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From: Nick Scipio <nick_scipioSPAM@BLOCKyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 3" by Nick Scipio - Ch 12 (MF, teen, mast)
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Date: Sat, 30 Oct 2004 19:10:02 -0400
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
Part: Chapter 12
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, teen, mast
Revision: 1.0
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
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

CHAPTER TWELVE

The world was coming to an end. A giant, malevolent god was 
inside my head, going at it hammer and tongs. When I opened my 
eyes, pain lanced through my skull. Even though I clamped my eyes 
shut, the pain didn't stop. Neither did the ringing hammerblows.

As I slowly became aware of my surroundings, I realized that 
someone was pounding on my door. I silently prayed that Billy 
would answer it, but when I cracked an eyelid and peered at his 
side of the room, his bed was empty. I sat up, but immediately 
regretted it.

"I'm coming!" I shouted, my mouth cottony.

The knocking didn't let up, and my head sadistically throbbed 
along with it. I lurched to my feet and staggered across the room. 
When I finally reached the door, I had to brace myself against 
the wall to keep from falling over (the room was spinning).

"What?!" I snarled, jerking the door open.

"Woo-hoo, lookee here," T.J. said. "Somebody had a big night."

"What d'you want, T.J.?"

"Call your girlfriend, Loverboy," he said. "She's called here a 
dozen times. I told her you were passed out, but she wanted me to 
bust down the door." Then he sized me up. "Damn," he added 
without heat, "you city boys sure can't hold your liquor."

"Anything else?" I asked. Then I grimaced as the jackhammering in 
my head redoubled.

"Yeah," he said, "drink lotsa water. It'll help your head." For a 
moment, he looked like he took pity on me. Then he shook his head 
angrily and turned away.

Before I could close the door, the phone rang. T.J. looked at it, 
looked at me, and then swore. With a withering glare, he snatched 
the receiver from the cradle.

"Hello? Why yes," he said in a sickly sweet voice, "you _may_ 
speak to Paul. He's right here. Hold on a second." Then he held 
out the phone. When I took it, he snorted contemptuously and then 
returned to his room.

"Hello?" I croaked, gingerly holding the receiver to my ear.

"Oh my goodness, Paul, are you okay?" Kendall asked in a rush. 
"I've been calling all morning. T.J. told me you were passed out. 
I was about to call an ambulance. What happened?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I just had a late night last night. I guess 
I had a little too much to drink."

Silence.

"Hello?"

"You were out with Gina, weren't you?"

When I heard the disdain in her voice, something inside me 
snapped. "Is that all you fucking think about?" I asked.

"Paul, I--"

"I was out with Trip last night. It was just the two of us. And 
you know what?" I asked spitefully. "It was the best fucking 
night I've had in a long time. I didn't have to worry about _you_, 
I didn't have to worry about Gina, I didn't have to worry about 
any-fucking-thing," I said. My head was still pounding, and it 
hurt to shout, so I took a deep breath. "Look," I said, a little 
calmer, "I'm not in the mood for this shit. So I'm gonna take 
some aspirin and then go back to bed. I'll call you later."

With that, I hung up. Kendall was saying something as I did, but 
I didn't care. Gina might have her problems, but at least she 
wasn't jealous. Kendall usually wasn't jealous either, but lately, 
when it came to Gina, all bets were off.

And I was sick of it.

I went back to my room and hunted through my medicine cabinet for 
a bottle of aspirin. I shook four tablets into my palm and washed 
them down with a swig of water. Then I closed the blinds, 
plunging the room into merciful dimness. My clothes stank, but I 
didn't have the energy to take them off, so I simply collapsed 
onto my bed and tried not to puke.

-----

Later--although I don't know how _much_ later--someone knocked on 
my door.

"Go away," I yelled, even though I immediately regretted it 
(because my head hurt, not because my mood had improved).

Instead of going away, the person opened the door. Evidently, I'd 
forgotten to lock it.

"Paul?"

It was Kendall.

"Paul?" she called again. Her nose was stuffed up, and she'd 
obviously been crying.

"What?"

Instead of answering, she stepped inside and shut the door.

"Look," I said, "I'm sorry about earlier. My head hurt, I felt 
like I was gonna throw up, and I wasn't in the mood for an anti-
Gina lecture."

Kendall sniffled softly.

My head _still_ hurt, I _still_ felt like I was going to throw up, 
and I _still_ wasn't in the mood for her jealousy. But I wasn't a 
completely insensitive jerk.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"No," I said. (It's a lot easier to be angry with someone when 
she's not in the room with you.) Then, "Hold on ... how'd you get 
up here without an escort?"

"T.J. offered to come down and escort me," she said. Then she 
laughed nervously. "I guess he was tired of me calling."

I hadn't heard the phone ring at all. Had I really been _that_ 
dead to the world?

"Can I come sit down?" she asked.

"I guess," I said. Then I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. 
"I'll be right back, though."

"Are you....?"

"I'm just going to the bathroom," I explained.

After I returned, I brushed my teeth. It didn't _completely_ help 
with the taste in my mouth, but it got the fuzz off my teeth and 
tongue. When I finished brushing, I gulped a cupful of water. 
Then I downed two more in rapid succession.

My head still felt like it was being pounded by a trip-hammer, 
but my stomach had settled down. At least I _thought_ it had. 
Then I got a whiff of my clothes. I smelled like smoke from the 
bar, but I also reeked of alcohol. My stomach lurched at the 
thought of another drink, so I quickly stripped. Instead of 
showering, which I _really_ wanted to do, I searched around for 
some not-so-dirty shorts and a pullover.

"I'm sorry you're angry," Kendall said softly. "Is that why you 
went out last night?"

"It's part of the reason," I said. At her mention of the night 
before, I thought about all that Trip and I had talked about. I 
had probably told him too much, but if I couldn't trust him, then 
I couldn't trust anyone. He probably told _me_ too much as well--
especially about the Sigma Chi bid--but at the moment, I didn't 
have the energy to get upset about _that_ humiliation.

"What was Gina--"

"Will you _forget_ about Gina?! It's not about her; don't you get 
that? You wanna know why I wanted to go out with just Trip last 
night? It's because of shit like this. Gina's _not_ your enemy. 
As a matter of fact, if it weren't for _her_, you and I never 
would've gotten together."

"That's just because she wanted to--"

"No... it's... _not_," I snapped. "For Christ's sake, is this one of 
your blind spots? Do you think Gina's a shallow bitch whose brain 
is between her legs? Is that it?" Without waiting for an answer, 
I continued. "Yeah, part of it is that Gina was attracted to you, 
but she also saw how much _I_ cared about you. And she wanted me 
to be happy. Hell, for _that_ matter, she wanted _you_ to be 
happy too. That's hardly the hallmark of a shallow bitch, don't 
you think?

"And while I'm on the subject," I continued, "this whole 
'treating her differently because she's in a sorority' thing is 
for the birds, and it'd better _stop_. She's the same girl you've 
always known, only now she needs us more than ever, because she's 
out of her comfort zone, as you put it."

"I don't treat her differently," Kendall protested weakly.

"Yes you do. Don't you realize it? _I_ sure do. And so does Gina. 
How do you think _she_ feels, when one of her best friends treats 
her like a leper? She actually used the word 'leper,' by the way. 
Leper!"

Instead of answering, Kendall frowned as she thought about what 
I'd just said (and about her own actions, hopefully).

"With the way you treat her, it puts _me_ in an awkward position 
too. I don't want to have to choose between you two," I said, 
leaving the remainder unspoken.

It was the worst thing I could say. It was also the best. I 
honestly didn't know which girl I'd choose if I _had_ to make the 
choice. I loved both of them, very much. But I also wanted 
Kendall to know that while she and I were perfectly matched in 
many ways, _Gina_ and I were well-matched as well, and we had 
more history than Kendall and I did.

"How do you think _you'd_ react, if you thought Gina was trying 
to alienate you and me?" I asked. When Kendall's expression 
turned defensive and hard, I nodded. "Exactly. I don't know if 
you're _trying_ to alienate Gina and me, but it sure seems that 
way."

"I'm not," she said softly, wiping her cheeks.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" I asked, moving to sit beside her. 
"When Gina calls you, you don't have time to talk to her. When 
you see her, you treat her like she's not there. Why?"

"Do you really want to know?" she asked.

I nodded.

"I don't trust her," Kendall said flatly. "I see how she treats 
you. You're just a convenient... _penis_. She doesn't love you," 
she spat. "Not like _I_ do."

At that, my stomach dropped. Did Kendall _honestly_ believe that? 
How could she think that Gina didn't love me? Didn't she see all 
that Gina and I had together? We had our ups and downs, like any 
couple, but we had a connection--a deep connection--that had 
survived three years. For an eighteen-year-old, three years is 
almost an eternity.

"She uses you to get what she wants," Kendall continued. "When 
have _I_ ever used you? And now that she's a _sorority girl_," 
she added with dripping scorn, "it's only going to get worse."

