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From: Nick Scipio <nick_scipio@yahoo.com>
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<1st attachment, "SummerCamp_Book3_01.txt" begin>

Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
Part: Chapter 01
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, teen, oral
Revision: 1.01
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/
FTP Site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/SummerCamp3
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment. It 
contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you 
are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO 
NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(nick_scipio@yahoo.com). This story may be freely distributed 
with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2004 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
by Nick Scipio

AUTHOR'S NOTE

With Book 3, I begin the part of the story that has always given 
me problems--not with the story itself, but with the title. 
Believe it or not, I was never very happy with the title "Summer 
Camp," and once you start reading Book 3, you'll understand why.

For those of you who read the story solely for the nudist camp 
and its denizens, I'm sorry--very little of Book 3 takes place at 
The Pines. I hope you enjoy the continuation of the story, but 
you won't read about camp life. Don't say I didn't warn you, 
though. In other words, I'll cheerfully ignore indignant feedback 
about the "missing" nudist camp. The title notwithstanding, this 
has always been a coming-of-age story about _Paul_, and his focus 
is now college.

For everyone else--and I think you're the majority--I hope you 
enjoy how Paul, Gina, and Kendall grow and change in college. 
They have many challenges ahead of them, but remember, they're 
only human. You'll have to read to find out what happens, of 
course, but you knew I was going to say that.

Thank you for reading.

Nick Scipio
May 3, 2004
Southeastern US

-----

CHAPTER ONE

"Paul?" my wife called softly from the door to my office.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," I said. Then I shook my head to clear my 
thoughts. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long... a few minutes. You were thinking."

"About her," I said, nodding at my wife's tactfully unspoken 
question.

She smiled in understanding, her eyes full of sadness and comfort. 
Then she walked around and leaned against the edge of my desk.

"I guess I've been sitting here a while," I admitted, "just 
thinking about her." Then I looked at my watch. Two hours had 
passed since I'd talked to the lawyer. Two hours and half a 
lifetime. Once again, I shook off the past and focused my 
thoughts. "When do you want to tell the girls?" I asked.

"Tonight," she said. "After dinner."

I nodded.

"I thought I'd cut up veggies for stir-fry while you pick up 
Laurie from practice," she said, changing the subject to the 
routine of our lives.

I was glad for the distraction. "What time do I have to be 
there?" I asked.

"They're usually through by seven."

"Okay. What about Emily and Susie?"

"Em's at Missy's house," she said. "I told her to be home by 
seven. And Susie's at dance class. I'm picking her up before I go 
to the grocery store."

"That reminds me," I said. "I need to tell Trip and Wren about 
the funeral."

"They'll want to go," my wife said, nodding. "You can tell them 
in person if you stop by their house and pick up Em on the way to 
get Laurie."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. But before then, I've got a million 
things I need to do," I said. "I need to call the office to tell 
them I'll be out of town for a few days. And before we leave, 
I've got Bread Company drawings to approve. I'll also need to 
have someone cover a Taipei conference call for me. I've got to 
call the airport and tell them to have the company plane fueled 
and ready for tomorrow evening. I need to have my black suit 
pressed--"

"I'll take care of your suit," she said. "I can drop it off when 
I pick up Susie. Then I'll pick it up tomorrow after the girls 
and I go shopping for dresses."

"Thanks," I said. Then I paused and shook my head in reflection. 
"When did our lives get so busy?" I asked semi-rhetorically. "It 
wasn't like this when we were younger."

She smiled in gentle reproach. "Yes it was, honey," she said. 
"Even before we were married, we were constantly busy."

"Yeah, I guess we were," I said with a rueful laugh. "But life 
still seemed less complicated then."

"It wasn't."

"No, I guess you're right."

With a smile, she leaned down and kissed my forehead.

I pulled her onto my lap and she laid her head on my shoulder. 
Then I wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek against the 
top of her head. I took a deep breath and savored the fresh scent 
of her hair. We sat like that for a few minutes, simply holding 
each other in comfortable silence.

"I'd better let you get busy," she said at last. "You've got lots 
of calls to make."

I nodded absently.

"Be sure to call your parents, too," she said as she stood and 
smoothed her shorts. "You need to tell them when to meet us at 
the airport."

"Okay, I'll call them."

With that, I blew her a kiss. As she closed the door behind her, 
I stared at the phone for a long moment. Even though I had a 
myriad of things to do, my mind was a million miles away.

I was thinking about the past.

I think we all remember the past as a less complicated, more 
carefree time. But our memories are dimmed by the passage of time. 
The minutia of life fades into the background, overshadowed by 
major events. 

When I left home for college, my future seemed certain. I looked 
forward to learning new things, and to basking in the 
satisfaction of accomplishment. Unfortunately, I had no idea that 
so many of life's major trials lay before me. Nor had I tasted 
the bitter bile of failure or felt the pain of loss.

In retrospect, college wasn't such a carefree time after all. The 
first year was the hardest. Some things came easily, but I 
discovered that success wouldn't be handed to me on a silver 
platter like it had been in high school.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the crucible of college made 
me stronger; in more ways than one, it tempered me.

-----

In late August of 1981, our four-car caravan arrived in Knoxville 
and I followed my parents' station wagon as we turned onto the 
University of Tennessee campus. Around us, traffic slowed to a 
crawl. I'd seen the campus on football game days, but it seemed 
even more crowded now--crowded with new students, their 
possessions, and their families, as well as purposeful-looking 
older students.

Beside me, my soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old sister, Erin, pulled 
the rubber band from her blonde hair and glanced at me as she let 
down her ponytail. I grinned as she turned to watch the stream of 
people moving along the sidewalks. I guess there _were_ a lot of 
cute guys for her to look at. I certainly had my fill of cute 
girls to look at.

Then I looked into my rearview mirror. Behind us, Gina and her 
sister Leah rode in Gina's yellow convertible Bumble Bug. Her 
parents, Chris and Elizabeth, brought up the rear in their 
station wagon. I chuckled to myself when I realized that I'd been 
girl-watching. I had more than enough girl in Gina. _In Gina 
_and_ Kendall,_ I thought.

It had been two years since Gina, Kendall, and I had become 
lovers. During that time, our relationship had evolved. Gina's 
family also lived in Atlanta, so I'd spent far more time with her. 
But I sometimes felt closer to Kendall. At nineteen, Kendall was 
only a year older than Gina and me, but she was _two_ years ahead 
of us in school.

While both girls were smart, sexy, and very beautiful, they were 
also very different. Gina was adventurous and outgoing; Kendall 
was more studious and introverted. Kendall was the reflective one, 
while Gina tended to act before she thought things through. Both 
of them wanted to be medical doctors, but even in that regard, 
they were different. Gina wanted to be an OB/GYN, while Kendall 
wanted to be a psychiatrist.

And what about me?

In 1979, when I began my junior year in high school, I took an 
art class simply to fill a requirement. Not only had I been 
surprised to learn that I loved fine art, but I enjoyed drawing 
as well. For months, I drew things in my notebooks. And if I 
finished a test before the end of class, I'd often find myself 
sketching window frames, doorways, or building facades. I still 
couldn't draw people very well, but I could look at a building 
and then sketch it--completely from memory--down to the last 
detail.

When Gina's family decided to build a new house, in early 1980, 
my life gained some much-needed direction. I watched the 
architect breathe life into the house plans, combining simple 
elements to create an overall look, a design. In my mind's eye, I 
didn't see the plans--dark blue lines on paper--I saw _the house_. 
All through the spring and early summer, I watched their house 
come together exactly as I'd imagined it. At that point, I knew 
what I wanted to do with my life.

I wanted to be an architect.

So I turned down a wrestling scholarship (to UNC Greensboro) and 
began looking at architecture schools. I applied to the 
University of Tennessee, Auburn, and my hometown school, Georgia 
Tech. I also applied to Virginia Tech and UCLA (even though I 
wanted to stay in the southeast; it was a compromise decision).

