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From: Nick Scipio <nick@nickscipio.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 4" by Nick Scipio - Ch 8 (MF, MMF, teen, oral, anal, exhib, tease)
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 4: Christy
Part: Chapter 08
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a young man whose family
spends their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, MMF, teen, oral, anal, exhib, tease
Revision: 1.01
Word Count: 13,932
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book4/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book4/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

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

This story 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.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events
portrayed in it are fictional, and any resemblance to real people
or incidents is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities described.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio. It may be
freely distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2007-2008 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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

Summer Camp - Book 4: Christy
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER EIGHT

After goodbyes at camp, Trip and I flew back to Franklin. I still
had to drive back to Atlanta, so I packed the rest of my things,
said goodbye to his family, and hit the road. I called Kendall
when I got home, but the answering machine picked up. I left a
message and called Wren next.

"Hey," I said. "What're you up to?"

"Packing for school. You?"

"I'm about to start. I just called Kendall, but I got the
machine."

"Did you ever get a chance to talk to her about... things?"

"Not really. She had to run off to see her not-so-sick aunt."

"I thought she did that already."

"She went again."

"Oh. Sorry. Things'll probably get better when we're back at
school."

"Yeah, probably," I said. "Anyway, that's not what I called
about."

"Oh? Did you call because you missed me?"

"Certain parts more than others."

"Well, I can't show them to you over the phone."

"That's okay, I have a good memory."

She laughed. "Boy, you really have a way of making a girl feel
special."

"I try."

"So, what _did_ you call about, Mr. Mysterious? Just to say hi?"

"Well, Miss Beautiful, I wanted to find out when you were heading
to Knoxville."

"Tomorrow morning, early. Why? When are you going?"

"The same. You wanna meet and drive up together?"

"My parents are driving up too. Are you sure you want to deal
with my mom? After my birthday, she wants us to get back
together. You know how she is."

"I can handle your mom," I said. "Besides, my mom's going too, so
I'll have reinforcements."

-----

I'd had visions of triumphantly repaying the loan from my
parents--a second mortgage on their house--but the banks had
handled everything between them. The only thing I ever saw was a
line item on a closing statement. So my "big presentation" was a
confirmation number for a wire transfer.

To make things even more anticlimactic, my dad was out of town.
Still, I presented the paper to my mom with a flourish.

"Thank you very much," she said. "The bank told us last week."
She actually laughed when my face fell. "That's how it works,"
she said gently.

"Yeah, but I wanted to make a big deal."

"You did."

"But... how?"

"By doing such a good job this summer. You and Trip put a lot of
effort into those houses, and it showed."

"But... you never even saw them."

"I saw how fast they sold, and how much money you made in the
process. Enough to pay us back and still have a tidy profit."

"It's a bit more than 'tidy,'" I said.

"I know," she said. "Congratulations. We're very proud of you."

"Thanks. Oh, speaking of which..." I reached for my wallet and
pulled out five crisp hundred-dollar bills. "For my little
indiscretion with your credit card last Christmas."

She took the money, but then looked confused. "I thought it was
just four hundred."

"It was. The rest is interest."

"Paul, that's too much. Here." She tried to return a hundred-
dollar bill, but I refused.

"It was bad enough that I used the card in the first place," I
said. _Especially to buy gifts for a girl who_ wasn't _my
girlfriend,_ I thought ruefully. "So I should pay the interest
too."

"But the interest wasn't a hundred dollars."

"Okay, call it a penalty then."

"I don't think so," she said, and thrust the money at me again.

"Sorry, Mom. Call it interest, call it a penalty, call it a
'valuable life lesson' if you want, but I'm not taking it back.
It's yours."

"Paul, we're not going to--"

"Then let me buy you dinner while you're in New York City," I
said. "Give the money to Dad and tell him to take you to the best
restaurant in town."

"Thank you," she said at last, graciously. "I'm sure we'll enjoy
it."

-----

I called Kendall early the next morning, but I didn't leave a
message when the machine picked up. I was a little irked that she
hadn't called when she returned from her aunt's house. On the
other hand, I didn't know what her schedule was--she might've
gone straight to school without going home first. Either way, she
should've told me.

On the way to meet Wren and her parents, I briefed Mom about my
ex-boyfriend act.

"Is that why she spent the night a few weeks ago?"

My eyes widened before I got control.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mom said.

"How did you know about _that?_"

She shrugged. "Little things."

"Like what?" I wanted to know for the next time, in case I
_really_ needed to cover my tracks.

"Just call it 'mother's intuition,'" she said at last. "You'll
understand when you have children."

"I hope so," I said, and shook my head in amazement.

When we met Wren and her parents, Mom played her part to a tee.

"Helen, it's so nice to meet you at last," she said. "Wren's such
a wonderful young lady."

Wren turned rosy despite her tan.

Helen smiled and said, "I keep telling her that she and Paul
should get back together, but--"

"_Mom_," Wren hissed, "not now."

"Oh, posh."

Wren's father saved us when he tapped his watch and ushered Helen
back to their car. Wren had decided to take her little Datsun to
school, so we climbed into our cars and pulled out of the parking
lot.

The drive to Knoxville was uneventful, and campus was just as
crowded as the year before. After we made our way through the
traffic jam, we found parking spaces. Wren and her roommates had
an apartment in Andy Holt, so we'd all be living in the same
building.

We found Trip with his family on a bench near the lobby. They'd
been there an hour, so his name was near the top of the list for
a luggage cart. After introductions all around, his little
brothers latched onto Wren. They tugged her toward the grassy
area next to the building and started a game of tag.

We began unloading the cars as soon as Trip got his cart. Wren
formed the boys into the "Super Helper Squad" to carry little
things. They were trying to impress her, so they took their jobs
seriously.

Wren was the first to move into her apartment, and chose the
front bedroom. Trip and I took the same bedroom in our apartment,
since Luke and Jeff had already moved into the back bedroom. The
rooms were identical in all the apartments, but one was farther
from the noise of the living room and kitchen.

After we finished unloading, Wren and Trip's fathers went to buy
area rugs for the two apartments, while the women went shopping
for supplies. Kendall had the same apartment as the year before,
but no one answered when I called, so Trip and I headed out. We
met up with Wren and went to stand in line for registration.

Once we had our schedules, we ate a quick lunch. Afterward, Trip
and Wren went with me to Financial Aid to pick up my scholarship
check. Then we stood in line at the bursar's office to pay
tuition and fees. From there, we stood in _another_ line to buy
books. By the time we finished, we'd spent more than six hours
standing in one line or another.

Back at the apartment building, I left the others and stopped by
Kendall's apartment. Her roommates Phoebe and Vivian were there,
but they hadn't seen Kendall all day. I left a note and headed
upstairs to my own apartment.

Wren and her parents came up a little later, and her father
offered to take everyone to dinner. I called Kendall's apartment
one more time before we left, but she still wasn't there. Wren
tried to cheer me up, but I wasn't in the mood to _be_ cheered
up.

Dinner was good--Wren's father had excellent taste in
restaurants--but I brooded through it until Wren touched my knee
under the table.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," I lied, but she saw through me.

"You're thinking about _her_, aren't you?"

I gave up trying to fool her, and nodded instead.

"You'll see her tomorrow," Wren said, "and everything will be
fine."

"Yeah, I guess."

She just patted my thigh, and rested her hand there until we
finished eating.

Mom had to catch a flight to meet Dad in New York, so I had an
excuse not to linger. Besides, Wren's parents had to head home,
and Trip's family needed to return to Franklin. So we said
goodbye in the parking lot and went our separate ways.

On the drive to the airport, I wanted to complain about Kendall,
but I knew it wouldn't do any good. Instead, Mom and I talked
about life in general, although she could tell that I was upset.
She knew why, so she steered the conversation toward
relationships.

I didn't miss the parallels--or the _lack_ thereof--between her
relationship with Dad and my relationship with Kendall. My
parents were a team, and they communicated with each other.
Kendall and I seemed to be solo players who happened to be going
the same direction. I hated the thought, because I really did
love her, but I couldn't escape the obvious conclusion.

My mood wasn't any better by the time Mom boarded her flight. I
waited until her plane pushed back, and then headed toward the
main terminal. Another plane had just arrived, so I threaded my
way through the crowd with my head down, lost in thought.

"Paul?"