"Is _that_ what this is about?" I asked, semi-incredulous. "Is it 
because Gina joined Chi Omega?"

"No, of course not," Kendall said unconvincingly.

"Yes, it is," I countered. "You didn't have any problems with her 
before she decided to join a sorority."

"Oh yes I did, Paul," she said coldly. "She's _always_ used you, 
and I've always seen it. I've waited patiently for two years, 
hoping you'd see what she was doing. But I'm not going to hold my 
tongue anymore."

I cradled my head in my hands and took a deep breath.

_How many aspirin is it safe to take at one time?_ I wondered. 
_Two? Four? A dozen? When had my life become so complicated? Oh 
yes, when I thought I could juggle two girlfriends. What the fuck 
had I been thinking?_ With a derisive mental snort, I realized 
that my problem wasn't _what_ I'd been thinking, but what body 
part I'd been thinking with.

"I'm sorry," Kendall said softly. "I know you don't want to hear 
this, but it's how I feel. I'm tired of hiding it. And I'm tired 
of playing _second_ girlfriend. When do I get _my_ turn?"

"I don't know, Kendall," I said, my head still in my hands. The 
trip-hammer had started up again, with a vengeance. _So this is 
what the downfall of a goddess is like_, I thought glumly. _I'm 
dating a human girl after all. _Two_ of them. And that's the 
problem._ Finally, I looked up and took a deep breath. "Listen," 
I said, "I need some time to think. My head is killing me, and 
right now, I don't know _what_ I want." Then I stood up. I 
suddenly had the urge to work out. "I think I'm gonna go to the 
Bubble," I said.

"You don't want to...?"

I shook my head. I don't know _what_ she wanted to do, but I 
wasn't in the mood for company.

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

With that, I began hunting for my shoes and socks. After I put 
them on, I grabbed my little stereo and headphones. I just wanted 
to go lift weights and drown out the world.

"I'll walk you down," I said, holding my hand out to her.

She looked like she'd been slapped.

I know I probably should've said something to make her feel 
better, but all of a sudden, I wasn't feeling very charitable. 
Besides, my head was still throbbing, which made it difficult to 
concentrate.

Kendall and I rode the elevator in silence. In the breezeway, I 
stepped close and kissed her cheek.

"Paul?" she asked, a little bewildered.

"I'll call you later," I said. Then, "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

"I'll call you," I repeated.

She started crying as I turned away. With a suppressed pang of 
remorse, I pushed the Play button on the little stereo and then 
jogged down the hill.

-----

At the Sports Bubble, I concentrated on my arms and upper body. 
Normally, I wasn't very thirsty during my workouts, but I made 
several trips to the water fountain, gulping down fresh, cool 
water.

Fortunately, my headache began to ease off. _Un_fortunately, I 
didn't resolve any of my problems. My best solution was to hope 
things would fix themselves, but that wasn't really a solution at 
all.

When I got back to my room, I showered, got dressed, and then 
walked across the hall to Trip's room. He looked about as bad as 
I'd felt. Luckily, my workout and shower had gone a long way 
toward making me feel human again.

"C'mon in," he said. Then he lifted the turntable needle and 
turned off the stereo.

"What were you listening to?" I asked.

"You've probably never heard of him."

"Oh?"

"Erik Satie," he said. When I shook my head, he shrugged. "I 
think you'd like it. It's relaxing stuff. Anyway, how're you, 
man?"

"I'll survive," I said. "You?"

"I don't _want_ to survive," he said with a rueful chuckle, "but 
I will."

We talked for a few more minutes about our general misery. Then 
he turned serious.

"How much of last night do you remember?" he asked.

"Most of it," I answered cautiously.

"Sorry about the Sigma Chi thing," he said. "I promised myself 
I'd never tell you, but...," he added with a shrug. "Do you hate 
me?"

I immediately shook my head. "I'm a little disappointed--because 
I didn't get a bid--but I'm not angry with _you_. I mean, it 
wasn't your fault. And you certainly didn't have to turn down 
your bid on my account."

"Nah, it wouldn't've been any fun without you, man."

"Aw, shucks," I joked. Then I turned serious. "Um... how much do 
_you_ remember about last night?" I asked evasively. I was 
referring to my relationship with Kendall and Gina, of course.

"Pretty much everything."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm still jealous, though."

"I thought you'd sworn off women, after Lori."

"I _have_--for the time being, at least. But that doesn't mean I 
can't be jealous."

"Well," I said soberly, "I don't know how much you _should_ be 
jealous."

"Things're still bad, huh?" he asked.

"No, they're just peachy," I lied facetiously.

"I'm sorry, man."

I shrugged.

"If you ever wanna talk about it, you know you can, right? I mean, 
except for one long-term relationship that inexplicably went poof, 
I haven't had a single bad experience with women."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, laughing. Then I turned thoughtful. 
"Right now, I need to figure out what I want to do. Kendall's got 
her claws out, and Gina's noticed. Since she was my girlfriend 
first, well... I dunno... it complicates things."

"Do you really love both of them? Equally? You don't have a 
favorite?"

"Not really. I mean, I love different things about each of them. 
And... different things about each of them bug the hell out of me. 
Anyway, let's talk about something else."

"No problem, man. Let me put Satie back on. I think you'll like 
it. These are his _Gymnopedies_."

I lay on Luke's bed and stared at the ceiling as Trip started the 
record. Gentle, lulling piano music filled the room when he 
unplugged his headphones.

He was right, it _was_ relaxing.

-----

After dinner, I called Gina and chatted for a few minutes. I 
didn't mention anything about my conversation with Kendall, of 
course, but I told her that I was probably going to spend some 
time with the older girl that evening.

"That's cool," Gina said. "Miss Goody-two-shoes is back from her 
parents'. So I think I'm gonna go hang out in Regan's room."

"Okay."

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

With that, we said goodbye and hung up. Then I called Kendall's 
apartment. Abby answered the phone.

"Hey, Abby," I said. "It's Paul. May I please speak to Kendall?"

"I'll see if she wants to talk to you," she said coolly.

_Super_, I thought. _Now I've got a protective roommate to deal 
with as well._

"Hi," Kendall said a few moments later. Her voice was hoarse; 
she'd obviously been crying.

"Hey," I said. "How's it going?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Do you still love me?"

"Of course I still love you," I said. "What kind of question is 
that?"

"When you left this afternoon..."

"When I left this afternoon," I explained, "I was upset, 
frustrated, and hung over."

"And now?"

"Well, my hangover's better. I'm still a little upset, though. 
Can I come down so we can talk?"

"Sure," she said immediately.

"Okay. I'll be right there."

Five minutes later, I knocked on Kendall's apartment door. Abby 
answered.

"Come in," she said, although she didn't look very happy with me.

"Is Kendall okay?" I asked her quietly.

"What do _you_ think? She's been crying all afternoon."

"Is that Paul?" Kendall called from the bathroom. Then she stuck 
her head out. When she saw me, she ran down the hall and 
practically leapt into my arms.

"I'm gonna get my things," Abby said, flashing me a "you'd better 
be nice to her" look.

"She's going to the library to study," Kendall said softly.

"Where are Vivian and Phoebe?" I asked.

"They're on a camping trip. They won't be home 'til later."

"Okay," Abby said as she emerged from the study cubicle. Then she 
looked at Kendall. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "I can 
stay if you want me to."

"I'll be fine, Abby," Kendall said.

Abby shot me another meaningful look and then nodded to Kendall.

"Thanks, Abby," Kendall said. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," the blonde girl said. "I'll be back by ten," 
she added. She was _looking_ at Kendall, but she was obviously 
talking to me.

Kendall thanked her again and then walked her to the door.

When Kendall returned, she smiled shyly. I gestured toward the 
living room couch. When we sat down, she tucked her feet 
underneath her and then tentatively leaned against me. I put my 
arm around her and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

Then we started talking: about her feelings toward Gina, me, and 
the world in general. I ended up defending Gina a lot of the time, 
but I think Kendall began to see a little of what _I_ saw in Gina. 
I think she also realized that if I were forced to choose between 
the two of them, the choice wouldn't be simple or clear-cut. Nor 
would it be friendly.

I also gleaned a little more insight into her hatred of 
sororities. She wouldn't tell me the whole story, but it had to 
do with Big Mistake Guy and two girls she'd _thought_ were her 
friends. To make matters worse, her ex-friends had been in Chi 
Omega. One of them had graduated, but the other--a girl named 
Hayley--was still at UT.

We talked for more than an hour. I don't know if we resolved 
anything, but we certainly got a lot of things out in the open. I 
also got the feeling that Kendall had hoped Gina would go to UCLA. 
Deep down, I think Kendall resented Gina for choosing _me_ over 
California.

In the end, though, she promised to try to be more understanding 
about Gina and her sorority. She also promised to be more 
tolerant of Gina's personality in general. To a degree, I didn't 
care what she did--I just wanted things the way they used to be, 
with the three of us happy.

