Andy Trainor wanted to become an electrical engineer. He went to college at the University of Illinois with that aim. He knew the University would require distribution. For that matter, Dad, who was paying the bills, wanted him to learn other things, too. He was perfectly willing. He liked to learn things, after all. He despised people who defined themselves by what they were too good to know. It's just that Electrical Engineering and its prerequisites were his first priority.

Actually, the distribution requirements were his third priority. He'd fallen for Marilyn in high school, and she hadn't been available. She was on campus now, and he'd find whether she'd be available away from her previous steady. Of course, Marilyn was a nice girl. If she had been going steady and decided she'd never go on a date with him, she'd give the going steady as her reason. For that matter, her steady might be attending U of I or they might be keeping up a long-distance relationship.

Still, nothing ventured nothiing gained. All he had to do was find her. The dorm had a special University-administration phone book, and that had the campus student register. That would solve his problem, but Marilyn might not be here yet.

Registration was no great surprise. He knew what courses he wanted, and had no idea which were the best instructors. As a freshman, he went for courses which were designed for hundreds of freshmen. Thus, there were multiple sections, even multiple lectures. His only non-freshman course was second-year Calc, since he'd taken AP Calc in high school. Even that, needed by every sophomore with a science major, had plenty of openings.

The bookstore was a surprise -- indeed, a shock. He'd brought lots of cash, expecting to put most of it in the bank account he would set up before classes started. The books dipped dangerously into that stash. Would it last the year if he spent this much the first week? Then he realized that he hadn't bought a week's worth of books, he'd bought a semester's worth.

The next day, he got into town. He checked out a couple of banks, and opened an account at the one which seemed easiest to reach. He checked out the movie theaters, too. If he could develop a social life, that's the first kind of place he'd take Marilyn.

He spent the day before classes began checking out the buildings holding his classes. Thus he showed up on time for each one. Only one class was much of a surprise. AP Calc hadn't quite prepared him for the Calculus II class. Well, he'd bridge the gap, math was his strong point. Most of his classmates were wearing jeans, not the khakis Dad had told him would be the norm. Well, it wasn't the first time Dad had been wrong.

By Friday, he was up to speed in all his other classes, even Phys Ed. So, Friday afternoon he contacted the student register for Marilyn's phone number. That evening he overcame his nerves and actually called her.

"Marilyn Grant speaking," the familiar voice said after he'd threaded the usual dorm maze.

"Marilyn, this is Andy Trainor. I used to be in your MYF in Evanston. 'Nashville' is playing in the Danielson theater this week. I wondered if you'd want to go with me?"

"Why Andy! Of course I remember you. I'd be pleased." He resisted dancing like Snoopy in his joy. They settled on Wednesday evening.

Wednesday, he neither showered nor shaved in the morning. He did both after an early dinner, then he dressed in a white shirt and new khakis. He picked her up in her dorm. The evening went wonderfully, although he was too frightened to put his arm behind her in the theater or hold her hand on the way home. Luckily, they talked about the past on their walk, rather than the picture. He'd had no attention to spare for the screen.

When he got to her dorm, she turned to him. He kissed her. If not everything he'd dreamed of, he knew better than to open his mouth on a first date with someone like Marilyn, it was the sexiest kiss he'd ever had.

"Oh, Marilyn." If that sounded soppy to her, she didn't look disappointed in him. He watched her through the door trying not to stare at her hips as she walked.

That night, the imagination of the kiss was openmouthed and much longer. The hips he watched were unclothed. He woke to a set of sticky sheets, but, since nobody would see them but himself, little shame.

He called to thank her the next night, and invited her to another movie the next Wednesday. She accepted. He started getting his hopes up. He knew that he wasn't as central in her life was she was in his, but he did have advantages over whatever rivals would start coming out of the woodwork. The two of them did have a past in common, and he suspected, although he couldn't be sure, that she hadn't had any other dates in college yet. As he was walking her back to the dorm after the movie, he discovered that he'd merely been unimaginative about possible rivals. She wanted to join a sorority, and there was a process that she would have to go through.

"I really like you, but I won't have time for movies." Well, that was bad news, even with her softening comments. On the other hand, the sorority would only exclude him for a brief period.

"I understand." Still, the kiss at her doorway felt like kissing her goodbye, and the hips he watched as she walked into the dorm were less gesturing him toward her than waving goodbye.

If his social life was on hold, he should concentrate on why he'd come here in the first place. He needed to get on top of Calculus most, but reading ahead in the book was no help. He got the next twenty pages of physics under his belt, then the next chapter of the history book. He'd taken American History in high school, and this book didn't break much new ground. It did go deeper and present more perspective, but that was what reading another book was supposed to give you. The readings in English were mostly new, but they'd once been what people read for pleasure -- they weren't all that opaque now.

What he really needed in Calculus wasn't getting ahead of the lectures, it was getting the parts he'd missed. He found a store which sold used textbooks and bought the freshman calc book. He knew most of it, and started to study what AP Calc hadn't covered adequately.

Meanwhile, he was careful to do every assignment the night it had been assigned.

When he'd given Marilyn several weeks, he called the campus student register again. They had a new location for Marilyn.

"Zeta House," answered a familiar voice.

"Marilyn? This is Andy."

"How did you find my new number?"

"I haff my sorrssess. Notably, I have the number of the campus student register. The question is getting repetitive, and I hope I'm not boring you, but would you like to go to a movie?"

"I don't know what pledges are allowed. Let me check." Which was better than 'I have to wash my hair that night,' if not entirely promising.

"I'll wait." While she was checking another girl picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello. I was talking with Marilyn Grant. She had to check on something."

"All right." When Marilyn got back on the phone, she said that she was allowed to date, but that Wednesdays were a problem.

"Friday? Saturday?" He had, in fact, hoped to work up to monopolizing her on one of the standard date nights.

"I'm sure that the weekend would be a problem. We do things on weekends." If he couldn't have her on the date nights, he could try for soon.

"How about this Tuesday?"

"That would be fine. Do you know the address?" She gave it to him, and he looked up a theater closer to her sorority house.

The girl who answered his knock and two of the three others he could see were in jeans. He didn't notice that until Marilyn came down the stairs in a dress. He shook off the thought that he should have brought a corsage.

During the movie, he put his hand around her back, and she let him. He was tempted to take her hand on the way home, but she might think he was moving too fast. He shoved his hands into his pockets to resist. When she was on the porch of her sorority house and he was standing on the step so their heads were level, he spoke her name.

When she turned, they had a kiss. He couldn't keep his mouth closed, and she opened hers as well. He spent what seemed like an eternity in heaven, brought back by the most painful hard-on of his life.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said. She seemed to think that this ended the evening, as she turned and walked to the door. Her hips only made his hard-on more painful, and he adjusted his khakis and briefs so that it was at least straight. Then, hoping nobody had seen that, he walked quickly away.

He now needed the discipline he'd learned in other classes to keep his attention on the work even in science and math classes. His mind wanted to think about nothing but Marilyn. The next week, they went out again. On their way home, she took his hand and led him into small grove of evergreens where they were hidden from the road. She wanted his kisses!

"Oh, Marilyn." The kiss was wet and fervent, even sexier than the one on the previous date. And, when he straightened, there was no audience to notice if they repeated it. But, bending over was uncomfortable, and he didn't get much of a hug that way. Well, Marilyn was only a little taller than April. Why not pick her up?

"Andy," she said when he picked her up, but she didn't struggle. She was, in fact, lighter than April. As he kissed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He lifted her a little, adjusted himself, and held her up by her rump while his tongue played with hers. They repeated the kiss while he felt her marvelous breasts press their softness against his chest and her hips fill his hands.

"Maybe you better put me down now," she said. He let her slip down his front, kissing her head while each inch of skin recorded the feel of her against him. He had to adjust himself again. Then they walked to her porch hand in hand. The kiss was not at all as arousing as the time in the grove, but it was sweet.