I knew that Kendall and I had problems, and I _wanted_ to believe
they'd get better on their own, but I'd made that mistake once
already. It had cost me Gina, and I wasn't going to let things
reach that point with Kendall. I loved her, and I wanted to make
things work, but Mom and Susan's advice echoed in my thoughts.
Maybe I _was_ trying too h--

"Paul? Is that you?"

I raised my head at the sound of my name.

"Paul? Over here." The girl was about my age, petite and
attractive, with blonde hair bleached by the sun. She looked
familiar, but--

Then it hit me. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, straight
and pixyish, but her bright blue eyes were unmistakable.
"Christy!"

She dropped her bags and gave me a hug.

"What're _you_ doing here?" I asked when we separated.

"My plane just got in."

I was still so preoccupied that I actually asked which flight.

She grinned and pointed toward the plane that was currently
debarking. It was the only plane at the terminal.

"Sorry," I said. "I guess..." I shrugged.

"You were in your own little world." Her eyes twinkled with a
grin. "You get that way sometimes."

I recovered my manners and picked up her bags. "How are you
getting to campus? Can I give you a ride?"

"I was going to take a taxi," she said, "but... You don't mind?"

"Of course not. Are you ready?"

"I need to get my other suitcases," she said.

Her carry-on luggage weighed at least forty pounds, so I couldn't
imagine what _else_ she'd packed. Then again, I'd brought an
entire carload of things to school. If she'd managed to pack her
life into just four suitcases, she'd done better than I had.

While we waited for the baggage carousel, she asked what I was
doing at the airport. I told her about my mom and her trip to New
York. She thought it was romantic that my parents went on weekend
getaways together. They'd been doing it for so long that I didn't
think anything of it. Nothing special, at least. But the more I
thought about it, it _was_ sort of romantic.

Would Kendall and I do the same thing? I nearly scoffed aloud as
I answered myself: _Not unless we drive._ Ugh and double ugh.

Christy saw my mood change, but she was too polite to pry.
Instead, she changed the subject to my summer job. I started
slow, still in a funk, but she drew me out with questions about
Blackie and the crew. By the time we reached the apartment
building, I was telling her about the young couple who'd bought
the first Craftsman house.

-----

Kendall finally called after I got home from the airport. She'd
spent the morning going through registration, and the afternoon
with her parents and brother, touring the football facilities and
athletes' dorm.

I understood, but I wished she'd left me a note, or called, or
_something_. We talked for a while, but we were both tired. Her
parents were leaving the next day, so she invited me to breakfast
with them.

Trip could tell that I wasn't exactly happy when I returned to
the living room. Luke and Jeff were clueless--they were arguing
about some girl Luke had been hitting on--but I didn't pay much
attention. I was thinking about Kendall, obviously.

My immediate problem was that I was horny. Knowing her, that
would take care of itself as soon as we had some time alone.
After that, we needed to make time for each other, _every day_,
and not just for sex.

We also had to talk about rules for our relationship. I wasn't
going to tell her about Wren or the Raefords' party, but I didn't
want to get into the same situation again. I didn't like making
up rules on the fly.

_And speaking of flying..._

I needed to talk to her about _that_, too, since I wanted to
finish my instrument rating. She wouldn't like it at first, but
it was something I wanted to do. I needed to tell her _before_ I
did it, though.

We also needed to talk about our future together. After she
graduated--in less than a year--she wanted to go to med school in
Memphis. We'd be separated by four hundred miles, and we'd need
to find a way to make things work.

Last but not least, I had Mom and Susan's questions swirling in
my head. I didn't need to answer them at once, but I had to start
_asking_ at least.

-----

When Kendall's parents finally left, we made a beeline for my
apartment. Luke and Jeff were out, but Trip saw the look on my
face and grinned.

"I think I'll go hang out with Wren and Christy," he said. "I'll
probably head down to the basketball courts and find a pick-up
game after that. I'll be back late, I'm sure."

The door had barely closed behind him before Kendall and I rushed
together.

We didn't speak. I merely backed her against the wall with my
body, and our lips crushed together in a heated kiss. She wrapped
a long leg around me and tugged my shirt from my waistband. I
pulled back long enough to rip open her blouse. Then I kissed her
chest and popped her bra catch with practiced ease.

She unbuckled my belt and reached for the button of my shorts. My
dick strained against the fabric of my underwear, but she
released it as she sank to her knees. I braced myself against the
wall above her, watching as she kissed the tip of my cock. She
rubbed it over her lips, but then practically inhaled me.

She wrapped her fist around my shaft and began pumping as she
sucked. I exploded in record time, and sent a stream of semen
gushing down her throat. She pulled back to catch her breath,
panting from the speed of things. I swallowed hard and gazed down
as she slowly milked my erection.

I was still sensitive, but I let her stroke me while I caught my
breath. Then I pulled her to her feet and guided her toward my
bedroom. My bed was on the far side of the room, and I managed to
undress her by the time we reached it. She rolled into bed and
watched with sultry eyes as I finished taking off my clothes.

"Mmm, nice," she said.

I struck a bodybuilder pose, which made her smile.

She spread her legs and said, "I like this pose better," which
made _me_ smile.

I knelt on the foot of the bed and lay between her legs. Her
pussy was slippery with desire, pink and puffy from arousal. I
kissed her gently and spread her labia with my fingers. The aroma
washed over me and I felt my mouth water.

I took my time and licked her slowly. Her face and chest were
flushed by the time I rose to my knees and positioned my shaft at
her opening. She tensed when I entered her, and her pussy seemed
tighter than usual. I started to say something, but then she went
rigid.

She clutched the bed in silence as a mini-orgasm washed over her.
I could feel it in her pussy and watch it on her face at the same
time, and I almost forgot to keep thrusting.

When I remembered what I was supposed to be doing, I moved my
hips and buried another inch. Her pussy contracted around me, and
a fresh wave of heat and moisture assaulted my cock. After
several long moments, she relaxed and sagged to the bed.

"Keep going," she panted.

Her pussy felt like a molten vise, but I buried myself
completely. She went silently rigid as another wave of pleasure
rippled through her. I began thrusting with long, deliberate
strokes.

"Oh, yes!" she whispered hoarsely. "Fuck me!"

Instead of answering, I threw her legs over my shoulders and bent
her in half. With my arms hooked behind her knees, I plunged into
her, thrusting deep as I concentrated on her reactions.

"In the ass," she finally gasped. "Fuck me in the ass."

I pulled out, and she rolled to her hands and knees. I scooted
forward and set my glans at the pink rosette of her anus. Then I
gripped her hips, and she groaned as my cock spread her
sphincter.

"Do it hard," she said.

I slammed into her, and she cried out.

"Don't stop," she begged. "Fuck me hard." Her shoulders dropped
as she reached between her legs to play with her pussy.

I began pounding her from behind. I thought I was being too
rough, but she shuddered in ecstasy each time I slammed into her.
I drove her hips to the bed, but I didn't stop thrusting, even
when I felt my orgasm building.

When I couldn't hold back any longer, I buried myself completely.
I came with a grunt, my balls tingling as I emptied myself into
her bowels. Her ass tightened with an orgasmic spasm, which
almost cut off the spurts of my own climax.

I finally collapsed on top of her, and we panted hard, still
joined at the hips. When I regained enough strength to move, I
pulled my half-hard dick from her ass, and she made room for me
on the bed.

I flopped to my back, and she draped herself over me. Neither of
us said anything. Instead, we simply held each other and enjoyed
the feeling of being together.

-----

The next morning, Trip and I went through our bathroom-sharing
routine and headed downstairs for the first day of class.
Christy, Wren, and Ash O'Riordan were waiting for us in the
lobby.

"Is Kendall meeting us?" Christy asked.

Trip and I shared a quick look. Kendall didn't want to abandon
Abby--who wasn't ready to see Trip yet--so they planned to have
breakfast an hour later.

"Um... no," I said. "She's gonna eat with her roommate."

Wren knew the story, and she gave Christy an "I'll tell you
later" look. So we shouldered our backpacks and headed toward the
Morrill dining hall.

Over breakfast, we talked about our summer vacations. Christy
told us about London, and some of the places she'd seen. She'd
spent the last half of the summer at her parents' house in San
Diego, surfing with friends and hanging out at the beach.

Wren had spent her summer working and partying, and told us about
some of the big ones, including her birthday. She flashed me a
smirk, but didn't mention anything about _after_ the party.

Ash had spent the summer with her father in Chicago. He ran an
advertising agency, and lived in a high-rise condo with a view of
Lake Michigan. She'd worked in his art department as a
photographer's intern, and had plenty of pictures to show us.