-----

Monday morning, Kendall and I met for breakfast, as usual. I 
looked around for the brunette and the blonde, but didn't see 
them. We did see Trip, however, so we invited him to join us.

"I thought I'd try this place for breakfast," he said as he sat 
down. "The food _is_ better."

While we ate, we talked about our classes. Afterward, we walked 
down Andy Holt Avenue together. At the Humanities building, Trip 
said goodbye and headed to his English class. Then Kendall and I 
continued toward the Hill.

"I really like him," she said.

"Me too."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend, does he?"

I shook my head.

"Do you think he likes Abby?"

I looked at her sidelong.

"Well, she's not seeing anyone right now, and..."

"I dunno," I hedged. "I thought she'd wanna date a guy her age."

"Why?" Kendall asked with a grin. "I don't."

I laughed.

"Besides, I think she kinda likes him."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "I can tell. She's said little things." Then, "Hey, 
I've got a great idea! She and I can fix dinner for you two."

For a moment, I waffled; I didn't know how I felt about Kendall 
playing matchmaker. I wanted to tell her that Trip wasn't really 
interested in a girlfriend right now, but I'd promised that I 
wouldn't say anything about his reasons why. Besides, I didn't 
want to make the decision for him.

"What do you think?" Kendall asked, interrupting my train of 
thought.

"When?" I asked.

"How about Friday? Vivian and her boyfriend usually do something 
on Fridays, and I think Phoebe and her boyfriend are visiting his 
parents this weekend. So we'll have the apartment to ourselves."

"I'll ask Trip," I said.

"Oh, Paul, thank you! It'll be just like we're a real couple."

"We _are_ a real couple," I said.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. Anyway, I'll ask him," I said, as we reached Ayers 
Hall and the top of the Hill.

"Okay, thanks. Oh, and don't forget, you've got your modeling 
this afternoon," she said, leaning close. Then she kissed me, 
with a lot more heat than I'd expected. "I can't believe I'm 
dating a _model_," she said with a grin. Then she pouted. "I wish 
I could do it with you."

"Me too," I said. "But at least this way, you don't have to stop 
shaving. You know?"

"I thought of that too," she said. Then her expression grew 
sultry. "Why don't you meet me at my apartment after modeling? 
Before you get there, I can take a hot bath and get ready for 
you," she whispered. "My pussy will be nice and smooth..."

I felt my dick stiffen at the thought. Unfortunately, we were in 
a public quad, with lots of other students around. No one was 
paying attention to us--at the moment--but if we started...

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" she asked.

"How can you tell?"

"You get this look on your face when you're in the mood," she 
said. "And it's _very_ arousing."

"Oh?"

With a grin, she nodded.

"Good," I said. "But now, I'd better get to class, before I have 
to _limp_ up the stairs."

With a promising smile, she kissed me goodbye and we went our 
separate ways.

-----

After lunch, I stopped by my dorm room and stuffed a bathrobe 
into my backpack. The art professor, Siobhan, had suggested 
sandals as well, but I decided to forego them.

Then I went across the hall and knocked on Trip's door. No one 
answered, so I headed to the A&A building. Luckily, Trip was 
already there.

"Hey, man, what're you up to this Friday?" I asked as I slid into 
my desk.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Um... well... Kendall kinda wanted to know if you wanna come over to 
her apartment, for dinner."

He lifted his eyebrows.

"She's playing matchmaker," I admitted.

"With Abby?" he asked.

I nodded.

"She's cute, and I like her, but...," he trailed off with a shrug. 
"I guess I'm not really interested. In _anyone_," he added 
hastily. "I mean, not after Lori. Not now, at least."

"That's what I figured," I said.

"But that doesn't mean I can't show up and be polite. So yeah, 
I'd love to come."

"Cool. It'll make Kendall happy." I didn't know how it would make 
_Abby_ feel, but I guess that was Kendall's problem.

"We've gotta be back in your room for _Dallas_, though. 
Remember?"

"Ten o'clock, nine central," I joked. "Yeah, I'd forgotten about 
that." Then, "Hey, maybe we could watch it at Kendall's. They've 
got a TV."

Before I could say anything else, Professor Joska walked into the 
room and we all grew quiet. Then I mentally chuckled at how well 
trained we were. I still didn't like the man, but he _did_ know 
how to handle a class of freshman architecture students.

"Midterm exams," he said solemnly. "Two words guaranteed to 
strike fear into the heart of any student."

I glanced at Trip and rolled my eyes at Joska's melodrama.

"I see that some of you are panicked," Joska continued. "And 
rightfully so. But some of you seem to enjoy a sanguine self-
confidence that scares me, frankly," he said.

With a start, I realized that he was looking at me.

"Make no mistake," he said, still looking at me, "some of you 
will _not_ pass this exam."

I felt my face heating with anger. What was he trying to say? Did 
he think _I_ wouldn't pass? If he did, he'd better think again. 
I'd study as long as it took if it meant proving him wrong.

"This week, we'll finish up the section on human needs," he said, 
ignoring my defiant expression. "This Friday, I'll return your 
Home Project drawings and critiques. Next week, we'll spend 
Monday and Wednesday reviewing the sections on the history of 
design and the application of the human sciences. Next Friday, 
you will sit for the midterm."

Samantha Poole took out her calendar. Not surprisingly, she 
already had a big red "Exam" written on Friday, October 16th.

"Mark your calendars," Joska said, grinning perversely as he 
spotted Samantha. Then he addressed the class as a whole, "The 
midterm will be the beginning of the end for several of you. The 
class is already down to twenty students. I expect fewer than 
fifteen of you pass the final exam and continue to Design II, 
next quarter."

_Prick_, I thought sullenly.

"For now, however, some of you still think you have a chance. So, 
by all means, let's continue your instruction." With that, he 
turned to Curtis Giles. "Mr. Giles, what are the basic human 
needs required for comfort?"

"Um... breathing... eating... drinking..."

As I followed the lecture with only half of my attention, I 
mentally scheduled time for studying. I also had midterm exams in 
Calculus and Art History, but I wasn't worried about them. I had 
a paper due in American Literature (on William Faulkner), which 
I'd have to begin writing soon, but I wanted to do well on the 
Design exam. _That_ would show Joska that I wasn't a candidate 
for the fast food industry.

-----

"Okay, so where were we?" Trip asked after class.

"Ten o'clock, nine central," I said with a grin.

"CBS."

"_Dallas_," I joked. Then I turned serious. "Yeah, I guess we 
could invite Luke and Tara down to Kendall's apartment. I'll ask 
her about it."

"Sounds good," Trip said. Then, "So, you wanna go shoot some 
hoops?"

"I'd love to, man," I said, "but I can't."

"Oh? What's up?"

"I've got this... thing... I need to do," I said. I felt my cheeks 
heating in embarrassment. I had promised to model, and I wasn't 
going to back out now. I _wanted_ to cancel, but my own sense of 
duty wouldn't let me.

"No problem, man," Trip said.

"As a matter of fact, I probably better get going."

"Okay. Catch you later."

"Later."

I made a show of walking toward the library, but as soon as Trip 
was out of sight, I turned back toward the A&A building. Once 
there, I headed for Studio 6, where I discovered a sculpture 
class in progress. I decided to wait in the hall. After a 
moment's indecision, I pulled out my sketchpad, leaned against 
the wall, and slid to the floor. Then I closed my eyes.

During my whirlwind trip to Rome, I'd seen the _Tempietto di San 
Pietro_, the Little Temple of Saint Peter. The building had been 
designed by Bramante, a famous Italian Renaissance architect. It 
was surprisingly small, but the stateliness of its dome and 
colonnade made it seem much more substantial. At the time, I'd 
been impressed by how Bramante had created such an extraordinary 
building in such a small area. Even in my memory, the building 
still seemed larger than life.

Once I had the image fixed in my mind, I opened my eyes and began 
to sketch. My pencil flew over the paper, laying out the regular 
columns and the arch of the dome. I cross-hatched the deep 
recesses of the colonnade and then lightly shaded the columns 
themselves, giving them shape and depth. Then I added details to 
the frieze above the columns, and to the pilasters supporting the 
dome.

Finally, I lifted my pencil and looked at my drawing.

"Are you always this quiet when you draw?" a soft voice asked.

I blinked in surprise. Then I turned and gazed into the bright 
blue eyes of the blonde from my Art History class.

When I didn't answer, she gifted me with a warm smile. "Is that 
Rome?" she asked, turning her eyes back to my drawing.

"Uh-huh."

"It's very good."

"Thank you," I said.

"Are you an Art major?"

I shook my head. "Architecture."

"Ah. That explains the buildings."

I nodded. Before I could say anything else, though, the bell rang. 
A moment later, students began streaming into the hallway. The 
blonde and I stood up.

"I haven't seen you here before," she said. "Are you waiting for 
someone?"

"I'm here for a class," I said vaguely, nodding toward the studio.