When he got back to his dorm, he got the heaviest chair in the room. It weighed less than Marilyn did, but he lifted it to the ceiling and set it down ten times. He decided to do this every day he didn't have a date until his muscles could handle her more easily.

He had his first test in Calculus that week, and it was a shock. Two questions absolutely lost him, and several others strained him. His Phys Ed class was far enough along to teach him that he was no better in tennis than he was in any other sport.

The next movie date was a total disaster, well, not total. However bad things get, they could -- in his experience often would -- get worse. But when he rang the bell on the sorority house, the girl who answered it didn't call Marilyn.

"Marilyn? Is she one of the pledges?"

"Yeah." Hell, how could someone not know Marilyn?

"They are out on a scavenger hunt.... Look, we pulled that on them as a surprise. Maybe they knew it would come someday, depending on how much they'd been told about sorority life before rushing, but they sure didn't know it was coming tonight. She didn't intend to stand you up."

"I understand. You think she might like some help? If it's a scavenger hunt, she's outside, isn't she?" He must sound desperate.

"That would be cheating. And, while I know she's outside, it's a big campus and I don't know much more." He tried to be pleasant to the girl, but he growled to himself as he walked back. He had no interest in the movie. He hadn't all that much interest in the schoolwork, either, but he drove himself to it.

The next night he called up Marilyn. The girl called out his name as well as hers. When she'd come to the phone, she started off with an apology.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't."

"I'm sorry, too. But I understand. Your sister explained that they sprang the scavenger hunt on you. She said it would be cheating if I helped."

"Look, I wouldn't have been able to call you yesterday. They hardly gave us time to change our clothes. But, if I want to call you, what's your number?" Well, that was a point. He told her the dorm's number and the name.

"You didn't pledge?" she asked. He smiled.

"That's your thing. You didn't take Calculus, either.... Anyway, subject to some other surprise, could you come to a movie next Tuesday?"

"Yes. Thank you." And this was his last good news for the week. Monday, he got the test back with a C -- a low C numerically. Indeed, it was a 64, and would have been a D if Andy had been grading it.

On their way to the movie the next day, Marilyn told him about the scavenger hunt, and then about the other indignities of being a pledge. He kept his solution to himself, since she was clearly intent on going through this. In the movie, his arm was around her back, feeling her warmth. Holding his hand, she told more sorority stories on the way back until she turned to him about half way there.

"But you haven't told me about your week."

"Well, it wasn't much." But he told her about the Calculus test, about his determination to bring up his grade, and about his path to do so. He was still on this topic when they got to the grove. Would she appreciate the privacy again? He stopped and looked a question at her. Her answer was to lead him in again.

When he lifted her, she responded more smoothly, but with the same hug. He glanced down to see the tops of her thighs in pantyhose before she got her legs all around his waist. The kiss was sweet and long. When they broke, they stared into each others eyes before he set her down. When he pushed her shoulders to turn her around, she complied. He stroked down her chest towards her breasts. If she had wanted to escape, she could have, but she clearly didn't. He had one of her marvelous breasts in each hand, and she rested back against him.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said in appreciation of her softness. Still holding her breasts, he stooped to kiss the top of her head and the top of each ear. When he had turned her around, he lifted her into another long kiss. They sauntered hand-in-hand to the sorority porch. This was the last kiss, and he didn't want to break it. Finally one of the other girls came up the walk behind them. That broke it for him.

Well, possible University social life went beyond movie dates. The second all-university dance of the year was coming up the next weekend but one. He invited Marilyn. She accepted!

She danced, as you might expect, quite well. At her suggestion, they each danced with others, too. His partners were her fellow pledges to whom she introduced him. But he had most of Marilyn's slow dances and the last dance with her. They walked home hand-in-hand and stopped at the grove. When he'd walked her to the porch, she didn't turn for her last kiss.

"Would you like to come in?" she invited.

"I'd be delighted." They were late, however. The downstairs room was full of couples making out. He was embarrassed by the public displays, and she probably shared his embarrassment. She led him to the stairs going up.

"Let's say good night here." She stood on a step which made her about his height. The kiss was long and liquid.

"Antisocial," said some girl behind him. They moved aside to let her climb the stairs, but the kiss -- indeed the mood - was broken. He said goodbye and left.

Still, as he reflected getting ready for bed that night, it had been a great evening. He'd not only had the pleasure of Marilyn's company. He'd also crossed a line from movie date to dance date.

Unfortunately, they soon crossed back. On the way to their next movie, Marilyn explained that the sorority would manage her dates to all-University dances. "What they do is our pledge class goes with a fraternity pledge class, then the two pledge chairs break them down into pairs." Which meant, so far as he could see, that Marilyn would be going to the next dance with a <b>particular</b> guy, who was not Andy.

"I understand." He didn't like it, but he understood -- understood, for one thing, that they sorority was more important in her life than he was.

"You always say that. Do you really understand everything?"

"Look, I want you. You decide 'How much of you can I have?' I decide whether I want that much. Well, I do. I might want more, but more isn't on offer. Wouldn't it be childish to refuse what is available?" That had come out <b>very</b> badly, but he'd said it now.

They kept up the movie dates for a while, and then it got worse. She warned him of 'Hell Week.' The hazing intensified, and she would have no time for him at all. Well, the semester was coming to an end. If he couldn't spend time with Marilyn, he'd spend time with his books. And so he did.

He had papers for both English and History. His History paper was on his favorite subject in the past, the Western theater in the Civil War. He got some citations -- unfortunately, his own books were back at the house -- but he could have written the rest of the paper in his sleep. English was harder.

He went back and studied the first chapters of the Calculus book, where he'd had trouble. He went through the entire book in two weekends. Then he studied from the section they'd covered since the last test. Then he ground into the Physics.

The tests weren't so bad. The Calculus final only covered the most recent parts, but he thought he did okay, anyway. History was heavy on reconstruction and the rise of the KKK, but he'd -- at least -- read what the book said about that and listened in class.

After the last exam, he bought two bottles of ginger ale and a fifth of vodka. He carried the bag up to his room, and put the pop -- labeled with his name -- in the refrigerator he shared with the other three. After dinner, he brought everything into his room and changed into pajamas. Normally, he slept in the nude, but he wasn't going to try to get dressed if he had to rush to the john. His first drink was heavy on the ginger alle and cold. That changed before he opened the second bottle of ginger ale. Some time in the early morning, he dropped into bed. The flat ginger ale from the open bottle helped settle his stomach the next afternoon.

He ate a light dinner, struggling to keep it down, and went back to his room for the rest of the flat ginger ale. By the next morning, he was feeling fine. He ate three good meals and had an afternoon snack at a town pizza parlor. He finished his Christmas shopping. The next day, he got his flight to San Diego.

The Moppet reached him first, but stopped outside the reach of his arms.

"I'm too big to be picked up."

"Okay." She looked disappointed. "Well, you're sure old enough to decide whether you're going to be picked up." She looked happier at that, and came to him for a hug.

"You're old enough to decide whether you're going to be called 'Moppet,' too. Do you want me to change?"

"Only when Mom's around." Well, Mom was coming up.

"All right, April. It's nice to see you." That got him a tighter hug.

"Merry Christmas, Mom."

"Merry Christmas, Andrew."

"Merry Christmas, Andrew," her husband echoed. Andy kept silent.

"Andrew, Elliot spoke to you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear him say anything addressed to Andy. Did you say anything significant, Mr. Brewster?" He did <b>not</b> say 'anything significant for once.' He implied it, of course.

"Merry Christmas."

"And a merry Christmas to you." That Christmas was even less merry than previous ones had been. His only peace was with Molly. One evening they spoke. As usual, they took a walk around the block.

"I could drive, you know."