In the end, three things convinced me to go to UT. First, their 
College of Architecture had an excellent design program. Second, 
they were spending millions of dollars on their program and 
constructing an entirely new Art & Architecture building. And 
finally, Kendall was already a student at UT. She was probably 
the most important factor in my decision, since I could find a 
first-class design school and an A&A building virtually anywhere. 
I couldn't find Kendall just anywhere.

My decision to go to UT had been the spark for my first real 
fight with Gina, since she wanted to go to UCLA. I didn't want to 
break up with her, but I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to 
go to UT and be happy with me. She, of course, wanted me to go to 
UCLA and be happy with her.

We argued about it for weeks. In the end, she tearfully decided 
to go to UT. Then I made the mistake of trying to talk her out of 
it. I knew she was making the decision for the wrong reasons, but 
it was her decision to make. Finally, I let the matter drop, and 
her mood improved drastically. I knew she still wanted to go to 
UCLA, but she actually seemed happy about going to UT with 
Kendall and me.

So here we were. As the traffic moved, I shook off my reverie and 
returned my attention to the present. Then I glanced over at Erin.

While Gina and I were looking forward to seeing Kendall, Erin and 
Leah were eager to see Kendall's brother, Drew. Over the past two 
years, he'd grown to look even more like his father. Where I'd 
stopped growing at 5'9", Drew topped me by at least six inches. 
And while I weighed a solid 180 pounds, he probably tipped the 
scales at more than 230 pounds.

Surprisingly, Drew and I actually enjoyed each other's company. 
He didn't have Kendall's keen intellect, but he did have her 
sense of people. And where Kendall was sometimes shy, Drew was 
outgoing and friendly. I guess that's why he attracted girls like 
bees to honey. He certainly had Erin's attention, her long-
distance boyfriend notwithstanding.

"When are Drew and Kendall going to get here?" Erin asked, as if 
reading my mind.

"Their dad couldn't get off work today. So they're driving up 
from Chattanooga tomorrow."

"Ah. Okay."

"You're really looking forward to seeing Drew, huh?" Despite her 
tanned complexion, I could tell that Erin was blushing. "What 
about Sean Sullivan?" I asked. "I thought _he_ was your 
boyfriend."

"Duh," Erin said. "I'm not going to _do_ anything with Drew. But 
that doesn't mean I don't want to see him."

"That's cool."

"But just because I'm not going to do anything with him doesn't 
mean I can't... um... _think_ about it," she said, wiggling her 
fingers and grinning.

"You're horrible," I said to her, laughing.

"No, I'm just hot." Then she fanned herself. "And I don't mean 
that in a good way. Can we open the windows?"

"Yeah, sorry. Having the windows up on the interstate is nice, 
but..."

"Now, we're roasting," she finished.

With that, we unzipped the Jeep's windows and rolled them down. 
It wasn't _much_ cooler, but at least we had some air movement.

"I wonder what's taking so long," she said.

"I dunno. I guess there are a lot of people moving into the dorms 
today."

Down the street from the Presidential Complex, traffic came to a 
dead stop. The Complex held my dorm, North Carrick Hall, Gina's 
dorm, South Carrick Hall, another dorm for men, Reese Hall, and 
an identical dorm for women, Humes Hall. The middle of the 
Complex was a large concrete courtyard, with benches and a few 
scattered tables.

The Carrick dorms were really two towers of the same building, 
which sat on the west side of the courtyard. Reese Hall was on 
the north side, while Humes Hall faced it from the south. The 
east side of the courtyard held the Presidential Court, which was 
a fancy name for the dining hall.

The entire Presidential Complex was fairly new, and the suites 
each had air conditioning and private bathrooms. If I had gotten 
my housing forms in too late, I might've had to settle for living 
in Hess Hall, with no air conditioning and communal bathrooms.

Kendall would live in the comparative luxury of the Apartment 
Residence Hall. That was the official name, but everyone called 
it the Andy Holt Apartments (since it was on Andy Holt Avenue). 
The suites were actual apartments, with two bedrooms, one bath, 
and a kitchen. I hadn't actually seen the apartments, but they 
looked spacious on the housing form diagrams. Unfortunately, they 
were for upperclassmen only.

Kendall and her roommate, Abby, had originally planned to live in 
Morrell Hall--an upperclassman dorm between the Presidential 
Complex and Andy Holt Apartments--but they'd gotten a break at 
the last minute. Two of Kendall's friends needed roommates for 
their apartment, so Kendall and Abby had changed their housing 
requests.

When traffic moved again, I looked up at the Presidential 
buildings and thought about how I'd handle having Gina or Kendall 
over to visit. Since the dorms were intended for freshmen and 
sophomores, the visitation was mostly Option C. With C visitation, 
I could have a girl in my room any time between noon and midnight 
on Thursday and Sunday, and between noon and two in the morning 
on Friday and Saturday. (We had _no_ visitation on Monday through 
Wednesday.)

Those hours didn't sound all that generous until I started 
reading about A visitation, which offered _no_ opposite-sex 
visitation. Both North and South Carrick had A-visitation floors, 
which everyone called the "Virgin Vault." Fortunately, The Vault 
was by request only, so I wouldn't accidentally be stuck on a 
floor where I couldn't bring Gina or Kendall to my room.

By contrast, the Andy Holt Apartments had 24-hour visitation and 
very few restrictions. The floors were segregated by gender, but 
other than that, the staff didn't really care who came and went. 
So I'd be able to visit Kendall whenever I wanted to.

When traffic still hadn't moved much after ten minutes, my mom 
got out of the station wagon and walked back toward us.

"I'm going to go see what's going on up there," she said. "I'm 
sure it's just the normal rush of students moving into dorms, but 
I'd still like to see for myself."

Erin and I both nodded.

"I'm going to get Elizabeth and we'll scout ahead. Okay?"

Once again, we nodded.

Then Mom walked back to Gina's car. In the rearview mirror, I 
watched as she told Gina and Leah what she was doing. A minute 
later, she walked back to the Coulters' station wagon. Elizabeth 
got out and the two women walked up the sidewalk toward the 
Presidential courtyard.

When they returned, about fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth went 
to Gina's car and Mom came to the Jeep.

"Yep," she said, "it's just a crowd of students and their 
parents."

"Okay."

"The dorms have luggage carts we can use to haul your stuff 
upstairs, but you have to have a student ID to use one, and the 
waiting list is already pretty long."

I nodded.

"Also," she continued, "the driveway for both dorms is only a 
couple of cars wide and there's not much parking, so that's the 
biggest hold-up. You and Gina should probably park your cars 
somewhere and then walk back here. As soon as you can, use your 
IDs to get on the waiting list for a cart. Then we'll just wait 
till it's our turn," she said.

"Okay."

With that, she straightened, waved to Elizabeth, and then stepped 
back. I checked my mirror and saw that Gina was already taking 
advantage of a momentary lull in traffic. As she waited for me, I 
pulled out in front of her.

I figured that parking was going to be a problem, but as soon as 
we got past the cluster of residence halls, traffic thinned out. 
We drove for less than a minute and then parked in a large non-
commuter garage at the end of Andy Holt Avenue.

"God," Gina said as we got out of our cars, "I had no idea 
there'd be this many people here today."

"Well," I said, "I guess everybody decided to move in at once."

"I guess."

Even though summer in Knoxville was about as hot as Atlanta, I 
was glad to be out of the Jeep. My shirt was sweaty and stuck to 
my back, but at least there was a slight breeze.

As the four of us walked back toward the Presidential Complex, we 
mostly gawked at all the people and cars. We'd thought that 
getting to campus early on the first day of move-in would mean we 
wouldn't have to wait long. Unfortunately, a _lot_ of people 
evidently thought the same thing. By the time we got back to our 
families' station wagons, they'd moved about twenty feet.

Gina and I merely waved and then headed up the hill toward the 
dorms themselves. Erin and Leah tagged along, excitedly talking 
about guys, different families, guys, anything that caught their 
interest, and guys. Gina and I merely grinned at each other.

Outwardly, I tried to project an air of calm, but inside, I was 
incredibly nervous. I really had _no_ idea what we were supposed 
to do, but I didn't want to appear uncertain (or ignorant) by 
asking someone. So I basically kept my mouth shut and followed 
the crowd.

