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Message-ID: <61216asstr$1309479001@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Couple - F" -- Uther -- MF pett
Lines: 1217
Date: Thu, 30 Jun 2011 20:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is copyright, 2011, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I
specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy
for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting
requires previous permission.

If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures
in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


Couple - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com



Marilyn Grant accompanied her parents to church her first Sunday back in
Evanston. Pete refused to go. Andy was there, but they didn't speak. He did
call that Tuesday, though. It was an invitation to a movie Saturday. They
set the time he'd come by.

"Is Marilyn here?" It was Andy's voice Saturday night.

"One more minute," she called She had her eyes on, but not her lips.

"Come in," Dad said in his most parental voice. "I think we should establish
some guidelines." God! Was this 1976 or 1876? Dad sounded just like he had
when she was in junior high. She closed the lipstick on her way down the
stairs.

"You want guidelines," she started shouting before she was halfway down.
"I'll give you some. One: I am fucking-well an adult. Two: I choose my own
friends." By this time she was in the living room. She walked towards Dad
very slowly and dropped her voice, but not much.  "Three: I decide my own
rules. Four: I decide my own hours. Five..." And now she was in full voice
again. "Butt! Out!"

"Come on, Andy," she said more quietly. She swept out the door without
giving him a chance to open it for her. His car was backed into the
driveway.

He opened the door for her. She noticed that it was a Buick. The guy had no
fanciness about him, but he came from money. He got in and started the car.

"Stop somewhere. I haven't put on my lipstick yet."

"You didn't get that mad at your sisters for asking me questions."

"Well..." She hadn't blown up at them, but she'd decided that they wouldn't
run her life.

He pulled into a parking space, and she pulled the rear-view mirror around
where she could see her lips. He clicked on the overhead light.

"You know," he said, "your father loves you. It worries me to see you so mad
at somebody who loves you. Will that happen to me?"

"Well, if you still love me fifteen years from now, love that Marilyn. He
treats me like I was five."

"Sixteen, maybe. Look, I've got Kleenex in the back. Want some?"

"S'okay. I've got some here." Finished with her makeup, she pulled out a
tissue and blotted the lips.

He got them to the theater, and the movie was all right. When the hero
picked the heroine up in his arms, it looked like a hell of a lot more
effort than Andy used on her. She patted the hand over her shoulder on that
thought. The parking spot he found was nice and shaded from the
streetlights. His hand went to her neck and he massaged her there. She
started to melt. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose.

"Marilyn." He always made her name sound special. He kissed her full on the
lips, holding her neck and the back of her head while he did so. When their
tongues met, she melted completely.  His hand cupped her tit quite gently.
The thumb stroked over her nipple so softly that it didn't irritate through
blouse and bra. When he broke the kiss, he moved her head with his other
hand. He kissed the corner of each eye and then sucked her ear lobe. She
reached hungrily for his head to make him return to the deep kiss. His mouth
and his hands left her feeling wonderful. Yet, when he started the car, she
had no more energy than a soggy tissue.

He got out of the car to open her door and walked her up to the porch.
Standing two steps below her feet, he touched her shoulder. She turned, and
he kissed her again on forehead, nose tip, and mouth. His hand ran down her
back to her butt. She swayed towards him, but they couldn't really hug where
they were standing. She turned around, opened the door, and locked it. If
Pete were out, and he probably was on a Saturday night, he had his key.

She'd been sitting down for hours. Why did she feel like she was dragging
herself up the stairs? She'd forgotten the ugly start of the evening until
Mom called from her and Dad's room.

"Did you have a nice time, dear?"

"Shh," she stage whispered. "I don't want them to hear you, Andy." She could
hear Dad's chuckle from her parents' room. Pete, on the other hand, stuck
his head out his door. What was Pete doing home this early on a Saturday
night?

Sunday, she was up, showered, dressed, and fed well in time to leave with
her parents for church. The liturgist was a high-school kid, a year older
than Pete; Reverend Lawrence was making some changes. As they left the
service, Andy came up to them.

"Mr. Grant. I'm Andy Trainor." Dad grunted affirmatively. "There were really
two questions. Is Marilyn an adult capable of judging her associates and
free to decide upon her friends? And am I a serial killer stalking your
daughter for my next victim?" As if murder were what was on Dad's mind.
"Well, the first question being decided in the affirmative, I don't at all
mind setting your mind at ease with respect to the second. After all, I'm
only one of several men Marilyn dated at U of I. I'm likely to be the only
one of them you'll ever meet."

"Well," Dad said, "then who are you?"

"I'm Andy Trainor, a member of this church. Once upon a time, I was a member
of the MYF chapter that Marilyn led. I'm an Electrical Engineering student
at the U of I. What more do you want to know?"

"What fraternity do you belong to?"

"I don't belong to any. I live in a dorm, and never tried to pledge."

"Don't you think you're missing out on part of college life?" Dad still
sounded hostile.

"Well, what I want out of college is to be trained for the career I've
chosen. I don't see how being paddled will prepare me for that career."
Right now, Andy was getting an edge to his voice too. It was still light,
but *she* could hear the effort he was putting in to keep it light.

"Do you think that becoming an engineer is really being educated?"

"A college education, most certainly. That is the advantage of passing a
college course. You know that you've absorbed all that the powers that be
consider part of that section of knowledge."

"But that 'section of knowledge' isn't something that everybody has to
know."

"That's certainly true. It is, however, something that *somebody* has to
know. We don't all have to know brain surgery, but it's damn convenient to
have some brain surgeons around. Now take History. I passed the general
American History course. I could take another course in the history of the
Civil War. But, if I did that, I'd have to learn all about the War in the
east. I happen to be interested in the War in the west -- it was mostly east
of the Mississippi, but contemporaries considered anything west of the
Alleghenies as west.