"Where? We're not going anywhere. I know you enjoy being a driver, but I'm a driver, too. After a while, the pleasure fades. The pleasure of being sixteen, on the other hand..."

"Well, I like it."

"Are you sure you enjoy being sixteen, rather than enjoy not being fifteen any more? I'll tell you, I'm glad you're no longer fifteen."

"Do you think I look more attractive?"

"That's not being fifteen, too. Just be glad you're a girl. At least your voice didn't change."

"You're saying that you suffered, too?"

"Adolescent acne and all. By the way, your skin is looking much better."

"Yeah, I've found this stuff which really works."

"Maybe."

"Well, you said it looks better."

"It does. Whether it's your new treatment or your new age is the question -- and a question which can't be settled. But you're looking much better."

"Some people think I'm looking better in other ways, too."

"And you are, although a brother shouldn't be specific." She had a significant bust line, now.

"April had her period, you know."

"I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. And you shouldn't have told me."

"She came to me, and not to Mom."

"Good. You can be the older sister who's gone through all that stuff recently. Y'know, one hell of a lot of the things which you did which annoyed me looked like you were trying to be important. Well, now you are important -- if not directly to me, directly to her."

"I'm important to Billy, too."

"Well, good for you. But your importance to Billy is another of those things a brother isn't supposed to know."

"You think he thinks about me like that?"

"He's what? Another sixteen year old?"

"Yeah." Well, at least he wasn't an older guy. Guys her age would want as much, maybe more, but they'd be less likely to try to get it.

"Then he thinks about you that way. Probably several times a day and every night." She giggled.

Even his improved relationship with Molly didn't make this trip worth the hassle. Well, he was over eighteen. Mom's visitation rights were no longer a right, but a custom. If he was really an adult now, though, he shouldn't make this visit worse by announcing the decision.

Even so, he breathed a sigh of relief when he settled into his plane seat Friday on the way to Chicago. His Christmas gifet from Molly was an SF book, PB but new. He read that on the flight. He got a taxi from O'Hare, and was greeted warmly by Mrs. Bryant when he got home. Dad came home before 6, and they hugged. It always felt awkward with Dad, although their conversations weren't. They had Christmas the next day. He told Dad about school and that he thought he'd recovered from his problems with Calculus.

"And how are your sisters?"

"Molly's growing up. I think The Moppet is about to enter the ugly-brat stage."

"Anything beyond the calendar?"

"Which one? Had a couple of sensible conversations with Molly, and she reported a little help she'd given April. April is now too old to be picked up."

"Well, yes. Now you're on the other side. I can remember when you decided you were too old to hug. It's part of growing up. If the worst we get from their various stages of adolescence are the squawks and sulks, we'll be very lucky."

"And were you lucky with me?"

"That would be telling, but you didn't die in a car crash at sixteen."

"I didn't? ... Did you really worry about that?"

"Andy, parents worry about everything."

"And you haven't stopped."

"Well, no."

His grades came in the mail, as if to put a pall over their Christmas celebration. He'd a C in Phys-Ed, perfectly adequate. He'd an A in Physics, and you couldn't complain about that. He'd got B s in English and American History. The History grade was lower than he'd expected, but no disaster. He also got a B in calculus. He'd recovered from his disaster early in the semester, but not soon enough or dramatically enough.

"Well," Dad said, "you're in college now, not in high school."

Sunday, they went to church, him driving. Dad didn't ask if he'd gone while on campus. He saw Marilyn at church and approached her. Actually, they both walked towards each other. Her parents went out the door, but Dad trailed him.

"Hi," she said. "Long time no see." Yeah, and he should probably have called, but he didn't know how long her 'too busy' period lasted.

"Yeah. You were busy, and then I was studying like mad, and then, I'll admit, I tied one on. Only way I can stop thinking after exams are over. Did you make it through?" Meaning exams.

"Yeah. I'm a real Zate now." Meaning her damn sorority. His rival wasn't another man, it was fifty women.

"Congratulations.... Dad," who was not far behind him, "This is Marilyn, the prettiest girl on the U of I campus. Marilyn, this is my father."

"Jim Trainor," said Dad.

"Marilyn Grant. Don't you teach him not to lie in church?" He couldn't quite get her drift, but Dad could. Why couldn't he have inherited the smoothness?

"Well, I'm sure he hasn't taken a full survey," Dad said. "What is the number of your student body, anyhow? But an opinion based on an inadequate sample doesn't qualify as a lie."

At that point, her mom called her, and she left. He and Dad walked to their car. Dad went to the driver's side.

"Nice girl," said Dad as he drove away.

"Very nice."

"You guys date?"

"Sometimes." Not as often as he'd wish, but sometimes. He hoped that Dad wasn't going to inquire about how far they'd gone, but he veered off.

"And what, in the name of all that's holy, is a 'Zate'?"

"Her Goddamned sorority." How could you compete with 50 women?

"She have a major?"

"Freshmen can't declare a major." Dad should know that, he'd been told.

"But does she have plans?"

"She wants to teach high-school English. I suppose that's an English major." Dad, for some reason, relaxed. A very smooth customer, you could rarely tell what Dad was thinking, which made this a strange exception.

Over dessert at the restaurant, Dad raised his past semester again.

"Well, you weren't happy with a B average," Dad pointed out.

"It was a little better than a B. I got an A in physics, after all."

"And a C in gym."

"Even counting Phys Ed, that has two credits and Physics has four."

"So what was your average?" Dad expected him to do the calculation in his head, and he had to think to do it.

"3.13 -- the last 3 recurring. So, it was slightly better than an eighth above B. But do you really want to count Phys Ed?"

"All right, we'll do it your way. You have a social life of sorts on campus. Would it be easier with a car?"

"Freshmen aren't allowed to have cars on campus." Not that some of them didn't, but it was hard for them to get student-parking stickers.

"I know that. We're talking about next year. Let's say that if you pass Phys Ed..."

"I'll have to. Don't pass it, and you repeat."

"Pass Phys Ed and get more A s than B s in your other courses <b>for the year</b>, I'll give you the car next year. We'll even do it your way. Get a grade point average for the year in majors higher than 3.5, and you'll have a car for your social life next year."

"That means, what? I need to get an A in Calc and one in either English or History?"

"And a B in the other."

"Quite generous of you to use credit hours. If you just counted courses, the results would be the same."

"No. I said <b>higher than</b> 3.5." He smiled at Dad. The old man was right. Well, he would try. For one thing, neither Marilyn's sorority house nor the grove were places he felt comfortable making out.

"Thanks, Dad." If his thanks were not very effusive, it was because he knew his old man. He'd intended this.

His last Christmas gift was the snapshots he'd made in San Diego. He would have to think about this. If he cancelled the trips, he'd not only cut himself off from his sisters for half the time they shared, he'd cut Dad off from one of the few contacts he had with the girls between summer visits.

He was soon back on campus. Registration went more smoothly this time, and the books, if as expensive, were less of a shock.

He had mostly the same instructors as the previous semester. The lab guy had changed in Physics, and he switched sections in History deliberately to get a different instructor. It seemed to him that he'd earned a better grade than he'd got. When he got the paper back with a C, he went to the guy to ask him why.

"Really, professor, was it that bad a paper?"

"Really, no. And your participation in class during the time we spent on the Civil War was excellent. The problem was that this paper and that participation were nearly identical. How much of that had you thought out that semester?"

"Well..."

"And your citations were awfully thin. Look, you've thought more about this than most of the papers I received, but I figured that you'd already gotten credit for that thought. It sounded rehearsed. And, though this didn't reduce the grade, your understanding of why Lee went north when he did is incomplete. Read a good biography of Lee some time. That is, if you're ever going to look at this period again. You're not planning on majoring in history, are you?"

"No. But I can lay my hands on a biography of Lee at home. My Dad has several."