Unfortunately, following the crowd left me ample time to think, 
which meant I had _too_ much time, so I worried. What if they 
didn't have my room ready? What if they'd lost my paperwork? 
Would I have to live in Hess Hall? What if they accidentally put 
me in the Virgin Vault? What if my roommate was some big, dirty 
redneck? What if he was a militant Rastafarian?

_Militant Rastafarian?! What the...?!_

I had to laugh at myself for that one. Treacherous imagination. 
Gina looked at me, her expression puzzled.

"It'd take too long to explain," I said.

 From the look on her face, she was just as nervous as I was. 
Tentatively, she reached for my hand. As we twined our fingers 
together, a feeling of calm washed over me. I was still anxious, 
uncertain, and a little lost, but at least I had Gina beside me.

When we reached Carrick Hall, it was a confused mass of people, 
cars, trucks, luggage carts, and too many other things to take in 
at once. People and their belongings were _every_where, in all 
shapes, sizes, and colors.

One family was unloading the trunk of a Mercedes, while the 
people behind them were taking things out of a beat-up old pickup 
truck. Some people were dressed nicely while others apparently 
wore whatever wasn't _too_ dirty that day. One family of six was 
dressed entirely in UT's orange and white. Another family had a 
U-Haul trailer _and_ a loaded station wagon, and I wondered where 
they thought they were going to put all that stuff. Yet another 
family had a...

"What're we supposed to do?" Gina asked, breaking my train of 
thought.

"Let's head inside and get our names on the waiting list for 
luggage carts," I said as confidently as I could. "Have you got 
your ID with you?"

She nodded and patted her purse.

We'd gotten IDs when we came to Knoxville for Freshman 
Orientation. I pulled out my wallet, retrieved my card, and 
brandished it with a flourish. I was still nervous, but at least 
I had a purpose, if only for the moment.

"Is there a line?" Gina asked.

"I guess it's inside," I said, pointing toward the entrances to 
the dorms. "Let's get on your dorm's list first, then we'll get 
on mine."

"Um... okay."

When she didn't move, I looked a question at her.

Then she laughed nervously. "Um... which one is _South_ Carrick?"

I laughed and pointed to the building closest to us, on our right. 
With Gina, Erin, and Leah in tow, I started making my way through 
the crowd.

Once we reached the lobby desk, a woman took Gina's ID card, 
wrote her name on the list for luggage carts, and then returned 
the card. Gina was about to walk away when I stopped her with a 
gesture.

"How long is the wait?" I asked the harried woman at the desk.

"What's this look like," she asked, "a help desk?" When she saw 
my shocked expression, she gave us an apologetic look. "Sorry. I 
guess it'll be about an hour."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

As we stepped away from the desk, a girl returned a cart. Instead 
of heading over to North Carrick, I stopped to watch what 
happened. The woman behind the desk returned the girl's ID and 
then immediately glanced at the list. Almost before the girl 
turned away, the woman looked out at the dorm lobby.

"Sheldon!" she shouted. "Karen Sheldon!"

Across the lobby, a brunette and her mother stood up. When the 
brunette reached the desk, she handed over her ID. While she did, 
her mother held the cart and then they headed toward the exit.

"What're we waiting for?" Gina asked.

"I wanted to see how that cart thing worked," I explained, 
indicating the cart exchange with a toss of my chin.

"Oh. Okay."

With that, Erin and Leah joined us and we threaded our way 
through the foot traffic in the breezeway. Heading into North 
Carrick, we got behind a guy with a heavily loaded luggage cart. 
At the threshold, the cart lurched and then abruptly halted. The 
guy shoved it, but it didn't budge. He shoved again, but it was 
so heavily loaded that he couldn't move it.

"You get the front," I suggested to him when people started to 
bunch up behind us. "I'll push from back here."

The guy's mother, who was smaller than Erin, smiled at me 
gratefully.

"Thanks, man," the guy said. Then he backed the recalcitrant cart 
out of the doorway, skirted around it, and shoved his way through 
the other door. While he lifted the front wheels, I heaved from 
behind. We repeated the maneuver at the second set of doors and 
then entered the dim coolness of the lobby itself. "Thanks again, 
man," he said once we were inside.

"No problem," I said.

"Thank you very much," his mother said softly.

"You're welcome," I said. "Have a nice day."

With that, they headed across the lobby to the elevators, only to 
join _another_ line of people. Around us, utter chaos reigned. I 
counted three carts, loaded or empty, moving within the lobby. A 
lot of people had decided to forgo the carts and were simply 
ferrying things upstairs by hand.

"You know," I said, "if our cars get to the front of the building 
before we get a luggage cart, I say we should just carry our 
stuff upstairs by hand. I mean, neither of us have too much."

Gina nodded.

"And with all eight of us, it won't take long to get things to 
our rooms." Then I glanced around and spotted the guy with the 
luggage cart list.

"ID?" he asked when I stepped up to him.

I handed it over.

"Welcome to UT, Mr. Hughes," he said as he wrote my name on his 
list.

"Um... thanks."

When he handed my card back, he used his pen to point to the 
group of people manning the desk.

"One of the Resident Assistants can get you checked in and give 
you your move-in packet," he said.

"You mean you're not a Resident Assistant?" I asked.

"I'm the Hall Director," he said. Then he held out his hand. 
"Wade Snow."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Snow."

"Pleased to meet you, Paul," he said. "Everyone around here just 
calls me Wade."

"Oh, okay. Hey, how'd you know my name?" I asked.

He grinned and nodded toward the ID I still held.

"Oh. Duh!" _Jeez, I haven't been here five minutes, and I'm 
already making a fool of myself._

"That's okay, Paul," he said. "I was a little overwhelmed on my 
first day too."

"Yeah. Lots of stuff to figure out."

"Lots and lots," he agreed. "One of the guys'll take care of 
you," he said, glancing to his left.

I turned and realized that people had formed a short line behind 
me while I was blithely chatting. "Thanks," I said. Then, "About 
how long is the wait for a cart?"

"Probably an hour, maybe more" he said. "But check back every 
fifteen minutes." Then he pointed to a chalkboard. "I post the 
names of the next men on the list." Three names were written on 
the chalkboard: McArthur, Fox, and Witter.

"Oh, cool."

"Uh-huh. Have a nice day, Paul," he said. "Enjoy your stay at 
North Carrick."

As I nodded politely and stepped aside, he was already looking 
past me to the next person in line.

"He seems cool," Gina said as we headed toward the closest 
available Resident Assistant.

"Yeah," I agreed

Behind us, Erin and Leah took up station by one of the groups of 
couches. They seemed to be having fun just people-watching, so I 
turned my attention back to the desk.

"ID?" asked the RA. He was about my height, but softer. He wasn't 
pudgy, exactly, but he looked sort of cherubic. "Welcome to North 
Carrick, Paul," he said as he read my ID. Then he turned to a 
desk at the back wall. From a box marked "G-H-I," he sifted 
through manila envelopes until he found the one marked "Hughes, 
Paul Dean." He read the label and then smiled. "You'll be on my 
floor," he said. "I'm your RA, Cary. Cary Prescott."

I held out my hand. "Paul Hughes. Oh, duh. You know that." 
_That's _twice_! Jeez!_

"Nice to meet you, Paul," he said with a grin. Then he opened the 
envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Okay," he said, 
turning it so I could read it, "this is your Move-In form." He 
pointed to a line on the form. "You're in room 415D. Once you're 
in the suite, that's the room on the right, but there are signs 
on all the doors. Okay?"

I nodded.

"I don't think your roommate has checked in yet," he continued, 
"so you've got first choice of beds." Then he pointed to the 
envelope. "Your dorm handbook, room key, and mailbox combination 
are in here, along with a copy of this form. Okay?"

Once again, I nodded.

"This is your mailing address," he said, pointing to the form. 
"The post office is in the South Carrick lobby. Use your mailbox 
combination to open the box with 'N', for North, and your room 
number on it, so you're N415D." He looked up to make sure I 
understood.

"November four one five delta," I said. "Roger."

He gave me a funny look.

Inwardly, I cringed. _Paul, you dork._

"I'll stop by this week to do your room inspection," he continued.