"Anyway..." Andy dragged himself away from his hobby. "Anyway, I can read
books to learn lots and lots about what interests me. Since I don't want to
teach History, I don't need to learn the other stuff. Marilyn is different.
She can't go into the classroom and tell her students, 'Short stories bore
me; we're only going to study poetry.' But, if somebody just wants to read,
he can read only poetry, or only novels, or only detective stories. Well..."
But Dad cut him off.

"That man isn't educated, reading only detective stories." He was huffing,
and some others on the sidewalk were trying not to look. Nobody seemed in a
hurry to go home, though. Suddenly Marilyn had a vision of two bull moose
locking antlers for the right to the doe. The image was demeaning, and -- in
Dad's case -- obscene.

"And," Andy asked in a low voice, but one that sounded threatening, "is a
man in the 20th century really educated who doesn't know the theory of
special relativity?"

"Come on, Andy," she said. She locked her arm in his and started dragging
him away. "You're walking me home." Andy came, not even commenting that the
direction was away from her house. "Walk briskly and don't talk," she
whispered when they were far enough away from the crowd that she couldn't be
heard. He obeyed, and his brisk walk was hard to match. "Okay," she said
when they were farther away from the listeners, "you can slow down a
little."

"Well, you know how I feel. And starting on fraternities before going on to
the purity of a liberal education!"

"He was trying to find something wrong with you. If you'd been a member of
some rival frat, he'd have dug into you for that. Really, Mom always talks
about her sorority life. Dad doesn't harp on his frat background when he
isn't pawing the ground." The allusion flew past Andy, which was just as
well. She didn't want him to get a picture of covering the doe.

"I tried to be friendly."

"And so you did." If he hadn't tried for very long, that was really Dad's
fault. She ran her hand down his arm to his hand. At the next corner, they
turned and walked home like that. When they got to the porch, he stopped two
steps down, as usual.

"No," she whispered. "Come up here and lift me -- high." He did, and she
locked her legs around his waist. As he dropped his hands to her butt, she
hugged him around the neck and kissed him. Her face was above his this time.
As their tongues wrestled, she tightened her legs around him and thrust her
groin against him. When she became afraid he'd drop her, she let go with her
legs and straightened them. He bent over letting her slide down his body
until her feet met the porch.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too, but I don't understand you." That was fine. Let him
understand electrons. She turned, opened the door, and went in.

"Well," asked Mom, "what was that about?"

"What?" She was trying to sound innocent, not easy to do right after that
kiss.

"Last night, you had a chaste kiss on the front porch. I was supposed to
believe that was the only kiss in the ninety minutes after the movie let
out. The neighbors who didn't know where you'd gone, might possibly believe
that. This noon, after church not even a date, you come as close to making
love on the porch as one can come while still dressed."

"Mom! We were both standing up."

"Don't think that it can't be done standing up. Anyway, what brought that
on?"

"Dad was acting like a bull moose competing for the doe."

"I think it's a cow moose, dear. Anyway, was Andy behaving all that much
better?"

"I just wanted Dad to know which moose got the... Are you sure it's a cow?"

"I may be certain, dear, but don't you think an English major should look it
up for herself?" So, after dinner -- a dinner at which she and Dad didn't
exchange a word -- she did look it up. This was no easy task, but the
unabridged mentioned moose explicitly under their definitions of "cow." Mom,
as she often was on irrelevancies, had been right.

She'd reported on how nice Andy was in many letters. Strunk would have
criticized her for lack of particulars. The problem was that she didn't want
to tell Mom the particulars. Andy, for example, hadn't yet unbuttoned her
blouse -- hadn't even tried. Well, maybe she felt more strongly towards him
than that. Maybe she'd chosen him. At least, she could give him what she'd
given Colin after a much shorter period -- had it been six weeks? Could it
have been an even shorter time?

"Dear?" Mom said next day when the two of them were sharing lunch.

"What now?"

"Andy said he wasn't the only man you'd dated on campus. He was the only one
your letters mentioned."

"Well, you know how the actives run your life during rush period. There were
times when we hosted a frat, times when a frat hosted us, and not only
during rush. There were times when we went to all-U events, and they
arranged for pledges from a particular frat to escort us. How many of those
were real dates? I couldn't say. But there were certainly some that were. I
think I mentioned some of those before we got too busy."

"Well, the events, not the boys."

"The events were worth mentioning. the boys weren't." And that ended that
conversation.

She'd taken swimming for a reason. She went out to the beaches almost every
afternoon. She enjoyed the swimming, and the guys enjoyed seeing her in her
bikini. She enjoyed their enjoyment, too, but when anyone tried to be
friendlier, she brushed him away. She wished Andy were there to see her, but
he wasn't.

For their next movie, Thursday this time, she wore a sweatshirt. If she'd
worn a blouse, anyone could have seen that she wasn't wearing a bra. Andy
kept his hands on her shoulders through the movie. She was so deep in
anticipation, she could barely follow the plot.

After the movie, she pulled her sweatshirt out of her jeans before getting
in the car. When Andy pulled into the parking spot, he kissed her forehead,
the tip of her nose, her mouth. He was kneading the back of her neck gently
when his other hand touched her tit thorough her sweatshirt. He pulled his
face back from hers.

"Oh, Marilyn." She pulled his hand to the edge of the sweatshirt. He slipped
it inside and stroked up her abs to her tits. He cupped the right one. He
was incredibly gentle, but the skin on his hand was rough. "Oh, Marilyn," he
repeated. His mouth went back to hers. As the night went on, he cupped one
tit and then the other, he stroked his fingers all over her bare skin, with
special attention to her nipples. When he wasn't kissing her mouth, he was
kissing all over her face, forehead, cheeks, ears, temple, chin. The latter
required him to bend far over. She floated in bliss until her bladder got
her attention.

"Um, Andy, could you get me home?"

"Sure." He started the car and glanced at his watch before driving off.
"Oops! I think we took longer than I'd expected. You'll be late. Sorry. I
was enjoying myself too much."

"Well, I was enjoying myself, too." She opened the door on her side while he
was walking around to do it. But she could control herself for another
minute. He stopped two steps down, and they had another kiss. She was glad
that this didn't involve a hug, because that might have squeezed the piss
out of her.

