funny.  My folks were saying the same about you.  Want to know when
they're gonna get to meet this screwball Marty I'm always talking about.
And, maybe Gran might be okay and you can come out and meet her, too.  Well,
we've got over three weeks off before the new semester starts.  Let's think
about two road trips.  You can head north for a weekend, and I'll look at
coming down there for a few days."

     Marty stood up and reached for a CD.  "I'm gonna put on some tunes.  I
hope you're in the mood.  This is my own mix, burned it myself while I was
at home last week."

     Scott admired Marty's cute tight ass, the concave cheeks smiling at him
from only a few feet away.  "I'm always in the...Oh, Jesus!  Marty!  Christmas
music?"  Bing Crosby crooned, "Iiiiiiiii'mmm dreaming of a..."

     Marty looked over his shoulder and smiled wide, looking like a little
kid.  "I love it!  `Tis the season, Scotty!"  He crawled back under the
comforter and reached over to pull Scott in close.  "We always had holiday
music in the house.  It's like comfort food for me this time of year.  I
could dance with Mom forever to this song."

     Scott gave in, and laid his head on Marty's chest.  His friend's voice
resonated into his ear.  "Where the tree tops glisten, and children listen..."
  He had to admit it, the guy could sing.

     His eyes still closed, Scott felt and heard a little chuckle, and then
Marty'ss thumb gently rubbed just beneath his eye.  He squinted and felt the
pain and slight swelling.  "You gave me a shiner, you bastard.  I'm gonna
have a black eye tomorrow, aren't I?"

     Marty patted his head.  "Yup."

     "Good.  And I'm going to tell anybody who asks just how I got it."

     Marty giggled, and he reached down and pinched Scott's ass.  "Yeah,
right."  He lowered his voice a notch.  "'Ya' see, I was fucking my best
bud, you know?  And I was doing such a hot job of it, and the dude was so
out of his mind that he threw his head back, without even knowing it, and
knocked me in the face.  Then we ordered pizza and listened to Christmas
music for the rest of the night.'  Okay, Scotty.  Go with that.  Let me know
how it works for you."

     Scott laughed and he lightly pinched the right nipple in front of his
nose.  Then he sighed.  "Oooohhh...this is my favorite Christmas song of all
time.  I've always loved this."  The instrumental intro was instantly
familiar, but he couldn't place the rich voice.

      "O' holy night,the stars are brightly shining,

      "It is the night of our dear Savior's birth!"

     Scott opened his eyes.  "Who is this?  She's awesome!"

     Marty patted his head, and whispered.  "Ssshhhhhh.  Yeah, she is.  A
friend of mine from Florida sent it to me.  It's my favorite too.  Just
listen."

     They laid there quietly as Marty hummed along and slowly stroked
Scott's hair.  Scott sighed as the last syllable was sung, then raised his
brows and looked up as far as he could without raising his head.  "So?  Who
is that?  She's great!"

     Marty sighed as he grinned and shrugged.  "Not quite sure.  Her name's,
uhm, Marika, I think.  Yeah.  Marika... something-or-other.  Don't know the
last name right off hand.  My buddy tells me that she sings in some clubs
around Florida, pretty much an amateur no less, and she and her friends
burned this CD of songs they cover.  He just sent it to me a couple weeks
ago.  Said he knew I'd like it.  He's right,  it's good stuff.  I'll make
you a copy for Christmas."

     "I owe you one."

     Springsteen's version of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" started up.
Scott looked up again.  "So...You been naughty or nice this year?"

     Marty looked down and grinned again like a little kid.  "You tell me."

     "I'd say both."  Scott's head disappeared beneath the comforter.

     Marty leaned back again.  "Ho, Ho, Hooooooooooooo!"



     On Monday night, the monthly WSA meeting had gone pretty smoothly.
Initially, Scott had been caught off guard the moment he walked into the
small lecture hall.  There were Kip and Bart Morrison, standing just outside
the other door on the opposite side of the room, in a fairly animated
conversation.  Kip smiled, patted Bart's shoulder and shook his hand before
peeking into the room.  He looked both ways and then strode directly toward
his seat to the left of the lectern from which Scott would preside.