Trip and I talked about our adventures with home renovation. The
girls cried with laughter when he told them about the practical
joke with the beer permit. He was showing off, so the story grew
in the telling, but I played the straight man and nodded in all
the right places.

Eventually, we had to leave for class. Trip and Wren waved and
started for the Hill, while Christy, Ash, and I headed for the
Art & Architecture building. At the entrance, Ash said goodbye
and went off to the photography studios.

"So," Christy said as we climbed the stairs, "what's your first
class?"

"Interior Design. What's yours?"

"History of American Sculpture. Siobhan's teaching it, of
course." Christy laughed. "She's actually in the textbook, too.
Only a small part, but she's an important Twentieth Century
Realist. That's what I want to be. A Realist, I mean. I don't
know if I'll ever be as famous as Siobhan, but she says I have a
good eye. She keeps telling me I'll be even _more_ famous one
day, but I don't know."

I grinned at her sidelong.

"Am I chattering already?"

"Not really."

She looked skeptical.

"Okay, maybe a little, but it's kinda cute."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. I think." She reached into her
backpack and pulled out a bag of carrot sticks. "Want some?"

"We just had breakfast."

"I know, but I'm hungry. My metabolism, remember? I'm down to
103--all that surfing this summer--so I need to gain a few
pounds."

I chuckled. "Boy, I wish I had your problems."

"You wouldn't if you really had them," she said, waving a carrot.
"I have to work hard to stay in the triple digits."

"You really _are_ a bunny, aren't you?"

Her eyes flashed with a grin.

"This is my class, though," I said, nodding toward a door.

"I'm downstairs, at the other end of the building."

"Then what did you follow me up _here_ for?"

"I guess I lost track of where I was," she said. I didn't believe
her, but she smiled anyway. "Besides, it's nice talking to you
again," she said. "I missed you over the summer."

"You did?"

She nodded. "I didn't have anyone to draw with. And I kept
wanting to ask you about the buildings. Simon didn't know
anything about them, but I knew you would."

"Yeah, probably," I said, a bit sheepishly.

"See? I could've told you about the art, and you could've told me
about the nice building-things that keep the weather out."

"_'Keep the weather out...'_?" I sputtered.

She smiled wryly, the very picture of innocence. "Mmm hmm. But
I'd better be off. I don't wanna be late."

I shook my head with disbelief as she practically skipped toward
the stairs. _"Nice 'building-things' that keep the weather out"?_
Indeed!

-----

My first class was mostly full of first-year Interior Design
students, but I was one of two Architecture students. The other
was a fourth- or fifth-year I didn't know. The professor was a
bit dry, but I enjoyed it.

Afterward, I headed to the new computer lab, where Professor
Liang was writing on the whiteboard. I recognized several people,
but only one I knew very well: Gracie Fisher.

She was an attractive brunette, with dark eyes and enough
ambition for two people. She'd been a design team leader the year
before, when I'd been passed over for the same position.

I wanted to dislike her, but I couldn't. I'd seen enough of her
designs to realize that she was good. _Very_ good. On top of
that, she had some leadership quality that I lacked. I didn't
like admitting it, but I knew it was true.

She saw me and smiled. "Hey, Paul!" She gestured at the computer
next to her. "Have a seat. How's it going?"

I slid into the chair. "Good. You?"

"Good," she said. We chatted about our summers, and then she
said, "I'm really looking forward to class. Computers are
definitely the future of architecture."

"Pretty cool, huh?"

She turned businesslike when Professor Liang cleared his throat
for our attention. He introduced himself and went over the
syllabus. The first couple of weeks would be basic computer use,
which I was reasonably familiar with. Still, my trusty little
VIC-20 was hardly in the same league with the computers in the
lab, so I was bound to learn a lot.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Gracie and I talked for a
minute, but we both had to head to our next classes. Hers was
Marketing Strategy, and mine was History and Theory of
Architecture.

Trip was already there when I arrived, so I slipped into the seat
next to him. He was chatting with people we knew from first year,
but I was content to listen.

When Professor Randall wrote her name on the blackboard, we all
grew quiet. She went over the usual stuff, and passed out the
syllabus. Then she started quizzing us, firing questions about as
fast as we could answer them.

We were slow at first, a little surprised by the barrage, but she
never lingered when she stumped someone. Instead, she simply told
us the answer and looked for her next victim. She was lively and
fun, and we eventually got into it. I answered every question she
fired my way, mostly because of my summer reading.

_Score one for Professor Joska,_ I thought sardonically.

Trip had a class at eleven o'clock, but I had a free hour, so I
read my Interior Design book until it was time to meet Kendall.
We talked about classes and professors over lunch, but she was
preoccupied with her schedule. One of her classes had changed
times, so she had a conflict.

After we finished eating, she left to go to the registrar's
office, and I went looking for Trip. I found him outside the
dining hall, with Christy, Wren, Zoe Baranski (their other
roommate), and Zoe's boyfriend, Peter. After re-introductions,
Christy pulled Wren and me aside.

"Siobhan wants me to ask if you can model this quarter," she
said.

"Sure," Wren said immediately.

"I'm game," I said.

"She has two classes," Christy continued. "Monday-Wednesday-
Friday at 11:00, and Tuesday-Thursday at 9:25. Can you do either
of those?"

I went over my schedule in my mind. "I can do either," I said.
"Or both."

"Me too," Wren practically chirped.

We grinned at each other. Then we broke into snickers.

"Oh, brother," Christy said. "I'll tell Siobhan to expect
trouble."

"We aren't trouble," I said, still grinning.

"We're _big_ trouble," Wren finished.

"You two are nuts."

"What's so funny?" Trip asked after Zoe and Peter headed toward
the Hill.

"Our roommates are insane," Christy said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

We shared a laugh, but then Trip and I had to leave for class.
The girls said goodbye and headed back to their apartment.

"Wren's fun," Trip said as we walked toward the A&A building.

"Yeah, she is."

"Christy too," he said, "but she's more serious."

I nodded.

"And they're both cute."

We talked about the girls until we reached our class. The room
was one of the design labs, with drafting tables and stools
instead of desks. Gracie Fisher was already there, and she waved
to the tables next to her when she saw us. I recognized several
other people, including John Spaulding and Louis Vang, team
leaders from the year before.

Professor Joska entered the room at precisely one o'clock. The
hubbub died as he took his place in front of the class. He stood
with his hands clasped behind his back, bouncing lightly on the
balls of his feet, practically bristling with intensity.

"My name is Laszlo Joska," he said. The "_yosh_-ka" of his last
name sounded soft and sibilant with his Hungarian accent. "This
class is Architecture 271, Architectural Design," he continued.
"If you're not supposed to be here, please be kind enough to
leave quietly."

No one moved.

"For the next twelve weeks...," he began, and gave us the
"Architecture is a serious business for serious people" speech.

"There are more than a hundred second-year students," he
finished, "including the twenty-four in this class. Look around
you, ladies and gentlemen. Only half of you will graduate with a
degree in architecture."

He didn't tell us how hard the class was going to be, because
most of us already knew.

"After your first test, _next week_," Joska said, which made us
groan, "class standings will be posted outside my office. The top
students will receive no special treatment, but it is virtually
guaranteed that they will go on to have highly successful
careers. Do you think you will be one of them?"

"Yes, sir," Gracie said, with more confidence than anyone rightly
deserved.

"You haven't lost any of your pluck," Joska said, "have you, Miss
Fisher?"

"No, sir."

"I see. But you're probably right." He looked over the class.
"For those of you who don't know her, I'd like to introduce Miss
Fisher, recipient of an Excellence in Architecture Scholarship,
the most prestigious scholarship awarded by the Hyatt
Foundation."

She puffed up like a peacock, but I glimpsed a tremor of
nervousness behind her confidence.

"Congratulations, Miss Fisher," Joska said. "I expect you to be
at the top of the class when the first standings are posted."

"Thank you, sir."

Joska shifted slightly, and his eyes locked on me.

"For those of you who are wondering who the _second_ best student
will be," he said, "I'll give you a hint: he's sitting next to
Miss Fisher, looking like a fish out of water."

I swallowed hard and composed myself as every face in the room
turned to follow Joska's gaze.

"Allow me to introduce Mr. Hughes," he said, "recipient of the
Charles Eames Innovation in Design Scholarship, also from the
Hyatt Foundation. The Eames Scholarship is awarded to the most
creative students in the field of design. Congratulations, Mr.
Hughes."