"Good night, Marilyn. I love you."

"Love you, too." But she didn't prolong the goodbyes. She used the
downstairs john before climbing up to her room.

"Did you have a good time, dear," Mom asked as she walked past the door to
her parents' room. "We were worried about you."

"A lovely time. I'll call any time I'm not going to be back for breakfast."

"Now!" said Dad. Mom made shushing noises. When she got to her room and
checked, it wasn't 1:30 yet. Well, she'd go before she left the movie
theater after this.

Her grades came in the mail that Tuesday. It should satisfy Dad to see that
she'd got 2 A s and 3 B s. The A s were in English and History, too -- just
the subjects she had studied with Andy.

Wednesday afternoon, just as she was getting ready to go to the beach, she
answered the phone. It was Colin.

"Marilyn," he said, "we're both back in town. I was wondering if we could
get together."

She'd been thinking off and on over the year about her last date with Colin.
At the time, she'd thought he'd merely pushed too far. She'd since come to
the conclusion that he'd behaved much more badly. Only her response had kept
it from being date rape. Maybe it was the contrast with Andy; maybe it was
the influence of the campus feminists whom she mostly ignored.

"Well, Colin, we had a lot of good time. Because of them, I didn't report
you to the cops for attempted rape. That's my gift to you. I don't think I
also owe you another attempt."

"Marilyn, I'd never..."

"Colin, you did. As I said, I didn't report it. I think that makes us quits,
and I don't see any reason to get back together. And, I'll tell you one
thing, the next girl you try to force might not be so forgiving. You were
risking your entire future then. Don't take that risk again."

"But..."

"Goodbye." She hung up. In the five or ten minutes before she left for the
beach, the phone didn't ring again. Had she been too hard on him? Would she
have been that hard if she weren't seeing Andy? Well, she was seeing Andy,
and she had said what she had said. Maybe, just maybe, some girl at
Valparaiso would owe her for that warning.

Andy was clerking in a hardware store -- Mr. Schmidt's hardware store. He
had irregular hours, usually with one day off besides Sunday each week. They
arranged their dates accordingly. It was no problem. He, after all, had
scheduled their dates to allow time for her sorority activities. He often
called when he wasn't working nights.

"Look," he said on one of those calls. "You still go to church don't you?"

"Up here." She'd tried the college chaplain's service at U of I, and hadn't
liked it.

"Well, what would your parents think if we sat together?" They wouldn't
think much of it, but if they let Pete stay home as a 10th grader, there
wasn't much they could say.

"Sounds good."

"I'll be waiting for you." And, although Andy hadn't even mentioned it
Wednesday night, he was waiting for her when she walked in with her parents.
She couldn't claim to pay much attention to the sermon when sitting beside
him, but she was in church. On the way home, Dad raised a ruckus.

"Oh, come on. Pete's not even going, and you complain about where I sit. Get
over it. Andy's the one I studied English and History with, and those were
my A s. Stop pretending you're afraid he's wrong for me. The fact is that
he's good for me, and that's what bothers you."

"And, dear, did Andy do as well in those courses?" Mom asked. Well, she
hadn't asked. She did on the next phone call.

"Sure. You were great for me. Studying with you was quite helpful. I found
it more pleasant than helpful I'll admit, but it was helpful."

"And what of your other courses?"

"Also A s. C in Phys-Ed, but the rest A s. But English and History were what
had me worried. Calc and Physics were my subjects." They set a date for
Friday night. After the sweatshirt date, she had gone back to blouses. Andy
had unbuttoned her blouse and unsnapped her bra every time. He was getting
better at the latter task. The suspicion that he hadn't started with much
practice unsnapping bras made her happy and proud. She was starting to feel
possessive about this guy. Once he got to her skin, though, he was
unfailingly exciting. If he didn't have practice, even if he did, he had a
natural talent.

Andy's father met them coming out of the second service at which they'd sat
together. It was pouring, and Andy had taken off his suit coat to give her a
little protection. She was arguing against that.

"Look," his father said, "it's more practical than dropping it in a puddle.
Why don't I get the car, and we can give you a ride home?" He darted out
into the rain without waiting for an answer. When he honked, she and Andy
ran down the steps. The passenger side door swung open as they came near.
"She's in front. You're in back." So Andy helped her in -- getting drenched
the whole time -- and climbed in back.

"Jim Trainor," his Father said. He held out his hand.

"Marilyn Grant." The last time they'd spoken, she'd introduced him to her
parents. Why the new introduction? She shook his hand, though.

"May I call you Marilyn?"

"Sure."

"Then call me Jim." He started the car and drove away. "You know, we're
natural allies." She didn't know that at all. Still, his response to her and
Andy's sitting together was a welcome contrast to her parents'.

"How so?"

"I wanted Andy to go to church. Andy wanted to sit beside you. Now, Andy is
sitting beside you in church. I can't imagine that he pays all that much
attention to the sermon."

"Hey!" Andy said. "I'm back here, you know. Don't ignore me."

"But you sing the hymns, don't you?" Mr. Trainor continued.

"Yeah." This man was fascinating. She could see where Andy got some of his
quirks.

"Then he pays attention to the hymns. He might, as a byproduct, hear the
words, too. Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure."

"Don't agree until you've heard the request," Andy said from in back. "Bad
negotiating tactics."

"As he might have told you, I'm divorced. I have two daughters who are
coming to town soon. They'll be here for three weeks, the next three
Sundays. I would certainly appreciate it if the two of you would sit with us
those three Sundays. I like to pretend that I still have a whole family."

"Well..." Why didn't Andy give her a clue?

"You don't want to agree until you have his consent. That's understandable,
although I'll guarantee that he will sit where you decide. That's fine. He
can give me the answer. And, now, here's where I get out. Come into the
house, Andy and get an umbrella." They were in the driveway of Andy's house.
Mr. Trainor got out and ran for the door.

