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From: Nick Scipio <nick_scipioSPAM@BLOCKyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 3" by Nick Scipio - Ch 13 (MFF, FF, teen, oral, mast)
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Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2004 16:10:03 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
Part: Chapter 13
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MFF, FF, teen, oral, mast
Revision: 1.1
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

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

This piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment. It 
contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you 
are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO 
NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(nick_scipio@yahoo.com). This story may be freely distributed 
with this disclaimer attached.

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

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

Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Trip met Kendall and me for breakfast on Monday morning.

"Did you have fun on Saturday?" Kendall asked him. She was trying 
to be sly, but I saw through her act.

"Yeah, I did," Trip said. "Thanks again for inviting me to the 
party at your parents' RV."

Needless to say, Kendall had invited _Abby_ to the party as well. 
Gina also came by, but she didn't stay long. She had to meet 
Jessica, her sorority big sister, for the game itself. (Sorority 
girls seemed to travel in packs.)

Kendall, Abby, Trip, Drew, and I had a fun time at the football 
game; UT beat Georgia Tech, 10-7. Afterward, Drew headed off with 
his SAE friends, and the rest of us hung out at Kendall and 
Abby's apartment.

Trip and I also ended up studying with Kendall and Abby on Sunday 
(once again, by Kendall's design).

"Maybe you and Paul could come hang out with us again sometime," 
Kendall said, interrupting my retrospection.

When I returned my attention to the present, it took me a moment 
to realize that she was talking to Trip. I shot her a meaningful 
look, which she blithely ignored.

"Sure," Trip said. "That'd be fun. But..."

"But...?" Kendall prompted.

"I don't know when I can," he said. "I've got four midterms this 
week. And I've got an English paper to finish." Then he glanced 
at me. "Just be lucky you don't have to take it."

"Oh," I said, "don't think I'm getting off easy. I may not be 
taking freshman English, but that doesn't mean I'm not taking 
_any_ English. I've got a paper due in my American Lit. class."

"You mean you _volunteered_ to take more English than you have 
to?"

"Sure," I said. "I've gotta have an elective, and it might as 
well be something I enjoy. Why? What're you taking for your 
elective?"

"Accounting," he said.

"See? I can't _imagine_ wanting to take Accounting."

"Well, I think I'm going to minor in business. With all that I 
want to do, it'll come in handy someday."

I nodded. I'd been thinking of getting an English minor, or maybe 
an Art History minor.

"I kind of stumbled upon my minors," Kendall said. "I couldn't 
decide what I wanted to take--it _all_ sounded so interesting. 
I've always known I wanted to be a psychiatrist, and I wanted my 
undergrad degree to be psychology, but I also wanted to take 
English, philosophy, sociology, religious studies, and women's 
studies classes. I couldn't take them all, but I _am_ going to 
end up with minors in English and women's studies. On top of 
that, though, I've got to take classes for medical school, like 
Organic Chemistry."

"You are _entirely_ too educated for your own good," I said.

"But I thought you liked smart women," she said.

"I do," I teased. "But not _too_ smart."

Trip and I chuckled at Kendall's faux-pained look. At that point, 
the conversation turned to everyday things. When we finished 
eating, we headed out. Trip walked with us as far as the 
Humanities building and then said goodbye.

Outside Ayers Hall, Kendall and I stopped for a moment.

"Are you coming over after modeling?" she asked.

"Gina and I were supposed to go to the library together. Why 
don't you come with us?"

"I can't," she said evasively. "I've got a paper to write for 
Child Psych."

I wanted to argue with her that she could write the paper in the 
library just as well as in her apartment, but that wasn't the 
point. She simply didn't want to be around Gina. She knew it, and 
_I_ knew it.

"It's quieter in the apartment," she said, sensing my dark 
thoughts.

_It's a _library_, for cryin' out loud!_ I thought.

"I'd better get to class," she said at last.

I kissed her goodbye and then watched as she walked down the back 
side of the Hill.

With a sigh, I walked into Ayers and headed upstairs to my 
Calculus class.

-----

After Design class, I headed down to Studio 6. In the hallway, I 
took out my sketchpad and sat down. I was in the mood for 
something different from Italy or Greece, so I sifted through my 
memories. One building immediately sprang to mind.

During our time in Paris, Gina and I had simply explored and 
enjoyed ourselves. We were in the City of Light, the home of some 
of the most beautiful art and architecture in all of Europe.

One breezy afternoon--the weather was unseasonably cool for 
summer--our waiter overheard us speaking English. He was a 
student at the American University of Paris, he explained, and he 
was delighted for the chance to speak English. We struck up a 
conversation, much to the consternation of the maitre d'. When we 
asked what sights we should see, the waiter immediately 
recommended one. Then he gave us directions. Gina and I thanked 
him and headed for the Metro.

When we arrived at the _Place de l'Opera_, the Paris Opera House, 
I stood at the end of the street and simply stared. The building 
was magnificent. At the time, I had no idea what architectural 
style it was or who had designed it. All I knew was that it took 
my breath away. Without a doubt, it's one of the most beautiful 
buildings in the world.

