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From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW Playing the Game III: The Competitive Edge, Ch. 25
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Date: Fri,  4 Jun 2004 18:10:05 -0400
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And the story crawls along...

Enjoy!

RCM

Rev. Cotton Mather
Senior Pastor,
Church of the Erotic Redemption
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www
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I'd do it all over you**

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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 25 -

LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY AND SQUIGGY



Okay, so now I was lonely, single, horny, and left high and dry.
Thanks a lot, girls.

To make matters worse, Westy's swimming season had stumbled to a
close, and he was bird-dogging again.  Way too often I would find him
either just starting his seduction or hustling his conquest out the
door when I came home.

It turned out Westy's life wasn't much easier than my own.  He
finally got blackballed from the fraternity for being too much of a
low-life.  Considering the reputation of some of the fraternities on
campus at UF and around the country, to be too depraved for Greek
life was low indeed.  After about a week of pissing and moaning about
his unfair treatment - "After all the shit I went through to please
those fuckin' fags" was the typically smooth way he described it - he
was back to Leisure-Suit Westy, the snake in human form.

His swimming season also pretty much went up in smoke - literally.
He had some pretty amazing stories to tell about what went on during
the meets, especially when they had to go to other schools.  Even
discounting Westy's tendency to exaggerate, those swimmers were a
wild bunch.  Drugs, orgies, binge drinking, and an almost total
disregard for their physical well-being made me wonder how they
managed to perform in the water at all.

"Shit, man, remember that one time when I got back from a meet and
I, like, crashed for a couple of days?"

I remembered a few times when he did that, but I just nodded.

"We were up in Boston for a six-school meet.  Dude, those Ivy League
types can party."

"You mean you actually went out partying with Hahvahd boys?" I asked.

Westy just laughed, no doubt remembering the partying.  "It wasn't
the Harvard boys who made the party special," he said.  He gave me a
conspiratorial wink.  For some reason, it irritated me.  Nothing new,
I thought glumly.  Almost everything he does irritates me.

"Nope, it was the Wellesley women."

"Huh?"

"Porter, some of those hoi polloi bitches from the frou-frou schools
may look like liquid nitrogen ice princesses, but pour a little hooch
into them and they thaw right out.  Especially if they're going to an
all-girls' school."

"You mean there are still some of those left in this world?" I asked.

"Fuck, yes," said Westy.  "Full of dykes and frustrated old
battleaxes, if you ask me.  Rich parents think their precious
princesses will be safe from nasty boys.  If they only knew their
sweet little darling daughters were out fucking around with poor
scholarship athletes like us every chance they got.  And were they
ever horny little bitches."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.  Westy actually hung out with
Ivy Leaguers?  Hard to believe they would tolerate him.

"Shit, man, lubricate 'em, and they're almost as slutty as the girls
on the swim team.  And you know what, man?"  He was waggling his
eyebrows, anxious to tell me whether I wanted to hear or not.  "Ivy
League, richer than freakin' Jesus, but you diddle 'em just right,
they'll roll over and spread like the cheapest Gator whore.  Shit,
man, lick 'em enough, and they'll take it hard and deep up the ass
and ask for more."  He sighed in remembrance.  "Ain't no sight in
this world like a stuck-up bitch getting it stuck up her shitter.
What a time we had..."

"Yeah, well, too bad it all had to end," I said.  I wanted to give
him just a little dagger to remind him of his dereliction.

Westy didn't much care, though.  "Hey, I got laid.  Lots.  That's
more important sometimes than getting to the nationals."

"Like you had a chance to swim in the nationals," I said derisively.

He shrugged.  "We had a pretty good freestyle relay," he said.  "We
just lacked the energy to compete."  He laughed, an evil sound.
"Discharged way too many precious bodily fluids along the way," he
said.