"Oh? Which one?"

"Um... Life Drawing."

Her eyes flew wide.

A half-second later, Siobhan emerged from the studio.

"Ah, Christy," the professor said, "I see you've met our figure 
model."

The blonde and I--_Christy_ and I--simply stared at each other, 
speechless.
 
"Paul, meet Christy, one of my most promising students," Siobhan 
said. "Christy, meet Paul, our male model for the rest of the 
quarter."

I think you could've knocked us over with a feather.

-----

"You can change in here," Siobhan said, leading me toward her 
studio office.

I looked over my shoulder and met the eyes of the blonde. _Of 
Christy_, I reminded myself.

"Is there anything you need?" Siobhan asked.

For a moment longer, Christy and I gazed at each other.

"Paul?" Siobhan prompted.

"Huh? What? Oh, sorry," I said. Then I shook my head. "I don't 
think I need anything else."

When Siobhan shut the door behind her, I stood there for a moment. 
Believe it or not, I was nervous. I'd been nude in front of 
people before, but never on _display_. That's what I'd be doing, 
putting my body on display. I wasn't worried about looking fat, 
or the size of my dick, or even getting a hard-on. I _was_ 
worried about Christy seeing me.

"Why her?" I asked myself as I unbuttoned my shirt. "Of all the 
girls in the world, why does _she_ have to be in this class?"

At least it wasn't the brunette. I could actually _talk_ to 
Christy without sounding like an idiot.

I finished taking off my clothes and hung them on a rack Siobhan 
had indicated. Then I put on my robe and cinched the belt around 
my waist.

Butterflies flip-flopped through my stomach, but I knew I had to 
leave the safety of the office and venture into the main studio. 
Unfortunately, I hadn't paid attention to the other students 
filing into the room, so I had no idea who else I'd have to face.

Would there be any guys? Would they look at me _like that?_ What 
if they were gay? And what about the girls? How would _they_ look 
at me? Would they get excited? Would they be bored? Would they...?

I shook my head to focus my thoughts. And then with a deep breath 
to steel my resolve, I opened the door to the main studio.

A dozen pairs of eyes looked up when I did, but I only cared 
about _one_ pair. When Christy and I looked at each other, she 
smiled. I don't know why, but her smile made me relax. With a 
bashful smile of my own, I stepped forward.

"All right, everyone," Siobhan said. "I'd like you to meet Paul, 
who was kind enough to fill in when Rock had to cancel."

_Rock?!_ I thought with an inner lurch. _I'm filling in for a guy 
named "Rock"? Jeez, how can I compete with that?_

Siobhan glanced at me expectantly. When I didn't respond, she 
subtly nodded toward the stool in the center of the circle of 
easels.

"Just sit comfortably," she said softly, as I drew near. "Don't 
worry about posing or sitting absolutely still. Just act natural. 
This is a life drawing class, not a statue drawing class," she 
added with a smile. "And if you think you're going to become 
excited... think about the last time you saw your grandmother."

I looked at her and tried to decide whether to blush or to laugh.

"This class is about the human body, but there _are_ several 
young ladies present," she said. Then she flashed me a disarming 
grin. "And I don't think I could restrain them all," she finished. 
With that, she chuckled and then smiled reassuringly. "You'll do 
fine," she said. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

With that, I took a deep breath and unbelted my robe. The cool 
air of the studio washed over my body, and I suppressed a shiver. 
I handed my robe to Siobhan and took a seat on the stool. Then I 
got comfortable and tried not to think about sex.

To keep my mind safely occupied, I closed my eyes and mentally 
went through the pre-flight checklist for my family's Cessna. 
When I opened them again, I glanced at Christy, who smiled. Since 
she was almost directly in front of me, I simply watched her draw.

She moved her hand with sure strokes, and worked with an 
intensity that I completely understood. For a few minutes, I 
watched as her eyes flicked from me to her drawing and then back 
again. A couple of times, her eyes met mine and we shared a smile.

Then I worked up the courage to look around. Siobhan walked along 
the periphery of the class, studying the students' work and 
offering advice or praise. After watching her for another minute 
or two, I turned my gaze to the students themselves.

In addition to Christy, there were ten others: seven girls and 
three guys. I checked out the guys first. They were all average 
looking, but none of them met my eyes when I looked their way. 
Then I let my eyes wander over the girls. They ranged from homely 
to very attractive. Most of them wouldn't meet my gaze, but a 
couple of them smiled in reply.

As I looked around the studio, however, my eyes kept drifting 
back to Christy. She was petite, perhaps an inch or two over five 
feet. And even though she was slender, she had an attractive body. 
Her breasts weren't as large as Gina's, but they were round and 
firm. Then, in a moment of weakness, I wondered what she'd look 
like without her clothes.

_Uh-oh!_

As I felt my dick swell, I quickly thought about the most un-sexy 
thing I could: Professor Dubois. Sure enough, as soon as I 
pictured her in my mind's eye, I felt my nascent erection shrink. 
Then I looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed.

None of the guys were acting out of the ordinary, so I figured 
none of them had seen. One of the girls--an attractive brunette--
was smirking. When I looked at her, she arched an eyebrow. I 
glanced away as my face heated in embarrassment. Then I looked up 
in shock, my eyes seeking Christy.

She wasn't looking at me, but her face had turned a shade darker. 
And she was paying an inordinate amount of attention to her 
drawing. I surreptitiously watched her for almost a minute, but 
she never looked up.

For the rest of the class, I kept my mind firmly on the mundane. 
Instead of thinking about Christy (not to mention her round, firm 
breasts), I mentally wrote part of my Faulkner paper for American 
Literature

"All right, everyone," Siobhan said at last. "That's enough for 
today." Then she fetched my robe. "Remember," she said to her 
students, "you've got sketchbooks due next Friday. If you need 
inspiration, come see me during office hours."

As I put on my robe, I watched Christy. I was worried that she 
wouldn't want to talk to me after seeing my semi-erection (no 
matter how short-lived it had been).

She glanced at me a few more times, putting some finishing 
touches on her drawing, but she didn't look upset. Then she 
smiled and set down her charcoal. Finally, she took a step back 
and appraised her work.

Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away from her and headed into the 
office to get dressed. A few minutes later, I emerged. The large 
studio was empty except for the auburn-haired professor and--you 
guessed it--her star pupil, a certain blonde with bright blue 
eyes. I was still worried about Christy's reaction to my hard-on, 
but I decided that I couldn't do anything about it. So I slung my 
pack over my shoulder and walked over to them.

"Would you like to see?" Siobhan asked me, indicating Christy's 
drawing.

The blonde's eyes widened.

"Sure," I said. I know it sounds crazy, but I wanted to see how 
she'd drawn my dick. (Yes, I'm in love with my penis. Find a guy 
who's not. But I digress...)

When I saw the charcoal sketch, I quickly forgot about my manhood.

As I looked at the drawing, I simply marveled at Christy's talent. 
She had drawn me from the neck up, faithfully reproducing my 
features and expression. But the eyes--_my_ eyes--drew my 
attention like lodestones. They were warm and inviting, but they 
also showed an intensity that I didn't realize was there. 
Strangely, I wanted to get to know the person in the picture. I 
wanted to get to know the _me_ that Christy had drawn.

"Why didn't you draw the rest of me?" I asked.

"I wasn't _looking_ at the rest of you," she said, a little too 
quickly.

For a long moment, I looked at the picture. Christy seemed both 
proud and nervous.

"I told you she was one of my best students," Siobhan said.

"Oh, Siobhan," Christy said, "you're embarrassing me."

"It really _is_ good," I said.

"Thank you," Christy said.
 
"Thank you for modeling for us today," Siobhan said to me. "Did 
you enjoy it?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be," I said. "I guess I 
enjoyed myself."

Christy's eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks turned rosy.

"Then we'll see you on Wednesday?" Siobhan asked.

I nodded.

"Good, good," she said. Then she looked at the studio's clock. 
"Oh, gosh, I must be off. Christy, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Christy said. "Bye, Siobhan."

"Goodbye. And thank you again, Paul."

"Yes, thank you," Christy said as the older woman hurried off.

"Do you have class again tomorrow?" I asked as the blonde 
gathered her things.

"Siobhan lets me use her studio on Tuesday and Thursday," she 
said. "I'm working on my portfolio."

"Portfolio?"

"Mmm hmm. We have to do a portfolio for review, for the BFA 
program. I... I missed most of spring quarter," she said, her voice 
full of emotion. Then she blinked several times and cleared her 
throat. "I need to catch up," she finished, her voice a little 
steadier.

"So you're a sophomore?" I asked. I _wanted_ to ask why she'd 
gotten all choked up, but I thought it would be rude.

"Not officially--I still need twelve more quarter-hours--but this 
is my second year at UT," she said.

"So you're nineteen?" I asked. We walked out of the studio and 
fell into step together. I didn't know where we were going, but I 
guess I didn't care.

"I'm still only eighteen," she said. "I graduated from high 
school early."