As my mind drew back to the present, I smiled at the memory. Gina 
had teased me about my sense of wonder, but I think she shared 
some of it, and she definitely delighted in my enthusiasm. She 
had even gone to the library with me after we returned to the 
U.S.--so I could check out books on all the architecture we'd 
seen in Europe.

Still smiling, I flipped to a new page in my sketchpad and began 
to draw. The opera house's Neo-Baroque facade was incredibly 
complicated. Vaulted arcades supported pairs of columns, while 
the columns themselves framed large French windows. A bronze 
sculpture--patinaed with age--crowned the low dome, and the 
building's flanking pediments were topped by still more 
sculpture.

With the building firmly in my mind's eye, I drew meticulously, 
reproducing details I didn't know I remembered. As I began to 
shade the arcades, I sensed someone beside me. When I glanced up, 
Christy smiled at me. I smiled in reply and then returned to my 
drawing. I could've spent hours on it, simply filling in details, 
but the bell rang before I was half finished.

"The Paris Opera House, right?" Christy asked.

I nodded.

"That's _The Dance_, by Carpeaux," she said, pointing to my 
roughed-in sketch of the sculpture at ground level. "He was a 
French Realist," she added. "I _love_ his sculpture."

"I guess I paid more attention to the building than the 
sculpture," I said.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. "The sculpture is _part_ 
of the building. One beauty lends itself to another."

"I guess I never thought of it that way."

"Carpeaux studied at the _Ecole des Beaux-Arts_. Didn't a lot of 
architects study there as well?"

"Yeah," I said, somewhat amazed at her knowledge. Then I pointed 
to my drawing. "This is sometimes called the Garnier Opera House. 
The architect, Charles Garnier, was a Beaux-Arts student. Lots of 
famous architects studied there. As a matter of fact, most of the 
large public buildings in New York and Chicago are Beaux-Arts 
style," I finished.

"See?" she said with a grin. "Art and architecture go hand in 
hand." As if to illustrate her point, she gestured at the 
building around us--the _Art & Architecture_ building. "Without 
architects," she added whimsically, "artists wouldn't have 
anyplace to display our art. And without artists, architects 
wouldn't have anything worthwhile to display in their buildings."

I fought not to grin, but ultimately lost the battle.

"It's true," she said.

"You two again," Siobhan interrupted from the studio doorway.

We stood.

"Christy tells me you're an architecture student," Siobhan said 
to me. "I thought you'd be an art student," she added. Then she 
noticed my sketchpad. She gestured and I let her look at my half-
finished drawing. "Impressive detail," she said. "Christy said 
you were talented, and she was right."

Beside me, the blonde shifted nervously, and I felt my face heat.

"Are you a third-year student?" Siobhan asked. "Fourth-year?"

"Actually, I'm a freshman," I said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Oh, splendid. Then you're still in the wide-eyed wonder stage. 
Which architecture professors do you have?"

"Spielman for Intro, Ledbetter for Drawing, and Joska for 
Design," I finished sourly.

"I don't know Professor Spielman," she said, "but Don Ledbetter 
is good. And you're lucky to have Professor Joska."

I merely blinked at her. She obviously didn't know Laszlo Joska 
_or_ his disagreeable personality.

"The university itself is very lucky to have him," she added.

"Are we talking about the same Professor Joska?" I asked. _How 
many could there be?_ I wondered rhetorically.

"Oh, yes," Siobhan said. "He and I came here at the same time. 
The School of Art did quite a bit to persuade me to join the 
faculty. The College of Architecture undoubtedly did the same for 
him."

"Siobhan's a world-famous sculptress," Christy explained. "She's 
officially an Artist in Residence."

"Hold on a second," I interrupted. I mentally cringed at being 
rude, but I was dying to know what Siobhan meant by "the 
university itself is very lucky to have" Joska. So I asked her.

"You don't know?" she replied.

I shook my head.

"He's won a number of design awards," she said. "And he gave up a 
position at MIT to come here."

"Hold on, he was a _professor_ at MIT?"

She nodded.

"_And_ he's a famous architect?"

"Oh, yes. The dean practically turned over UT's design curriculum 
to him. In fact, Professor Joska teaches most of the first-year 
design classes."

"Most of the-- You mean I'll have him for _the rest of the 
year?!_"

"If you're lucky, yes," Siobhan said.

I don't think she understood why I let out a hopeless cry of 
frustration.

-----

A few minutes later, clad only in my robe, I sat on the stool in 
the center of the circle of easels. As I stared at the female 
model's empty stool, I sullenly pondered my future.

"I can't fucking believe it," I muttered.

I was so preoccupied that I didn't even notice when the female 
model entered the studio. I wouldn't have seen much anyway; she 
simply breezed into the office.

When I looked up, Christy was grinning at me. I didn't know what 
she had to grin about, but I tried to smile in return.

"Sorry I'm late," the female model said as she emerged from the 
office.