"Thank you, sir," I said. Much to my surprise, my voice sounded
strong and confident.

Joska surveyed the class. "Only one other university can boast
two Hyatt Scholars among its second-year class. That's quite an
achievement. Congratulations to both Miss Fisher and Mr. Hughes."
He applauded us, and the rest of the class joined in.

"Now that we have the accolades behind us," he continued, "let us
turn to business."

He passed out syllabuses and a list of required reading. I did a
double take when I read the list: it was identical to the summer
reading list he'd given me at the end of last year. I wouldn't
have to read a dozen extra books--I was already ahead of the
class!

My joy lasted until I wondered _why_. I knew immediately: Joska
had even more work planned for me. I wanted to groan in
frustration, since I already had a full course load. Instead, I
clenched my jaw and vowed to do everything he asked, _without_
complaint.

Joska started speaking again, and I returned my attention to him.
He spent the next forty-five minutes going over the textbook,
reading list, and course outline.

"Between the instruction and lab portions of class," he finished,
"we will take a ten-minute break."

"Do you want a Coke?" Gracie asked me. "I'm gonna need it to get
through the next three hours."

"Sure," I said. Then I turned to Trip, who was talking to John
Spaulding. "You guys want anything from the Coke machine?"

John shook his head, but Trip nodded and dug in his pocket.

I waved him off. "I got it."

Gracie and I headed toward the vending machines in the atrium.

"What do you think of class so far?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Joska is Joska," I said. "He's gonna work us to
death, and do it with a smile."

She laughed. "True."

"But the lab should be fun," I said, "although three hours a day
is gonna get old."

"Yeah, especially after an hour of lecture. But it's only three
days a week, and it _is_ a six credit-hour course."

"Besides," I added, "it's a degree requirement, so it's not like
we have any choice."

She nodded, and we began feeding money to the Coke machine.

"Congratulations on your scholarship," she said. "It's really
prestigious."

"Thanks, but yours is too. Even more."

"Yeah," she said, "but mine's actually for second-year students.
The Eames Scholarship usually goes to third- or fourth-years. It
says a lot that you got it your second year. I mean, think about
the cost alone--they know they're going to have to pay for four
years of school for you."

"_If_ I keep the scholarship," I said.

"You will. I've seen your designs, remember? You're really good."

I blushed. "Thanks, but you're pretty good yourself."

"I work hard," she said with a shrug. "I have to. I'm a woman."

"Talent doesn't have a gender," I said. "Not in my book, at
least."

It was her turn to blush, and she looked pretty when she did.

We returned to class just in time. I set Trip's Coke on his desk
and slid into my seat as Professor Joska began writing on the
blackboard.

We spent the entire lab period reviewing the previous year and
bringing the transfer students up to speed. Professor Joska
assigned us to two-person design and review teams, and we
rearranged ourselves to sit next to our partners.

He'd assigned the new students to Trip, Gracie, John Spaulding,
and Louis Vang. That made sense, since they were team leaders
from the year before, but he'd assigned the fifth new student to
_me_.

"Take ten minutes," Joska said, "to get to know the person
sitting next to you. You will spend a lot of time with them over
the next twelve weeks."

The room filled with the sound of conversation, and I turned to
my new partner.

Freddie DeFeo had dark hair, a big Roman nose, and a five o'clock
shadow. He wasn't shy, either, and he began telling me his life
story. He was from Long Island, and his parents had just
divorced. His mother had moved to Knoxville to live with her
sister.

He'd been a student at Cornell before the divorce, but his father
(an architect himself, who sounded like a real jerk) wouldn't pay
the tuition anymore. So Freddie was at Tennessee, although he
wasn't happy to be "stuck in the sticks." Despite his bitterness,
he seemed like a nice enough guy.

I barely had time to tell him about myself before Joska called an
end to things. He reminded us of our reading lists, as well as
the upcoming test. Then he actually let us go early. It was only
five minutes, but early was early.

"Yo," Freddie said as we gathered our things, "who's this Joska
guy, anyway? My prof at Cornell said he's some kinda design
genius or something." He brushed away the comment. "After today's
class, I say fuggedaboutit."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "_What?_"

"Huh?"

"What did you just say?"

"When?"

"Just now."

He shrugged, palms up. "What? What'd I say?"

"F'ged something," I said.

"Fuggedaboutit?"

"Yeah. What's that supposed mean?"

"Fuggedaboutit," he said with a wave, as if that explained
everything. "You know... fuggedaboutit."

"Okay, whatever." I still didn't understand, but it wasn't worth
the hassle of an explanation.

"So anyway," he continued, "what's up with this Joska clown?"

"He's _not_ a clown," I bristled, surprised at my own reaction.

"Hey, whoa," Freddie said, "I don't have a Hyatt Scholarship or
nothing, but this guy seems like a major pain in the ass."

I'd thought the same myself, but Freddie hadn't earned the right
to say it.

He backed down. "Calm down, junior. I'm just breakin' your
balls."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm just breakin' your balls, man. Relax. You seem like an okay
guy." When he realized that I couldn't decide whether to be
genuinely confused or just plain irritated, he tried to smooth
things over. "Hey, not for nothin', but I figure you know what's
goin' on around here. So maybe you could help me out. I mean, yo!
I'm completely lost here."

"Yeah, all right. I'll help you out."

"In return," he offered magnanimously, "I'll tell you how to make
an Italian shut up."

"Okay, how?"

"Tie his hands!"

His smile was infectious, and I grudgingly offered one of my own.
Trip joined us, and I introduced them.

"Hey," Freddie said, "it's nice to meet youse guys."

"In case you haven't guessed," I deadpanned, "Freddie's not from
these parts."

"Fuggedaboutit!" Freddie said.

"Nice to meet you, Freddie," Trip said as they shook hands.

"Not for nothin'," Freddie said, "but it's good to have a couple
o' paisans already."

I didn't know why, but Freddie was starting to grow on me.

-----

After my first class on Thursday (Western Civ.), I met Wren and
we headed to Siobhan's studio. She handed us the standard model
release forms, along with her class schedule. We found a bench in
the hall and sat down to read over the schedule.

"Me for two weeks," Wren said, "and then you for two."

"Yeah, same as last year."

"But I was hoping we could model together," she play-whined.

I grinned. "We will. In October."

"But I want it _now_."

"It's good to want things."

"Now you're just being mean," she said, and began filling out the
form.

I grinned and bent over my own release.

"Did you have a chance to talk to Kendall?" Wren asked when we
finished.

I shrugged. "Not really. But we did have a chance to... you know."

"Lucky her," Wren said, half teasing, half genuine.

"What about you and Christy?"

Her cheeks turned rosy. "We stayed up all night talking."

"You didn't have time to...?" I wiggled my fingers suggestively.

"No! It's not like that."

"I thought...," I said, a little confused. "I mean... I thought you
two were... you know..." I studied her face. "Have things changed?"

"No, we talked about that," Wren said. "We're both still
interested, but it's not like we fool around every night."

"Why not? If you were my roommate, _I'd_ fool around every night.
Sometimes twice!"

"I wouldn't let you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like you anymore." She was lying, and we both
knew it.

"Anyone you _do_ like?" I asked. "Any guy, I mean."

"Besides you?"

"I thought you didn't like me anymore."

"I lied."

On impulse, I put my arm around her and pulled her close. She
rested her head on my chest. "I hate being lonely," she said
after a long moment.

"You're not lonely. You have me and Christy... Ash... Zoe... lots of
people." I lifted her chin and smiled down at her. "See?"

"Yeah, but you all have other people. Well, except for Trip, but
he just broke up with someone. The rest of you do, though. I
mean, you have Kendall, Christy has Simon, even if he _is_ a
loser, and Zoe has Peter. Ash is hot for some guy in Chicago, so
I'm pretty much the odd woman out."

"You're not really that odd," I teased. "You're pretty much
symmetrical."

"'Symmetrical'? What kind of compliment is that?"

"Well, you _are_," I said, and pointed to her chest.

"Is that all you think about?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"How would you like it if I said your balls are 'symmetrical'?"

I tried to look solemn as I groped between my legs. "Hey," I said
all of a sudden, "I think you're right!"

She rolled her eyes. "That still doesn't help _me_ any."

"You'll find somebody."

"Easy for you to say."

I smiled and gently pulled her against me. Then I kissed the top
of her head.

She sat up a few minutes later. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"Oh, I don't just 'put up' with you. I actually kinda like you."

She smiled, but it was sad.