"Oh, cool. So did my girlfriend."

"Is she the tall brunette you eat breakfast with?"

I nodded.

"She's very pretty," she said.

"Thank you. I think so too."

"She's... statuesque."

I nodded.

"What's her name?"

"Kendall."

"That's a pretty name," she said softly.

I almost told her that "Christy" was a pretty name too, but I 
didn't want to sound like I was flirting.

"Have you two been dating very long?" she asked.

"Two years," I said.

"So you're... a junior? A senior?"

I laughed. "No, I'm a lowly freshman. So, do you still want to be 
seen with me?"

"I don't see why not," she said, rewarding me with a warm smile. 
Then her expression turned thoughtful.

"What?" I asked.

"I guess I thought you were older," she said. "You remind me of... 
someone. And you're so serious."

"You're not the first person to tell me that," I said with a 
chuckle.

"Well, you are. Your eyes are older. And you don't _act_ like a 
freshman."

"Except around your friend," I said.

"Oh, Wren?"

"Is that her name?"

She nodded. "She'll probably be upset that I told you, though."

"It'll be our little secret," I said.

"She's having fun flirting with you," she said with a laugh. 
"She's so high-strung."

"I'd be having fun flirting with _her_ too, if I could ever get 
un-tongue-tied."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Christy said. "She does that to every 
guy. She's done it as long as I've known her."

"How long is that?"

"About a year. She's been my roommate since we met, when we were 
freshmen." 

"So you didn't go to high school with her?"

She shook her head. "I came here from California. She's from 
Atlanta."

"You're _kidding_."

"No," she said. "Why?"

"That's where _I'm_ from."

"California?"

"Well, yes and no. But I meant Atlanta. That's where I'm from."

"Oh? What part?"

"Sandy Springs," I said. "It's north of the Perimeter."

"Wren's from Dunwoody," Christy said. "But I don't know exactly 
where that is."

"That's right next door to me! I used to wrestle guys from 
Dunwoody. They were some of our biggest rivals," I added, 
thinking of Pete Yeager and Emmett Carstairs (the arrogant prick).

We had reached Morrell Hall, but neither of us seemed inclined to 
end the conversation, so we simply stood in front of the building, 
in our own little world.

"You used to wrestle?" she asked.

"Yeah. UT doesn't have a wrestling team, though. So now I just 
work out."

"I can tell."

"So, where in California are you from?" I asked, changing the 
subject to cover my blush.

"Well," she said, "I came here from San Diego."

"No kidding? I used to live there."

"Oh? When?"

"Actually, I was born there," I said.

"I was born in Hawaii," she said.

"Yep, I lived there too. That's where we moved after California. 
Did you move from Hawaii to San Diego?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I only lived in San Diego for a couple of 
years."

"Where'd you live before that?"

"Japan," she said.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"My dad was stationed there."

"Stationed?" I asked, the light beginning to dawn. "Hold on. 
What's your dad do?"

"He's in the Navy," she said. "Why?"

I laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"Sorry," I said immediately. "That's just kinda funny."

"_What_ is?"

"Have you ever lived in Washington?" I asked. With so many 
coincidences in our lives, I figured I might as well ask. (After 
Hawaii, my father had been transferred to Everett, Washington.)

She frowned at the non sequitur. "Sort of," she said. "We lived 
in Georgetown."

"No, I meant Washington state," I said, still chuckling. "We 
lived there after Hawaii."

"What's so _funny?_" she demanded.

"San Diego?" I asked rhetorically. "Hawaii? Washington state? 
What do they all have in common?"

"They're on the Pacific Ocean," she said, still not following my 
logic.

"And... why did _you_ live in San Diego and Hawaii?"

"Because that's where my father was stationed," she said.

"At...?"

"At Navy bases," she said, still vexed, but too polite to get 
downright angry.

"_I_ lived in San Diego, Hawaii, and Washington because..."

Then she Got It, and her eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"Nope. My dad was a pilot in the Navy," I said proudly.

With that, it was _her_ turn to laugh.

"What's so funny?" I asked, trying not to frown now that the 
tables were turned.

"My father's a pilot too," she said.

"Really? What's he fly?"

"Well, he doesn't fly much anymore, but he used to fly F-8s and 
F-4s."

"My dad flew A-4s," I said.

She nodded in recognition. "My brother Danny flies those."

"No shi-- no kidding?"

"No kidding," she said, grinning at my slip. "He's a Marine," she 
added. Then her eyes misted and she swallowed hard.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"It's nothing," she said. Then she looked up at the dorm. "I'd 
better go."

I looked at my watch and then twitched in shock. I was supposed 
to meet Kendall after the drawing class, and that was almost 
_forty minutes_ ago.

"It was nice talking to you," Christy said. She smiled, but her 
eyes were sad.

"It was nice talking to you too," I said, a little bewildered. 
We'd been having a good conversation. What had I done wrong?

She looked back at me before she walked into the building, and I 
waved. When she disappeared through the doors, I somehow felt 
empty.

-----

Kendall yanked the door open when I knocked.

"What happened?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. I didn't want to tell her that I'd been 
talking to Christy, so I fibbed. "It just took longer than I 
thought."

"I was getting worried," Kendall said. Then she leaned close. 
"And... you know."

I recognized the look in her eyes, and my dick stirred in 
response.

"I was just about to come looking for you," she said.

"Oh? And what would you have done if you'd found me?" I asked as 
I shut the door behind me. Then I backed Kendall against the wall 
and kissed her.

She responded eagerly.

I cupped her breast through her shirt, and felt her nipple harden 
under my palm. Still kissing her, I pulled back and lifted her t-
shirt.

She tried to resist, but I was insistent.

When I freed her breasts, I reached between us and unzipped my 
shorts. Then I extracted my dick.

"No, Paul, we can't," Kendall breathed.

With my body, I held her against the wall. Then I lifted her 
skirt and pressed my dick against her panty-clad pussy.

"Paul," she hissed, "Vivian's here. She's home early."

"I don't care," I said.

"Paul, no."

I rubbed the head of my cock against her crotch. When I felt the 
heat and moisture of her arousal, I groaned softly.

"We _can't_," she insisted.

"Where's Vivian?" I asked.

"In her bedroom," Kendall said. Then her eyes rolled back as my 
glans rubbed against her hooded clit.

Without another word, I lifted her and walked down the hallway to 
her bedroom. Then I used my foot to shut the door.

"Paul, no, we can't," she said as I pinned her against the wall. 
"Vivian will _hear_."

I ignored her protests and kissed her again. Her bare breasts 
pressed against my chest, and I felt her nipples harden with 
desire. Then I grinned to myself as I reached under her ass and 
pulled her panties to the side.

Moist heat washed over my cock as I slid it along her smooth 
pussy. She tried to get me to stop, but I ignored her pleas. I 
tilted my hips and the tip of my dick entered her easily. She 
whimpered when I jerked my hips upward. After the briefest moment 
of resistance, her labia parted and I slid half my length inside 
her. She was as tight as ever, but doubly slippery.

"You've been horny all day," I said. "Haven't you?"

She bit her lip and nodded. Then she closed her eyes in ecstasy 
as I gently forced the rest of my cock into her.

"You're so hot and wet," I breathed. "And your pussy's so 
smooth." Then I kissed her, my tongue exploring her mouth as my 
cock explored her depths.

I easily supported her weight, holding her against the wall with 
my body. She locked her ankles behind me and then bucked her hips, 
moaning as her engorged clit rubbed the base of my cock.

"No, Paul," she begged when I began thrusting. "Vivian will hear 
us."

"Then we'd better be quiet," I said, my voice pitched low.

I continued moving within her. Because of the angle, I couldn't 
get my hips back, but neither of us cared. My cock filled her 
completely, and with each short thrust, the base rubbed her clit, 
sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

My orgasm came on like a rushing bull, all power and intensity. 
One moment, I was fine, the next, I was lost in a fog of ecstasy, 
spurting deep within her pussy. She clutched me tight, her body 
responding as I filled her with my seed.

Finally, my orgasm subsided, and I opened my eyes. Then, panting, 
I pulled back to look at her.

She smiled and then blew an errant strand of hair from her face. 
She was panting and grinning as well.

"My goodness," she said. "I didn't know how badly I needed that."

I swallowed to moisten my mouth and then nodded (with a stupid, 
post-orgasmic grin, of course).

"I think you'll have to do that again," she said, "only slower."

"Your wish is my command," I said, carrying her toward the bed.

-----

Later, Kendall and I lay entwined atop her sheets, the sweat from 
our exertions evaporating in the gentle current from the air 
conditioner. Vivian was probably still in the apartment, but with 
Kendall's bedroom door shut, the blonde girl _probably_ hadn't 
heard us having sex.

And while I was thinking about roommates...

"When does Abby get back from class?" I asked.

"Oh, she's got a paper to write, so she's at the library. She 
said she'll be there 'til after dinner. So you're trapped with 
me."