I didn't even look up as she walked to her stool (although I 
_did_ notice that she had nice legs and painted toenails).

When she turned toward me, she gasped.

At the sound, I looked up and got the shock of my life.

"Are we ready?" Siobhan asked.

I swallowed hard. When Siobhan held out her hand, I paused for a 
moment. Then, in a daze, I untied my robe.

"Paul, meet Wren," Siobhan said. "Wren, meet Paul."

-----

_Holy shit_, I railed silently. _First Christy, and now Wren._

Why hadn't Christy told me? For that matter, Wren looked as 
shocked as I felt, so Christy probably hadn't told her friend 
either. When I glanced up at the blonde, her eyes twinkled 
mischievously. Then she inclined her head, her grin turning 
whimsical. Finally, she turned back to her drawing, but she never 
stopped smiling.

Wren shifted and I was tempted to look at her, but I didn't dare. 
I already thought she was attractive, and if I let my mind 
wander, I wasn't sure I could keep from getting an erection.

Treacherous organ.

In self-defense, I turned my thoughts to something _sure_ to keep 
my dick limp: Joska.

I wondered how I'd survive--_if_ I'd survive--another two 
quarters of his hectoring. He wanted me to be perfect, and I just 
wasn't living up to his standards.

_Well, _I thought_, screw him. If he wants me to be perfect, I'll 
_be_ perfect. I'll learn everything I can about architecture. And 
then I'll show him._

In the past, if I wanted to learn something, I read a book. With 
Joska, I got the feeling that simple book-learning wouldn't be 
enough. Nor would it be enough to create a picture-perfect 
drawing of anyplace I'd seen.

As I morosely pondered my fate, I came to a sudden and startling 
conclusion.

I knew what the inside of the Paris Opera House smelled like. I'd 
felt the travertine blocks of the Colosseum under my feet. I 
could vividly remember the sun-blasted white of the buildings on 
the Acropolis.

But that wasn't enough.

As much as I hated to admit it, Joska was right. I couldn't sail 
through life drawing pretty pictures.

How was the Paris Opera House built? It was a marvel of design 
and elegance, as beautiful within as it was without. Yet it was 
built on a cramped site, atop a natural spring and an underground 
lake.

Why didn't the Colosseum collapse under its own weight? The 
building was massive, designed to hold more than 50,000 
spectators. But it had eighty exits, which could disgorge all 
those spectators in fifteen minutes. And it was built in the 
first century A.D.

What had the Parthenon looked like in its heyday? The temple was 
a perfect example of Doric architecture, but it was also replete 
with optical illusions, all designed to make the building look 
even _more_ impressive. The Greeks had known all those little 
tricks, nearly 2,500 years ago.

As beautiful as those buildings were, someone had purposefully 
designed them. An architect had created them from his imagination 
and, more importantly, from his _experience_.

I was a good artist, and I knew I could draw beautiful buildings. 
But could I design a stunning building on top of an underground 
lake? Could I design a massive building, capable of withstanding 
its own weight, as well as the test of time? Could I design a 
building to seamlessly combine tricks of light, dimension, scale, 
and proportion?

Unfortunately, I knew the answers to those questions: no, no, and 
no.

Then I thought about Professor Joska's quote from Michelangelo, 
_"If people knew how hard I have to work to gain my mastery, it 
wouldn't seem wonderful at all."_

I knew how hard Michelangelo had to work, and it _did_ seem 
wonderful.

I knew that I'd never achieve even a fraction of Michelangelo's 
fame, but deep down, I was willing to work that hard. I was 
willing to set my goals higher than I thought I could achieve. I 
was willing to...

"Paul?"

I looked up suddenly and shook my head to clear it.

Siobhan stood close, holding my robe. Class was over.

Wren looked at me, her head cocked to the side.

Christy's eyes darted between me and her easel as she feverishly 
added details to her drawing.

"Are you okay, Paul?" Siobhan asked.

Still staring at me, Wren put on her robe and tied it. In a semi-
stupor, I took my robe from Siobhan and donned it.

"Why don't you use the office first," I suggested to Wren.

"O-okay."

A few minutes later, when she emerged, I was still in my own 
little world. Without looking up, I walked into the office and 
shut the door behind me. I got dressed mechanically, my thoughts 
tumultuous. Then, as I tied my shoes, I came to a decision.

No matter what Joska demanded, I'd do it. No matter how hard he 
tried to beat me down, I'd keep standing up. No matter how much 
he criticized me, I'd keep coming back for more.

Surprisingly, I felt as if the weight of the world had been 
lifted from my shoulders. I don't know why, but I didn't really 
care, either. I knew what I wanted to do, and I was _going_ to do 
it.

With a headshake at my own reckless determination, I slung my 
backpack over my shoulder.

I felt _good_--really good--for the first time in weeks.