"Seriously," I said. "You'll find someone."

"But I want him _now_. I mean, you have no idea how horny I am."

My eyebrows shot up.

"I think I'll go back to my apartment and... you know. Wanna join
me?"

"Um... I'd love to, but..."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, "I know. You have to meet Kendall for
lunch."

She sounded so bitter that I didn't know what to say, so I kept
my mouth shut.

"Sorry," Wren said. "I guess I was just being hateful."

"That's okay. I understand."

She didn't go back to her apartment after all. Instead, we sat
and talked until Siobhan's class let out. Then we returned our
release forms and walked back to Andy Holt together. At the door
to her apartment, she stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"For being my friend." She was still horny, but she was being
nice.

"You're welcome." I grinned as a thought struck me. "Say hi to
Rosy for me."

Her face went slack with disbelief. "Go!" she said when she
recovered. "Leave!"

She was trying to look angry, but I knew her better. I grinned,
insufferably smug.

"I mean it! Don't come back."

She didn't mean a bit of it, so I pulled her against me and
kissed her, hard. She sighed and melted in my arms, her body soft
and supple. When I finally broke the kiss, her breathing was
heavy, her nipples stiff with arousal.

"What was it you said to me?" I said wryly. "'That should give
you something to think about'?"

"You're so mean."

"But you like me anyway."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't deny it.

"Really," I said with a grin, "say hi to Rosy for me."

"Twice?" she said.

"If you can manage it."

"You're going to drive me _insane_."

"Probably."

Her expression softened. "Go," she said at last. "Go meet your
other woman. Your _girlfriend_." She was being melodramatic.
"That's okay! I don't mind."

I smiled and turned toward the elevator. Then I heard the sound
of her deadbolt.

_Have fun,_ I thought with a touch of regret. _Sorry I can't
help._

-----

Kendall and I didn't make it to the dining hall for lunch.
Instead, I practically dragged her to my apartment. I didn't tell
her why I was in the mood, but she didn't care. We didn't even
bother with foreplay, and had sex against the wall in my bedroom.

After we straightened our clothes, we kicked off our shoes and
slouched on the bed. We had the rest of the afternoon together,
so we weren't in a hurry. Even better, it was a perfect time to
talk about the rules of our relationship. I hadn't rehearsed the
conversation in my head, so the words came slowly.

"Now that we're back at school," I began, "it's probably not such
a big deal, but we need to talk about our relationship."

"What about it?"

"We need some rules."

"Rules?"

"Well, rules if we're apart. You know, like what's allowed and
what's not. Gina and I talked about it when we first started
getting serious. We had rules about things. Mostly sex."

"Of _course_ you had rules with Gina... she'd spread her legs for
anyone."

I blinked. "Um... that's not what I meant. We just had rules for
how far we could go if the other wasn't there. Like, you know, if
I'm at a party by myself and a couple of swingers invite me to
join them"--practically the truth--"what should I do? Can I have
sex with them? Fool around? Or do I have to just watch?

I continued, "Or, if there's a girl you want to bring to bed with
us, but she wants to fool around with you first. That kind of
thing."

"First of all," Kendall said, "I'm not likely to meet a woman I
want to bring to bed. I'm not a sorority slut like Gina. I have
sex with women because _you_ want me to."

I tried to hide my look of surprise. That certainly wasn't why
_I_ thought she did it.

"Really, Paul, women don't get me hot like you do."

"But... what about Felicia?" I said. Kendall and I met her
together, and had a threesome the same night. Kendall had been
drunk--and high on cocaine, which still bothered me--but she'd
made the suggestion in the first place.

"What about her?" Kendall said. "She was part of a fantasy. We
had fun, but that's all. Besides, I don't spread my legs for just
anyone, so why do we need rules? Seriously, I'm not like Gina."

_No kidding,_ I thought sarcastically. Gina wasn't mean-spirited
and petty.

"I talk to you about my fantasies before we do anything, and you
don't go to swinging parties without me." Her brow creased. "Why?
Did something happen at camp?"

I carefully schooled my expression. "The Raefords were there, and
they invited me to party with them."

"You didn't, did you?"

"I didn't have sex with them," I said. It was literal half-truth,
but Kendall was too preoccupied to catch it.

"Good," she said.

"But what am I supposed to do if it happens again?"

"Did you _want_ to party with them?"

Was she psychoanalyzing me? Answering a question with a question?
"Of course I did," I said. "But I didn't have sex with them
because you and I hadn't talked about it." Another literal half-
truth, but one that avoided a histrionic reaction.

"Then what's there to talk about?" she said. "Just don't do it."
Her attitude was beginning to irk me.

"It's not that easy, Kendall."

"Then you can jerk off. Paul." Now _she_ was getting testy.

"That's not how Gina and I did things," I said. It was the wrong
answer, and I knew it as soon as I said it.

"Why should it matter how Gina did things?" she fumed. "She was
an amoral slut, and she used everyone around her, just like the
rest of those... those... _bitches!_ How can you even _think_ I'm
like them?"

"I didn't say you were."

"Then why did you bring her up?"

"I was talking about rules for our relationship!"

"Why? I do everything you want. Your precious _Gina_ never did."

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"What about shaving?"

"What about it?"

"She never did--_never!_--even though she knew you liked it."

That wasn't true, but I wasn't going to argue. "So?"

"Well, _I_ know you like it, so I do it. And I have sex with
other women because you like it. We have threesomes because you
like it. Even group sex. I do everything you want, Paul.
Everything. So why do you want a different set of rules? Are you
saying I don't take care of you? Is that it?"

_Did she just turn the argument around and make it_ my _fault?_
"You take good care of me." _When it's convenient for_ you_, that
is._

"Of course I do. More than _she_ ever did."

It took an act of will not to scowl.

"So... what?" she said. "Do you want to have sex with other women?
Without me?"

"No, of course not. I just want to know what our boundaries are.
Is sex off limits? How about fooling around? Kissing? Wha--?"

"Of _course_ kissing is off limits. That's the most intimate
thing we do! Sex is just sex, Paul, but I don't want you kissing
someone else."

I fought to control my emotions. Whether I liked it or not, this
was a start. "Okay," I said, as calmly as I could, "what about
fooling around?"

"Do you want to create a checklist?"

"What?"

She pantomimed a clipboard and a pen. "You can do this, but not
that. This is okay, but this and this are off limits." She
snorted. "That's not what love is about, Paul."

"Okay, Kendall," I said, coldly furious, "what _is_ it about?"

"Trust."

"And communication," I said, "which is what we're doing now."

"No, what you're doing is comparing me to Gina."

"Forget I even brought her up. I just wanted to talk about _our_
relationship, yours and mine, and get a few things worked out."

"Then don't compare me to... her!"

"Okay, fine. Can we start over?"

"Sure! Let's just forget all this happened," she said
sarcastically. "Sorry, Paul, it's not that easy."

"Kendall, I just want to talk about our relationship. We need
some rules."

"You want rules?" she said, her voice rising. "Okay, I'll give
you some rules. Rule #1: no sex with another woman unless I say
so. Rule #2, see rule #1. Period. The end. Are you happy now?"

I was silent for a long moment as she caught her breath. I was
tempted to say something I couldn't take back, but that would
only make things worse. Instead, I took a deep breath. "Why are
you so upset?" I said at last.

"Because I'm not a manipulative slut like Gina."

_Wanna bet?_

"And I resent being compared to her. I'm not some narcissistic
whore."

_Neither is Gina, you stuck-up--!_ Deep breath. I blew it out
through puffed cheeks.

"No, you're not," I said, as reasonably as I could. "I'm sorry I
brought her up. I shouldn't have compared you to her." _But
that's_ not _what I was doing._ "I'm with _you_ now, and that's
all that matters."

She accepted my apology with a nod.

The fight was over, but I was more frustrated than ever.

-----

I called Kendall on Saturday morning. We'd been cordial since our
argument, but things were still tense.

"Hi," I said when she came to the phone.

"Hi yourself."

"Did your parents get here okay?"

"Last night," she said. "I stopped by--they're in their usual
spot--but I didn't stay long."

"What did you tell them about me?"

"I said you had to work late on a project."

"Oh. Thanks."

"They want us to stop by before the game," she said.

"Yeah, of course," I said. "And then after the game, maybe we
could go to dinner. Just the two of us, I mean. I thought we
could get dressed up and have a real date for a change."

"That sounds nice," she said. "It'll be romantic."

We talked for another minute, and made plans to meet at her
parents' RV.