     The body's clerk, Walter "Radar" Jamieson, had to keep reminding the
members how to frame a proper motion, and when a second was required or not,
but that was par for the course.  He'd given them all a laminated "cheat
sheet" to tape to their desktops, but again, to no avail.  He figured,
`they're preoccupied with the coming end of the semester, or with getting
laid.'

     The highlight of the meeting was Scott's reading of a letter from the
governor.  "Dear Mr. Turner, I am happy that among the many duties incumbent
upon my office is that of appointing members to the University of Wisconsin
System's Board of Regents.  As you and your esteemed colleagues are no doubt
aware, there will soon be a vacancy of the student's seat on this important
body.

     "I would be remiss if I did not seek the advice of the best and
brightest of our student leaders to provide counsel in attempting to fulfill
my duties to the people of the state and, especially, to the valued students
of our outstanding UW System.

     "Toward that end, I am inviting the Wisconsin Student Association to
send a recommendation, or recommendations, in filling this important
position.  I ask you to send me the names of no less than one, and no more
than three students who are committed to the continued excellence of the
entire University of Wisconsin System, and who are able and willing to
deliver their time, attention and talents to sustaining our tradition of
leading the world in teaching, learning and discovery for the betterment of
all of mankind."

     Scott finished.  "Okay.  Having dispensed with the vending machine in
the libraries issues, the next item on the agenda is the betterment of all
mankind.  Who's up for that?"  There was a hearty chuckle throughout the
hall.  "But...no...in all seriousness and honesty, the governor is asking us for
something that really matters.  I am giving the body notice that this issue
is being referred to the WSA Committee on UW System Relations and it's
chair, Senator Morrison.  They are hereby charged with recommending to the
body at large no less than one, and not more than three names to submit to
the governor for his consideration as the next appointee to fill our
student's seat on the UW Board of Regents.  Their recommendation will come
to the full body at our next meeting for action.  At that time it can be
ratified, rejected or amended by simple majority vote.  Members of the
System Relations Committee are urged to speak with Senator Morrison about
process and meeting dates and times."

     Scott was confident that he had a loyal majority on Morrison's
committee.  The chairmanship had been Scott's attempt to mollify the
disgruntled power-seeker, to make him feel like he was the player he saw
himself, managing the WSA's interaction with other relevant university
agencies and organizations.  Still, he wanted to discuss the process to
determine how his name should make its way to its members.  He also hoped to
persuade the chair that it was in the committee's interest to deliver a
unanimous recommendation of only one name.

     He looked at Radar and held up the gavel as if seeking his permission.
Walter nodded that they were through.  "Having been advised by Mr. Jamieson
that we've dispensed with all the issues before us," he looked at the clock,
"and in record time, thank you very much, I will now entertain a motion to
adjourn."

     The second rap of the mallet on the podium hadn't even been heard when
some members were out of their chairs.  Scott looked toward Morrison, but
found him already surrounded by members with calendars in their hands.  "You
ready for me?"  Kip's hand tapped his shoulder from behind.  "Sorry I
couldn't make time before now, but when your senior year hits you, you'll
get a taste of what I'm juggling right now."

     Scott checked his watch again.  "Yeah, no problem.  Want to sit here
and debrief from the last meeting?"

     Radar had his files and laptop tucked neatly under his arm, and paused
on his way to the door.  "'scuse me, Scott."  He nodded at the V.P., "Kip,"
but looked back at the leader.  "Remember you have that lunch thing with the
alumni group tomorrow."

     "Got it on my calendar.  Who's their big-shot again?"

     Walter's eyes showed his memory scan in full gear.  "Long-time mayor of
Stevens Point, very loyal and very vocal in support of all things UW."

     "They gonna donate anything?"

     The clerk shrugged.  "Dunno.  The guy didn't say so, but he'd know that
anything big needs to be formally cleared through the Chancellor's office
first."

     Scott nodded.  "Good deal.  Hey!  Will you pull up the latest from the
Stevens Point papers for me to look at before I go over to schmooze?"