"Room inspection?"

"Yep," he said, nodding. "Just to see what's already damaged so 
we don't charge _you_ for it."

"Damaged?" I asked.

"Well, not really damaged," he explained. "More like nicks, 
scrapes, and scuffs. The rooms are clean and everything works, 
but they're not brand-new."

"Ah. Okay."

"Anyway, I'll post a list of inspection times on my door--my room 
is the first room to the left, once you get off the elevators. 
Okay?"

I nodded.

"We have a mandatory floor meeting on Friday at five o'clock, in 
the fourth floor lounge. I'll post a notice on the floor's 
bulletin board. Okay?"

"No problem," I said.

"Great," he finished with a smile. "Do you have any questions?"

"Not really."

"Okay, then." With that, he grabbed a pen and pointed to a line 
on the form. "Sign here," he said. "This basically says that 
you've gotten your move-in packet."

I signed.

"Here you go," Cary said, taking the form and handing me the 
packet. "Welcome to North Carrick."

"Thanks." When I turned, I almost knocked Gina over. "Sorry," I 
said.

"That's okay," she said. Then, "Do you think we should go get my 
move-in packet now?"

"Sure."

With that, we rounded up Erin and Leah and headed _back_ across 
the breezeway to South Carrick. I could tell that Gina was a 
little nervous, so I put my arm around her while we stood in line.

Compared to the relative efficiency of North Carrick, South 
Carrick was a madhouse. My dorm had seven or eight people working 
the front desk, but South Carrick had only three. And they all 
looked stressed. We ended up standing in line for almost fifteen 
minutes. Finally, Gina got her move-in packet (she was on the 
sixth floor, in 607A).

"Why don't we head down to the street and see where our parents 
are," I suggested.

Then the four of us wended our way through the crowd and walked 
to where our families' station wagons should have been. It took 
us a moment to find them, though, since they'd moved farther than 
I'd expected. When we approached the cars, Mom and Elizabeth got 
out and met us. We quickly told them about checking in, and how 
long the wait for carts would be.

"Your dad thinks we'll get to the front of the dorm in the next 
thirty minutes," Mom said. "So the wait for a cart isn't going 
to kill us."

"Have you seen your rooms yet?" Elizabeth asked.

Gina and I shook our heads.

"You should go see what they look like."

Tentatively, Gina nodded.

"Leah," Elizabeth said as we turned to go, "why don't you and 
Erin stay here with us."

"But _Mom_," Leah protested.

Instead of complaining, Erin took one look at Mom--who nodded 
discreetly--and agreed.

"You can see their rooms when we move their stuff in," Elizabeth 
said. Then she turned to Gina and me. "We'll see you when you get 
back."

As we walked up the sidewalk, Gina reached for my hand. I clasped 
it and then smiled at her.

We decided to see her room first. When we got on the elevator--
after ten minutes of waiting--we huddled together in the back 
corner, packed between a luggage cart and several people carrying 
armloads of stuff. I wrapped my arms around Gina and pulled her 
against my chest. When she turned her head and smiled gratefully, 
I kissed her temple.

The people with the cart got off on the second floor, and then 
the other group got off on the fifth floor. On the sixth floor, 
we got off and went looking for Gina's room. It was close to the 
elevator, so we found it quickly. With a deep breath, I opened 
the door.

Each suite held an entryway that spanned the width of the two 
rooms. Instead of being rectangular, the foyer was deeper in the 
middle, so each of the room doors was set at an angle. A black 
phone with a long, long cord hung on the wall to our left. The 
shower was also to our left, while a door enclosed a long, narrow 
toilet room to our right.

Both room doors had hand-made signs on them (with flowers and 
butterflies). The sign on the left read "A - Gina Nicole Coulter 
/ B - Faith Catherine Bennett."

"Do you know your suitemates' names?" I asked. When she shook her 
head, we wandered over to the other doorway.

The sign on the right read "C - Naomi Michelle Ackerman / D - 
Iris Eliza Weinberg."

"I wonder what they're like?" Gina said.

"Probably just like you... nervous," I said with a grin.

"You're nervous too," she accused.

"Yeah. I guess I am. But we'll survive. Now c'mon, let's see what 
your room's like."

We walked back to the left door and Gina opened it with her key. 
 From the doorway, we surveyed the room. It was about ten feet 
wide and fourteen or fifteen feet deep. The right wall held metal 
sliding-door closets at each end and a vanity counter in the 
middle (complete with a sink). A mirror was mounted on the wall 
above the sink, with two medicine cabinets flanking it. The space 
beneath the vanity held dresser drawers, three on each side.

One bed was against the inner wall, to our left, and the other 
bed was across the room by the outer wall. Between them--on the 
room's left wall--was one long metal double desk with shelves 
above it. Each side of the desk had a pull-out drawer, a chair in 
front of it, and a fluorescent light underneath the shelf.

All the metal surfaces (the closets, drawers, and desk) were 
covered with a dark wood-grain vinyl veneer, while the floor was 
plain linoleum tile. The walls were bare off-white-painted cinder 
block and the ceiling was equally bland. In other words, the room 
was stark.

"Great," Gina said sarcastically.

"It'll look better once you get some posters up and some sheets 
on the bed," I said as positively as I could.

"I guess. But it's hot, too."

"I can fix _that_ right now," I said. Then I headed across the 
room to the air conditioner. I turned it to High Cool, and with a 
whine of protest, it clattered to life. The air wasn't exactly 
cold, but it _was_ cooler than the sweltering room.

"So this is where I get to live for the next year?" Gina asked 
rhetorically.

"Yep. Which bed do you want?"

"Does it matter?"

"Only to you, I guess," I said.

"Then I guess I'll take the other bed," she said, nodding to the 
far wall. "It'd be nice to be by the window."

"Sounds good to me." At her glum expression, I pulled her close. 
"What's the matter?"

"I dunno," she said. "I guess I just wasn't ready for how... bare 
the rooms are."

"Would you like to get bare in the bare room?" I asked with a 
grin as I made a show of eying the door.

She shrugged noncommittally.

I cupped her ass and ground my hips against her.

"I guess I'm not in the mood to fool around," she said.

"That's okay. We probably don't have time anyway." In reality, I 
wasn't in the mood to fool around either, but I wanted to cheer 
her up.

"We'd better go see what your room's like," she said "and then go 
back downstairs."

"My room probably looks exactly like yours, only in reverse."

"Reverse?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah, reverse. I'm in 415_D_, the room on the right. So my room 
will probably have the closets and sink on the _left_, with the 
desk on the right."

"I guess."

"C'mon," I said. "Let's go see if I'm right."

After we locked her room, it took us several minutes just to get 
an elevator. Fortunately, we were near the top of the building, 
so it was nearly empty when the doors opened.

On the way through the North Carrick lobby, I checked the 
chalkboard: Vaughn, Malin, and Estores. It took us another ten 
minutes to get an elevator. My suite was all the way at the end 
of the hall, right beside the fire exit.

The suite's foyer was exactly the same as Gina's, with the shower 
on the left, the phone by the door, and the toilet room on the 
right. Before I looked at my door, I checked the door to the left. 
The sign on the door wasn't as elaborate at the one on Gina's, 
but it served its purpose. It read "A - Glen Carter Otis / B - 
Tracy James Ingram." The sign on my door read "C - Robert 
Terrence Marion / D - Paul Dean Hughes."

"That's me," I said.

"Duh, goof," Gina said.

When I opened the door, the room was laid out exactly as I'd 
predicted. And it was just as hot as Gina's had been.

"I think I'll take the bed over here," I said as I walked across 
the room to turn on the air conditioner. "That way, we'll both 
have the bed by the window."

She nodded.

"Hey," I said, "c'mere. This air conditioner works a lot better 
than yours." The unit had started without protest and the air was 
actually cold.

Reluctantly, Gina walked toward me.

"What's the matter?" I asked as I gathered her in my arms.

"I dunno," she said with a shrug.

I considered bringing up the UCLA versus UT argument, but I 
decided to let sleeping dogs lie. Instead, I simply hugged her 
tight and then held her for several minutes.