"And then you had to go and get caught smoking dope," I reminded
him.  He and some of his swim team buddies had been busted by the
campus police over by the athletic fields near Lake Alice.  The group
of them, Westy and two other guys and three girls, had apparently
been having a really good time.  They had driven a car through the
parking lot, down a small embankment, and parked it haphazardly in
the grass.  They were sitting and leaning against it, passing around
a couple of blunts, when they got caught.  Nothing much came of it,
except the car got impounded for a few days.  Since they were all
athletes, the whole thing got quietly turned over to their coaches
for discipline.

He was unconcerned, though.  "Our season was over by then," he said.
"What were they going to do?  Keep us out of the water?  We were
already done."  His eyes narrowed.  "Hey, Porter, I ever tell you
about me and Aaron and Joshua triple-teaming our high-diver Evie
Sanderson?"

"No.  And I don't think I'm willing to sit here and listen to it,
either."

"Shit, that's okay," he said.  "Evie wasn't very willing, either.
At least she didn't start out that way.  By the end she was begging
for more, though."

Westy strolled out the door, on his way over to Jason's room, no
doubt looking for a more receptive audience.  I felt like I needed to
scrub my hands and face.


_____________________________________________________________________


Alex, Erin and I were having lunch at the Union.  We had opted for
pizza, and it was hot but it was pretty tasteless.  Kind of like
tomato paste and cheese had been spread on a slab of cardboard and
then heated up, the crust was chewy and soggy at the same time.  I
wondered what marvels of chemistry were concocted to create such an
epicurean delight.

"Just don't even think about it," suggested Alex.  "It'll ruin your
appetite."

"And you're a growing boy," said Erin with a smile.  "Lord knows
what would happen if your appetite got ruined."

"Probably locusts and floods would be visited upon Florida," I said
as I hacked off another piece.  "In point of fact, even the worst
meal I've ever had was still pretty damn good."

"Food as sex," said Alex.  Erin laughed, but I, typical male, was
merely confused.  And hungry.

"What?" I asked, between mouthfuls.

Erin's eyes were twinkling.  "Even the worst sex I've ever had was
pretty damn good," she said.

I goggled at her.  I never expected to hear somebody like Erin say
something like that.  She was just too... proper.  A pretty,
conservative Southern peach from Georgia.

"Put your eyes back in your head, Porter," said Alex with a laugh.
"It's not just the athletic types like you and me who have sex, you
know.  Even pretty little china dolls like Hughes here can get down
and messy sometimes."

Well, that description certainly created an indelible image in my
poor masculine brain.  And, because of the vivid picture my mind was
conjuring, my jeans were suddenly feeling a little tighter.

I looked at them both.  "I think I'm sweating," I said.

"What's the matter, Porter?" asked Erin coquettishly.  "Are we
making you nervous?"

Alex laughed and put her arm around Erin's shoulder.  "I don't think
it's nervousness," she stage-whispered.  Keeping her eyes on me the
whole time, making sure I was watching, Alex slowly poked her tongue
out and gently began licking around Erin's ear.  She then took Erin's
earlobe between her teeth, which made Erin start to squirm in her
chair.

"Alex," Erin groaned, and she put up her hand to bar Alex from
further familiarity.

"Jesus," I muttered.

Alex turned to face me.  "Got a problem over there, Porter?"  She
laughed out loud when she saw the look of pain on my face.  "If
you're good, maybe one of us will help you out sometime."

I must have looked even funnier, because Erin began giggling, along
with Alex.  "You poor sweetheart," she said.  She scooted her chair
over closer to me and put one arm around my back to rest on the back
of my chair.  I could feel her fingertips noodling with the sleeve of
my shirt, but I was a little afraid to turn toward her.  She
shattered my theory about being a proper Georgia peach, however, by
deliberately putting her hand on my thigh.  The pressure of her
fingers made me look over at her, a little panicky, and she leaned in
to me.  With her eyes open, watching my reaction the whole time, she
gave me a soft, slow kiss.

Criminey, there's a million people around, I thought, panicking a
little as Erin backed off, grinning at me.  Her hand on my leg stayed
where it was, though.