     Walter handed him a file folder.  "The last week's front pages, letters
to the editor and the local scuttle-butt.  Seems hizzoner the mayor has been
in a pissing match with the Chamber up there over a proposed smoking ban,
and one of the city council members is under fire for nepotism.  His
son-in-law was hired as a cop, even though he doesn't seem close to being
qualified.  There's some more stuff in there, but pretty garden variety
gossip."

     Scott tapped Walter's shoulder with the folder.  "You are da' friggin'
man, Radar.  Put another `I owe ya' one' on my tab."

     Walter blushed.  "Just doin' my job, chief."  Then for Kip's sake, he
added, "Now you keep doin' yours and I won't have to blacken the other eye,
too!"

     Scott played, looking as solemn as he could.  "Yes, sir!"

     Walter nodded.  "Okay, then.  Gotta go now.  See you tomorrow."  He
nodded again, "Kip," and he was headed for the door.

     Scott turned back toward Kip, pulled out a chair and began to sit.  Kip
didn't follow suit, but looked around the room with some apprehension.
"Uhm, let's go back to the office, I'd like to speak with you with a bit
more privacy."

     Scott's interest was piqued.  "Uhm...okay, I suppose.  But I need to make
a quick phone call first.  What say I meet you over there in...ten, maybe
fifteen minutes."  Scott checked his watch again and grabbed his cell phone
as he walked into the hallway to call Kelly.

     As he crossed The Mall, he could see the front steps to the WSA's
offices, dimly lit by the single bulb above the front door.  He recognized
Kip's form, and grudgingly admitted it was a fine one, but he had no idea
who the stranger standing with him on the top step might be.

     As he stepped onto the short front walk, Kip looked to his side.  "Here
he is now."  He looked back and motioned to his right with his hand.
"Scott, I want you to meet a friend of mine."

     Scott vaguely recognized the attractive, dark-haired thirty-something
guy.  Before he could dredge up a name from his gray matter, the stranger
had slipped off a black leather glove and extended a hand.  "Mr. Turner!
I'm Andrew Pennington.  It's nice to finally have a chance to meet you."

     `That's it!'  The synapses connected.  `Pennington...Milwaukee
attorney...connected through family ties to the governor...member of the Board
of Regents...rumored to be the body's next president.'  But, why was he here,
and why now?  Had Kip arranged their meeting in order to facilitate Scott's
ascendancy to the board?  Couldn't be.  Something wasn't quite right here.

     Scott smiled as he accepted the handshake.  "Mr. Pennington!  Very nice
to meet you, too.  I'm sorry I wasn't able to be at the last meeting of the
Board, but I had to be out of town."  He took his keys from his pocket and
unlocked the front door, pushed it open and waved the other two through
ahead of him.

     Pennington unbuttoned his coat and loosened his scarf as he glanced
back over his shoulder.  "Not to worry, Scott.  Kip represented the WSA
quite ably.  He really is an asset to your organization.  All of the
Regents, to a person, were very impressed."

     Scott motioned to some hooks on the wall, and he lied.  "That's why I
asked him to attend.  I knew he could deliver."  He lied.

     Kip suppressed a grin.  `If you only knew, you sorry s.o.b.'

     Scott glanced over his shoulder on the way up the stairs.  "To what do
we owe this pleasure, Mr. Pennington?"

     "Well, I was in town on business for my law firm, and for the
University, anyway, and Kip said the two of you planned to sit down to
discuss what might be on the Regents' horizon.  He suggested I might be able
to clarify the view for you and I said I'd be happy to help, if I can."

     Scott turned on the light in his office and waved them through.
"That's very generous."  He stepped to the small refrigerator.
"Coke...water?"

     Andy took a bottle of water, and Kip joined Scott in a can of Coke. He
motioned them into chairs in front of his desk and then sat behind it.  He
opened his can with a hiss.  "The smart money out there, Mr. Pennington, is
that you're most likely to succeed the outgoing president in the center seat
of the board.  Your insights could be very helpful to us right about now.  I
appreciate this."