"Manipulative bastard," Andy said. He scrambled out of the back seat when
the house door was open. He returned in a minute with an open umbrella. He
got in the driver's side holding the umbrella open above the door. He closed
the umbrella and pushed it between the door and the back of the front seat.

"What's so bad about what he asked?" She certainly felt he'd been nicer than
her parents had.

"Nothing particularly bad. But he gets his way, and all you get is a ride
home."

"Is sitting with them such a strain on you?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I like to pretend we're one family, too."

"Then let's do it."

"Still, you should get something for it." They didn't live far apart, and
the car was sitting in her driveway. "Well, he's manipulative as hell, but
he's fair sometimes, too. Give him this, and he'll owe you."

"Not owe you?"

"He pays my tuition. As he's pointed out several times, he still has a
credit balance with me. Well, wait there a moment, and I'll come around."
And he walked her to her door sharing the umbrella. They had a kiss before
she gave him his suit coat back and went in.

Dinner wasn't particularly friendly. Pete was out, and her parents tried to
lay a guilt trip on her for not sitting with them. She felt happier and
happier about her arrangement with Mr. Trainor. What he asked as a favor,
Mom and Dad didn't even have the decency to offer. They still talked in
terms her sitting with them instead of with Andy.

The next movie date was a Tuesday. Andy had two evenings off that week. He
parked in an even darker spot than he usually could find.

"At the risk of using a cliche', do you want -- are you willing -- to move
to the back seat?" Well, what did the back seat mean? Not full sex, really
-- she'd barely fit; he wouldn't at all. Well, Andy would take no for an
answer -- even if they were in the back seat.

"Sure." Her door was on the street. She could hear him scrabbling through
brush. Then they were sitting side by side again. They had a kiss, and he
unbuttoned her blouse with his left hand.

"Duck!" he picked her up and set her on his lap facing forward. He kissed
her neck as soon as he'd unsnapped her bra. Then his hands were lifting her
tits while his fingers stroked across her nipples. "Oh, Marilyn."

"Me." He was kissing her neck, but she had nothing to kiss.

"Okay, but watch your head." The headroom wasn't that tight. She turned
sidewards on his lap then pushed up on his knees until she could get a leg
around his torso. She slid down his leg into his lap, and they had a long,
wet kiss. His thumbs stroked her nipples. "Oh, Marilyn."

He pushed her back until she was resting her neck on the back of the front
seat. Then he kissed her between her tits, then over each tit. She could
feel him hard right between her legs. There -- but for two pairs of jeans --
they would be having sex. As he started to suck on her nipples, she
wriggled. That moved her against his hard on. He stiffened, not only that
part. Well, he was trying to turn her on, after all. She kept moving back
and forth against him.

"Marilyn!" He sounded hoarse and desperate. Fine! She wanted desperate, and
she was fine with hoarse. Although his mouth had left her skin, she
undulated. His eyes were taking in her motions, and her crotch was rubbing
against his hard on.

"Marilyn!" He gripped her shoulders painfully. His belly undulated against
hers, pushing her further over the seat back. She could feel his hard on
throbbing. Then he sank back in the seat. She rubbed her shoulders with the
opposite hands. It was the first time he'd hurt her. She knew he was strong
-- he showed it every time he picked her up or took most of their luggage.
But this was the first time he'd ever hurt her with his strength.

"Did I hurt you?" Andy sounded sorry.

"Well, yes."

"I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you."

"It's not really your fault." It was -- really -- her fault. She'd been
trying to set him off. She was just glad, though, that it had been her
shoulders he was holding. That grip would have ruined her tits. "Just kiss
me again." He did, kissing first each of her shoulders -- not particularly
close to where it was sorest -- and then her mouth. He didn't seem to give
the kisses his entire attention though. At the end of the evening, he asked
her out for that Friday. They hadn't been having two dates in a week, if you
don't count Sunday services, before, but that was more a matter of his time
constraints than of her inclination. She accepted.

At home the next day, she thought about things. The bruises on her shoulders
were looking worse by the hour, and she didn't want to parade them on the
beach. They felt sore, too. She really couldn't blame Andy. She'd known what
she was doing -- deliberately driving him over the edge. If he hadn't paid
attention to where his hands were, neither had she. Actually, making him
come and then pretend he hadn't had felt nasty at the time. She'd been
teasing him, and he'd been embarrassed. Well, she'd been hurt, too. Maybe
she shouldn't have teased him. The lesson sounded like something she'd been
taught in Sunday school, but they would never use that example.

Friday, they got into the back seat again. She let him remove blouse and
bra. She climbed into almost the same position, but she knelt outside his
legs instead of sitting. That kept her a little distance back from his
crotch. If she felt less devilish, his kisses all over her tits made her
feel more aroused.

The next Sunday, they sat with Andy's family. Molly was going on 17. She was
tired of all limits, and Marilyn could remember that age enough to
sympathize with her. She could also remember that age well enough to agree
with Andy and his dad that the limits were damn-well necessary. She
expressed neither opinion, not wanting any enemies in this family. April was
just thirteen. She was losing her little-girl prettiness to acne without yet
having gained any young-woman shape to compensate. She was clearly Andy's
favorite. She sat on one side of Andy, and Marilyn sat on the other. There
was nearly half a pew on her right before the next couple could be seen.

At the end of service, they stopped where they weren't blocking anyone's
exit.

"Thank you very much, Marilyn," Mr. Trainor said. "Would you like to join us
for dinner after services next week?"

"I'd be pleased."

"What you're wearing now would look quite fine in the restaurant, but it
would be perhaps on the less formal end of what women would be wearing." His
father not only had all of Andy's considerate nature, he added some
sensitivity to style.

"Thanks again."

When Mom saw her in her pearls and the pearl clip-ons the next Sunday, she
tried to stop her. That was unfair.

"You're wearing earrings to church," she pointed out to Mom.

"I'm also a quarter century older than you are."

"Well, I'm going out after church."