"Thanks," she said softly. Then she wiped the corners of her eyes.

"Are you ready to go back downstairs?" I asked.

She smiled wanly and then nodded.

On the way back to the elevator, we passed several other families 
and their sons. I discreetly studied the guys, wondering what 
they were like. I really had no idea how well I'd get to know any 
of the guys who lived around me, but I wanted to at least make an 
effort.

By the time we got back downstairs, Gina had cheered up a bit, 
but she was still a little glum. I checked the chalkboard, but my 
name still wasn't up there. Then I looked at my watch. It had 
only been forty-five minutes since I'd put my name on the list, 
so I didn't worry.

When we found our parents' station wagons, they were actually in 
sight of the Presidential Complex driveway. I kissed Gina and 
then she went back to her family's car.

"What were your rooms like?" Mom asked when I got in the back 
seat of our station wagon.

I described the rooms. "And since my room's only on the fourth 
floor," I said, "I figure we can just haul stuff upstairs if we 
don't get a cart. I mean, I don't have _that_ much stuff."

"Except two hundred pounds of free weights," Dad said.

"Oh, yeah. Oops."

"That's okay, son," he said. "We'll manage."

"Was it like this when you two went to college?" Erin asked.

Mom and Dad looked at each other and shared a grin.

"Kind of," Mom said. "We didn't know each other when we first 
went to school, though."

Erin and I nodded. We both knew the story. Dad had been an NROTC 
midshipman at the University of Florida. His upper class mentor 
had been Mom's older brother, Hank. Uncle Hank had introduced Mom 
to Dad, and the rest was history.

"It was twenty years ago," Mom continued, "so there were fewer 
people. But yes, it was pretty much the same."

"Do you remember that blue dress you were wearing the first time 
we met?" Dad asked her.

"Oh, God," she said, "don't remind me."

"Tell us what happened," Erin begged.

"Erin, jeez," I complained. "You've heard this story a million 
times."

"So? I'd still like to hear it again."

"Your mom had this great blue dress," Dad said, ignoring my 
protest. "It was tight, and short, and really showed off her 
figure. When Hank brought me home for dinner the first time, she 
was wearing it."

"But I'd gotten too much sun that day," Mom added, "and my mother 
had put lotion on my back and shoulders to keep them from drying 
out."

"So when I shook her hand," Dad said, "the strap of the dress 
slid down her other shoulder."

"You couldn't decide whether to look at my face or my chest," Mom 
said, laughing.

"Like hell," Dad said. "I was a fourth class middie with my 
mentor standing over my shoulder." Then he turned to us. "Do 
_you_ think I was going to stare at his sister's chest?"

"Yeah, Dad," Erin said. "You probably did."

"They know you too well," Mom said to Dad with a smile. "And 
whether you stared at my chest or not when we first met, you 
couldn't keep your eyes off me at dinner."

"What was I s'posed to do?" Dad asked. "Your dress kept falling 
down. I couldn't see any of the good stuff, but I got quite a 
show."

"Is that why you asked me out?" she asked.

"No, of course not," Dad said with feigned defensiveness. Then he 
grew serious. "Your brother wanted me to watch out for you after 
he graduated."

Uncle Hank was three years older than Mom, but his F-4 had been 
shot down in 1966. Even though he and his radar intercept officer 
safely ejected, Hank was later killed by his North Vietnamese 
captors. The RIO spent the next six years in captivity. Mom and 
Dad didn't talk about Hank much, but I knew that they still 
thought about him. Mom even kept a picture of him--in his flight 
suit--on her dresser at home.

"I still miss him," she said quietly.

"Me too," Dad echoed.

"What was he like?" Erin asked.

I don't know why, but she liked hearing Mom talk about him.

So for the next twenty minutes, Mom and Dad told us about Hank, 
laughing as they recalled the good times they'd had together. 
Erin and I had heard most of the stories, but retelling them 
seemed to lift Mom's spirits. And I had to admit that it was a 
good way to pass the time. Finally, we neared the small parking 
lot for the Carrick dorms.

"Okay," Dad said, "now we have to find a parking space."

"I'll go check to see if I'm on the board yet," I said.

"Can I go?" Erin asked.

"Sure. C'mon."

Behind us, Gina and Leah got out of the Coulters' station wagon.

"You check with your front desk and see if your name's close to 
the top of the list," I said to Gina. "I'll check over here," I 
said, hooking my thumb at North Carrick.

"Okay."

When Erin and I reached the board, I was disappointed. The names 
were: Wiesmeier, St. George, and Brighton. But as I was about to 
turn away, a guy returned a cart to the desk.

"Wiesmeier," the hall director shouted a moment later. "Lyndon 
Wiesmeier!"

When Lyndon Wiesmeier trundled off with his cart, the hall 
director erased his name. A surge of excitement ran through me 
when he wrote "Hughes" on the board. Then my heart sank when he 
immediately erased it.

"Why'd he do that?" Erin asked.

To our surprise, the director then wrote "P. Hughes" on the board.

"Do you think that's you?" Erin asked.

"I guess so. There must've been two Hugheses on his list. Cool."

Back outside, Gina looked disappointed.

"They said it'd be another hour," she said.

"That's okay," I said. "I'm third on the list."

While we were inside, Dad had found a parking space. And as we 
watched, a pickup's reverse lights came on. Chris waited for the 
truck to back out and then pulled into the vacated spot.

"Okay," Dad said once both families had gathered by our station 
wagon, "what's the plan?"

"I'm third on the list for carts," I said. "So it shouldn't be 
long. But my room's only on the fourth floor. Just waiting for 
the elevator takes ten minutes. I mean, I can walk up carrying 
most of my stuff." Then I looked at Dad. "Except the free weights, 
of course."

"Except the free weights," he agreed.

"With all eight of us," Chris said, "it shouldn't take too long."

"We should still station someone in the lobby, so we can get the 
cart when Paul's name is called," Dad said.

Chris nodded.

"And then," Dad continued, "we can use the cart to take Gina's 
stuff up to her room." Then he turned to her. "What floor are you 
on?"

"The sixth," she said.

"Yeah, I definitely don't want to carry stuff up six flights of 
stairs _after_ carrying stuff up four flights," Dad said. "Even 
with all of us, it'll probably take two or three trips for each 
room."

Chris nodded again.

"Okay," Dad said, turning to me. "You give your ID to Erin. She 
can wait in the lobby and use it to get the cart when they call 
your name."

Erin and I both nodded.

"Erin," he continued, "meet us back at the car when you get the 
cart. Okay?"

"Roger wilco," she said, imitating one of his sayings with a grin.

Dad grinned in reply and then looked at all of us. "Is everyone 
ready?"

As one, we nodded.

"Then let's get this show on the road," he said.

I handed my ID to Erin and she headed into the dorm to wait. Then 
we opened the back of the station wagon.

"Wait a minute," Dad said. Then he looked at me. "How do we get 
to the stairs? Do we have to go through that crowd?" he asked, 
tossing his chin in the direction of the people in and around the 
breezeway.

"Hold on a second," I said. In my mind, I "walked" through the 
building, keeping myself oriented with the outside world as I 
mentally navigated from the lobby to my room. Then I looked up. 
"There," I said, pointing. "My room's on the north end of the 
building, right next to the stairs."

"Okay," Dad said. "Where do the stairs come out?"

"Probably down there," I said, pointed at the concrete courtyard 
between North Carrick and Reese Hall. It was below ground level, 
which meant we'd have to climb an extra flight of stairs, but it 
was still better than waiting forever for a cart and then the 
elevator.

"Leah, why don't you go check it out real quick," Dad suggested.

She nodded and then headed toward the north end of the building. 
While she was gone, Dad, Chris, and I surveyed the boxes, baskets, 
and bags in the rear of our car. When Leah jogged back, she was 
grinning.

"There's a door that leads into the building," she said, panting 
slightly. "It was propped open with a chair, so I looked inside. 
It was a stairwell."

"Okay," Dad said. "We're good to go. Let's load up."

With that, we each picked up an armload of my things and headed 
toward the fire escape door. Not surprisingly, several other 
people were using the stairs as well. We passed people coming 
back down and were followed by more people behind us. There 
weren't nearly as many people in the stairwell as the lobby and 
elevators, though, so we didn't have to wait at all.