     Andy smiled humbly and shrugged.  "We'll see how that goes.  I met with
him again today about the future of that position, but told him I couldn't
give him a commitment until after the holidays.  Regardless, I'm always
happy to help our student leaders."  He took a sip, then leaned back, lifted
his right foot and crossed it over his left knee.  "Anyway, in the
near-term, of course, will be the governor's prerogatives in shuffling the
membership.  In January, he'll have the new student to appoint, and then
another empty chair when the current president's term expires."

     "So, anyway, Scott, if I understand the procedures for appointing the
student member, it goes something like this" the governor invites the WSA to
send him a recommendation, or recommendations, who have student support."

     Scott nodded.  "He's asked us for a of one to three names from which
he'll make the final selection and send to the Senate for confirmation.  The
invitation for a recommendation went to committee tonight.  They'll send it
back to the full body at our next meeting, and we'll act on it before
sending it up to the Capitol for his consideration."

     Andy leaned forward and looked intently at Scott.  "And, it's my
understanding that you have your sights set on that seat for yourself."
Scott felt a jolt that both Andy and Kip noticed.  Kip loved it.

     "Uhm, what makes you think that?"

     Kip spoke for the first time.  "You said the same thing the first time
you met with me and Bart Morrison.  He said he wanted it, and you rubbed our
noses in the fact that you figured you already had a lock on it, if you
wanted it."

     Scott took a breath and leaned back, pausing to size up the situation.
"Well, I did say that the governor had mentioned it to me first, and that
he'd encouraged me to pursue it.  And, I probably said that Senator McCarthy
had already expressed her support, as far as the confirmation process goes."
  Suddenly, he felt the need to tout his connection to Maureen.  "In fact,
I'm having lunch with her on Wednesday to discuss it further."

     Andy nodded his admiration.  "Very impressive, Scott.  She's perhaps
the closest ally the governor has; she's well regarded in the halls of power
and the press, and all for good reason.  She's earned it.  A guy could do a
whole lot worse in the world of political ties, especially now.  She's a
rising star."

     Scott didn't respond.  He was trying to put a finger on precisely where
Pennington was going with this, and he was discomforted by the smug smirk
that Kip was wearing.

     What he didn't know was that Kip was envisioning his father's
incredulous expression; the reddening face with a visible vein at the side
of his forehead.  `I told you under no uncertain terms that you would NOT...'
In Kip's imagination, Charles Monmouth was having a friggin' cow over his
son's insolence.

     Then, Andy continued.  "And, Scott, would it be safe to say that your
goal is to see a list of only one name, yours, go to the governor from the
WSA?"

     Scott tried to play coy, without much success.  "I haven't decided
yet."

     That brought Kip back to the conversation.  "Bullshit.  You've been
trying to contact Morrison all week to grease the skids in your favor."
Scott didn't confirm or deny.  "But, it's not going to happen, Scott.  If
there's going to be only one name making its way to the governor's desk, it
isn't going to be Scott Turner, Jr."

     "You seem awfully certain."

     Kip nodded in earnest.  "Morrison's on board.  It's going to go like
this: if your members on his committee insist on only you, then it'll never
come up for a vote in committee.  He's the chair.  He can do that.  Face it,
Scott.  The way you've dis'sed him from day one, he's jumping at the chance
to pull the rug out from under you on this."

     "So, then, what's the WSA going to get from the committee?"

     Kip leaned back and locked his fingers behind his head.  "The simplest
thing would be for there to be one name recommended to the full body...mine."

     Scott blinked.  "And that can be amended by the full body.  It wouldn't
be hard for me to add my name to the endorsement that goes to the governor."

     Andy weighed in again.  "Scott, with all due respect.  You have your
procedures, and they're frankly none of my business.  I certainly don't have
a vote in your political arena.  But you need to know, if both of your names
go to the capitol, I plan to weigh in on Kip's side.  And, with the governor
wanting me in the president's chair, and since I haven't yet agreed to the
promotion, it won't be hard to tip the scales in this direction.  If the
governor wants me to give more time and devotion to him and to the UW
System, it's a small thing to ask and I'm sure he'll see it that way."