"Look, you've thought about this, but you didn't think about it for this course. Even so, if you'd sourced all your assertions scrupulously, I'd have given the paper an A. It was supposed to be a research paper." And that was that. He hadn't expected to persuade the teacher to change the grade, and now he knew what he should have done differently. Well, he would read the book -- or at least skim the book -- early and find an area that interested him. He'd do a real paper on that this semester. Maybe that would be enough for an A.

When classes had started, he called Marilyn. They went to another movie. It was cold, though, and she was in a skirt. He could never understand why women went around with nothing protecting their legs and most sensitive parts but one sheer layer of pantyhose. They walked briskly back and Marilyn didn't pause as they approached the grove.

"No?"

"I'm afraid not," she replied. And he could understand her reluctance. The car was looking like a stronger and stronger bribe. At her sorority, however, she made it all better.

"Come in," she said at the door. The room which they entered was already occupied by couples making out. He, however, didn't know what would offend her when it could be observed.

He began with only kisses while they were sitting in a love seat. Then he moved her into his lap. First, she sat sideways while they kissed again, her tongue met his and -- when he withdrew it to his own mouth -- chased his. Then, he lifted her and placed her with her back to him. He could kiss her neck and ears and head while hugging her. His arm was against the undersides of her marvelous breasts. Her butt was firm against his cock. When she started swaying in his lap so she was rubbing across it, it was too much.

When he whispered, "Please don't," she moved forward enough in his lap that she was no longer touching his cock. If not so arousing as some of their times in the grove, this was a long, loving session.

He dug into his classes for a few days, and then called Marilyn for another movie.

"I have an alternative." Which didn't sound good. "We're having a party-dance Friday night. Instead of your inviting me, why don't I invite you?" Which sounded great.

"Jeans, khakis, or suit?" he replied. Which might have been too sudden. "Let me back up. Thank you very much. I accept with gratitude. Should I wear jeans, khakis, or a suit?"

"Definitely a suit event. 7:30." And, so, Friday he ate an early dinner, showered, shaved, and changed into his suit. He showed up at her Sorority house at 7:32. The party had barely begun. He learned that it was a celebration of the new 'actives,' of which Marilyn was one. She wore a gorgeous dress, earrings, and a pearl necklace. He was glad he'd asked about the suit. The house was crammed, at least the first floor, and there were almost no chairs. You could dance anywhere except the dining room. That had a punch bowl, with a sweet-but-potent punch, picnic-style freezers stacked with beer bottles and ice, and a huge assortment of snacks.

They shared the first few dances, and then Marilyn introduced him to one of her sisters in a way that implied he should ask her to dance. He danced a fast dance in front of her, and then claimed Marilyn for another dance.

The party was well along, and some of the guys were starting to act drunk when an older girl came up to Marilyn and him.

"Can we see the two of you in the kitchen?" He was quite prepared to tell her to go to hell, but Marilyn followed her through the dining room. He followed Marilyn. In the kitchen there were seven chairs around a table, five of them filled. The only one of the five he recognized was Natalie. She was Marilyn's 'Big Sister,' and he'd met her earlier in the evening. The woman who had asked them took a sixth. He helped Marilyn into the seventh.

"So," said the woman who'd summoned them, "Marilyn seems to have chosen you. Who are you?" This seemed a version, maybe a caricature, of the first-date questioning of the high-school boy by the father of the high-school girl. As in those situations, he thought it best to be up front. He wasn't, after all, a serial killer.

"I'm Andy Trainor. I'm a freshman like Marilyn. I knew her last year in Evanston, and I was impressed then. She, however, was unavailable. I asked this fall, and she agreed to come on a date with me. We've been on several dates since." That didn't seem to satisfy them. What did these guys want? Well, they were all in college. Maybe they wanted to know his college situation.

"Let's see, I'll be an electrical-engineering major -- not yet; you know the rules -- but I will be."

"How did you do last semester?" asked another girl.

"Not all that well." Which was the honest answer. Marilyn, on the other hand, had done worse. She might deserve somebody on the dean's list, but it would be weird for them to demand it.

"Andy," Marilyn told him, "be precise." These guys deserved precision? Was this questioning standard at this sorority? It didn't match the campus reputation of Greeks, but maybe sororities were different.

"Well... I got a C in Phys-Ed, an A in Physics, and B s in English, American History, and Calculus. Well...Well, I took AP Calc in high school. It was enough to get me into second-year Calc, but it wasn't quite enough to prepare me for that course. I started badly, but I worked hard and got my grades up in the end." He sounded like he was making excuses. Indeed, he <b>was</b> making excuses, but those excuses were valid.

"How badly?" Marilyn asked again. Did these guys want a transcript?

"I got a C on my first test -- a low C."

"You have to understand," Marilyn said, "it might have been the first C he'd ever received on a math test." That wasn't quite true.

"I blew a couple of pop quizzes in high school. But it was damn-well the first B I'd ever gotten as a final grade in math."

"I remember," said one of the girls at the table, "the first B I ever got in a math course." This star chamber wasn't the most disciplined body, but maybe that was how sororities acted.

"You do?" asked the woman who'd started it all.

"It was also my last."

"Well," he should make this plain. "I want to make that my last, too."

"Well," the ringleader began. He'd decided that the woman who'd led them into this room was the ringleader. "You want better grades. Are you on a scholarship?"

"Hah! Not unless you count my dad, like most of us."

"And is he raising a ruckus? My dad would be thrilled with three B s and an A, but I've known parents to go off every deep end there is." Which didn't sound like they were going to be too rough on him for his grades. On the other hand, it didn't sound at all like Dad. He didn't go off the deep end -- not with Andy, at least.

"Nah! He did bribe me, though. If I pass phys-ed and get more A s than B s for the <b>year</b> in academic subjects, he'll give me a car. He'll count by credit hours, and -- since Physics is a lab course -- it has four credit hours. But that means I'll have to get an A in either English or History."

"What does your father do, anyway?" asked one of the girls, changing the subject utterly.

"He's a VP -- one of the vice presidents -- of a small Chicago bank."

"And what makes a bank small?" Which showed he'd misspoken, which meant that he'd begun to let them fluster him. Actually, he hadn't misspoken, she'd misheard.

"It's not a small bank. It's a small <B>Chicago</b> bank. Put it down in Champaign, and Albany might be the largest bank in town. It's just that Chicago has a couple of humongous banks that play on the national level. Albany isn't one of them. It's the bank for Albany Park, a Chicago neighborhood, just like any small town has its own bank."

"Did you try to enter the Greek system," the ringleader asked.

"Nope. And, as I've said, I had to put some serious time into studying this last semester. If I had pledged, I wouldn't have had the time. Marilyn showed me that." Which should point out the problem in how they'd treated her and -- by her report -- the other pledges.

"But that wasn't your reason?"

"No." It was better to be honest. "Really, I don't want to ruffle any feathers, especially Marilyn's, and I know how important this is to her. Still, I don't go around asking, 'what made you decide not to major in electrical engineering?' From your perspective, sororities are the natural choice -- and, I suppose, fraternities for guys. For loads of us, we didn't choose not to pledge a fraternity any more than you decided not to major in electrical engineering." He'd dug himself into it. Now, let's see if he could dig himself out. At least, he'd been in this argument before.

"As I've said, I came to school to learn electrical engineering. They say I have to take various distribution courses, too. So be it. I'm not fighting. They don't say I have to join a fraternity, too. They don't say I have to join the tiddley-wink team, either. So I don't."

"Well!" This girl seemed offended.

"Look, as I said, I don't ask why you didn't major in electrical engineering. People go to school for various purposes. It's just that I have my purposes, which are different from yours. I'm here to learn something particular. After all, going to college to learn something isn't an idea that would shock most of the people at this university."

"You seem to want to participate in student life when it comes to dating Marilyn," the 'Big Sister' said.