When we reached the fourth floor, I led everyone to my suite. 
Inside, I unlocked my door.

"My bed's the one by the window," I said.

After we set my stuff down, my parents and the Coulters took a 
quick tour of the suite. They were curious, but I had to stifle a 
grin when I realized that they were also catching their breath. 
Fortunately, the air conditioner was still blowing cold air, so 
the room temperature was _almost_ comfortable.

"Pretty much like I remember from when I was in college," Dad 
said. "Cinder block walls and plain linoleum floors."

"And loud, squeaky beds," Chris said as he tested my roommate's 
unoccupied bed. Then he looked at Dad and shook his head in mock 
sadness. "Just like I remember."

"You are _incorrigible_," Elizabeth said in amusement. "Come on, 
you randy old terrier, let's get the next load."

"Terrier?" Chris protested. "I was just making an observation. 
Can't have squeaky beds now, can we?"

Mom and Dad grinned at each other as we filed out of the room. 
Even Gina smiled at her father's antics. I locked the door behind 
us and we headed down the fire stairs. Back at our car, we were 
surprised to find Erin waiting with the cart.

"Three carts came in at the same time," she said excitedly. "I 
just gave that guy your ID when he called your name."

"Cool," I said.

"Let's get your weights, son," Dad said. "We can put everything 
else on the cart too, as long as we've got it."

After we loaded the rest of my things on the cart, I gave my room 
key to Gina.

"Y'all can head up the stairs and cool off in the room until I 
get there," I said.

"I'll go with you, son," Dad said.

After nods of agreement, Gina and the others headed toward the 
fire stairs. With me pushing the cart and Dad guiding it from the 
front, we headed toward the breezeway entrance.

"The floors in your room are kinda bare," Dad commented as we 
reached the dorm entrance. Then he nodded at the people selling 
carpeting rolls in the courtyard. "We'll get you a nice piece of 
carpet to put down. How's that sound?"

"Sounds cool," I said.

Then he turned nostalgic. "I remember my father driving me to 
college for my first summer," he said.

"First _summer?_"

"Uh-huh. Since I was in the NROTC program, we had to do 
orientation and a _lot_ of PT, physical training. I had to get 
uniforms, too."

"That must've sucked," I said.

"Nah. I worked my ass off, but I had a good time. There were a 
lot of things I didn't like about the Navy, but NROTC was fun." 
Then he leaned toward me and lowered his voice. "And your mom may 
joke about it," he said with a sly grin, "but I think she went 
out with me because she liked the way I looked in a uniform. So 
yeah, I had to wear the thing, but it had its fringe benefits."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Dad merely shrugged, still grinning.

Fifteen minutes later, we crammed ourselves into an elevator. We 
smiled at the other family and then got out when the doors opened 
on the fourth floor. Then, surprisingly, Dad laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"I was just remembering," he mused. "My first roommate in college 
was a guy named Oswald Knapp, and the first thing we did was 
figure out a way to let the other guy know if we had a girl in 
the room." He laughed again. "We said we'd hang a necktie around 
the doorknob to warn the other guy not to come in."

"What's so funny about that?" I asked.

"Neither of us _ever_ had a girl in that room. But that's what I 
remember about him, having that serious discussion about how to 
wave off the other guy."

"That _is_ kinda funny," I said, chuckling.

"Yep, old Oswald and I had our priorities straight."

Before I could ask anything else about my dad's time in college, 
we reached my suite. Then we maneuvered the cart into the foyer.

"We need to get you a broom," Mom said before we even made it all 
the way into my room. "And we really should clean your room 
before you unpack."

"Uh, okay," I said.

While we quickly unloaded the rest of my stuff (and stored the 
free weights in the bottom of the closet), Mom and Elizabeth 
talked about making a trip to the store to buy cleaning supplies. 
While they made plans, Dad and Chris looked out the window at the 
courtyard below.

"We were going to get Paul a rug for the room," Dad said.

"That's a good idea," Chris agreed. "We'll get one for Gina too."

Gina and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. I guess our 
parents were having more fun sprucing up our rooms than we were. 
Ah, nostalgia.

"Okay," Mom said, breaking Gina's and my moment of amused 
camaraderie. "Elizabeth and I need to go to the store. We'll take 
our car and meet you all back here."

"When you get back," I said, "you can park in the garage at the 
end of Andy Holt Avenue."

Mom nodded.

"While you're gone, we'll use Paul's cart to move all of Gina's 
things in," Dad said.

"And then we can get rugs for the kids," Chris added.

"I want to sweep and mop this floor before you put down a rug," 
Mom said.

"And we need to do the same for Gina's room," Elizabeth added. 
"I'm sure it's as dirty as this one."

_Dirty?_ I mused._ My room isn't all _that_ dirty._

The women, however, had different standards. They all seemed 
eager to clean our rooms, and I wasn't about to stop them.

Dad clapped twice to get our attention. "Okay, chop-chop," he 
said. "Let's go."

Mom and Elizabeth headed off in our car while we loaded Gina's 
things onto the cart. We couldn't quite fit everything, so we'd 
have to make two trips. It took us longer to move Gina's things, 
because there were more people waiting for the elevator in South 
Carrick. But we eventually managed to get her completely moved in.

When Gina and I went to take the cart back, she shook her head in 
amusement.

"God, our parents have just taken over, haven't they?" she said.

"Yeah," I said with a chuckle. "But hey, I'm getting a clean room. 
I'm not gonna complain."

"And we're getting rugs," she added.

"And we're getting rugs," I agreed.

"So maybe it's not so bad after all." Then she turned reflective. 
"I just wish I could paint my room. I mean, that white is just 
_ugly_."

"What's the matter with white?"

"It's ugly. U-g-l-y. And boring. Ugh."

"I didn't think it was that bad," I muttered.

"Of course not," she said. "'Cause you're a goof."

"But I'm _your_ goof," I said as I wrapped my arm around her.

"Yeah, you're mine." Then she grinned shyly. "Thanks for putting 
up with me," she said. "I know I'm not in the best mood."

"Don't worry about it. I mean, I've got no clue what we're 
supposed to do next either."

"Good. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who was 
clueless."

"Nope," I said. "We're clueless together."

-----

When Mom and Elizabeth returned, they cleaned the rooms in a 
whirlwind of activity. (My room was far cleaner than I thought I 
needed, but I wasn't about to complain.) After the floors dried, 
we put the rugs down. They didn't cover the entire floor, but 
they _did_ cover the main expanse of linoleum. More than that, 
however, they softened the room and made it seem more inviting.

Then my family headed back to my room while Gina and her family 
stayed in hers to help her unpack. Mom and Erin made my bed for 
me while I put my clothes in the drawers and closet. While we did 
that, Dad set up my VIC-20 computer and monitor, and unpacked my 
school supplies.

I still hadn't seen my roommate or either of my suitemates, but I 
figured I'd meet them soon enough. To my surprise, the phone rang 
as we were putting the finishing touches on the room.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively. I had _no_ idea who could be 
calling my room.

"May I please speak to Paul?" the voice said.

"This is he."

"Oh. I didn't recognize your voice."

"Who's this?" I asked.

"It's Gina, goof."

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah, these phones are kinda scratchy."

"Yeah. Anyway, we're done over here and my mom wanted to know if 
y'all wanted to go out to dinner somewhere."

"Sure, hold on." Then I covered the mouthpiece and turned to my 
open door. I started to shout into my room, but then I realized 
that the long phone cord would actually reach (and then some). 
"It's Gina," I said as I stepped into the room, still holding the 
receiver. "Elizabeth wants to know if we're ready to go to 
dinner."

"Sure," Dad said. "I'm starved."

"We didn't have lunch," Mom pointed out.

"Nope. And I could eat a cow," he said.

"Gina?" I said as I put the receiver to my ear.

"Yeah?"

"Sure, we're ready for dinner. Meet you downstairs in five 
minutes?"

"We'll see you there," she said.

Downstairs in the lobby, things had slowed down. Most of the 
crowds had thinned out, but there was still a steady trickle of 
people moving into the dorms.