"Oh, save me," I said facetiously.

Her eyes glittering with mischief, Kendall climbed atop me and 
began tickling me.

For a moment, I tried to fend her off. When that didn't work, I 
simply grabbed her and rolled over. Then I scooted us toward the 
center of the bed. We came to rest with my hips between her 
thighs. I kissed her and she eagerly responded. When we broke the 
kiss, she gazed up at me speculatively.

"Paul?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"Do you have a camera?"

I nodded. I'd bought a 35mm Nikon before my trip to Europe.

"Do you think we could...?"

"Could what?" I prompted, when her pause drew out.

"Do you think we could... play with it, maybe?"

"Play with it?"

She nodded.

"How?" I asked, still a little confused.

"Maybe I could model for you," she suggested tentatively.

"And?" I asked. (I sensed there was more, of course.)

"And maybe you can pretend you're a fashion photographer, and I'm 
your model."

I nodded for her to continue.

"You can tell me that if I don't take off my clothes, I'll never 
become a famous model."

"That sounds like fun," I said.

"And once you force me to strip for you, you can make me... do 
things."

"Do things?"

"You know," she said. "_Things_."

"Such as?"

"You know," she said. Then, "You could make me suck your dick."

"Mmm hmm...?"

"And then you could make me do anything you want. _Any_thing."

"You mean I could make you spread your legs?" I asked, getting 
into the spirit of her fantasy.

She nodded.

"And I could make you play with your pussy?"

Another nod.

"I could make you finger yourself until you were nice and wet?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed.

"I could make you beg me to fuck you," I said.

She moistened her lips and then nodded.

"I could take pictures of you as my cock spread you open and slid 
inside you."

"Yessssss."

As I continued teasing her with ideas, she reached between us and 
gripped my resurgent shaft. Then she rubbed the head against her 
smooth pussy, coating it with her juices. I kept talking about 
her fantasy as I slowly sank into her. After a few gentle thrusts, 
however, she silenced me with a passionate kiss.

Since I'd already come twice, it took me a while to reach the 
point of no return. Just before I did, Kendall's inner muscles 
clenched me as _she_ climaxed. With a deep groan, I emptied my 
balls into her.

As our mutual orgasms subsided, she wrapped her arms around me 
and I collapsed against her, exhausted.

-----

Later, Kendall asked me what it was like when I modeled for 
Siobhan's class. I told her about most of it, although I left out 
the part about my surprise erection, of course. I also wondered 
whether or not I should mention Christy. After debating it in my 
head, I finally decided to say something.

"You're not going to believe who was in the class," I said.

"Oh? Who?"

"Do you remember that blonde girl, from my Art History class?"

"The banana creme pie," she teased.

"Yeah," I said, my face heating. "Her."

"She's a cute pie," Kendall said, grinning. "What's her name?"

"Christy," I said. "I think."

"Are there many guys in the class?" Kendall asked.

"Um... three."

"So it's mostly women?"

I nodded. "Eight, I think."

"Do you think the women think about your body, after class?" she 
asked.

I mentally paused at the non sequitur, but then shrugged.

"I bet they do. I know I would."

"Yeah," I said, "but you're almost as horny as Gina."

At the mention of the other girl's name, Kendall grew quiet.

I tried not to let my annoyance show, but I don't know how 
successful I was.

"What were you thinking as you posed?" she asked, ignoring my 
reaction.

"To be honest," I said, "I was writing my Am. Lit. paper."

"I wish I could do it with you," she said.

"My paper?" I teased.

"You know what I mean. Modeling."

I nodded.

After a moment, I felt her gathering her courage. "Paul?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Can we really do... um... you know, with your camera?"

"Play fashion photographer and sex slave model?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Sure."

"I don't think I want to use film, though. Is that okay?"

I nodded. In reality, I hadn't thought we'd be actually _taking_ 
pictures. I figured we'd simply use the camera as a prop.

"Maybe we can, though, if we find someplace that'll develop the 
film, without looking at it or getting us arrested," she added.

"I guess we could," I said, although I had _no_ idea how to go 
about it.

"I kind of want to see what I look like with your come on my 
face," she said excitedly.

"You look beautiful," I said.

"I want you to make me suck you, and then you can shoot all over 
my face and tits."

With that, she reached for my flaccid member.

"Whoa there," I said, stopping her. "Hold on a second. I still 
haven't recovered from the _last_ time," I explained. Then I read 
the dejection in her body language. "That doesn't mean we can't 
fool around, though. I just don't think my dick's ready for the 
next round."

"That's okay," she said.

"Oh, that doesn't mean my fingers and mouth are too tired to have 
fun," I said.

Then I rolled her to her back and grinned down at her. As my 
fingers sought her damp slit, I waggled my eyebrows and then 
flicked my tongue against her nipple.

She ran her fingers through my hair and simply enjoyed herself as 
I took my time building her up. When she climaxed, she clutched 
my head to her breast and cried out in ecstasy.

-----

When Kendall and I finally emerged from her bedroom, both Vivian 
and Phoebe were in the living room. They looked up and then 
grinned.

"Why, Phoebe," Vivian said, "I didn't know Paul was here. Did 
you?"

"Why, no," Phoebe said, "I had no idea. I didn't hear a thing."

"Not a thing," Vivian echoed.

"Oh, hush," Kendall said. Then she grinned sheepishly.

"Far be it from us to be nosy," Vivian said.

"Indeed," Phoebe said. "The very thought!"

Then they burst into girlish howls of laughter at Kendall's 
expression.

When Kendall glanced at me, I tried to suppress my grin, but I 
simply couldn't.

"Not you _too_," she accused.

I shrugged, my eyes still smiling. "C'mon," I said, "let's go 
take a shower before we eat."

"Not again," Vivian teased.

"_Four_ times?" Phoebe asked with feigned shock.

"Actually, I think the shower might be number five," Vivian said 
conversationally. "You missed one."

"Oh? When?"

"Before you got home," Vivian said.

Kendall blushed furiously.

"Let's see," Vivian said, counting on her fingers, "the first was 
up against the wall..."

Completely abashed, Kendall grabbed my hand and practically 
dragged me down the hall. Vivian and Phoebe's good-natured 
laughter followed us.

"I can't _believe_ them," Kendall said as we stepped into the 
shower. Then she looked at me, a pained expression on her face. 
"I thought we were quiet," she said.

I laughed. "Your bed squeaks. A _lot_. And these walls aren't 
that thick," I added. "Besides," I said, "Vivian and Phoebe both 
have boyfriends. They know what it's like."

"Still, I guess I don't want them to know when we're having sex."

"Why not?" I asked, lathering her shoulders and back.

"I don't know. It just seems... dirty."

"I thought you liked it dirty," I teased, grinding my dick 
against her ass for effect.

"You know what I mean," she said.

"Yeah. But I don't think it'll hurt if Vivian and Phoebe know 
we're having sex. You're not a nun. You're a woman. And you have 
needs."

"Not anymore. You took care of all of them."

"_All_ of them?" I asked with a grin.

"Well, I'm bound to have more needs tomorrow. Does that count?"

I nodded, still grinning. Then, "Oh, that reminds me..."

She raised her eyebrows and then began soaping my chest.

I told her about my conversation with Trip (about inviting Luke 
and Tara over to watch _Dallas_).

"Sure," she said immediately, "that sounds like a great idea. But 
we need to go grocery shopping Friday afternoon."

"I've got modeling 'til four," I said. "At least," I added, 
thinking about a possible conversation with Christy.

"We can go afterward," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Yep. Now, we'd better get out of the shower before Vivian and 
Phoebe think we're going for a world record."

-----

The next day, in Art History class, Christy and I shared a smile 
as she and Wren sat down.

"Hi, tall, dark, and mysterious," Wren said.

I wanted to call her by her name, but I reminded myself not to.

"Feeling tongue-tied today?" she asked. Then she took a deep 
breath.

She was wearing a scoop-neck shirt, but I didn't take the bait 
and look at her cleavage.

She arched a curious eyebrow.

"I was just wondering if I should remind you that I'm tall, dark, 
mysterious, _and_ artistic," I said. Then I tried to suppress a 
grin.

Christy giggled at my unruffled audacity.

Before Wren could reply, Professor Dubois started her lecture.

I merely smirked as I took out my notebook and started paying 
attention to the professor.

-----

Later Tuesday night, we had an intramural football game versus 
the Hess Hall Third Floor team.

Both Kendall and Gina were there, and they seemed to get along. 
Tara was there as well, and she and Gina spent most of the game 
talking to each other. Surprisingly, Abby came to the game as 
well. I didn't know whether Kendall had invited her simply for 
the company, or because she was busy playing matchmaker.

Either way, I didn't have much time to worry about it; I was too 
busy playing the game. The Hess team had the bare minimum of 
players, and only two of them seemed to have any real football 
experience. I certainly wasn't a star player, but I was a lot 
better than most of _their_ players.