"Well, I want to date Marilyn. Sure, I was glad to come to your dance with her, but I was glad to go to the movies with her, too. I don't claim to be some studying machine. I take part in school life. I took part in high-school life, too. It's just that I came to the university to learn electrical engineering. I'm here, and I live here, and I enjoy what's going on. When I was in Evanston, I took part in Evanston life, mostly -- because I was in high school -- high-school life, but not all. It's just, if you'll pardon me, that what attracts me about Greek life is one particular Greek -- one particular Zeta Gamma Tau."

"That's nice," the ringleader said . "We'll send your particular Zate out to you in a minute." They wanted him to go. He looked at Marilyn, but she didn't look like she wanted to go with him or have him stay with her.

He went out and got a drink of the potent punch. He sat on the stairs and waited for Marilyn. That 'minute' lasted a damn long time, but he kept himself from storming back in to rescue her.

When she came back out, she didn't want to talk about it. They danced every dance after that but one, and sat out that one together. Her kiss goodbye, if totally public, was also wet and eager.

Monday, he asked her to a movie Wednesday, and she accepted. The walk there was chilly, and he asked her to set the pace. When she obviously didn't want to talk about the inquisition, he brought up an entirely different topic. What could he do to improve his grade in English?

"I've talked to my History professor," he explained. "He suggested that I could have got an A if I'd put more effort into my paper. Maybe so, but that semester included the part of American history I really know about. I can't be sure enough about my History grade to omit trying for an A in English, too. You're the English expert. What should I do?"

"Well, I'm not going to compare our grades, expert or not, but what got me through the pledge period with a B was that I'd read the literature stories early on. When I read them for assignments, I was dealing with familiar material."

"I can do that."

"Now," she asked, "what help can you give me on History?"

"Not much. If I'm going to write a better paper, I'm going to concentrate on an early period of what this semester covers. I'm going to write about the guys who led us into the electrical era -- Edison, Tesla, Steinmetz. Maybe I'll include Westinghouse, too. I don't know anything about him. That's playing off my strength, but it's not your strength."

"Well, that's at least a suggestion," she replied. "Not the engineers, the strength. I know about writers. Maybe I'll cover some literary movement."

"Wasn't the wild west invented during this period? I know it was after the Civil War." But his idea had clearly not impressed her.

"Well, I'll work on some authors who interest <b>me</b>." Which was a good choice. He wasn't really interested in the fictional wild west, and -- even if he had been -- that was no reason for Marilyn to write a paper on it.

The walk back from the movie was even colder, and the grove of evergreens didn't appeal even to him, much less to her. She invited him inside, and they sat in the room that he'd seen first. It had a piano which nobody was playing. He sat on the piano bench with her on his lap. With their backs to the room and the piano hiding most of them, he could caress her breasts and even her thighs through her dress. Her back was to him, which interfered with deep kisses, but he could kiss her ears and neck.

When she called him Thursday night, he was afraid that she'd bawl him out for the liberties he took in front of their audience. They didn't really have a date for her to cancel, yet. Instead, it was an invitation, and one he should have thought of, himself.

"Look, our talk about the subjects we're both taking gave me an idea. Why don't you come over Friday after dinner and bring your History and English books. Maybe we could study together."

He agreed, and showed up Friday night. She led him to what she called "the study room." It had tables and chairs just like the dining room, although without the sideboard. She explained the English, and she pretended that he was more advanced than she was on History.

His brain was tired when they heard people returning in the hall. They each piled up hte books, but he didn't want to end the evening. When their first kiss was finished, he picked her up and stood her on a chair. He nuzzled between her breasts while kneading her butt. She didn't protest one bit. Instead, she kissed him on the head and ears.

Looking back after he was in bed, he decided that this was a splendid evening. He'd thought of it as spending time with Marilyn, something he'd enjoy even if he learned nothing. It had been spending time with Marilyn, but it also had grounded him in the two subjects he feared. The last bit of making out had been an added bonus. And, at the end, they'd almost agreed that the Wednesday night dates were an established thing.

More than that, he'd established himself within her life. Let's face it, he wasn't the greatest dancer in the world, and -- until and unless he got that car -- any number of people could get her to movies better than he could. And, after all, they were the same movies -- the guy with the car actually had a larger choice. On the other hand, he was in the top rank when it came to studying, despite his record last semester. When she was studying with him, she was seeing him at his best.

When there was a downpour Wednesday, he was more inspired than dismayed. He called her in plenty of time.

"Have you looked outside?" he asked when she'd got to the phone.

"Yeah."

"You don't want to go out in that, and I don't want to take you out in that." Suggesting that he cared for her, but in a way she couldn't oppose.

"Well, no."

"It's gauche of me to invite myself over, but do you want a study date tonight and a movie some other time?" Which would be time with her the night he'd scheduled for it, and -- just maybe -- time with her on another night.

"Andy, that would still mean your walking all that way." Which sounded like she cared for him, too. But he'd have to overcome that worry.

"Half as far, really. I'd have to walk over and back, anyway. I'd also walk with you. And, honestly, Marilyn, I can move faster than you can." Alone, he could run the sidewalks and lope across the streets.

"Well, if you're willing." Willing? He was eager to spend more time with her.

There were more girls in the house this time, and some of them were using the study room. Marilyn found the dining room empty, and they used that. They got interrupted twice, but Marilyn seemed to have a superior claim. Early on, she explained that Friday night of that week was out anyway. It sounded like she'd be with another guy again, but she tried to describe it as a sorority event. Well, he really had no claim on her, however much he wanted one.

"I think that's it," she said finally. The noise from the other rooms was getting louder, and they'd covered what they guessed would be the next week's lessons in both subjects.

"Yeah, I think we're done, anyway. I'll call, and we'll set up another time depending on your sorority's schedule and the weather." They came together for a kiss. They kissed like they had done in the grove, with him lifting her and with her hugging him with both arms and legs. Their tongues stroked each other and his hand kneaded her jeans-clad butt.

"Study? My ass!" said some girl from the doorway.

"Thanks, but I'd rather study hers." The quip just came to him.

"Really, Amy," Marilyn said, "we did get a lot of studying done."

"Yeah, I could tell. He'll probably ace Anatomy, but did you study any course you're taking?" There was laughter in her voice, though, and Marilyn seemed to accept the ribbing.

Since he had no Marilyn for the next week, he spent his time with his books. As he'd chosen his History paper, he got a scholarly-looking biography of Edison out of the library. He read it when he'd done enough serious work. That meant he wasn't in the mood to take notes, but he did put in a book mark whenever he read anything interesting.

Wednesday, he took Marilyn to another movie, but the grove was still dripping and they only kissed goodbye inside the doors of her house. Friday, though, was a study date. Marilyn had gotten a history test back, and she'd received an A. His congratulatory kiss went a little far, but she made no objection. And the kissing at the end of the date was as arousing as ever.

His History test was a little later than hers, and it was returned much later. But he, too, got an A. She even kissed him in congratulation, if only lightly.

Some weeks later, he asked Marilyn to the next University dance. They had a fine time during the early dances. Then, she suggested that he ask some of her sisters to dance. He did, and then got back together with Marilyn. They were heading towards the refreshement stand when she saw some more of her sisters.

"Get four Cokes," she said, "and join me at that table." She nodded to two girls he vaguely recognized. He knew almost all her sisters by sight, now, and these two had been in the kitchen inquisition during the party celebrating Marilyn's (and the others') pin. He set down a tray with four Cokes. She said a name while placing the glass before the person.

"Caitlin, Natalie, Andy. Natalie is my big sister, and Caitlin is her big sister." Everybody made some gesture of pleased recognition.

"Now, Caitlin," Marilyn continued. "Do you really want to hear Andy's take on the real history of the Civil War?"

"You can laugh at me, but I'd be interested."

"Here's your chance. And, Natalie, let's move on. Believe me, you don't want to hear this."

"Well," said Caitlin when the other two were gone, "what is so horrible about your take on history?"