"Hey," Trip said when I returned to our room, "you're going to
the game with Kendall, right?"

I nodded. "Why?"

"I thought we could all get together afterward. Wren was telling
me about this band she saw in Atlanta. They're playing on the
Strip tonight. You up for a concert?"

"Sorry, man," I said. "I'm taking Kendall to dinner."

He understood at once. "Ah, okay."

"I wish I could...," I said, but left it at that.

"That's cool," he said. "I'll tell Wren. A bunch of us are going,
so it's casual. And... um... I'll probably be back late. Just in case
dinner turns into detente."

I laughed. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

-----

I made reservations at a French restaurant a couple of miles from
campus. We had to eat late because of all the people in town for
the football game, but the timing made things seem continental,
which added to the air of romance.

Kendall wore a deep blue evening dress that showed off a healthy
expanse of cleavage. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, and the
sexual heat built as dinner progressed. She felt it too, and
didn't object when I fondled her a couple of times on the drive
home.

I couldn't wait until we reached campus, so I pulled into a
deserted parking lot and chose a spot away from the lights. She
didn't have to ask what I was doing--she simply tugged her
panties over her long legs as I unzipped my pants. Without words,
she straddled my hips and sank onto my erection. The sex was fast
and intense, over in minutes, with both of us panting from the
speed of it.

"Oh my goodness," she said at last, "we needed that."

I nodded. "Do you want to go back to my place and take our time,
Miss Payton?"

"I'd _love_ to, Mr. Hughes."

We untangled ourselves and straightened our clothes. Her dress
had survived with only a few wrinkles, but my suit pants would
need dry-cleaning. I grinned as I started the engine.

"Speaking of 'Mr. Hughes,'" she said, "can we look at the latest
pictures? You never told me about them. Do I look good? What did
Randi say? Has Trip seen them?"

"Um... about the pictures...," I said.

She glanced at me, more curious than upset.

"I didn't have a chance to get them developed," I said, a bit
sheepishly. "With the houses and all... I guess I forgot. Also,
Trip and Randi didn't really hit it off, so I felt funny taking
them to her, especially since she'd probably figure out who took
them."

"Oh," Kendall said. "I hadn't thought of that. You're probably
right."

"Yeah, sorry."

"That's okay. The fantasy was taking them in the first place."

"Exactly."

"Besides," she said, "we might have a chance to take some more,
and then you can have them all developed at once. I'm sure you'll
find someone who can do it."

"Sure."

"In the meantime," she said, her voice sultry, "I have you all to
myself. Once we get to your apartment, you can be a businessman,
and I'll be your high-priced hooker. We can..."

-----

We threw a party for Labor Day. Luke cooked two pots of gumbo
(spicy and _atomic_-spicy), and we all chipped in to buy beer.
All of our friends came, and Trip cranked up his big McIntosh
stereo. We attracted most of the people from our own floor, as
well as people from above and below. The party was so loud that
the campus police showed up.

They started to write a citation for the beer--UT was a dry
campus--but Trip and Luke talked them out of it. Well, Luke
actually _fed_ them out of it, and they even thanked us for the
gumbo when they left.

Unfortunately, some of our neighbors stayed until the wee hours
of the morning. Luke and a few diehards were still drinking in
the living room when Kendall and I went to bed at two o'clock.
She was drunk and horny, and wanted to have a threesome with
Trip.

I tried to talk her out of it, but she woke him anyway. He was
surly at first, but calmed down when she began playing with his
dick. I was a little miffed that she'd ignored me and woken him
anyway, but I was too horny to call her on it. Instead, I pushed
her shorts and panties down, and entered her from behind.

Trip was drunk enough that it took him a while to get hard, but
we switched places when he did. Kendall moaned when he entered
her, and she practically inhaled my cock. I let her suck me for
several minutes, and then had her lie on her back. I climbed
between her legs and fucked her while she sucked Trip. We
switched positions a couple of times, but nothing very creative.

"Come on my face," Kendall gasped at last.

Trip pulled his dick from her mouth and showered her with pearly
white droplets.

I kept fucking her until I felt my balls tingle. Then I pulled
out and knelt by her face. I pumped my shaft a couple of times
and then tensed as jets of pure pleasure coursed through my cock.
Kendall began playing with her pussy, and arched her back a few
seconds later

I sagged to the floor and looked at the others. Kendall panted
silently, her face covered in two men's semen. Trip lifted his
head and smiled, but he looked as tired as I felt.

"Wow," he said at last.

"No kidding," I said.

Kendall simply moaned as an aftershock made her shudder.

-----

Kendall was hung over the next morning, and she barely moved when
I climbed out of bed. I had a hangover too, but aspirin, water,
and two hundred push-ups helped. The steaming shower helped more,
and I felt almost human by the time I finished getting dressed.

The apartment was a disaster area, but we didn't have any
overnight guests, so I left Kendall in bed when Trip and I headed
downstairs to meet the others for breakfast. After Western Civ.,
I decided to hang out at Siobhan's studio.

Wren smirked. "You came to see me naked, didn't you?"

"Of course I did, but I need to study, too." I took out a book
and slouched into a chair.

"Do you want to study these?" she said as she opened her bra.

I glanced up. "Well, they _are_ nice."

"Still symmetrical?"

"Probably, but I'd have to do some measurements to tell for
sure."

We teased back and forth as she finished undressing. She arched
an eyebrow when she saw me glance at her trimmed pubic hair.

"I like the strip," I said.

"Well," she said, "if _you_ like it, that's definitely reason to
keep it." She was trying to sound sarcastic, but it didn't ring
true.

"Well," I said, "you know what I really like."

"Play your cards right and I might do it for you sometime."

"I'd like that," I said with a grin, "but I think Siobhan's
students would be a little... oh... surprised. You could model for an
anatomy class, though." I mimicked a stuffy professor: "Here you
see the _mons pubis_ and _labia majora_, with the _labia minora_
just visible in the cleft. If we spread the _labia_, we glimpse
the _clitoral hood_, and perhaps the _glans clitoris_ itself."

Wren blushed. "How do you know that stuff? The names and all.
Most guys..."

"I paid attention in Sex Ed." I thought of Susan and grinned. "I
had a good teacher, too, and _lots_ of practice."

She huffed. "Tease!"

"Yeah. But that's why you like me."

She stuck her nose in the air and donned her silk robe.

With a smug grin, I turned back to my book as she swept out of
the room.

-----

I thought it would take a while to get back into the routine of
school, but it wasn't much different from the summer. I woke up
an hour later, and the hot water never ran out, but little else
changed. Trip and I went through our morning routine, and Jeff
took a shower after I finished. (Luke had afternoon classes, so
he never got up before noon.)

Jeff and Meredith joined us for breakfast with Christy, Wren, and
Ash. Even though our apartments had kitchens, we all had meal
plans, so it was easier to leave the cooking and clean-up to the
cafeteria staff.

Unfortunately, cafeteria food made me worry about my weight. I
still did my morning workout while Trip was in the shower, but I
didn't want to undo things with a fattening breakfast, so I stuck
to cereal and toast.

Wren teased me about it--she said I ate like a girl--while
Christy merely shook her head in wry amusement. She mostly ate
fruit, and sometimes oatmeal. She wasn't a vegetarian, but she
came close. In spite of that, she ate more than any of us.

One day I watched her eat a bowl of strawberries, a banana, an
orange, four slices of cantaloupe, a bowl of oatmeal (with butter
and brown sugar), _and_ a blueberry muffin. It took her almost
forty-five minutes to do it, but she was halfway through her
second muffin when we had to leave for class. On top of that, she
carried snacks in her backpack.

Three days a week, she had a break from nine to ten o'clock, so
she studied on the bench outside the computer lab. Since her Art
Education class was down the hall from my History of Architecture
class, we walked together, and then met afterward for the walk
down to Siobhan's studio.

Christy was actually taking the Life Drawing class again, for
credit. I asked her about it, and she explained that her degree
requirements allowed students to repeat certain classes, some up
to four times.

"But I'm taking it again because I need my portfolio review
before I can take 300-level sculpture classes next quarter," she
said. "Right now, I'm taking as many cross-discipline
requirements as I can. I still have to take Painting and
Printmaking, but my whole senior year should be full-time
sculpture.