"With Andy? You don't dress like that for McDonalds."

"With Andy and his family."

"I don't like that."

"Good!" Maybe she would learn that treating an adult like a baby had
unpleasant consequences. For that matter, let her imagine that she and Andy
would adjourn to a hotel room afterwards. At least she was dressed so that
they wouldn't call the cops from the front desk if she tried.

She looked quite appropriate in Manfredo's. "Trainor," Andy's dad said,
"party of five." The maitre d' looked in his book and escorted them to a
table. Again, the seating put Andy between her and April and Mr. Trainor
between his daughters, if the direction was reversed. At a round table, that
put Molly on her left.

"You look like a woman," Molly told her. "I look like a girl."

"Not really. You look like a teenager. You are one. In twenty years, you'll
be trying to look like one."

"Is that true? Do women start wanting to look younger? Have you reached that
stage yet?"

"Not really." Nor was she anything like 20 years older than Molly. But she
was old enough that she didn't want to be thought 15 years older than she
was. "I was a freshman in college. I wanted to be a senior. And, of course,
with my height I sometimes get taken for a much younger girl."

"I'll never be as tall as Molly." April sounded jealous. Marilyn almost told
her to wait, but a bit of comparison blocked that comment. She was probably
right.

"Well, you're already taller than I am. Believe me, short girls can have
fun. I get by, and Andy doesn't mind my height."

"Bet he doesn't pick you up, though."

"Bet he does." Andy, between them, was starting to blush.

"April," Mr Trainor said, "there are some subjects which aren't appropriate
to discuss in public -- especially in a restaurant."

"Well..." April wasn't satisfied.

"Your father's right, April," she said. "But, next week, after church, the
two of us will go off by ourselves. You can ask me then, and I won't be
embarrassed." April looked like a sweet kid, and -- more important -- her
opinion was certain to influence Andy's.

"Ask you anything?"

"You can ask me anything next week. I might not answer, but you can ask.
I'll answer what I can without embarrassing myself. I know a week is a long
time to wait, but you've been saying that you're growing up. Part of growing
up is learning how to wait when you want to do something right now." The
look that got her from Mr. Trainor conveyed real respect.

And, after church the next week, April remembered. It was the church of
Marilyn's youth, and she could find a hidden nook any time, but, since it
was a warm day, they went outside.

"Does he really pick you up?"

"You have to remember. This is a secret I'm telling you. You can't repeat
anything to anyone." At April's nod, she went on. "He has picked me up. He
doesn't do it in front of you, or in front of other people most of the
time."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. If I told him not to, he wouldn't do it." Now, why was she so certain
of that?

"When I told him I was too old to be picked up, he stopped."

"Well, you're not too old. Look at me. But he wouldn't do it if you didn't
want him to. When you told him that, did you want him to stop?"

"What does he do then." April had changed the subject.

"We kiss." In for a penny, in for a pound. Anyway, this girl was going to
accept her as Andy's girlfriend. "Sometimes, he puts me somewhere, like
standing on a chair, and then we kiss. Sometimes he holds me up and I hold
on to him and we kiss like that. That's why we do it in private."

"Does he like you?" Her voice made that seem like the key question. Now, if
only Marilyn had the answer.

"I hope so. I like him a lot. Indeed, I love him. Look, what's bigger, an
inch or a yard?" When that got no response, "After all, I answered harder
questions than that from you."

"A yard."

"And what's bigger, a gallon or a pint?"

"A gallon."

"Now, what's bigger, a yard or a gallon?"

"You're crazy!"

"Nope. I know that question has no answer. Well, you're Andy's sister and he
loves you. I'm his girlfriend and I hope he loves me. But those are
different kinds of love. You can't say one is bigger than the other any more
than you can say a yard is bigger than a gallon."

"You think he loves me?"

"It's obvious, April. You can see it clearly. Or, maybe, *you* can't see it,
but I can. Everybody else can. I know he loves you. I hope he loves me, too,
but it's a different kind of love."

"You think so?"

"I do. But, remember, you promised not to talk about this to anybody."

"Dad," Andy announced on the way to their next movie, "thinks you're much
too smart for me."

"Um... Which of us is on the dean's list?"

"Doesn't matter. The girls were both happier going back than either of us
can remember. I just wish that I could do something to impress your sisters
the way you impressed mine." Well, this was an entry, and she'd heard the
digs.

"Well, mine are superficial. April is much more mature...."  And wouldn't
the sorority love to hear that comparison to a junior-high kid? But, often,
it was true. "But, Andy, dealing with their superficiality... Do you own
more than three ties?"

"Um... Yeah. Did they notice the rotation?" They'd noticed the rotation. He
not only wore only three ties, he always wore them in the same order. "Well,
would you prefer me to wear more ties down there?"

"Yeah. They're totally superficial, but they have commented. And, if you
wear other ones, don't wear them always in the same order? Huh?"

"Can do. They really noticed?"

"They really noticed." Well, he took it with a smile, but Andy always took
everything with a smile. He seemed unbothered after the movie, though. They
made out until she had to go home to use the john.

The rest of the summer, and there wasn't much more, seemed to go like that.
She and Andy enjoyed each other; her parents disapproved quite
ineffectively; his father seemed to approve, if remotely.

She invited Andy to go to the beach with her on one of his days off. He
showed up at her house with a big towel, and she led him to her favorite
beach. When they skinned out of their street wear, he looked two-toned. He'd
obviously got some tan shirtless; his chest was almost as dark as his face
and arms. His legs, on the other hand, were pale.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said when he saw her bikini, just as if he hadn't seen her
in less -- on top at least -- on all those after-movie dates. She'd brought
sun screen, and they put it on each other. "Marilyn!" He sounded scandalized
when her hands went high on his thighs. Well, he was palest, and needed the
screen most, right there. He got a hard on, and pretended he hadn't. He was
so silly that way.