When I opened the office door, Siobhan was bidding farewell to 
Christy and Wren. A moment later, she left. The two girls were 
halfway around the circle of easels, and they hadn't heard me 
open the door. On a whim, I pushed it most of the way closed. 
Then I stepped out of sight and paused to listen. The girls' 
voices were low, but if I concentrated, I could just make them 
out.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me the guy was Mysterious?" Wren hissed. 
"You just said he was cute."

"I guess it was your turn to be tongue-tied," Christy said 
evenly. "And his name is Paul."

"But if you'd've told me, I could've done something."

"Like what?" Christy asked. "Flirt with him?"

I grinned at the teasing in her voice. Then I leaned closer to 
the door, straining to hear.

"It's kinda hard to do that when you don't have anything to 
hide," Christy added. "Don't you think?"

"But still...," Wren said. "I could've made him... I dunno... 
_some_thing. Now I'll never get the upper hand back."

"Oh, get over it," Christy said. "He's a nice guy."

"Oh?" Wren countered. "And how do you know that?"

"I've talked to him a lot. And he walked me back to the dorm all 
last week."

"I'll _bet_."

"He's got a girlfriend," Christy said. "And he's been a perfect 
gentleman. Besides, you know how I feel about Simon."

"Simon?" Wren mocked. "Simon's just-- Oh, never mind. Forget I 
said anything. Let's figure out how I can keep teasing 
Mysterious."

"His name is _Paul_," Christy said deliberately.

"Okay. Jeez. You'd think you've got the hots for him or 
something."

"I told you, he's a nice guy. And... well..."

After a moment of silence, they both giggled.

"He's _really_ cute," Christy said.

"And he's got a great body," Wren added. "Did you see the size of 
his..."

At that point, their voices dropped to a whisper.

I leaned forward, desperate to pick up their faint conversation.

As I strained, I felt my arm shifting. I was using a table to 
brace myself, and it had started moving. In a slow-motion panic, 
I fell forward. My face hit the door jamb before I could catch 
myself. My nose flattened and then my shoulder hit the door.

It closed with a distinctive click-_clack_.

My face hot with embarrassment, I pushed away from the wall and 
stood upright. For a fraction of a second, I panicked. What 
should I do? Had the girls heard the door close? Would they 
realize that I'd been eavesdropping? What would they...?

With an act of will, I took a deep, calming breath. My nose still 
throbbed, and my face felt flushed, but I had to do _something_. 
After all, I didn't want to seem like I'd been eavesdropping 
(which is _exactly_ what I'd been doing, of course).

After another deep breath, I swallowed hard and then opened the 
door.

When I stepped into view, the girls glanced at me. Christy held 
my eyes and smiled. Wren tried to look coquettish, but when she 
realized that I wasn't flustered, she gave up. Fortunately, she 
didn't realize that I was too _nervous_ to be flustered. With 
each step, however, my pulse steadied and my composure slowly 
returned. When I reached the girls, I had my emotions mostly 
under control.

"You're still Mysterious," Wren said, as if she were trying to 
convince _herself_ as much as me.

"And you're still Beautiful," I shot back.

Christy chuckled softly. Then she looked at me and smiled. After 
a moment, she hesitantly asked if I wanted to see her drawing.

I nodded.

She had drawn us from the shoulders up, and I could almost _feel_ 
the emotions as I looked at the drawing. In it, Wren's eyes were 
averted, but she seemed to be looking at me on the sly. Then I 
looked at my face; Christy had perfectly captured my expression 
of anxiety and sullen frustration. But as I looked at my eyes, I 
realized that she had also captured a sense of resolve and self-
confidence that I hadn't known was there.

"Do I really look like that?" I asked.

"Yes," she said softly. "I don't know what you were thinking, but 
you became... I don't know... defiant."

"About what?" Wren asked, her curiosity overwhelming her desire 
to remain aloof.

For a long moment, I simply stared at her, wondering how much to 
tell her about Professor Joska. Finally, I admitted to myself 
what I'd been thinking all along.

"I guess I decided that I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to let 
anyone come between me and what I want to do with my life," I 
said with calm intensity.

-----

Later, Gina and I ate dinner together and then studied in the 
library until it closed. It was almost like we were in high 
school again, and we enjoyed ourselves (even though we both had 
our noses buried in our books).

She asked why Kendall didn't join us, and I made up an excuse. I 
didn't like lying to her, but she'd get upset if she knew the 
truth. Worse, I couldn't blame her.

When I got back to my room, I lay awake in bed, thinking about my 
three-way relationship. It used to be hard enough juggling two 
girlfriends. But lately, I seemed to be doing two _separate_ 
juggling acts. I didn't like it, but I didn't know what to do 
about it either.

Finally, with a conscious effort, I put Kendall and Gina out of 
my mind. When I did, my thoughts turned to the Art History girls.

I liked Christy; she was easy to talk to. We had a lot in common, 
and she was friendly as well. She was pretty, but more 
importantly, she seemed pretty on the inside. (Gina's friend 
Regan was attractive, but I still didn't like her.)

As I replayed the overheard conversation between Christy and 
Wren, I wondered who Simon was. I figured he was Christy's 
boyfriend, but Wren didn't like him. Curious.