"She's just reminding me that she doesn't want tt hear it again. Anyway, after Sumter, some border states seceded, and some didn't. Much of that was political, but military action was involved, as well. And West Virginia seceded from Virginia. Since the Union army could reach the district and the Confederate army couldn't, that secession was successful. Anyway, the non-seceding slave states included West Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri in the west. The Missouri case, at least, included pitched battles between the regular army and secessionists.

"So, right at the first, military action in the west made a difference. I mean, and contemporaries meant, west of the Alleghenies."

"Yeah, I know."

"The first Confederacy counted on all the slave states seceding. There were about 19 million living in the free states and 12 million living in the slave states. When you consider that some of that population were slaves and that the industrial and railroad power were much more heavily distributed north than the population, those are fairly long odds, but not incredibly long -- a little better than 3 to 2.

"With the non-secession, the Confederacy had a population of a little under 10 million. Against 21 million, that was better than 2 to 1. Even assuming that the remaining border states weren't all that enthusiastic, even 19 million to 10 million is nearly 2 to 1.

"And the next big success came with the capture of New Orleans. After that, the Union had two activities in the west. They extended their hold on the Missisppi river, they moved up from the south and down from the north. They also went into Tennessee, first on the Cumberland River, and then on the Tennessee. They had naval forces on riverboats supporting them and transporting them.

"Meanwhile, the combat in the east consisted of General Smith marching on Richmond, getting repelled, falling back and reorganizing his army. After he did it again, he was replaced by General Jones, who repeated the process. And on, and on, and on."

"It wasn't quite that bad, how about Gettysburg?"

"I'm getting to that. In '63, with Tennessee almost entirely occupied, Grant marched on the last and strongest Confederate fortification on the Mississippi."

"Vicksburg."

"Right. I'll get to why the fall of Vicksburg was the end of Confederate hopes later, but Jefferson Davis certainly saw that it would be. He wanted Lee to either lead or send a major part of his army to help defend Vicksburg, but Lee was a Virginian. He wasn't about to let Richmond go. Instead he proposed to invade Pennsylvania. Now, he'd always had the possibility of doing so, but the reasons for not doing so were persuasive. Even the Confederacy had troops in the rear areas. The Union had more, and the militia hadn't all joined the regular army. So a victory as narrow and as bloody as the defeat he experienced would have meant a huge effort to reinforce his opponents. There would have been other battles, there would have been defense of the major cities. Remember that one of Lee's arguments was that this attack would distract the army attacking Vicksburg. What would have happened if a major portion of that army was shipped up to Pennsylvania to join Meade? The Union not only had more forces, it had the transportation, river to Pittsburgh, railroad to Philadelphia or Harrisburg."

"You don't think Lee could have got to Washington first?" Caitlin asked.

"Even if he did, Washington had both fortifications and troops. And remember that Meade had an army right there. So what the Confederacy was gambling on was a series of victories. Each one would have reduced Lee's forces and pulled him deeper into Union territory. One defeat would have sent him back. And the longer he went on, the more Union troops he would have had on his back trail.

"The invasion which led to Gettysburg," he summarized. "was a wild throw of the dice. And they threw the dice because Vicksburg meant the end."

"While Gettysburg did not?"

"Not really. You have to remember the comparative numbers. Now, Vicksburg held two things. First, as long as the Confederacy held that fort, they could stop Union traffic on the Missippi, and what the Union called the west shipped its produce down the Mississippi. More vital to the war, though, was that the last rairoad bridge across the Mississppi in Confederate hands was at Vicksburg. This was the last way to connect the states west of the Missippi with the rest of the Confederacy. With naval steamers patroling the Mississippi and Union forces on both banks, the chance to ship anything significant across the river was quite slight. And, of course, by this time the Confederacy was depending on a draconian draft law to maintain its armies. And drafting people to sneak across a couple of miles of river doesn't sound promising."

"Anyway, nearly five months later, the Union won the battle of Chattanooga. They'd been conquering Tennesse gradually for a long time. This battle essentially finished this conquest. Remember that the Confederacy had begun with 11 states and nearly 10 million population, including slaves. They now had a presence and a connection to 7 states and little more than 7 million persons. And all of that decrease was due to military operations in the west. Even this is understating the matter. After all, Grant's army was marching back and forth across the state of Mississippi at will. How much of Mississippi's population was paying Confederate taxes and showing up for the Confederate draft is hard for me to determine. So, the long-range picture was bleaker than ever."

"And the short range?"

"Well, something like 30,000 troops and all their artillery -- rifles, too, but artillery was more important -- surrendered at Vicksburg. 30,000 was a shitload of men in that war -- about how many Lee surrendered at Appomatox, though that was because his army had been worn down. And the Union already had artillery superiority. Now Grant had not only the cannons he'd started out with, but most of the cannons which had defended Vicksburg as well. Each side used essentially the same artillery. They fired captured cannons.

"So, the Union, which had always had a massive advantage in resources and usually in troops, had a heavier short-term advantage in troops and an even heavier advantage in resources closer to 3 to 1 than 2 to 1.

"And some of the former slaves on the occupied lands enlisted. Not all that many, but remember the Confederate population I've been counting included slaves. Now they were fighting on the Union side. More than 100,000 ex-slaves enlisted. The confederacy had 200,000 troops actually with their units at the close of 1864.

"So," he wound up, "the war was won in the west. When it had been won there, the western Union army brought it back east."

"Sherman's march from Atlanta to the sea?"

"Yeah. And a much smaller and faster group which followed a route south of Sherman's -- Wilson's Raid. The war was over after Vicksburg, but you don't win a war until your opponents see that it's over."

"Fascinating. I'm not certain that I'm persuaded. But that would make an honor's paper if not a thesis. You're sure that you want to major in ...?"

"Electrical Engineering. I'm sure. Everybody needs a hobby, and my dad majored in History. I read some of his books and talked with him. Then I went off reading on my own. History is fun, but you don't make anything concrete; you just argue. I love to argue, but I want to leave something behind besides bored people."

"Well, Marilyn may have been bored, but I wasn't. Let's go get her." And they went to the table where Marilyn was sitting alone.

"He didn't quite persuade me," Caitlin said, "but it sounded reasonable. He should put it in a paper."

"Did," he said. "Bombed."

"Why?"

"I'd said it all in class, beforehand, and I had minimal citations to back up my assertions. Professor claimed I hadn't put in much research nor any thought on it this year." He should be honest. "Which, after all, was true."

"And what does 'bombed' mean?" Marilyn asked. Hadn't he told her? He'd certainly told her the course grade.

"A C on the paper. It was enough to get me a B in the course."

"You two go dance," said the history major. Caitlin -- he should remember that name. And they obeyed. There were three more dances. When he walked Marilyn home, another couple had got to the grove before they did. The downstairs room was crowded, too. They kissed for a while but went no further.

Spring break was coming up, and Dad asked whether he was coming home. Well, where would Marilyn be? If she were staying here, there would be lots of time and space for them to get together. He called her up.

"Spring break is almost upon us," he said when she got on the phone. "Are you going back to Evanston?" She could, of course, be going somewhere else; loads of kids did.

"Yeah."

"Me, too. Taking your books?" It was, after all, not only natural to do so, it was the best excuse for them getting together.

"Think it's a good idea?"

"Sure. You get a chance to get ahead of the lectures. Maybe we could study together." Oops! That was taking two steps at once.

"I'll look forward to it." They not only were going to be in the same town for another week, they arranged to take the same train there.

She got a ride to the station, so he didn't stop there on his way. Actually, the station was closer to his dorm than to her sorority house. Once in the station, though, she introduced him to some of her classmates and she brought him over to the cluster of her 'sisters.' While he'd met most of those in the station, she was careful to mention names. Some of his classmates were there, too, and he introduced Marilyn to them as "a neighbor and old friend." He didn't want to claim too much, for fear that she'd decide that this didn't describe their relationship. As it was, their relationship was evolving, and he didn't want her deciding about some line before she'd crossed it.