Outside, we met Gina's family and then headed toward the parking 
garage.

"Before we eat, I want to check into the hotel and get cleaned 
up," Mom said.

"Me too," Elizabeth added.

"If y'all're going to get cleaned up at the hotel," I said, "Gina 
and I should probably go back to our rooms. I mean, if we go to 
the hotel with you, we won't have any clothes to change into."

Gina nodded.

"Okay," Mom said. "Why don't you two go get cleaned up while we 
find the hotel. Then we'll call you when we're ready to eat."

"Actually," I said, "Gina and I can just shower and then meet you 
at the hotel. You're staying at the Radisson, right?"

"Right," Dad said.

"Okay," I said. "We'll just meet you there when we're done."

"Sounds like a plan," Dad said.

I put my arm around Gina as our parents continued toward the 
garage. When they were out of earshot, I turned and grinned at 
her. "Has your roommate moved in yet?" I asked.

She shook her head. "But I think my suitemates have. I haven't 
seen them, but some of their stuff was there when we left to meet 
you."

"Well, I'm the only one in my suite, so d'you just wanna grab 
some clothes and come over to my room?"

"That sounds like a _great_ idea," she said.

"Okay, let's go."

Ten minutes later, Gina and I walked into my suite. I made sure 
that my suitemates hadn't moved in while I wasn't looking. They 
hadn't. And since my roommate hadn't magically appeared, we had 
the entire suite to ourselves.

"God, I'm tired," Gina said. "I didn't realize I'd packed so much 
stuff."

"Same here." Then I grinned at her. "I'm not too tired to fool 
around, though. You wanna take a shower with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Since the suite's outer door didn't lock, we wrapped towels 
around ourselves before heading into the foyer.

The shower itself was actually two tiled areas: a vestibule, 
screened by a shower curtain, and then the shower stall itself, 
which was also screened by a curtain. Gina and I stepped into the 
vestibule, shut the first curtain behind us, and hung our towels 
on wall hooks. Then we grinned in anticipation as I turned on and 
adjusted the water.

"God, this feels good," she said as she stepped under the water. 
She wet her raven hair and then luxuriated in the heat of the 
spray.

For a moment, I merely admired her body as the water sluiced over 
her. The combination of an Indian mother and a Caucasian father 
had given her an exotic cafe au lait complexion. And since we 
were nudists, she didn't have any tan lines. When she lifted her 
arms to run her fingers through her hair, I wanted to tweak her 
dark brown nipples.

She'd gained a little weight since we first started dating, but 
she'd gained it in all the right places. Her stomach was still 
soft and flat, but her breasts and ass had filled out a little. 
Then my eyes traveled lower, to where her hips flared from her 
slender waist. A week before we left for college, she shaved her 
pubic hair for me. Although she still shaved her labia, she was 
letting the rest of her bush grow back, so she had a darker 
triangle of stubble on her mons.

"What?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You were staring at me."

"Oh. Sorry. I guess I was just thinking about how beautiful you 
are. You're so... wow."

She smiled and lowered her dark eyes.

I stepped toward her and pulled her into my arms.

Her wet breasts crushed against me as she wrapped her arms around 
my waist. Then she kissed my chest. "I love you so much," she 
whispered.

"And I love you," I said.

"Thanks again for being patient with me. I'm sure I'll get to 
like it here."

"You will. It'll be better once classes start. Then we'll be too 
busy to worry about being away from home."

"I guess," she said.

"Trust me."

"I do. I guess I'm just feeling lonely already. I mean, I don't 
know anyone here except you."

"And Kendall," I said.

"And her. But, I mean, what if my roommate's totally weird or 
something? What if she goes psycho and cuts up all my clothes? Or 
what if she smokes pot all day and we both get busted, even 
though I haven't done anything? Then they won't let me into 
medical school."

"Is that the kinda stuff you worry about?" I asked.

Miserably, she nodded.

"I wouldn't worry about your roommate," I assured her. "I'm sure 
she's just like you. Although," I mused, "if she's smart, 
beautiful, and sexy, then I think you'll have to seduce her."

"Ha! Like that'll happen."

"Okay, then _I'll_ seduce her," I said, grinning.

"Can I watch?" Gina asked.

"What is it your mom says to your dad? 'You are _incorrigible_.'"

She nodded, her mood beginning to brighten.

With that, I gently pushed her backward and stuck my head under 
the spray of water. Then I turned us around so my back was to the 
showerhead. She looked up at me in shock as I pressed her against 
the back wall.

"God," she said, "that wall's cold."

"Sorry. It'll warm up in a minute."

"How?"

"With you pressed against it, it'll warm up. Trust me."

"What d'you--"

Before she could finish her question, I bent down and kissed her. 
Her lips parted and my tongue gently probed her mouth. She 
whimpered and then clutched me tightly. Our breathing quickened 
as we continued to kiss. When I finally pulled back, I gazed down 
into her liquid brown eyes and smiled.

"I love you," I said.

Instead of answering, she twined her fingers through my hair and 
pulled my head down again.

We pressed our bodies together and continued kissing. Without 
pulling my lips away from hers, I cupped her left breast. Her 
nipple hardened as soon as I latched my fingers around it. She 
whimpered into my mouth when I tugged the little brown bud.

"God," she said when we broke the kiss long enough to catch our 
breath. "You make me so hot."

"Hot enough to forget all your worries?"

"Hot enough to forget my _first name_," she said. "Now kiss me 
some more."

Needless to say, I did as she asked.

As our tongues sparred with each other, I reached up and pulled 
her hand from the back of my neck. Then I put it on my semi-hard 
dick. She gripped me firmly as I returned my hand to her breast.

For the next several minutes, we simply kissed and fondled each 
other. I wanted her to suck me, but I also wanted to take my time 
and enjoy her lips. Finally, I pulled back.

"See? I told you the wall would warm up," I said.

"That's not all that's warmed up," she said as she squirmed a 
little.

"Oh?"

"Mmm hmm. I told you, you make me incredibly hot."

"Good," I said with aplomb. "So let's get washed up. I don't 
wanna get waterlogged."

"Unnnnh."

"Oh? Did you want to do something before we get cleaned up?"

"Paul," she half-whined.

"What do you want?"

"You know," she said.

"Tell me."

"I want your dick."

"Oh? Did you make an appointment?"

Instead of answering, she stroked my length insistently.

"Do you want me to see if I can squeeze you in?" I asked.

"I want you to fuck me."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Good."

"But later," I added. When she began to pout, I kissed her. "We 
really _do_ need to get cleaned up."

"But...?"

"Here," I said, "I've got an idea." Without waiting for her to 
reply, I turned her around, lowered my hips, and pressed my 
erection against her ass. After a small adjustment, I found the 
opening between her thighs and slid my dick forward.

She hissed in pleasure as my swollen glans brushed over her labia. 
Then I pulled back, tilted my hips, and probed her opening. She 
thrust her ass back at me, giving me a better angle. With that, I 
eased into her. As advertised, her pussy was incredibly hot. I 
paused for a moment to savor the feeling as her inner walls 
gripped my shaft. Then I reached for the washcloth and soap.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "Fuck me." When she realized that I was 
lathering the washcloth, she looked back with curious irritation. 
"What're you doing?"

"We need to get cleaned up, and I want to fuck you. So..."

"You're kidding," she said, stunned.

I shook my head and then rocked my hips. My cock moved within her 
and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

"Keep doing that," she begged.

"Not a problem," I said. Then I set the soap back in the soap 
dish and began to wash her shoulders. As I did, I slowly thrust 
into her.

"Oh, God, your dick feels so good."

"Uh-huh."

Then I gently scrubbed the washcloth over her brown skin, leaving 
a trail of suds. With my hips still moving slightly, I washed her 
arms and then her back. When I reached her hips, I gripped them 
and pumped into her at full speed. Slapping noises filled the 
shower stall as my hips slammed into her ass. After less than a 
minute, I buried myself inside her and shook my head to clear it. 
Then I reached around to wash her stomach and dangling breasts. 
Finally, I pumped into her a few more times before washing her 
legs (as far as I could reach, that is).