Wren was still a bit of a mystery herself. She seemed to have a 
wild streak, much like Gina. I usually liked that sense of 
adventure, but I reminded myself that I didn't need _another_ 
adventurous girl in my life (not as anything more than a friend, 
at least).

As I thought about Wren's body, however, I felt my dick swell. 
Even though I hadn't spent much time looking directly at her, I 
_did_ have a good memory. So I closed my eyes and pictured her.

She was shorter than Gina, by about an inch. And like Gina, her 
breasts were full and round (although her nipples were light 
brown, compared to Gina's dark ones). Her stomach was soft and 
smooth, and she trimmed her pubic hair. Surprisingly, she had the 
remnants of a good tan (and no tan lines--_very_ interesting). 
She didn't have any hard angles or well-defined muscles, but she 
certainly wasn't soft.

As I pictured Wren's body, I let out a soft chuckle. In a way, I 
owed a debt of gratitude to Professor Joska; if I hadn't been 
preoccupied, I would've had a tough time keeping my thoughts away 
from sex. The privacy of my dorm room, however, was a different 
matter altogether. (Billy's play was entering the final stage of 
preparation, and the crew was working all night for the next 
day's dress rehearsal.)

Since I had the room to myself, I threw back my sheet and skinned 
off my underwear. Then I pictured Wren in my mind. I imagined her 
on her knees before me, her mouth open as I stepped toward her. 
While I slowly stroked my erection, I imagined her gently kissing 
the tip.

Next, I pictured her on her back, her legs spread in invitation. 
In my imagination, her pussy was completely shaved, her lips 
plump and slick with arousal. I knelt between her thighs and ran 
my hands over her legs. Then I lifted them and kissed her painted 
toes. She moaned as I entered her, of course. She was tight, but 
not too tight; wet, but not too wet.

In the real world, I stroked my dick a little faster and imagined 
Wren on hands and knees in front of me, her round, firm ass in my 
hands. She moaned as I slammed into her, and I imagined her 
breasts swinging with each thrust.

Lost in my fantasy, I stroked myself, my left hand cupping my 
balls as my right blurred up and down. With my eyes still closed, 
I imagined Wren begging me to fuck her harder. I gripped her hips 
and slammed into her, her tight pussy clutching at me every time 
I pulled back.

A moment later, I felt my orgasm welling up. I imagined pulling 
my pussy-slick cock from within her and pumping it, aiming it at 
her ass. Then I pictured an arc of white come spurting over her 
back. Without opening my eyes, I frantically reached for my box 
of tissues.

Too late.

I felt the first surge of orgasmic bliss as my flailing left hand 
finally found the Kleenex. My muscles tensed up and I completely 
lost interest in anything other than my climax. Hot splatters of 
come landed on my chest and stomach. The next spurt followed the 
first, covering my abdomen with droplets of semen.

After several more gushes, my orgasm subsided and I sagged to the 
bed. My breathing was heavy and my mouth was dry, but a warm, 
wonderful feeling radiated from my groin. I'd have to clean 
myself up sooner or later, but at the moment, I didn't care.

-----

The next morning at breakfast, Kendall looked at me and I 
wondered if she could tell that I'd "cheated" on her. It wasn't 
cheating, of course, but jerking off while fantasizing about 
another girl wasn't something I did very often.

I thought about Susan sometimes, or Stacy, but Kendall knew about 
both of them. Other times, I thought about buxom Heather, or 
super-sexy Annika. I even thought about Leah or Erin every once 
in a while. But Kendall knew about all of them as well.

Kendall _didn't_ know about Wren. And instead of thinking about 
something from my past, I was imagining something that hadn't 
happened (nor would it, if I had any sense). So while it wasn't 
cheating, strictly speaking, I still felt a little guilty about 
it. It's irrational, I know, but that's how I am sometimes.

"Is that all you're eating?" Kendall asked.

I almost sagged in relief at her question. I didn't really want 
to defend my choice of toast and an orange, but I also didn't 
want her looking across the table and asking, "So, do you really 
want to have sex with Wren instead of me?"

"Paul, you need to eat _something_," she said. "You work out all 
the time and you never eat. It's not healthy."

"I don't want to gain the 'Freshman Fifteen,'" I said as calmly 
as I could.

"You're going to _lose_ fifteen pounds if you're not careful," 
she said.

"So? I need to lose a few pounds anyway."

"No, you don't," she insisted. "I love you just the way you are."

"Isn't that a song?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"You know what I mean."

"Look, you're not my mother. And I'm not a kid. All right?" When 
she looked wounded, I apologized. "Listen," I said, calmer, "I 
just need to lose a couple of pounds. I'm not doing wrestling 
workouts anymore, and I gained too much weight over the summer. I 
just need to shed a little baby fat. That's all."

"I worry about you," she said.

"I know," I said, taking her hand.

"And I just want you to be happy."

_I'd be happier if I weighed less,_ I thought. Fortunately, I had 
the good sense not to say that aloud.