_Jeff_ even managed to score against them, although he fumbled 
the football before he ran into the end zone. Fortunately, he was 
so far ahead of his pursuers that he simply chased down the ball 
and recovered it for the touchdown.

Consequently, the game was a rout, 28-0.

Our team celebrated by going to a pizza place on the Strip. We 
ordered several pitchers of beer and generally made fools of 
ourselves, but we had fun.

Afterward, Trip and I escorted the girls back to campus. We 
walked with Kendall and Abby to their apartment first. Then Trip 
headed up the hill to North Carrick so Gina and I could have some 
time alone.

"Do you wanna hang out in the lobby for a while?" she asked when 
we reached South Carrick. "I don't want to face Miss Goody-two-
shoes. She'll know I've been out drinking, and she'll pray for me 
to see the error of my sinful ways, blah, blah, blah."

"Sure," I said.

So we found an empty couch in her lobby.

"I miss doing this," she said as she curled up next to me.

"Me too."

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence. Then we started 
talking: about classes, our professors, and life in general.

"Oh, my God," I said, interrupting her. "You're not going to 
believe what Kendall signed me up for."

"What?"

I told her about the modeling.

"You're _kidding_," she said.

"Nope."

"I guess that makes sense," Gina said, upon reflection. "Kendall 
always has wanted to be a model," she added. Then she looked up 
at me. "But I didn't know _you_ wanted to be one too."

"I kinda got talked into it," I said, although I didn't explain 
about Kendall's photographer fantasy.

"That's okay," Gina said. "I was just teasing you."

"I know."

"I think you'll be good at it, though," she said after a moment. 
"You've got a great body, and you're comfortable being nude."

I nodded.

"That's pretty cool," she mused.

"What is?"

"I'm dating a male model."

"I guess," I said.

"I guess I'll have to call you pitter-pat _model_ man," she 
teased with a soft sigh. Then she hugged herself to me.

We sat together for a long, sinfully comfortable time. Finally, 
well after midnight, I kissed her goodnight and headed home.

-----

After Design class on Wednesday, I said goodbye to Trip and 
headed toward Studio 6. The sculpture class was in progress, of 
course, but I already knew that. So I took out my sketchpad and 
sat down in the hallway.

I thought about drawing another Italian building, something 
Baroque or Renaissance. But then I thought about something even 
earlier, and simpler: the Temple of Athena Nike, in Athens.

The temple sits on the Acropolis, and has a breathtaking view of 
the city. But what surprised me was the building's size; it was 
small, only eleven or twelve feet tall. I imaged it for a few 
moments, simply fixing the details in my mind. When I opened my 
eyes, I stared at the sketchpad for a moment. Then I lowered my 
hand, the tip of my pencil resting on the pristine paper.

Like the ancient architect, Callicrates, I began with the 
stylobate (the temple base). Then I drew the fluted columns, 
adding the curled volutes of the Ionic capitals. Next, I sketched 
the entablature: architrave, frieze, and cornice. Last but not 
least, I outlined the rest of the temple.

Almost in a trance, I began filling in the details: the weathered 
carvings on the frieze, the circular pattern on the volutes, the 
lines of the cut stone blocks. As I shaded the drawing, I could 
almost smell the sun-baked marble. Finally, I lifted my pencil.

"That looks like Greece," Christy said from beside me.

"How long have you been here?" I asked. I wasn't surprised that 
she was there, but I _was_ surprised that I hadn't heard her. 
After all, she sat less than a foot away.

"Since you started adding details to the top part," she said.

"The entablature."

"Right," she said. Then she looked thoughtful. "That's... Ionic?"

"Mmm hmm," I said. "See, the column capitals have volutes, these 
little curly things. Doric columns are more massive, and the 
capitals are plainer. Corinthian capitals have stylized acanthus 
leaves, like this," I said, sketching a quick Corinthian column. 
"All the columns are fluted, so you have to look at the capitals. 
You can also tell what Order it is by the proportions of the 
overall design," I added, "but that's a bit tougher, and it 
usually involves some math and a few measurements."

"You said you're a first-year architecture student?" she asked, 
her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

"Okay, so I like architecture."

"I can tell."

"So, what do _you_ like?"

"I like your drawings," she said. "It's almost like I'm _there_."

"Thank you," I said, my cheeks heating.

At that moment, the bell rang. Christy and I grinned at each 
other and stood.

"Time for me to take off my clothes again," I said.

With an amused shrug, she nodded. "At least you're not nervous, 
like some guys."

"Nope," I said, although I wasn't about to explain why.

As the hallway began to clear, Siobhan emerged from the studio.

"Here you two are again," she said cheerfully. Then she turned to 
me. "Ready for another hard day of lounging around?" she asked. 
"Although I probably shouldn't use the word 'hard,'" she added 
with a teasing grin.

Christy giggled as I turned six shades of purple.

-----

After class, I came out of Siobhan's office to find her looking 
at Christy's drawing.

"Come see," the older woman said.

Christy had drawn me from the waist up. _I_ thought I was too 
soft, but her drawing made me look like a Greek statue, with 
well-defined muscles and a trim stomach. And like the best Greek 
statues, she'd somehow given her drawing a sense of humanity. She 
also gave it a sense of motion: I looked like I was coiled and 
ready to move at any moment, with an aura of power and purpose.

I don't know how she did it, but I was in awe.

"It's splendid, isn't it?" Siobhan asked softly.

I could only nod. When I looked up, Christy was blushing.

"It's your fault," she said to me.

I looked a question at her.

"You got me thinking about Greek art."

"Sorry, but I must be off," Siobhan interrupted. "It's an 
excellent picture, Christy. And I'll see you tomorrow." Then she 
turned to me. "Thank you again, Paul."

We said goodbye to her and she rushed off.

As Christy gathered up her things, I waited.

"Have you always been able to draw like that?" I asked as we 
walked toward her dorm.

"Mmm hmm. Since I was two or three."

"You started drawing when you were _two?!_"

"Mmm hmm. Just simple things, but by the time I was four, I could 
sketch anyone I saw. I don't really remember it, but I've seen my 
drawings. They're..."

"Amazing," I said.

"I was going to say 'scary.'"

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just look at the drawings--they're often of 
people I don't remember--and I feel like I know them. I get 
really emotional when I look at some of them."

"Why?"

"What's it like when you draw a building you've seen?" she asked.

"I can smell the air," I said. "I can feel the ground beneath my 
feet. I dunno," I added with a shrug. "I guess it's like I'm 
_there_." Then, "Oh, I get it."

She nodded. "That's how it is with me. Only it's not buildings, 
it's people. It's like I know what they're thinking."

"What was _I_ thinking today?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't figured you out yet."

Oddly, that made me feel good. If she hadn't figured me out yet, 
she'd keep trying. And that meant I'd get to spend more time with 
her.

"You're not very old, but you're intense," she said. "Sometimes, 
you're really silly, but you have moments when you seem like 
you're carrying the weight of the world. At times, you're really 
self-conscious, but then you start paying attention to the people 
around you, and you're different. It's like you're completely 
comfortable with yourself for a change."

I was silent.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't've said anything."

"No, it's okay. It's just... well... I dunno. I guess I never thought 
about it like that."

"Here we are," she said, looking up at Morrell. "I'd better get 
upstairs."

"Okay," I said distractedly.

She reached out and then hesitated. After a moment of indecision, 
she put her hand on my arm. As she pulled away, her fingertips 
trailed over my skin. I wanted her to linger, but...

At the door to the building, she looked back and I waved. She 
smiled in reply and then disappeared inside.

-----

On Friday, Trip and I got to Design class early. Professor Joska 
was due to return our project drawings and critiques, and I was 
both excited and apprehensive. When Joska arrived, the class grew 
ominously quiet.

"Since you're all anxiously awaiting your project grades," he 
said, "I won't keep you in suspense for long. As most of you 
should recall, the technical quality of your drawings is fifty 
percent of your grade. Your critiques are worth ten percent. 
Artistic expression comprises the remaining forty percent of your 
grade, and you were in competition within your own team for those 
points," he reiterated. "Are there any questions?"

No one uttered a peep.

"Very well," he said. Then his demeanor changed and he held up a 
roll of drawings. "These," he said heavily, "were dismal."

I gripped the edge of my desk and tried not to grimace.

"And your critiques," he added, holding up a sheaf of papers, 
"were superficial and mediocre. When I say 'critique,' I _mean_ 
critique. I do _not_ mean a few shallow remarks that gloss over 
major deficiencies."

When he paused for effect, most of us looked around nervously.

"In the unlikely event that any of you become architects," Joska 
continued, "your success, _and the very lives of the people who 
inhabit your buildings_, will depend upon your ability to 
critique not only your own work, but that of others. For 
instance...," he said, rifling through the papers. When he found 
the one he wanted, he began to read. "'This drawing is good, but 
could probably use some more work. The proportions are a little 
off, but the lines are straight.'"