Alex noticed my discomfort, and grinned at me unashamedly.  "Relax,
Porter," she said.  "Those guys over there?"  She nodded her head
over toward a table with three guys at it, papers strewn across the
table and sandwich wrappers balled up in the middle.  "If they even
looked up from their homework project, they'd probably be jealous of
you."

True, Porter, I thought.  It really didn't make me any more
comfortable, though.

With one last squeeze, Erin scooted back over and calmly picked up
her slice of pizza.  She glanced over at me, her eyes hinting of
amusement and questions.

A complex girl, I said to myself.  Never get mixed up with a complex
girl.  And here I've got two of them sitting at the table with me.
Where was Eric when I really needed him?  He would know how to handle
this situation.

"You're not like any other pre-law students I've ever met," I said
to Erin.

She put down her food and looked at me, amusement still dominant in
her eyes.  "Just because I want to be a lawyer doesn't mean I want to
be stuffy," she said.  "Lawyers can have fun, too, you know."

"That's not a concept I've ever considered," I said.

Erin snorted.  "What, you want all women to be barefoot and pregnant
all the time?"

I held my hands up.  "No, I didn't say that.  I know women can make
great lawyers.  And doctors.  And engineers."  I smiled.  "And
mothers."

She started to protest, but before she could say anything I worked
to mollify her.  "I'm just saying that I think women can be anything
they want to be.  And being the world's best mom is not a second-
class choice for a career, in my opinion.  It takes a lot of work to
be a good parent."

I was actually thinking of my brother Stephen, and how he was trying
to be a great dad to Tara's little son, Kyle.  My God, Kyle's going
to be a year old soon, I suddenly realized.

"You mean you don't think your mom sits around all day, watching
television and eating bon-bons?" asked Erin.

"I'm not even sure what a bon-bon is, actually," I said.  "And my
mother has a full-time job.  Make that two full-time jobs.  She works
in an insurance office, and she works at being a wife and mother and
homemaker."

"Wow, Porter, I'm in awe," exclaimed Alex.  "I think you're the
first actual, living guy I have ever heard say that."

"Hey, I know how hard my parents worked to raise three boys," I said
defensively.  "And I know we weren't easy on them.  We still aren't.
My older brother started my dad's gray hair.  After two years of
junior college, he decided it just wasn't for him.  He works at an
auto-parts store now, and he's happy.  Dad was disappointed at first,
but he finally realized that college really wasn't for everybody.
Maybe it wasn't for his first-born son."

"But you made it," noted Erin.

"Yes, I made it to college, but I contributed to my dad's gray hair
when I was in high school."  I subconsciously began rubbing the long
scar on my arm.  "I'm still causing trouble, even though I really
don't mean to."

"What sort of trouble could you have gotten into in high school?
You were a star, you were an All-American."

Erin looked startled at Alex's declaration.  "Really?  You were?  I
didn't know that," she said.

I waved my hand, a dismissive gesture.  "It doesn't mean shit
anymore," I said.  "It was a long time ago."

"It was a year ago," Alex pointed out.

"Huh.  You're right," I said, slightly amazed.  "It feels longer
than that."

"So, how were you so bad, Porter?" asked Alex.  She leaned forward,
putting her chin on her propped-up fist and gazing at me intently.

"It wasn't really anything, I guess," I reluctantly said.  "I... I
got cut by one of the bad guys in school.  Missed a bunch of games
because of a fight... it seemed to matter more at the time than it
does now."  I sighed.  I really, really hated reliving that period.
"Anyway, what were we talking about?"

"Your father's gray hair," Erin prompted.

"Oh, yeah.  Anyway, my younger brother, Stephen, is kind of the
icing on the family cake.  A girl in school... she made some bad
decisions... and my brother was part of a group that... encouraged
her... Anyway, Tara, that's the girl, ended up having a baby, and
Stephen stepped up to take responsibility, even though Tara told him
he probably wasn't the baby's father.  He's a high school sophomore,
and he's being a dad to a kid who is going to be a year old pretty
soon.  It's pretty fucked up, but that's the Porter family in a
nutshell.  Emphasis on the nut."