He wasn't too scandalized, however, to apply it to her legs when his turn
came. And he seemed to enjoy kneading it into her thighs, though you were
merely supposed to spread it over the skin. She was enjoying his method too
much to correct him. They were on a public beach, though, and didn't go any
further. When she went in swimming, she went out as far as the lifeguards
let people, and then swam north and south the length of the beach before
coming back. Andy only paddled a bit.

When she went back to campus early to prepare for pledge week, she thought
she would miss Andy for the week more than she would miss her family for the
four months.

She and the other sisters got back to campus more than a week before classes
were to begin. Friday night, she took a cab from the train station to the
Zeta house. There was a sign on the door, and several copies elsewhere in
the house.

      Please return to your old bed in your old room.
      This isn't for long, but it is necessary.
      Breakfast at 7:00 Saturday.
      House business in the Chapel at 8:00. Everyone attend.

They'd been warned of all that. Dinner had been set out in the dining room,
buffet style. There were thin slices of roast beef, thick slices of ham,
medium slices of turkey, and bread and condiments to turn these into
sandwiches. There were raw veggies in small bowls and salads in huge bowls.
There were urns of coffee and of hot water for tea. Mostly there were old
friends whom she hadn't seen for months. After visiting their rooms, most of
the sisters hung out in the dining room. They would eat dinner, talk, go
back for another sandwich or more carrot sticks when the mood struck them.

If they were going to be in their old rooms, the sophomores were in a mood
to party there. Linda went out and bought some large bottles of Coke. They
cleaned out the house supplies of booze, and ten of them crowded into one of
the pledge-class rooms. Connie wasn't back yet and 'Trish was out on a date.
The rule was that you had to fill a glass half-full of Coke and then add the
liquor. Coke and vodka just tasted like Coke; Coke and scotch had a truly
vile taste, but you had to finish your glass -- you couldn't waste it. They
got into a game of Truth Or Dare. Since the former roommates tended to pick
on their own, the one asking the questions rotated in alphabetical order.

"How much studying did you really do on your study dates?" Grace asked her.

"Plenty. I studied English and History with Andy, and I got an A in each of
those courses. He did, too, for that matter."

"That's Andy. The boy who you could go on a study date with and actually
learn something."

"Hey! I learned lots on my study dates in high school."

"Yeah. But was any of it in the curriculum."

"Didn't you have sex ed in Springfield?"

"And what else did you do?" Grace took back the discussion, which had got
general.

"Sorry. You've lost your turn."

"Marilyn, truth or dare?" Why didn't Linda pick on one of her roommates?

"Truth."

"What else did you do besides study?"

"When we were in the study room, he used to lift me so I stood on a chair.
He'd nuzzle my tits and I'd kiss the tops of his ears. Being taller than him
was fun."

"More fun than having him nuzzle your tits?" That was from Diane.

"I didn't say that." She hadn't even implied it. "It's just that there are
only so many ways of making out when he's 14 inches taller than you are."

"Reason Marilyn is so fond of high heels."

"He does pick you up a lot."

"Hey!" she said. "Some of us have boyfriends who use muscles to do more than
wriggle their ears."

Then Margot picked her roommate. On Marilyn's turn, Peggy chose a dare and
Marilyn had her sing the Zeta song solo. Peggy hit three notes -- not the
official ones -- on the first three words. then she finished the song on the
third note. Everybody clapped. One corner of the room found the solo
hilarious. Marilyn noticed that they were passing around a funny cigarette
there.

As the level in the bottles went down, the stakes went up. They started
asking if the victim was still a virgin. She and Diane were. Gail wasn't.
Nobody asked the other seven, and she supposed that their roommates didn't
need to. Margot was so tight in every other way, she was certain to be tight
down there, as well. For four of the others, she knew about their sexual
activity from their own reports. The other two, their roommates probably
knew better than she did.

As the questions turned to first times, the decision was that the boy's name
was a different question from the description of the event. She and Diane
were spared for a little. Gail, on the other hand, turned beet red. She got
asked a third question to describe the boy, with a thorough description of
his cock and balls. Some girls were choosing dares, which tended to be
stripping. Several girls were making comments on the level of her glass,
though, especially Peggy. When Peggy chose her, she took a dare. She could
choke down the rest of the Coke and scotch.

"Take off all your clothes, stand up, and turn around slowly." She'd lost,
and it was her period, too.

"Such pale boobs."

"You don't know Evanston beaches. You don't have privacy."

"Evanston doesn't have back yards?"

"And neighbors. And I have a pesky younger brother."

"Well, the cherry might not have been picked, but the price tag seems to
have come off." They all laughed at that. She shut up, and another victim
was chosen. By the time most of them were naked, a delegation of the dressed
were sent to the other two rooms to get a top sheet and a blanket for each
to wrap herself in. When Peggy picked on her again, she chose truth.

"Were you true to Andy over the summer?"

"Sure." That one was easy. "He lives in Evanston, too. We have farther to
walk to get together down here." But that question caught on, and many of
the girls considered their on-campus relationships as null-and-void over the
summer. The dares started concentrating on obscene phone calls.

"But Kevin is still in Peoria," Christine wailed.

"So, don't you know the area code?"

Grace picked her, What was she, the target of a conspiracy of two? Well, she
wasn't going to describe her nudity and the string from her Tampax to Andy.
She chose truth.

"You say you haven't gone all the way. Describe the time you went farthest."


"It was a guy in high school." If the name of their firsts was a separate
question, she wasn't going to give them Colin's name without somebody
wasting a question on that. "By the last summer, we were pretty much doing
everything else but. We got some privacy -- not in Evanston, there's no
privacy in Evanston -- and I was naked. He kept his pants on while he
brought me off by hand a couple of times. When he dropped his pants, he
wanted to do it instead of my bringing him off. When I said no, he got all
forceful. I kicked and scratched until he let me go."

"And you still go with him?" Margot didn't have a clue, and it wasn't her
turn. But, when it was Peggy's turn she returned to the question.

"And how far did you go with Andy?"