My stomach lurched as I realized that he was reading my critique 
of Samantha Poole's drawing.

"'The lines are straight'?" Joska repeated, practically beside 
himself. "Any five-year-old with a ruler can draw straight 
lines."

I fumed in silence.

"This is _not_ a critique. It's a grade-school book report. 
You'll have to do better than this... Mr. Hughes," he said.

I looked up in shock. Not only had he ridiculed me, but he'd let 
everyone know that it was _me_.

Seething murderously, I started to open my mouth to tell Joska 
exactly what he could _do_ with his comment, but Trip suddenly--
and deliberately?--knocked his textbook off his desk.

"_Little things_," he hissed as he bent over to pick it up.

As I clenched my fists, my knuckles turned white.

"Do you have anything to say, Mr. Hughes?" Joska asked, his voice 
deceptively calm.

When I started to open my mouth, Trip cleared his throat.

"Well?" Joska asked.

"No," I grated. I added a "sir" as an insulting afterthought.

Joska glanced at Trip, as if to say, "You kept him on a leash 
_this_ time, but what about next time?"

Trip returned Joska's gaze with a lot more composure than _I_ was 
capable of at the moment.

With a nod of almost-respect for Trip, Joska turned to the class 
as a whole.

"Quit smirking," he said. "None of the rest of you did any better 
than Mr. Hughes. A number of you did quite a bit worse. 
Architecture is a serious business for serious people," he said 
heavily. "None of you have gotten serious yet."

With that, he began passing out the critiques and drawings. Mine 
was first, and I walked to the front of the class with barely 
concealed fury. When I returned to my desk, I practically threw 
myself into it. Then I looked at my critiques. Joska had given me 
one point out of ten.

He'd written a note at the top of the first sheet, _These are 
cursory and careless, Mr. Hughes. When are you going to take this 
seriously? You'll have to do better than this._

I thought about crumpling the paper, but that would have been 
admitting defeat. And I'd be _damned_ if I'd let Joska win. With 
an angry tug, I unrolled my drawing.

Not surprisingly, Joska had written a lengthy note. It read, _You 
have several areas where you need to pay more attention to detail. 
Overall, your drawing shows flair and promise, but you've reached 
the point where your natural talent can take you no further. You 
have to constantly strive to improve your abilities, and you 
cannot do that until you stop treating architecture as a 
glorified excuse to draw pretty buildings. This is work, Mr. 
Hughes. As strange as it may seem to you, you need to approach it 
that way._

Then, surprisingly, he had added a quote, by Michelangelo, _"If 
people knew how hard I have to work to gain my mastery, it 
wouldn't seem wonderful at all."_

In the lower right-hand corner of the drawing, Joska had written, 
_Technical merit: 38/50. Critiques: 1/10. Design: 1st place, 
40/40. 79 points overall, C+. Good, but not good enough._

"What the fuck does he want from me?" I muttered to myself. 
"Perfection?"

-----

"I want to fucking _kill_ that guy," I said as Trip and I walked 
back to the dorm. I still had to go to Siobhan's class and model, 
but I didn't feel like going early.

"Be happy you won first place. Those forty points were the 
difference between a C and an F," he said.

Trip had gotten second place, twenty points. Between his drawing 
and his critiques, he'd eked out sixty-six points, a D. Both 
Antonio and Samantha had gotten Fs. Joska had said that more than 
half of the class had received a failing grade on the project. I 
was thankful for my C+, but I still wanted to throttle Joska.

"Anyway," Trip said, "at least the combined projects are only 
twenty percent of our grade, and I did pretty good on the first 
two."

I nodded.

"The _big_ test is going to be the midterm exam. That's forty 
percent of our grade."

"No kidding," I said.

"Hey," he said, "since we're in a funk, I was gonna listen to 
some Funk. That always makes me feel better. You up for it? I've 
got a Parliament album that'll blow your mind."

"Maybe for a little while," I said. "But I can't stay long. I've 
got this... thing... I need to do at three. And I need to be there a 
little early."

"No problem, man," he said. Then he grinned at me. "You're gonna 
_love_ George Clinton."

-----

For Friday night's dinner party, Kendall and Abby had an entire 
menu planned out, complete with a shopping list. The three of us 
walked down to the parking garage and then I drove to the nearest 
supermarket. I insisted on paying for the groceries, since I 
still had money left over from my trip to Europe (and I knew how 
tight Kendall's budget was).

When we got back to the apartment, the girls put me to work 
washing lettuce and preparing the salad. Then they started making 
the main dish and sides.

Trip, Luke, and Tara showed up right on time, and Tara 
immediately went to the kitchen to help. (Kendall didn't seem to 
have any qualms about Tara being a sorority girl. I filed away 
that tidbit of information.)

Dinner was Chicken Cordon Bleu, with herb-roasted potatoes and 
glazed carrots. It was delicious. We also had two bottles of 
white wine, so we were all a little mellow. For dessert, the 
girls served ice cream, which I skipped.

After dinner, we moved to the living room and watched the season 
premier of _Dallas_. Before the show started, they showed a recap 
of the previous season, reminding us about the various storylines. 
Then the episode began, and we all watched eagerly.

When the show was finally over, I had to chuckle at myself. I was 
hooked, although I didn't know _how_ I'd become so engrossed in a 
TV show (and a glorified soap opera at that). Still, it was fun 
to watch the machinations and scheming.

Luke and Tara were going to a party at the Fiji Island, so they 
thanked us for dinner and then headed out. Kendall, Abby, Trip, 
and I sat around talking until well after midnight. I watched how 
Abby looked at Trip and came to the conclusion that she _did_ 
like him.

Unfortunately, I was worried that she would get her feelings hurt 
when she found out that Trip didn't really _want_ a girlfriend. I 
wanted to say something to let her down easy, but I decided that 
it would do more harm than good. Besides, it wasn't really my 
place to interfere.

Finally, around one in the morning, Trip and I said goodnight to 
the girls and headed back to our dorm.

"That was fun," he said as we walked up the hill. "Thanks for 
inviting me. And thanks for dinner."

"You're welcome."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, both of us tired from a 
long day. Billy was sleeping soundly when I shuffled into my room, 
so I stripped off my clothes in the dark and climbed into bed. 
Unfortunately, I couldn't go to sleep.

I kept thinking about Joska and the way he treated me, but what 
could I do about it?

_There ain't no justice,_ I thought sullenly.

I brooded about it for a while, but then decided to think about 
something else. So I mentally went over my weekend plans.

On Saturday, UT was playing Georgia Tech, and Kendall's parents 
were probably already in Knoxville, with their RV parked in the 
usual spot. Gina was supposed to go to the game with us, but I 
didn't know what she had planned with her sorority.

I also wanted to get in a workout or two. I'd eaten too much at 
dinner, and I needed to work it off before it turned to fat.

I wanted to call home as well. I never imagined that I'd miss 
Erin, but I did. I also missed my parents, but not as much as I 
thought I would. It made my mom happy when I called regularly, 
though, so I tried to do it at least once a week.

On top of all _that_, I had lots of schoolwork to do. I had to 
finish my Faulkner paper, study for my Calculus and Art History 
midterms, and study extra hard for my Design midterm.

And, last but not least, I had more modeling to do on Monday. The 
first week had gone well--I hadn't gotten another surprise 
erection, thank God--but on Monday, I'd be posing with a female 
model. She'd be nude as well, of course.

As I thought about the drawing class, however, my mind turned to 
Christy. I enjoyed our time before class, and she was an 
incredibly talented artist. We also had a lot in common, which 
made her easy to talk to. But there was something else about her-
-something I couldn't pin down.

I thought about it for a moment and then decided that she 
intrigued me.

Unfortunately, a new girl was the _last_ thing I needed in my 
life. I had two girlfriends already. And while Kendall and Gina 
weren't _actively_ feuding, they weren't exactly best friends, 
like it seemed in the beginning.

I started to sulk, but then I angrily shook my head to clear it. 
Since I couldn't really relax, I let my mind wander back to the 
drawing class.

As I did, I wondered what the female model would be like. Would 
she be flirty, or stand-offish? Would she be cute? Would she 
think _I_ was cute? What would her breasts look like? Would they 
be large? Small? Somewhere in between? What color would her 
nipples be? Pink? Rosy? Dark? Would she trim her pubic hair?

As I imagined her body, I felt my penis swell.

I peered across the darkened room to make sure Billy was sleeping. 
When I decided that he was, I reached under the sheet. Then I 
gripped my shaft and began stroking. As I did, visions of a dark-
haired, dark-eyed model danced through my imagination.

When I reached the point of no return, I threw back the sheet and 
reached for the box of Kleenex that every college guy keeps close 
at hand. With a barely suppressed groan, I squirted into a wad of 
tissues.

After I cleaned up, I laced my fingers behind my head and stared 
at the ceiling, my breathing slowly returning to normal.

_I wonder what she'll _really_ look like,_ I thought as I finally 
drifted off to sleep.

-----

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

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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