Alex smiled, but Erin looked a little sad as she said, "We've all
made mistakes, Sean."  She was trying to reassure me, I knew, and my
respect for her went up a notch.  "That's part of living your life
and learning.  At least, we hope we learn from our mistakes, as well
as our... triumphs."  She scooted closer to me again, and put her arm
around my shoulder.  This time it was a companionable feeling,
instead of the teasing sensation from the last time.  "Just because
things haven't gone perfectly doesn't mean you're a bad person.  It
means you're... interesting."

"Interesting."  I rolled the word around my mouth, tasting its
nuances.  "That's an... interesting way of putting it."

Erin laughed at my little joke, and I was inordinately pleased.
Alex sat across from us, with her chin still on her hand, and watched
us, an enigmatic smile on her face.


_____________________________________________________________________


The Phi Kaps were having a "Happy Days" party, and Alex insisted the
three of us dress up and go to it.

"I'm not a member of Phi Kappa Phi," I reminded her.

"So what?  You're Bryan's friend.  Besides, I have an open
invitation to attend any of their parties.  If I want to bring guests
of my own, it's okay.  Trust me."

And so the three of us, Alex and Erin and me, showed up at the Phi
Kap house on the night of the party.  Alex and Erin dressed up like
LaVerne and Shirley - Alex, as the dark-haired pixie, was Shirley,
and Erin, with her wavy blonde hair, was LaVerne - and the girls
insisted I come as Squiggy.

"Why can't I be the Fonz?" I asked.

"Because there will be way too many frat boys who think of
themselves as the Fonz.  Besides, Squiggy was cuter.  Dumber, but
cuter."

Erin giggled.  "I like dumb but cute," she said.  "And so does
Shirley."

"Shirley?  You jest," joked Alex.

So I dressed up in black jeans and a white tee shirt.  I borrowed a
pack of cigarettes from a guy in the dorm, and I rolled the pack up
my left sleeve.  Craig Nevers, a freshman who lived across the hall,
was a pretty decent artist, so I had him draw an elaborate eagle on
my bicep in blue and black ink.  When he was done, it looked like a
permanent tattoo.  I slathered up my hair with Vaseline and slicked
it back into an elaborate ducktail.  'Me and Brian Setzer,' I said to
myself as I worked with my comb to pile it just right.  I made sure a
little curl of my hair fell down onto my forehead, and then gave
myself one last critical examination in the mirror.  Maybe LaVerne
and Shirley thought of me as Squiggy, but I was going to think of
myself as the Fonz anyway.

When I went downstairs, I didn't see Alex's car anywhere.  I was
wandering around, feeling and looking lost, when I heard a honk.  I
turned around, and there were the girls, in a different car, laughing
at my confusion.  Alex climbed into the back and smoothed her poodle
skirt demurely around her knees as I got into the passenger seat.

"Whose car is this?" I asked.  It was a blue Honda Accord, maybe
five years old.  It was as clean as it could be on the inside,
obviously a well-cared-for automobile.

"It's mine," said Erin.  It should have been obvious to me, since
she was in the driver's seat, but I could be a little slow sometimes.
"I don't get a chance to use it very often, so I volunteered to drive
tonight."

"Great," I said.  "My parents wouldn't have let me bring my car
down, even if I had asked.  And, really, I haven't missed it."

"Yeah, that's why mine's been sitting so long," said Erin.  She
patted the dashboard affectionately.  "I think she missed me, too.
She's been lonesome."

"Don't tell me.  You've given the car a name, haven't you?" I asked.
Why did girls do that?

"Of course she has a name," said Erin, giving me a look that said I
had asked an incredibly silly question.  "Her name is True.  As in
True Blue."