"Okay," I said at last, "rinse off."

She groaned when I gripped her hips and pulled us backward. I 
ducked to the side to let the water spray over my shoulder and 
rinse her back. With my dick still buried inside her, I pulled 
her mostly upright. As I did, the water washed over her shoulders 
and arms. When she was rinsed clean, I swept her hair out of the 
way and kissed the nape of her neck.

"Now let me wash your hair," I said.

She shook her head. "Keep fucking me."

"Uh-uh. I'll wash your hair... while you kneel in front of me."

"Huh?"

"Suck my cock while I wash your hair," I said.

I didn't have to ask twice. In a flash, she pulled off me, 
groaned at the loss, then turned and dropped to her knees. When 
she captured my dick with her mouth, I reached for the shampoo 
bottle. As she sucked, I lathered her hair, massaging her scalp 
and working the suds into her dark tresses. Her lips felt 
incredibly good, but she needed to rinse her hair so I could get 
cleaned up as well. I didn't want to, but I finally pulled her 
off my dick.

"Rinse your hair," I said.

"Let me keep sucking," she begged.

"Uh-uh," I said, pulling her to her feet.

"No. You wash, I'll keep sucking."

It wasn't a bad idea, so I didn't stop her as she returned to her 
knees. Then she took my cock as far into her mouth as she could. 
For a moment, I couldn't concentrate. So I let her suck me, her 
lips dancing over my erection. Her hair was still full of shampoo, 
but she didn't seem to mind--she was completely focused on my 
dick. Finally, I shook my head to clear it and reached for the 
washcloth.

As she fellated me, I washed my chest and upper body. Then I 
lathered my stomach and upper thighs, taking care not to get soap 
near her mouth.

She kept sucking while I washed and rinsed my hair. I wanted to 
let her make me come, but I also wanted to fuck her some more. So 
after a few minutes of indecision--and enjoyment--I pulled her 
off my dick and lifted her to her feet.

"Rinse your hair," I said.

She nodded obediently and stepped under the spray.

"You've got me so worked up," I whispered to her, "I'm going to 
take you back to my room, bend you over the sink, and fuck you 
silly."

"Oh, God," she breathed, "hurry up and turn off the water."

We dried off and then streaked back to my room, where Gina bent 
over the counter. Then she reached between her legs and looked 
over her shoulder expectantly. After a momentary pause--to tease 
her--I stepped behind her and rubbed her slippery pussy with the 
head of my cock. Then I gripped her hips and buried myself inside 
her.

As slammed into her, I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. 
For a moment, I watched as her breasts swayed with each thrust. 
Then I let my gaze drift upward. She had her eyes  closed, her 
face a mask of pleasure. She looked more beautiful than ever.

"Come... in... my... mouth...," she said when she felt me increase my 
pace. "Please, come in my mouth."

When I pulled out of her pussy, my shiny erection bobbed gently. 
She straightened, turned, and dropped to her knees, moaning as 
she tasted herself on my shaft. Then she tried to swallow me 
whole. She could only take the first half of my dick, but she 
lavished attention on what she _could_ swallow.

After only a minute of her hot mouth, I arched my back and felt 
my muscles tense. With an almost silent groan, I erupted. She 
locked her lips around my shaft, just below the glans, and pumped 
me with her fist. Each time I spurted into her mouth, she 
whimpered. After three strong spurts and a couple of weaker ones, 
my orgasm began to subside.

Gina kept sucking me, and when I finally looked down, I realized 
that her hand was between her legs. She was busily rubbing her 
clit, working herself toward her own orgasm. With her lips locked 
around my shaft, her breath whistled through her nose as her 
release drew near.

Finally, she tensed up. With a low groan, she climaxed, her face 
contorted in ecstasy. For a long moment, she remained in that 
position. Then she released my manhood, sank back on her heels, 
and closed her eyes. It took her a moment to catch her breath. 
When she did, she looked up at me and smiled.

"God, I needed that," she said. "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_."

"We should shower like that more often."

I nodded.

"I thought you were crazy when you grabbed the washcloth," she 
said. "But that was kinda fun."

"I'm glad you liked it. Now, let's get going. We've still gotta 
meet our families."

When she nodded, I helped her to her feet. Then I drew her into 
my arms and kissed her. For a few moments, we simply held each 
other, both of us enjoying the post-orgasmic closeness.

-----

"So," Dad said after dinner, "what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I'm supposed to call Kendall tonight," I said, "and tell her 
what room I'm in and where you all are staying."

Around the table, everyone nodded.

"They're going to leave Chattanooga by seven thirty tomorrow 
morning," I continued. "It'll only take 'em an hour and a half to 
get here, but she doesn't know how long it'll take to get through 
traffic."

Kendall had moved into UT dorms the previous two years, so she 
had first-hand experience with the traffic and crowds.

"Judging by today," Dad said, "I don't think tomorrow will be any 
different."

"That's what I figured," I said. "So I guess we should expect her 
call around ten. I don't know how long it'll take to get her 
moved into her apartment, though, but I don't imagine it'll be 
too long."

"That sounds like a plan," Dad said. When everyone nodded, he 
looked at Gina and me. "Do you two want to have breakfast with us, 
here at the hotel?" he asked. "Or do you want to eat on campus?"

"Don't condemned people usually get a last meal?" Chris asked 
with a grin. Then he turned to us. "Come eat at the hotel. You 
want to wait as long as you can before you have to start eating 
cafeteria food."

"Oh, it's not that bad," Elizabeth chided him.

"Still," Chris said. "We should probably give the kids one last 
good meal or something. You know, it's tradition."

She rolled her eyes at him and then turned to us. "It _would_ be 
nice for all of us to have breakfast together," she said.

Gina and I glanced at each other, read the agreement in the 
other's eyes, then nodded.

"Eight o'clock?" Dad asked.

"Sounds good to me," I said.

Gina nodded.

"In that case," Mom said, "we should give the Paytons a call 
before it's too late. Then we'd better let you two get back to 
campus. We've got another long day ahead of us."

Elizabeth, Dad, and Chris all nodded. Erin and Leah merely looked 
at each other and grinned. After a little more small talk, we all 
headed up to our families' rooms. (Our parents had gotten 
adjacent rooms and then opened the connecting doors. Erin and 
Leah were staying in a room across the hall.)

Gina and I went into the Coulters' room to call Kendall. We gave 
her our phone numbers, room numbers, and the hotel's phone number. 
Since she had some last-minute packing to do and we were both 
tired, the conversation was short. She sounded excited, though. 
Finally, we said goodbye and hung up.

"I can't wait to see her," Gina said.

I simply nodded in agreement as we walked into my parents' room. 
We relaxed for a few minutes and then Gina and I excused 
ourselves so we could head back to campus.

"Paul?" she asked tentatively as we pulled into the parking 
garage.

"Yeah?"

"Um... do you think your roommate's moved in yet?"

"I doubt it. I mean, if he was gonna move in today, he'd've 
probably already been there. You know?"

"I guess."

"Why?" I asked. "What're you thinking?"

"Do you think I could spend the night in your room? I guess I'm 
just not ready to spend the night by myself."

"Sure," I said. "That'd be great."

"Thanks."

The North Carrick lobby was much quieter than earlier in the day, 
but there were still quite a few people milling around and 
relaxing on the couches. Mostly, they were guys who probably 
lived in the dorm, shooting the breeze and getting to know one 
another. A couple of them looked up as Gina and I passed by. I 
felt a surge of pride when I realized that they were watching her.

When we got to my suite, no one had magically appeared. My 
suitemates still weren't there, and my room was exactly how we'd 
left it. When I locked the door behind us, Gina flowed into my 
arms.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I said.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" she asked.

"Well, I'm ready for bed, but I'm not ready to go to _sleep_," I 
said with a grin.

With an answering grin, we raced to see who could get undressed 
and into bed first. I won, but not by much.

Both of us were used to sleeping in queen-size beds, and even 
though the single bed was extra long, it was still too narrow for 
us to have much room. Fortunately, we didn't really care how much 
room we had.

-----

Copyright (c) 2004 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.
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