"Well, I know about your English and History grades," he asked her when they were seated together. "How are the other courses going? You're taking swnimming in Phys Ed, aren't you?" All she'd told him about that was how much easier her haircut was than that of the girls who crammed long hair under their bathing caps.

"Swimming is going fine; I'm going to use it come summer. Chorus is okay...." Which left Psychology, but she veered away. "Look, how should I describe you?" Which sounded a lot like stapling down their relationship when he wanted it to be vague in her mind so that it could progress further.

"Six foot one? EE major? Nerd? Basically, as long as I'm not there, say anything you want."

"But when you're there. This is my..."

"What's accurate? Ocasional date? Study partner? Distant admirer?"

"You haven't been all that distant." Well, he'd been more distant than he'd wanted to be. "Should I say that you're my boyfriend?" Yeah! And she didn't even say 'one of my boyfriends.'

"I'd be very happy if that were true?"

"Well, we go on a lot of dates for not being boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Okay. And may I call you my girlfriend, too? After all, you go on other dates. I haven't dated anybody else since you went to the first movie with me. I'd say that you're the woman I'm obsessed with, except that you're an English major. You wouldn't want to be described by a sentence ending in a preposition." That got a laugh out of her, and she didn't object to his saying that he was obsessed with her.

The rest of the trip was pleasant, if not so significant. He learned about her family, especially her brother, Pete. He told her about his family, too, using the word 'stepfather' more in one conversation than he'd done in his life before. But you couldn't say 'turd' to a girl like Marilyn.

At the station, he lifted down their luggage, resisted lifting down Marilyn, and lifted down the luggage of two of her sorority sisters who had been in the same car. Personally, he thought the sorority had abused her, but she liked it. And he wasn't going to act rudely to the girls she thought of as her sisters. Then he took his own suitcases and what looked like the heavier of hers. They walked towards the main part.

"Being met?" he asked her. The walk felt companionable, and he didn't want their trip together to end yet.

"I think so," she replied.

"I'm taking a cab. Dad'll be still at work. If you don't have a ride, I'll have the cab drop you." Soon afterwards, however, she and her mother saw each other. After hugging, they turned to him.

"Mom, this is Andy. I've written you about him." Which sounded nice.

"Mrs. Grant." He put down the suitcase in his right hand to shake.

When he'd got Marilyn's suitcases into her trunk, he didn't have any more excuse to stick around. Truth to tell, her mother made him nervous.

"See you," he said. Then, getting the suitcases into a better carrying position, he went in search of a cab. At home, he unlocked the door, and then slammed it to tell Mrs. Bryant he was back.

"Andy!" she said. "You're looking well."

"You're looking good, too, same as always." He sniffed the faint odors which had peneatrated from the kitchen. "And smelling divine."

"Way to a man's heart," she said and went back to finish the cooking. It was a welcome-home feast, and she set the table in ihe dining room in celebration. Dad got home, for once, before six. After Mrs. Bryant left, they sat down at once and dug into the roast beef.

"So," Dad asked, "how's school going?"

"Decently."

"Will I have a car to trade in?" As if he wanted that.

"Dunno. I'm working on both subjects."

"You're supposed to be the math whizz. You have to get A s in three subjects."

"Well, knock on wood," he rapped the table with his knuckle, "Calc and Physics will be A s. I'm still working on English and History. Neither is certain enough to ignore the other."

"Good!" The old man was manipulative as hell, but -- at least -- he never pretended otherwise. Dad wanted him to work hard off his preferences, and -- he had to admit -- the experience of working in uninteresting fields had been quite useful when he'd fallen behind in Calc.

Saturday, he took the Lit book into the yard with him for his tanning time. Marilyn was right that reading ahead gave you all sorts of advantages when the stuff came up in assignments. Besides, the subject rewarded reading without thinking in a way that Calc or Physics didn't. And the sun was going to do the work today; he wasn't. Sunday, Marilyn seemed to involved with her parents to speak to, but Monday he called.

"Marilyn? We spoke of studying together," he said when he'd got her on the phone. "Would this afternoon be a good time? I can get control of the dining room here. Or would you rather do it at your place? Or would another time be better?" He was dithering, but he sure didn't want her to refuse 'cause he'd proposed something inconvenient.

"Your place would be fine." Great!

"So when would be a good time for me to come by and pick you up?"

"How about 12:30?" she asked.

"Fine. Your place, 12:30." Which meant a little more than 2 hours to wait. He cleared the use of the dining room with Mrs. Bryant. Technically, he only had ownership of his own room if his plans conflicted with her cleaning plans. He would, if necessary, suggest that as an alternative place for study. Marilyn wouldn't accept, but she'd be less shocked than Mrs. Bryant would be. That wasn't necessary; she was still pampering him on his return.

When he got to Marilyn's house, her mother answered the door. He was still nervous in her presence.

"Mrs. Grant, I'm Andy Trainor." They'd met Friday, but there was no reason for her to remember him. "Marilyn and I are going to study together. Is she here?" Which was a silly question; Marilyn always kept her engagements. On the other hand, Mrs. Grant didn't have an 'oh yes' expression on her face.

"Marilyn," she called loudly over her shoulder, "Andy's here." Only then did she move out of the doorway to let him in. Marilyn came downstairs and then into sight. She was carrying her books and obviously ready to go.

"Hello," he said to her. He reached for her books, and she gave them to him. "Nice to see you again Mrs. Grant," he said to her mother as Marilyn kept going. He followed her out of the door. A little away from the door, he shifted the books to his left arm. He reached towards her with his right, and she took his hand.

"I'm sure your mother is a wonderful person," he said, "but, somehow, I feel uncomfortable talking to her."

"Just be glad you can escape. What's with the shirt?" Oh, yeah. He hadn't packed any sweatshirts and was wearing the one The Moppet had given him and he'd left at home.

"Gift from my younger sister, April. I don't wear it on campus." He didn't mean anything by wearing a UCLA sweatshirt. The rest of the walk was in companionable silence.

Mrs. Bryant, forewarned, greeted them at the door.

"Mrs. Bryant, this is Marilyn Grant. We're going to be studying in the dining room."

"Miss Grant." He closed the dining room door behind them, and they sat down at the table. He was ahead of Marilyn in both books, but she knew what the professor would be looking for in English. It was she who called a halt.

"My brain went numb ten minutes ago. I don't know anything." Well studying with her had been fun, but maybe they could find another way to pass the time pleasantly.

"Cool," he said. "Come here." When she did, he helped her into his lap facing away. He kissed the parts his mouth could reach like that while stroking and holding her lovely breasts. They could see the yard through the window from here, but absolutely nobody could see them. And, for once, they didn't have a deadline. He was enjoying the taste of her ear and the feel of her body, the breasts in his hands and the butt on his leg, when Mrs. Bryant cleared her throat from behind him. She disapproved? Well fuck her!

"Mrs. Bryant," he said, "would you please shut the door? I thought I had shut it." He stroked down Marilyn's body to her waist. She was a modest girl, and wouldn't want to be seen with his hands on her breasts.

"Is Miss Grant staying for dinner?" asked Mrs. Bryant. She wasn't going to go away.

"Good question. Can you?" he asked Marilyn.

"I couldn't possibly." Which made it sound as though she'd enjoy it.

"Alas, no."

"It's 5:45," Mrs. Bryant said. She was due off at 6:00. And, although she'd be polite about it, she wasn't going to leave while Marilyn was here. Well, she was right, and Marilyn wouldn't go up to his room even if they were alone.

"She has to set the table," he explained to Mailyn. That was was a better reason than that she was his chaperone, "and I have to walk you home." Mrs. Bryant watched them out the door.

"What did she see?" Marilyn asked on the way back to her place.