     Kip leaned forward and perched an elbow on each knee.  "Scott, you can
fight me within the WSA and see your name added to the list, only to get
shot down at the capital by none other than the governor himself.  Or, you
can save face and embrace this.  Tell your faithful that it's right and good
to spread the wealth, that you don't need to have all the power, and that
the vice president ought to have a greater purpose.  Walk away as the
unselfish statesman and attend my swearing in with a smile on."

     Andy picked up where Kip left off.  "And consider the realities up
there under the dome.  Get inside the governor's brain for a minute, and
Senator McCarthy's for that matter.  You'd put them both in an awkward
position by sending two names, if one of the names is your.  If you force
the governor to choose between the wishes of his majority leader and his
board president, especially over something as relatively small-potatoes as
this is, it's just going to piss him off.  It's not such a big deal that the
senator is going to spend any political capital or good will to get her way.
  They both need two years of relative calm with lots of results, for the
good of the state and the good of their careers.  He's going to run for one
more term, then either retire or look nationally.  She's going to run for
A.G., and then maybe for his job.  The appointment of a college student to a
state board is not going to occupy more than a minute of their time, but
will annoy them nonetheless.  Plus, Maureen's likely to wonder what the hell
is up with you if you create such a needless distraction."

     Scott envisioned Maureen inviting him to her office, asking him to sit
down and telling him, `I'm sorry, Scotty, but I just can't support you on
this.'  She looked heart-broken and he felt responsible.

     He gulped the rest of his coke and tossed the empty into the trash.
"So, from where you sit, I can either fold my tent and support Kip myself
and be the magnanimous student leader.  Or, I can get a half-victory in my
own house and fight it out on the governor's desk.  In the process, I
alienate a good friend and a potential friend in the executive wing.  And,
for good measure, I end up looking like a petulant little boy and still wind
up with squat."

     Andy locked eyes with Scott.  "Kip told me you were pretty astute.
You're seeing things very clearly now, Mr. Turner."

     Scott blinked his eyes and looked over at the smirking, gloating mug of
Kip Monmouth.  "I'm going to need some time to think this over."

     Pennington looked at his watch.  "And, I'm going to have to leave.
It's over an hour's drive back home to the family, and I have some early
appointments."  He stood up and reached out over the desk.  "I'm glad we had
this chance to talk, Scott.  You're an impressive young man with a lot of
talent.  Under different circumstances, I have no doubt that we'd be seeing
eye-to-eye on most everything, have the same goals and all that."  Scott
accepted the handshake, as Andy continued.  "I hope to have the chance to be
on the same side as you, some day down the road, perhaps.  Take some time to
mull it over, as you said,"

     Kip interrupted.  "And just let me know when you're mind is made up on
this."  He turned and smiled at his elder friend.  "I'll walk you out,
Andy."  Then, he turned back to Scott.  "There's a couple other things...if
you're going to be here a little bit?"

     Scott nodded, and he tossed the Coke can into the waste basket.  Their
voices trailed off as they walked down the hallway, then were drowned out
entirely by the chugging and hissing of the ancient floor radiators kicking
in to provide a little warmth to the building.  Scott sat down and rubbed
his temples.  "Shit!" he muttered, then thought to himself.  `Just when you
think a week can't get any worse, now I'm getting taken to the cleaners by
Kip Fucking Monmouth!'

     About three minutes later, he was trying to look busy and unfazed by
the previous fifteen minutes' discussion.  It wasn't working.  He heard the
shuffle of feet and looked up to see Kip with one shoulder leaning up
against the door frame, hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the
other with the toe of his shoe resting on the floor.

     Kip raised his brows in mock sympathy.  "Been a rough night, huh?"

     Scott's elbows hit the desk and he lowered his face to rub his eyes.
"Had better ones.  That's for fucking sure."

     Kip stepped into the office and perched his butt on the edge of a
two-drawer file cabinet opposite Scott's desk.  He folded his arms, and
smiled down at Scott.

     Scott looked straight ahead, and he noticed the slow rising and falling
of Kip's flat midsection.  "That was good, Kip.  Good move, indeed.  So,
you've obviously managed to impress the hell out of Mr. Pennington, and pull
him in your direction in a big way.  How'd you do it?"