"Siobhan says I should do an independent study in casting," she
continued, "but I'm not so sure. I don't know if I want to
specialize in bronze or marble. Which do you think is better? I
just love bronze--it's so beautiful and warm--but it takes a
small foundry if I want to pour my own castings. Marble is a
little easier, and maybe more classical, but even pneumatic
chisels are hard on my hands. Still, I-- Oh, gosh... I'm chattering
again, aren't I?"

I couldn't help but chuckle.

She made a face and threw a carrot stick at me.

I caught it and ate it. Impudently.

She ignored me and picked up where she left off. Believe it or
not, I understood her dilemma, and we had a lot of conversations
like that as we walked between classes. Sometimes we talked about
art, sometimes architecture, sometimes both together.

She never did decide whether she liked bronze better than marble,
or vice versa, but the question was like me having to choose
between Beaux-Arts and Art Nouveau.

-----

Wren hung out in Siobhan's office when it was my turn to model. I
wasn't surprised, even when she started teasing me as I took off
my clothes. She wanted payback for two weeks of me teasing her. I
couldn't blame her, so I tried to bear it in good grace.

"Are you ready for number fifteen?" she said with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"You know," she said, "Christy and her sketchbook. She has
fourteen pictures of your, ahem, equipment. Now you can pose for
number fifteen." Her eyes flashed. "Will you show her how big it
really is? You know she's only seen it hard that one time, and
only for a second."

"Wren, please don't start," I said. "It's not a problem for you
to walk out there horny--it's different for girls--but don't get
me worked up."

"Why not? You don't want them to see how well-hung you are?" She
moved toward me, her eyes smoldering.

"Wren, please..." I backed into a small work table.

"Please what?" she said as she ran her finger down my chest.

I belted my robe and then gripped her shoulders. I should've
grabbed her _hands_ instead, because she reached under the short
robe. I almost jumped when she wrapped her fingers around my
dick.

"Please what?" she said again, feigning innocence. "Please play
with you?"

"No," I rasped. I cleared my throat and pulled her hands away.
"Please don't."

"Do you want me to suck you instead?"

"No!"

"You don't?"

"Okay, you know I do," I said, "but that's against the rules."

"A handjob isn't against the rules," she said.

"Yes, it is," I said. She reached for me again, but I blocked
her.

"Payback is hell, isn't it?"

Before I could answer, Siobhan opened the door. She saw us and
immediately turned pink. "Whenever you're ready, Paul," she said
with her eyes averted. "Take a moment if you need to."

"No," I said, "I'll be right there." My voice didn't sound too
steady.

Wren made a show of moistening her lips.

"Jeez," I said, "you really _are_ evil."

"Mmm hmm."

I finally pulled away from her. My dick was only semi-hard, but a
gentle breeze would've caused it to spring erect.

I thought I'd be safe when I walked into the circle of easels,
but one look at Christy and all I could think about was her
sketchbook. She gave me a quizzical look, and I hurriedly glanced
away.

_Gentle breeze, my ass!_

Treacherous organ.

I bent my erection to the side and held it against my thigh,
hidden by the robe. Siobhan unintentionally came to my rescue as
she talked about drawing the male physique. I closed my eyes and
thought about nuns playing baseball.

It worked, sort of.

When Siobhan finally asked me to disrobe, my dick was back to
semi-hard. It was a far cry from completely limp, but at least it
wasn't ramrod straight. Christy almost ruined things--she was
chewing her pencil, and her pink lips formed a bow. I immediately
thought of them wrapped around my cock.

I tore my eyes away at the same moment she realized what she was
doing. My cheeks practically glowed, and her bronze skin had gone
rosy. Our eyes met, but we quickly looked away.

I spent the next thirty minutes trying to think of anything but
number fifteen. I wasn't entirely successful, but I didn't
embarrass myself. When Siobhan finally let me go, I did my level
best not to bolt for the safety of the office.

Wren burst out laughing when she saw my hunted expression. I
glared, but she didn't care.

"You're really cute when you panic," she said.

"Gee, thanks."

She decided to be nice, so she handed me my boxers. I put them on
and quickly pulled my jeans after them.

"I don't know why I tease you so much," she said when I finished
dressing. "I adore you, of course, but I think it's more than
that."

"Oh?"

She shrugged. "I trust you, I guess."

"So my reward is constant torment?"

"Crazy, huh?"

-----

After Life Drawing, the girls and I walked back to Morrill for
lunch. Trip met us there, along with Zoe and Peter. I said
goodbye and went to find Kendall. We ate together every day,
mostly in the cafeteria, but sometimes in her apartment.
Unfortunately, she usually had to cut things short to read
something for her afternoon English class.

Three days a week, Design class occupied the rest of my
afternoons. The class was always interesting, but it was a four-
hour grind. Worse, Joska had given me a special reading list,
just as I'd predicted. The biographies were of people I
recognized, but not household names like Frank Lloyd Wright and
Philip Johnson.

In addition to my reading list, I had to work with Freddie. He
knew the basics, but he didn't pay attention to the little
things. I think Joska assigned him to me as an object lesson.
Christy laughed and told me it was karma. Whatever it was, I
spent more time looking over his shoulder than I did on my own
drawings.

Freddie grumbled about my nitpicking, but I didn't cut him any
slack. Worse, I wanted to _throttle_ myself when I said things
like, "That's not good enough, Freddie, it has to be perfect," or
"You'll have to do better, Mr. DeFeo." I changed the last to,
"You can do better, Freddie," but the message was the same: do it
again, and keep doing it until you get it right.

When I wasn't helping Freddie, I still had my own drawings to do.
Joska wouldn't cut _me_ any slack just because I had to help
Freddie too. So I stayed after class to work in the lab, bent
over my drafting table with my pens and drafting machine.

For whatever reason, I never felt like complaining, except once.
I'd spent two late nights in the lab, and wasn't looking forward
to a third. I said something about all my extra work not being
fair, but Joska gave me one of his inscrutable expressions. Then
he began a quote by Michelangelo: "'If people knew how hard I
have to work...'"

I finished for him, "'...it wouldn't seem wonderful at all.'" I had
paraphrased, but my memory was as good as his. I just didn't have
as many things in it. Yet.

He smiled, and his expression actually softened. "Does it still
seem wonderful, Mr. Hughes?"

I had to stop and think about it, but I said, "Yeah, it does.
Believe it or not." He didn't even scowl when I forgot the "sir"
in my exhaustion.

"It doesn't get any easier, Mr. Hughes. You can quit at any
time."

"What," I said, half-loopy from lack of sleep, "and miss the
opportunity to use that McDonald's application for my graduation
speech?"

Evidently, he hadn't forgotten my boast either, and he actually
smiled.

"I know," I said at last, "I _can_ quit any time. But I won't."

"We'll see," he said aloud, but something in his eyes said he
believed me.

When he posted the next class standings for the second-year
students, I was still in second place, but I had closed the gap
with Gracie to five points. Still, with Joska's take-no-prisoners
grading, five points might as well be a hundred.

To add insult to injury, Gracie's designs had a flair I couldn't
match. I was good, but she was better. She worked harder too. I
could make up for the work, but I couldn't seem to match her
talent, which was frustrating.

I wasn't exactly happy with second place, but second out of
eighty-nine wasn't bad. Trip was in nineteenth place, and poor
Freddie struggled to reach the mid-seventies, even _with_ my
help.

-----

My Tuesday-Thursday schedule was fairly relaxed by comparison:
breakfast with the gang, a single class, and then modeling.

Wren and I eventually came to an unspoken agreement: we flirted,
but we didn't take it further. She didn't like my "no kissing"
rule, especially when I told her how it had come about (I fudged
the details of the rest the argument), but she didn't try to
break the rules.

After modeling, we hung out in her apartment, and Christy joined
us once her Japanese professor realized that she spoke better
Japanese than _he_ did. He excused her from the language lab and
gave her a list of special reading topics instead.

I spent Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with Kendall. Trip had a
couple of classes, but he hung out with Christy and Wren when he
didn't. Luke was in class all afternoon, and Jeff was usually out
with Meredith, so Kendall and I had the apartment to ourselves.

Sometimes we studied or talked, but always after we had sex. Even
when I didn't feel like it, she coaxed me into it, usually with a
fantasy. One time I was a businessman who forced her to have sex
to get a job. Another time I was a professor, and she needed to
pass my class to keep her scholarship.

I was even a doctor once, and she was my patient. I thought that
was a little weird, because _she_ wanted to be the doctor, but
she wasn't interested when I offered to be the patient instead.

Another time, she wanted me to be a police detective. I was
supposed to "interrogate" her from behind and then make her suck
my dick until I came on her face. She really got into it, and had
several mini-orgasms before the big one hit.