"I'm sorry," Kendall said.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

She smiled bleakly. "How was modeling yesterday?" she asked, 
changing the subject.

"It was good," I said. After a tentative pause, I decided to tell 
her about Wren. "You're not going to believe who the female model 
is, though."

"Um... what's her name? Christy?"

I shook my head.

With a frown, she gazed at the table, thinking hard. Then she 
looked up suddenly, her eyes wide.

"Yep," I said.

"The _other_ Art History girl?!"

"Her name's Wren," I said.

"Like the bird?"

"Mmm hmm. She and Christy are roommates."

"Oh?" she asked, her expression curious (and a little teasing). 
"And how do you know _that?_"

"I talked to them after class," I said.

"You think they're cute," she accused.

I tried to hide my emotions, but Kendall was Kendall, and she saw 
the truth. I cringed, waiting for her to get upset.

To my surprise, she laughed.

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"They _are_ cute," she said. "I told you that the first time we 
saw them."

"I remember," I said, blushing as I recalled the pie 
conversation.

"So," she asked slyly, "what's Wren look like?"

"Why?" I asked, wary.

It was Kendall's turn to blush.

"Oh ho," I said. "_You_ think she's cute too."

"Paul, not so loud," she chided urgently. Then she looked around 
to see if anyone had overheard.

"You _do_," I said. "You think she's cute."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," I said with a smug grin. "Like what? _Pie?_"

Kendall's eyes widened.

"I bet some pie would taste good right now."

"_Paul!_"

"Mmmmm," I continued. "I'd like to watch you eat some pie."

"What time's your football game tonight?" she asked.

"Nice, warm, _tasty_ pie. While you eat some pie, I can fill 
_your_ pie from behind. You like my pie filling, right?"

"Paul, _please_."

"Okay," I said at last.

"Goodness, is it hot in here?"

With that, we shared a grin at her tacit admission that she was 
attracted to Wren.

Then I remembered a fantasy of hers. She had mentioned it during 
our Truth or Dare game with Dennis and Elaine Raeford.

"You remember," she said, reading my expression.

I nodded.

Her fantasy was for the two of us to meet a woman, someone we 
didn't know, and seduce her. Kendall wanted to watch me have sex 
with the stranger, and then she wanted me to force _her_ to have 
sex with the woman as well.

At the time, it was a fun fantasy to think about, but I couldn't 
imagine it actually _happening_. First, I had _no_ idea how to go 
about picking up some random woman--who'd have to be interested 
in a menage a trois, no less. Second, I didn't think Kendall was 
serious.

Many of her fantasies were just that, fantasies. For instance: 
she wanted to be tied up and raped, but that was play-acting. I 
knew she didn't have any desire to be raped for real. (I 
suspected that whatever had happened with Big Mistake Guy was 
akin to rape, and I knew how she responded to any mention of 
him.)

Then I thought about how she had reacted when she first saw 
Christy and Wren.

"Are you really attracted to her?" I asked at last.

"Who? Wren? Or Christy?"

"Either," I said in sudden understanding. Then I read Kendall's 
expression. "_Both?!_"

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "But Wren especially."

"You think she could be the one that we... you know?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. Then she glanced up, her 
eyes searching mine. Finally, she blushed and looked away. "It's 
fun to think about," she said softly.

"Yeah," I said. Then I reached out and took her hand.

It was shaking.

Gina and Susan were the only women she'd ever had sex with, so 
for her to think about having sex with another woman--for real--
it must've been serious.

"I'm not ... you know... one of _them_ or anything," she whispered.

_A lesbian_, I mentally supplied. Then I nodded.

"I just think... you know."

Once again, I nodded.

"My fear of flying," she said, smiling thinly.

"I know."

"And... I want to make you happy."

"You do."

For a long moment, we were silent. I squeezed her hand and she 
smiled in reply. Then she looked up, her eyes full of love. After 
a moment, she blushed and looked down. She must've been thinking 
about Wren. I smiled to myself.

"So," she asked, "what time's your football game?"

With an understanding smile, I let her change the subject.

"Six o'clock," I said, "versus the Carrick First Floor team. Gina 
will be there. Maybe after the game we can do something 
together," I suggested. "Just the three of us."

"Okay," Kendall said quietly.

We finished breakfast in companionable silence and then I walked 
her to her Child Psychology class. After that, I headed over to 
the A&A building, where I could hang out for an hour before my 
Drawing class started.

Once there, I took out my sketchpad and began drawing arcades. 
With proper support on the ends, an arcade (a series of arches) 
is an inherently stable structure. The very weight of the 
building material keeps everything in place, and the lateral 
loads from the individual arches are spread to the next arch, and 
so on.

A circular building like the Colosseum was constructed almost 
entirely of arches, each one supporting the next. Like tiers in a 
wedding cake, the builders had added layers of arches. And unlike 
post-and-lintel--_trabeated_--construction, arches could support 
a stupendous amount of weight. It's a very elegant system, as the 
Romans discovered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around, I had a page full of 
arches and vaults. But then I realized that I was still drawing 
pretty pictures with no substance. So I spent most of Drawing 
class thinking about _how_ arches and vaults fit into the overall 
design of a building. I know I probably should've been paying 
attention to Professor Ledbetter, but his lecture was on the 
importance of proper dimensioning (a fairly dry subject to begin 
with).