     Kip's smile widened, and he slid both hands into his hip pockets.  "We
just clicked during the board meeting you sent me to, and afterwards during
the dinner.  He was interested in what I had to say, and convinced me that I
have plenty to offer.  Andy plans to make the most of his tenure on the
board, and he thinks I can help make that a sure thing."

     Scott shook his head and exhaled.  "Gotta admit it, Kip, you surprised
me tonight."  He blinked twice and cleared his throat.  "I wouldn't have
guessed you could do that.  Perhaps...well, obviously in fact...I've
underestimated you."

     Kip's glance shot to the ceiling and back into Scott's eyes.  "I'll
mark the date on my calendar."

     Scott gripped the arms of his desk chair he shifted his weight back to
recline a little.  "I had no idea this is something you were after, Kip.
Morrison wanted to lay claim for this job when I came on board.  But you?"
He caught Kip's gaze not quite meeting his own, but looking quite a bit
south as he leaned back, legs parted.

     Kip shrugged.  "Hadn't thought about it all that much, but Andy made it
make sense.  I could stay in Madison another three years, finish my MBA and
move on with a buffed up resume, maybe make a name for myself and probably
lock in some solid connections."

     Scott shifted his weight again by sliding his ass across the fake
leather of the desk chair, then propped his right foot on the ledge of the
desk.  His shin and knee fell to the right and Scott's hand rested on the
inside of his thigh.  "Well, like I said, I'm going to have to mull this
over for a few days."

     Kip's eyes locked on the hand Scott had settled on the inside of his
thigh, then they slowly crept a few inches up and to the left.  His tongue
peeked between his lips and he pretended to be thinking by shifting his eyes
back toward the ceiling.

     An awkward minute passed, with Scott staring at a spot on the wall to
the right of Kip's ear, and Kip's eyes focused on the package just above
Scott's fingers.  Kip's clearing of the throat and standing upright got
Scott's attention back.  He stepped forward.  "You can have it, you know."

     Scott's head jerked back into the conversation.  "Huh?  WHAT?"

     Kip smiled demurely, and stepped again, putting both hands flat on
Scott's desk.

     "The seat on the board.  You can still have it."

     Scott tried not to freeze in Kip's headlights.  "What are you saying,
Monmouth, you don't really want it?"

     Kip leaned in, about two feet from Scott's face.  "I didn't say that.
I said you can still have it, if it's important to you, and I believe that
it is.  And, you can have it without a fight, and with my support."  He
stood back up straight, and his hands plunged back into his pockets.

     The denim surrounding the fly of Kip's jeans rolled as his knuckles
rose and fell with the movements of Kip's fingers.  Scott glanced back up.
"And how do you see that happening."

     Kip leered down once again.  "Well, Mister Turner, Junior, there's
something else you can give me that I've wanted from you for some time.  I
could be convinced to walk away from this little battle and feel better
about our continuing to work together."  Kip adjusted his package a little
more through the pockets of his jeans.  His hands slowly emerged from the
snug confines of the pockets, and he laid them both flat on the desk.  He
leaned in closer and looked down upon Scott.  "Well, here we are, Scott.
What's the old saying?  Politics makes strange bedfellows, right?"



Author's Note:  My usual thanks for your patience and perseverance come
along with this chapter.  Scotty, Peter and Glenn are always a big help when
it comes to playing with story ideas.  Les and Jack Scribe chimed in, too,
and I'm always grateful for their friendship and support.  Kory, I left you
out of the loop on the editing this time `cuz I wanted to surprise you with
the hotel room scene.  Danny, you too.  Billy, I'm grateful that you loaned
me Marika's voice for her short appearance.  Please thank both Alex and
Austin, and give the diva a huge hug for me.  (If any of my readers aren't
reading "Reclaiming Austin" get there...now!)

Hoping everyone had a great Thanksgiving, and I wish nothing but all the
best for you and yours in the coming holiday season.

Contact me if you wish:  scotty.13411@hotmail.com

God Bless Us, Everyone!