"Very little. My back was to that door, and I'm wider than you are. What did she guess? Probably a fair amount. She's a married woman with kids -- Hell! a grandkid. I doubt that there is anything she hasn't done. What will she tell? Absolutely nothing to Dad." Telling Dad was her punishment and her threat. She wouldn't do it unless he were defiant after she'd made the threat. "What she gossips at home about the doings of the Trainors, I have no idea. She's probably not used to providing much gossip; we're an incredibly dull family."

"I don't think you're all that dull." Which was pleasant to hear, if rather praising by faint damnation.

"That's nice to hear. I'm not certain that your sisters share that opinion, though." But that was the past. What of the future. "Well, shall we do this again? Does Wednesday suit? Want to start with lunch? She might clear her throat like some artillery barrage, but Mrs. Bryant is a good cook." And she would gladly provide a good lunch for his guest as compensation for enforcing her rules.

"Is she there Wednesday, too?" Marilyn asked. They still knew so little of each others' lives.

"Every day. She was part-time before the divorce, but Dad hired her full-time afterwards."

"Sounds attractive," she said attractively.

"Wednesday then?"

"Yeah. Thanks." This being a study time and not a date, Marilyn stood like he wasn't entitled to a good-night kiss. Anyway, he wasn't sure he wanted one with her mother watching.

The kitchen table, not the dining room table, was set when he got home. Dad and he talked about the bank over dinner. The old man usually didn't go on and on about his work, but he told Andy enough to know what he did.

Tuesday, Mrs. Bryant agreed to cook a good lunch for them Wednesday. She set it up for them in the dining room and ate her own share in the kitchen. Study went even better than on Monday, and making out went delightfully. He'd borrowed the kitchen timer, and he was walking Marilyn out the door when Mrs. Bryant looked out of the kitchen.

Going back south, he and Marilyn shared a seat again. They had their courses to talk about. She described her planned History paper, and he described his. When they got off the train, he shifted his luggage to his left arm again and picked up her biggest suitcase with his right. He walked her to her sorority house. Well, it was now or never.

"Movie Tuesday? Subject to weather and all."

"Why thanks," she replied. And the movie was fine, with his arm around her back the whole time. When they walked back, she even stopped at the grove.

"Are you really my girlfriend?" He couldn't get over the wonder of that relationship.

"Of course." She seemed to be unaware of the honor she was bestowing. And, in the grove, he was very clumsy in expressing it.

"Marilyn, you are sweet." And, as he lifted her, the touch was as sweet as her personality. She hugged his waist with her thighs. Their kiss was deep and delicious while he stroked her back. Then he kissed all of her face and neck. "So sweet." Standing on the ground, she invited his hands on her breasts by backing into him. He finally lifted her again like that to kiss her neck. "So sweet." Which was true, but insufficent. Then he walked her home and had another -- dare he say it? sweet -- kiss on her porch before going home. There, he thought about what more he could do without crossing her line.

After the next date, when they turned into the grove, he turned her to face away. Then he had to describe what he wanted.

"Put your upper arms straight down to your sides and raise your hands about shoulder height." He picked her up to the height he wanted her. "Now stretch your legs out towards that tree trunk." When she did, he pushed her feet against the trunk. Now, he had her up where he could reach her, and his hands were free.

He kissed what he could reach. Since his torso was still holding her up, he could only bend his neck. But his hands were free to stroke all over her delightful body. And she let him bring her hand back for a kiss. He sucked each finger and licked the center of her palm.

"Andy," she said. She sounded like whe wanted to be set down.

"Okay." He held her under the arms so he could take her entire weight. "Relax." When her legs were down, he slid her sweet body all along his front until she was standing on her feet "You're sweet."

"So are you, but you're silly, too." Well, he'd take silly any day to be thought sweet by a girl like Marilyn. And, for the rest of semester, she was his girlfriend. Then, with finals looming, he knew their idyl must end. He stated the obvious first. Then, he went into radical study mode. The papers seemed to go all right, although he could imagine some blooper escaping him completely. The exams, similarly, seemed okay. He got another fifth of vodka, although the first one still had half an inch at the bottom, and another two large bottles of ginger ale. He drank the mixture until his head stopped rehearsing the exams. There was a lot left the next morning, so he repeated the process. Then he was called to the phone. His clock, which he checked on the way to the phone in the hall, said that it was 3:00. The window said that that was 3:00 p.m.

"Andy?" It was Marilyn, and he had the worst combination of drunkeness and hangover.

"Marilyn? I'm sorry. I'm fuzzy headed."

"Something happen?" Leave it to an innocent like her to think it was something somebody else had done to him.

"Tied one on. Always do it after exams."

"Sounds like this is a bad time to call." He hated to agree, but he should.

"Really it is."

"Call me when it's a better time, will you?"

The rest of the ginger ale -- flat as the proverbial pancake -- settled his stomach. Three aspirin and dinner with five cups of coffee settled his head a little bit. He got a surprising amount of sleep that night. A long shower and a big breakfast with more coffee later, he was far enough back to normal that another two aspirin cleared his headache. When he called Marilyn back, they agreed to take the same train north on Saturday.

It was a popular day; the station was filled with kids going home. Several were from Marilyn's sorority, and when they got on the train together and found the car was almost empty, they appropriated four seats in a row. With the backs of two of them reversed, eight people could sit in two groups of four facing each other. He and Marilyn took the last backward-facing seat. With exams -- even classes -- done, all of them were a little giddy.

"So, Andy," one of the girls asked, "aren't you afraid of being surrounded by Zates?"

"Not at all. I understand that National has signed the Geneva Convention."

"But that's only if you're captured," the girl responded.

"Don't look now," he said putting his arm around Marilyn, "but one of your number captured me long ago."

"So," another girl asked, "why don't we see a ring?" Well, for one thing, she wouldn't accept his ring. And, for another, it would be horribly selfish to ask for an engagement before he was able to support her. Well, that was too serious an answer for the occasion.

"Well, she's hooked me, but she hasn't decided to put me in the creel yet. She's thinking of throwing me back."

"I don't know," Marilyn said. "I think he looks like a keeper." Now, light tone or not, that was very good to hear.

"And now we know what kind of fish I am," he responded. "Though I didn't know you were English. I'm a kipper." The groaned and hissed at the joke, but they didn't pursue the subject. Instead, they got off on courses, and their hopes and fears about grades. He kept his mouth closed, knowing that the present audience wasn't ready to hear about his hopes for an A and -- even worse from their perspective -- fears of a B.

Another girl came down the aisle. He knew her, Patricia, one of Marilyn's roommates.

"You guys look like you're having fun. I'm all alone," she said. "Can I squeeze in?" When Marilyn moved over towards him to make room he was quite willing. He moved over further, but then he pulled her against him. God bless Patricia. Marilyn cuddled her whole length against him, and all for generous sharing.

"Generous of Marilyn how much room she's giving 'Trish, isn't it?" one of the others asked.

"She moved away from her. I don't think Marilyn likes 'Trish."

"She might just like Andy more," Patricia said. Great idea. He was liking this girl better and better.

"You think?" several said. By this time the girls in the other two seats were looking on -- two turning around to do so.

"Just giving you a little room," Andy said. "If she really liked me, she'd ride in my lap." So, sweet Marilyn stood in front of him so he could lift her onto his lap. He rode the rest of the way feeeling her butt agaist his leg and with his arm around her waist feeling the soft weight of her breasts atop it.

Dad met them at the station. Unfortunately, so did Marilyn's parents. After a round of introductions, they parted.

"So," Dad asked in the car, "your social life for your freshman year was a success. Did you learn anything?"

"Sure. Anything could have gone wrong on the exams, and I wrote two papers which might offend the professors. Still, I'd be surprised if I don't meet your challenge, and disappointed."

"Well, I'd be disappointed, too. Looks like a nice girl."

"She is."