When the bell rang at the end of class, I closed my sketchpad.

"Would you stay a moment, Paul?" Professor Ledbetter asked.

I looked around to make sure he was talking to me. Unfortunately, 
he was.

"You know," he said after the other students had left, "this 
really _is_ important stuff."

I looked at him as innocently as I could.

He didn't buy it.

"Um... sorry," I said at last.

"We really _can_ see all that's going on from up here," he said 
in gentle reproach. Then he turned serious. "If you want to be an 
architect, this is part of it. It may be boring, but it's 
important. God is in the details, you know."

"Yes, sir," I said. "It won't happen again."

"Good," he said. "But that's not the reason I asked you to stay 
after."

"It's not?"

"No," he said with an embarrassed cough. "I was talking to 
Professor O'Riordan yesterday afternoon."

_Professor O'Riordan?_ I wondered. _Who's he? I don't have anyone 
named O'Riordan._ "Who?" I finally asked.

"Professor O'Riordan," he repeated. "She said you're a model in 
her Life Drawing class."

"Oh, Siobhan!"

"Um... yes," he said. "She _is_ a bit less formal." Then, "She told 
me about some of your drawings. Do you mind if I have a look?"

"O-okay," I said. Then I handed over my sketchpad.

He flipped through several pages of doodles: capitals and 
entablatures, Palladian windows, and a page of nothing but Art 
Deco ornaments and stylized machinery (I'd been in a weird mood 
that day). Finally, he turned to the illustration of the _Tempietto 
di San Pietro_.

"Ah, Bramante," he said softly. "This is such a beautiful little 
building." Then he turned through a few more doodle pages, 
nodding appreciatively. When he reached my sketch of the Temple 
of Athena Nike, he paused. "Another little building," he said 
with a smile. "Small, but grand in stature."

I nodded.

"Ah, now _this_ is a truly magnificent building," he said, gazing 
at my drawing of the Paris Opera House. "It's beautiful." After a 
moment, he turned to the most recent page. Then he held it up. 
"Is this what you were so busy ignoring me for?"

I felt my face heat as I nodded.

He smiled to show me that he wasn't angry, and then he looked 
back at the page of arcades and vaults.

I shifted nervously.

"It's very good," he said. "But you should put this much energy 
into dimensioning and lettering." When I started to apologize, he 
forestalled me with a gesture. Then he looked at me seriously. 
"Would you like some helpful advice?"

"I guess."

"Artistically," he said, flipping to the drawing of Bramante's 
_Tempietto_, "these are very good. Exceptional, even. But they're 
just that: artistic. It's okay to be artistic," he added. "A 
client's first view of your overall design is often your 
watercolor rendering, and it _should_ be artistically pleasing. 
But it shouldn't look like a sketch."

When he glanced at me to see if I understood, I furrowed my brow.

"Don't be afraid to use a straightedge or a French curve," he 
said. "You've got artistic talent, Paul, but you need to hone 
your skills. And the skills of an architect include precise, 
razor-sharp lines. These are good freehand drawings," he said, 
holding up my sketchpad, "but they're not architectural 
renderings."

"I think I see what you mean," I said at last.

"Good. Because I can train you to draw straight lines and smooth 
curves. I can teach you about lettering and even boring old 
dimensioning. But what I _can't_ teach is talent like this," he 
said, brandishing my sketchpad again. "You either have it, or you 
don't. It's as simple as that. Professor O'Riordan thinks you 
'have it,' and after seeing your drawings, I agree. But there's a 
vast gulf between being artistic and being an architect. Do you 
understand?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now, as extra credit, to make up for 'skipping' today's 
class, I want you to take an architectural element--_any_ element 
you want, no matter how big or how small--and _render_ it. I 
don't want a sketch; I want something worthy of an architect. Use 
the techniques you've learned in class, and be precise," he 
cautioned. "Remember, God is in the details."

"Yes, sir," I said. I certainly didn't need the extra work, but 
it _would_ be a challenge, which I'd enjoy.

"I know you've got midterms this week," he said, "so I'll give 
you the weekend to work on it. Have it on my desk by next 
Tuesday's class."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Paul," he said as I turned to go, "you really _do_ need to 
pay attention in class. You might just learn a thing or two."

Chagrinned, I nodded.

With a smile, he shooed me out of the room.

-----

I got to Art History a little early, but I still sat in the back 
of the auditorium. The syllabus called for a review, since 
Thursday was our midterm exam. I wasn't looking forward to it, 
but I _did_ need to go over the material.

Christy and Wren showed up predictably late. They giggled when 
they saw me, and then practically tumbled into their seats. 
Professor Dubois began lecturing a moment later.