"Of course it is," I said.  "A much better name than, say, Robin."

Erin laughed, and her eyes were happy as she looked at me.  "Silly.
She's not robin's-egg blue.  She's not sky blue. She's..."

"True Blue," Alex and I spoke in unison.

"I'm glad we have this straight now," said Erin.  "Shall we go?"

"Take us to the party, True," I said, and Erin put the car in
reverse and backed carefully out of her parking space.

The Phi Kaps were hosting the party at a house being rented by some
of the brothers, in the Ghetto, beyond University Ave.  Erin found a
place to park in the back, and we piled out of True and walked toward
the rear steps of the house.

The soundtrack to "Grease" was pounding out of the speakers, the
sound leaking out the door and surrounding us as we made our way
through the back porch and into the house.  We immediately headed for
the kitchen, where the bar was set up.  They had wine coolers
chilling in a tub of ice, and a couple of kegs of beer.  I got three
plastic cups of foamy beer and carried them over to where the girls
were waiting.  Alex had adopted her persona, and was standing by the
doorway, hipshot, chewing gum hard enough to make a cracking sound.
She winked at me as I handed her a cup.

"Thanks, Squiggy," she said.

"You're welcome, doll," I answered.

Erin took one arm, and Alex took the other, and we began strolling
through the rooms, looking around at everybody dressed up in mock-
Fifties outfits.  It looked like every used-clothing store in
Gainesville had been cleaned out of poodle skirts and angora
sweaters, and greased-up hair and white tees were the de rigueur
costume for the guys.  A few even had black leather motorcycle
jackets on.  I had to silently salute them, those who were brave
enough - or foolish enough - to be wearing leather jackets in Florida.

We found Bryan and Melanie in another room, but we didn't stay to
talk with them.  Melanie was still not happy with me, even though she
had accepted that Bryan and I were teammates and friends.  We also
saw Jesse and Brittany.  Jesse, going counter to nearly all the other
guys, was dressed more like Richie Cunningham than Arthur Fonzarelli,
while Brittany looked very sexy, dressed more like a biker chick in
tight black leather pants and a sleeveless tee.

"You know," said Jesse, "I don't recall Fonzie being so freakin'
skinny."

"I'm not Fonzie," I said with as much dignity as I could call up.
"I'm Squiggy.  And this is LaVerne and Shirley."  I had to admit to
myself there wasn't a whole lot of dignity to be conjured when you
were describing yourself as Squiggy.

"Well, hello, Shirley," Jesse said, shaking Alex's hand.  "I don't
believe I've met LaVerne as yet."

"Hi, I'm LaVerne," said Erin, shaking Jesse's hand.  "And you are...?"

"I'm Potsie, I guess," said Jesse.  "And this is Pinky Tuscadero."

"Pleased ta meetcha," said Brittany, in character.

We hung around Jesse and Brittany for most of the night, and for
most of the night Erin and Alex attached themselves to my arm.  I may
have looked like Squiggy, but I was feeling like the Fonz.

We drank, we danced, the three of us.  Over the course of the last
few weeks I had gotten quite comfortable being friends with these two
girls, and our casual threesome didn't seem at all unusual to me
anymore.  I even learned to ignore the odd looks we got as we danced,
both from the guys around us, as well as many of the girls.  Erin and
Alex, of course, were completely comfortable with the situation, and
took it all in their typical good-natured stride.  In fact, there
were times when they seemed to get off on teasing some of the
onlookers by first latching onto me and giving me wet and juicy
kisses, and then hugging each other and sharing kisses that were
much... friendlier than the typical girl-to-girl greetings.

Of course, I could have attributed it all to the lubricative effects
of alcohol, but by this time I knew both Alex and Erin well enough to
not harbor any such discriminations.  They truly liked each other.
In fact, it was something deeper than that, but I still wasn't sure
where I fit into their equation.  It would still be some time before
I would really find out.




(Continued in Chapter 26)
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