"We were in the back seat. I was topless, and I was sort of sitting on his
lap, but facing him. I could feel his hard on. When he kissed my tits, I
wriggled. That made him harder, which felt good. I kept wriggling after he
stopped kissing my tits. After a bit, he came in his pants. He pretended
nothing had happened, and so did I." So much for the level of her glass. She
wasn't that drunk, but she was blabbing as though she were. Maybe it was a
contact high. The air was beginning to smell of the grass.

"Talk about selfless! The farthest she's gone with this guy is getting him
off but not her. Must be true love."

"Or slavish submission."

"Come on!" She said. "Sometimes you want to drive your man crazy. And, when
I drive *my* man crazy, it's an accomplishment." And, remembering how he'd
dug into her shoulders, she thought she had driven him crazy. she finally
killed her glass and chose rum for the next drink. After the scotch, rum and
Coke -- even warm rum and coke -- tasted great. She finished her glass as
the group was breaking up. She escaped to her room just before Grace had
another turn.

The next morning, the party didn't seem like such a good idea. Donna was
banging on all the doors and shouting. She got to their door. "Is everybody
in this room on their feet?" She pounded on the door until they told her
they were. Then, while she went next door to pound again, they got up and
got dressed.

Marilyn joined the line at one of the urns of coffee. The cooks were still
there, and they brought in more before she got her cup. There were glasses
and pitchers of water as well as of orange juice. Donna was passing around a
couple of big bottles of aspirin. After three aspirin and another cup of
coffee, Marilyn managed to eat a couple of sausages and a pancake. The eggs
didn't look like they would stay down. There were two girls she didn't know,
which was odd, but the whole morning was odd.  When Donna called them to go
into the chapel, the two new faces came with the rest of them.

"Changes," Donna began after the rituals were over. "First, would Laura
please stand up." One of the strange girls stood up. "This is our sister
Laura. She's a transfer from Blackburn College. She was a Zate there, and
now she's a Zate here. Barbara..." the other new girl stood up "is a
transfer from Smith College. She was a Zate there, and now she's a Zate
here. Laura is a junior and Barbara is a sophomore." There was applause from
the others, and both girls smiled and bowed. "By the way," Donna went on,
"Connie is taking a year off." She taped a list of chapter offices up on the
wall.

"Now is the time for elections. As most of you know, I'm vice president, and
the entire executive committee for now. That's why we elect a junior as vice
president. Anyway, I'll call the offices, and you may nominate whom you
wish. I'll say again that if a senior is president, electing a senior as
vice president is idiotic. We don't vote against anyone -- we don't speak
against anyone; we vote for or speak for someone. I'll remain the officer
for today. Tomorrow, those elected today will take charge. President!"

Caitlin, Iris, and Satia were nominated. "One thing," Satia said. "I'll be
living off campus this year. I don't think you want a president living out
of the house." Speaking against a nominee might be taboo, but pointing out
your own defects was only fair. Marilyn voted for Caitlin, her great
big-sister, but Iris got most of the votes.

The other results went like this:
  Vice president -- Rhodalie.
  Treasurer -- Frances.
  Chaplain -- Selena, a junior.
  Social chair -- Caitlin.
  Academic chair -- Donna. The members seemed to think that her bossiness
today fit the job of academic chair.
  Facilities chair -- Willa.
  Charities chair -- Bethany

The election of the pledge chair raised a real ruckus.

"Rebecca worked her tail off on the pledge events last year," said Esmere.
"She'll work on this one, too. We need someone who knows what needs to be
done from the inside."

"I don't deny that last year's pledge committee worked hard," said Crystal,
a junior. "But the question is what results did they get. No offense,
sophomores. Each one of you is a sister I cherish. The problem with last
year's pledge class, though, is that there were too few of them. I'm not
sure we need someone to lead this year's pledge activities who learned what
was done last year in great detail. I think we need someone who will think
outside the box. I nominate Veronica."

"She wasn't on last year's committee," Sarah Jane said.

"That's why I'm nominating her." Rebecca won 23 votes to 18, which meant
that even the new girls voted. Immediately, she went over to Victoria to ask
her to serve on the committee and contribute her ideas. Marilyn approved.
That's how you get the whole organization working together -- you pull the
opposition inside.

"Another meeting after lunch," Donna announced after the last election. They
had come back early to work, and work they would. By lunchtime, the aspirin
and coffee had worked. It was chicken and dumplings. Marilyn weighed in,
having had a light breakfast. Even the girls who were usually strictest
about their diets had a good appetite. Donna hustled around getting reports
on the girls' grades.

"Nice," she responded to Marilyn's. "A good rise and your's weren't too
awful the first semester." She returned to that theme before the entire
group after lunch. "I liked the improvement I saw in almost all of the
sophomores. Everybody, well almost everybody, goes through a crisis pledge
semester. I'm not even going to talk about Martha." (She'd got a 3.4 GPA
pledge semester.) "Two others haven't pulled their grades up by much. Well,
we'll do what we can to help you, but you'll have to work hard this
semester. The GPA for the house will be public knowledge, and we can't hope
for any help from the pledges. Well, I shouldn't use my soon-ending reign as
vice president to deliver nags in public that should be delivered in
private. Let's hear from Willa."

"The only good thing about the small class of sophomores is that there will
be more space next year. I'm going to catch hell from the House Board, but
they should have seen this coming; we did. We had 40 actives living in the
house first semester. That meant the 15 rooms for actives were 10 triples
and 5 doubles. With three seniors living off campus, the two transfers in
and the one drop-out, we have 38 actives living in the house this semester.
That means 8 triples and 7 doubles. I've put papers on the doors of the
current triples with letters on them. Please, occupants of the labeled
rooms, clean them up to the point you're not ashamed of your sisters' seeing
them tonight. Tomorrow, I want everybody to go around and rate those rooms.
One is the best space for a triple and ten is the worst. If you can't choose
between two rooms, and some of them are almost identical, still rate them
somehow. According to the votes, I'll change two of them into doubles.
That's the easy part.