As we relaxed afterward, I teased her about wanting to have sex
with her father. She denied it, vehemently, but I knew she was
lying. The sex was too hot for an innocent fantasy, although she
stuck to her story. I didn't want a fight, so I didn't push
things.

We had regular sex most of the time, but she enjoyed the fantasy
sex more. I did too, but sometimes I just wanted to have sex with
my girlfriend, as myself. She usually got her way, though, since
she could be _incredibly_ convincing when she wanted to be.

Our post-sex conversations were completely mundane, forgettable.
I wanted to talk about the rules again, but she turned things
around and made it seem like _my_ problem, so I quit bringing it
up.

I also had Mom and Susan's questions in the back of my mind. I
thought Kendall would want to talk about our future, but I was
wrong.

"I can't think about _anything_ until I finish medical school,"
she said. "That's the most important thing in my life right now.
It has to be. Don't you see?"

I did see, but I had the crazy idea that _I_ should be a priority
every once in a while. I didn't expect to be the center of her
world, but I wanted to feel like I was part of it. Since I still
had to finish my degree, plus three years of internship, I wanted
to discuss our plans for the future.

She shut me down without even trying. Her exact words were: "I
don't see why you need to plan things out, Paul. All you have to
do is plod along and they'll hand you a degree."

I was _furious_, but she tried to placate me with explanations:
she wasn't talking about _me_, she wasn't thinking when she said
it, she was under a lot of stress, and so on. I eventually calmed
down, but her comment--completely offhand--was pretty revealing.

-----

Freddie and I worked together on Saturday mornings. He didn't
like it, but I began to see improvement in his work. Even better,
I had to stay one step ahead of him, which helped my own work.

Kendall and I went to one football game together, but then the
team had an open date followed by an away game. She had a
psychology study group on Saturdays, so I spent most of my time
in the design lab. Gracie Fisher was there, as well as most of
the serious students from our design class.

Trip had to work on marketing projects for another class, and I
rarely saw him on Saturdays. Wren had taken the same class, so
they spent a lot of time together in the library. Christy usually
joined me in the lab after Freddie fled. Sometimes she sketched
me, or the other people, but mostly she drew sculptures for my
buildings.

One day, I sketched a Beaux-Arts building and included plinths
for statues at each end of the arcade. Christy flashed a smile
when she saw what I'd done, so I added a pedestal and fountain in
front of the building. She reached for one of my pens and quickly
roughed in a statue of three nymphs.

I made room for her at the table--she was small enough to stand
in front of me, and I could draw around her--and we began drawing
together. I finished the portico while she refined her water
nymphs. We nearly jumped in surprise when someone spoke from
behind us.

"That's very good, Mr. Hughes," Joska said. "You have an
excellent grasp of the style."

"Thank you, sir." I didn't even think to ask why he was in the
lab on a Saturday--he just _was_.

"Have you thought about adding wings to balance the central
arcade? Your colonnade is fairly tall, on top of the vaulted
foundation structure, and that creates a disproportionate
facade."

I looked at my drawing, a little nonplussed. Then I felt
sheepish. "Um... the paper isn't big enough."

"Excuse me?" he said.

"The paper isn't big enough," I tried to explain. "The building
is bigger in my head, but I had to narrow my field of vision to
include room for Christy's fountain and arcade statues."

"Ah, yes," Joska said. Then he looked at Christy. "And you are...?
Miss...?"

"Carmichael," she said smoothly.

Joska could be haughty and supercilious, but he was all charm
when she smiled at him.

"I've seen you in here with Mr. Hughes," he said, "but..."

She picked up the cue. "I'm an artist, one of Siobhan O'Riordan's
sculpture students."

"Ah!" he said in surprise. "So you're _that_ Miss Carmichael."

She actually blushed.

"Professor O'Riordan speaks very highly of you," he said.

"Thank you," Christy said politely. "I'm very lucky to study with
her."

Joska's gray eyes actually _twinkled_, and then he smiled.

I was nearly beside myself--she had charmed him! Five minutes
after meeting him, and he was smiling like a schoolboy!

_There ain't no justice._

His smile lingered as he gave our drawing another once-over.
"Excellent work, Mr. Hughes. You too, Miss Carmichael." He looked
at me, but I preempted him.

"I know," I said wearily, "I'll have to do better."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," he said. Then he
actually _chuckled_ as he walked off.

I looked at Christy and shook my head in silent wonder. Maybe he
wasn't such a hardass after all. All it took was a girlish smile
and bright blue eyes.

-----

Sundays were the one day I could relax, although I still had
things to do, like clean the apartment and do laundry. Christy
went to Mass early, but then she and Wren did their laundry with
Trip and me.

The four of us spent the afternoon in the girls' apartment,
relaxing and shooting the breeze. Trip usually brought his
guitar, and played songs in the background. Sometimes he played
ones he'd written, or worked on new ones. He was really good, and
the girls enjoyed the music.

Kendall had a study group with other pre-med students on Sunday
evenings, so Trip and I went to the HPER building to work out
together. The weight machines were across the floor from Christy
and Wren's aerobics class, so we enjoyed the sight of girls in
leotards, legwarmers, and little else.

Much to my surprise (and delight), Wren actually looked _better_
in a skintight leotard. It covered her completely, but revealed a
lot at the same time, and my imagination filled in the details.

Christy looked just as good--she'd been a gymnast and diver in
high school--although her body was a lot curvier than I expected.
Her breasts were fairly small, but firm and round, and her slim
waist flared to narrow hips.

The girls usually hung around after their class, waiting for Trip
and me to finish our workout. Then we headed back to the
apartment, high on adrenaline and brimming with things to talk
about.

-----

September passed in a blur of routine, and I never called Earl
Walker to arrange flying lessons. I told myself it was because I
was busy, but the real reason was that I wanted to avoid an
argument with Kendall.

We still connected in bed, but neither of us were happy. Not
really. I'd hoped that spending time with her would fix things,
but we ended up having sex more than talking. When I mentioned
it, things changed for a couple of days, but we slowly went back
to our old routine.

In many ways, we led two separate lives. I spent more time with
_Wren_ than Kendall (which Wren was "kind" enough to point out).
I tried saying no to sex, but Kendall was sullen and irritable
when I did. Besides, _I_ wanted it as much as she did, and I
didn't like playing mind games with her.

I didn't know what else to do, but I was running out of patience.

Stacy came to the rescue when she called about her wedding. It
was on a Saturday, but Kendall and I needed to be there by
Thursday. I had a tux fitting, and Kendall needed to meet the
dressmaker for final alterations. We also had to be at the
rehearsal, as well as dinner afterward.

"But the real fun starts later," Stacy finished.

Kendall and I were standing with our heads together, the phone
between us. We pulled back and looked at each other, but then
almost knocked our heads together in a rush to listen to the
rest.

"Susan offered to let us have our bachelor-bachelorette party at
camp," Stacy continued. "We're using the hot tub and clubhouse,
as well as the rooms across the road."

"Sounds like fun," I said. I didn't want to jump to any
conclusions, but I was practically holding my breath in
anticipation.

"We invited Kara and Victor, but they can't make it till Friday.
Everyone else will be there, though. My maid of honor and the
best man--they're a couple--as well as two other couples in our
group here."

Kendall and I exchanged a look at the last phrase. We knew what
she meant--we _hoped_ we knew, at least--but we were both on
tenterhooks.

"Counting Jason and me, and you two, that makes ten of us. I
haven't told the others about you, since I wanted to speak to you
first, but I think you'll like our group. I'll let you talk it
over, but I think it'll be fun. I hope you'll join us."

"Absolutely!" "Of course we will."

"Well," Stacy said, amused, "I guess that was an easy decision."
Her voice turned warm. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you.
Jason too. We can't wait."

"Us too," Kendall said, and I nodded.

"Great! I'll have your room ready when you get to camp, and we'll
have food in the kitchen."

"Sounds good."

"Okay, then. We'll see you next week."

"See you next week," Kendall and I said together.

We hung up and looked at each other.

"Are you as excited as I am?" she said.

It was a rhetorical question, but I nodded anyway. Heartily.

"I know we've had our problems lately," she said, "but we've both
been so busy."

I nodded again.

"This'll be a good time to rekindle our relationship." She
dithered for a moment, but then met my eyes. In a soft voice, she
said, "Paul, will you make love to me tonight?"

"Of course," I said, and pulled her into my arms.

-----

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