"The hard part is choosing roommates. The bylaws say that no two people can
be roommates two years in a row. No big sister can share a room with a
little sister. No room can contain all of the same year."

"Yeah," someone said, "and the bylaws say no booze in the house." It was
Christine. Her hangover must have lasted longer than Marilyn's did.

"Well," Willa responded, "I'm going to make room assignments. And I'll get a
ton of complaints. If some of those complaints get to the House Board or to
National, my response is going to be that those were the bylaws. Get real!
Do you really want me making arbitrary assignments? If so, we'll have 9
triples, 5 doubles, and a single.

"And, really, there are reasons for those rules. We don't want to break up
into factions. Still, 50 women are too many to be an actual solid group. But
your room is one group within the 50. Your pledge class is another. Your big
sister and grand big sister and you make a third. When you start looking at
your roommates, their family, and your family's roommates, you start seeing
your connection to a good portion of the house. I know it looks hard to the
sophomores. Last year, we said, 'You have to room with your year and we'll
choose which ones.' This year we say, 'You choose your roommates but they
can't be your year.'

"Anyway, take a couple of days to agree upon triples. I'll look at requests
on Monday. The pairs that get doubles get them because of a point system.
I'll post how you get points, which will tell you how many you have. I'll
bet every double goes to a senior and a junior. Think this through
carefully. This is going to be your two best friends this year. Either that,
or your two bitterest enemies."

"Or," said Bethany, a junior, "both."

Willa laughed. "Probably both." The meeting broke up early. The pledge
committee hadn't put their plans together, yet. Soon, though, Willa came
looking for Marilyn. Even though the house had fewer residents, they walked
outside for privacy.

"Look," Willa started, "have you thought out your roommate plans yet?"

"Not really. You didn't give us much warning."

"Well, there's plenty of warning. The seniors and juniors knew from last
year, and they'll be talking to you soon. I'd like to make a suggestion.
Barbara's new, and she will have a problem attracting roommates. I'll have
that problem on my plate. How about you, Barbara and me as a room. I'll be
honest with you; it won't be a good triple. I'll have enough complaints
without that. But it would be for the good of the house."

"Why do you think Barbara will have more problems than Laura? Smith's a damn
good school."

"Yeah. And it was too hard for her. She couldn't go back. That's why she
transferred here. She's from Winnetka. That's your neck of the woods, isn't
it?"

"So close geographically -- so far socially."

"Neither of you looks like a starving peasant."

"Not to you. We have plenty of money in Evanston, plenty of class, too, and
even a few snobs. It's just that we have others, as well."

"Would you consider it, anyway."

"Look, I'll do it. She looked like an all-right woman."

"And you don't smoke, do you?"

"No."

"That's something else I was considering. The rule is that one non-smoker
makes the room non-smoking. Still, a non-smoking majority is a batter
argument. I don't know whether she's a smoker of not. I'll remind people at
dinner." There was a smoking room on the second floor, but the smokers liked
to room together so that they could have a last cigarette in bed. So far,
the house hadn't caught on fire.

The rest of the week was practice for rush. During that week, she got two
more invitations from seniors to join their rooms. She had to turn them
down, but she saw that the by-law rules were establishing some sort of
connection across the classes. Thursday, Willa passed out a tentative
room-assignment list. The only changes allowed from that were trades.
Saturday, they moved in. Barbara turned out to be a pleasant roommate. The
room, despite Willa's nervousness about giving herself too good a room, was
on the second floor. She no longer needed to go down and up stairs to take a
shower.

Sunday evening, Andy called. He had a car, and they agreed to just go for a
ride. When she saw the car, it was the Buick.

"I didn't tell you?"

"You never told me anything. You told the inquisition that you'd been bribed
with a car. Was it this car 'cause you exceeded the bet terms?"

"I don't think so. He just didn't trade it in. You guys settle all the
problems of the world this past week?"

"We didn't even solve all the problems of rush. Y'know, I thought what I
went through was complicated and made me anxious. The complications and real
anxiety are on the other end. Shouldn't tell you, though. Zate secrets."

"Given a thought to registration?"

"Not since I got here. That's not as bad as it sounds. I laid out my plans
on rainy days during the summer while you were slaving away in the hardware
store. You?"

"The major stuff is more-or-less cast in stone for EEs. That's not so bad,
since they won't conflict. Diffy-Q might be a problem, since they will
expect sophomore EEs to be taking calc. You taking American Lit?" She was.
"I'll try for that, then. We might study together again, and I'll need
another semester of English. Then I'll try to get rid of a fine-arts
distribution. I was thinking of Drawing. They have lots of sections of
that." That was the advantage of the house files. Introductory Drawing
covered still-life and buildings. The nearly-naked models that boys would
want, and nearly-naked men, too, were in the second life-drawing class and
required permission and prerequisites.

"You might take Chorus instead. You have a nice voice, but it is really
untrained." She liked to hear him sing, but he tended to miss the notes. He
was conscious enough of that to sing in a soft voice. "You might take
swimming, too. We could swim together next summer."

"Yeah. That was fun, if my time in the water wasn't much of the fun. Well,
when I get the rest of my schedule filled out, I'll see if swimming is
possible." Andy found a dark, quiet spot off the road, and they parked for a
while. His kisses felt like he'd missed her, too. Still, he kept above the
waist.

With rush coming up, she had little time for Andy, and would soon have less.
She suggested that they skip the movies and just drive around. He was happy,
and they spent more time in the back seat the weeks leading up to rush than
they had done the previous summer. Even though he never pushed things, he
was stroking her thigh through her jeans by the time she had to call a break
because rush was coming up.

She was now an active preparing to do the most important job of an active.
This had been her dream about college long before she'd decided to come to
the U of I. So why was she so reluctant? Had Andy become a higher priority
than Zeta?

The end
Couple - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2011/06/30


These same events from Andy's perspective:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_04m.htm
Andy's experience

The first adventures of Marilyn with Andy:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01f.htm
"The Meeting - F"


The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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