Instead of paying attention to the lecture, I thought about Wren. 
Because she and I had seen each other nude, things had changed 
between us. It might not seem like a big deal, but a lot of a 
person's sense of security is tied up in her clothes. Without 
them, Wren had nothing left to hide.

Once I'd seen Wren without her clothes, my attitude changed. If I 
wanted to, I could imagine the curve of her breast, or the half-
hidden shape of her sex. The thing I _couldn't_ simply call up in 
my memory was her personality.

Why did she flirt with me? Why was she friends with Christy? Why 
did she model?

Once I got past the "I wonder what her tits look like" stage, I 
wanted to learn about _her_. Consequently, I wasn't flustered 
when she turned and gave me a sultry look.

"Christy tells me you've got a girlfriend," she whispered, 
leaning close.

I nodded.

"Is she the pretty brunette we see you with in the morning?"

I nodded again.

"How serious are you?" she asked.

I turned and silently gazed into her hazel eyes.

"I mean, could I tempt you away?" she asked.

"Would you want me if you could?" I asked coolly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taken aback.

"If I were the kind of guy who'd cheat on his girlfriend, would 
you _really_ want me?"

"That's not what I asked," she said defensively.

"But it's what you meant."

"It is _not_."

"Suit yourself," I said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," I said, leaning close, my voice level, "that I'm not 
going to jump at the first beautiful body that comes along. 
You've seen my girlfriend; she's gorgeous, and I love her. So, 
no, you probably couldn't tempt me away. But if you'd like to 
stop this high school prick-tease shit and _talk_ to me... well, 
_that's_ tempting. I mean, you seem like an interesting person."

She sat back, stunned.

"Besides," I added, "it'd be nice to talk to someone from home."

"Home? What do you mean?"

"Christy told me you're from Dunwoody."

"So?"

"I'm from Sandy Springs," I said.

Her eyes widened.

"So we've got more in common than Art History and modeling," I 
said. Then, with a roguish grin, I leaned close to her again. 
"And by the way, you _are_ beautiful." When she blinked 
incredulously, I continued. "But even though you're a knockout, 
you're still not going to tempt me away from my girlfriend with 
your body alone. You'd better use your mind too. Even then... I 
don't know," I finished with a theatrical shrug.

Flabbergasted, she sat back. Then she looked at me again, her 
eyes wide with disbelief. I don't think she'd ever been told no 
before.

"What's the matter, Wren?" Christy asked with a wry grin. 
"Tongue-tied?"

When Wren didn't answer, Christy and I shared a smile. Her blue 
eyes twinkled when I winked at her.

With that, I sat back and felt my lips quirk up in a smug grin.

Even though I was looking at Professor Dubois, I didn't hear a 
word she said. My heart was racing and I felt ten feet tall. 
Without a doubt, saying what I had was one of the _coolest_ 
things I'd ever done.

-----

After the intramural football game--which we won--I joined 
Kendall on the sidelines. Then I motioned Gina over to us. The 
girls weren't exactly being friendly to each other, but they 
weren't scowling either. They had both taken a little persuading, 
but they agreed to try and fix things. (Additionally, I hadn't 
had sex with either of them in several days, so they were 
probably a little horny. I felt like a cad for manipulating them, 
but I wanted to hedge my bets.)

Trip knew that I was going somewhere with the girls, so he 
started organizing an impromptu after-game party. As planned, I 
begged off, telling the guys that I had to study. Trip neatly 
diverted their attention, which gave the girls and me a chance to 
slip away unnoticed.

I really _did_ have to study, but I also wanted to spend some 
quality time with Kendall and Gina. _Together_. I didn't know how 
to fix things, but if we were together, that would be a good 
start.

"Do you mind if I use your shower?" I asked Kendall when we 
reached her apartment.

"Sure," she said. She looked like she wanted to join me, but she 
didn't ask.

Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed, 
shaved, and refreshed. I paused for a moment and then followed 
the sound of Kendall and Gina's voices to Kendall's room.

"Hi," Gina said.

"Feeling better?" Kendall asked.

I nodded. They were sitting on Kendall's bed, and seemed to be 
getting along, which was good. I closed the door, shed my towel, 
and reached for my change of clothes.

"What do y'all wanna do?" Gina asked.

"Mostly, I just want to spend some time with you two," I said. 
"But I also need to study for my Design midterm."

"We can go to the library," Gina suggested.

"I guess," Kendall said.

"I've got a Chem. test on Friday and a Bio. test on Monday. So 
I've got lots of studying to do," Gina said. Then she turned to 
Kendall. "How about you?"

"I've got an O. Chem. exam on Friday," Kendall said.

"Organic Chemistry, right? What's that like?"

"It's horrid... and it stinks," Kendall said, wrinkling her nose. 
"I've smelled things coming out of the O. Chem. labs that I don't 
_ever_ want to smell again."

"Is it hard?" Gina asked.

"It's a lot of rote memorization," Kendall answered with a shrug. 
"It's basically a pre-med 'weed out' course."

As Kendall and Gina started talking about their chemistry 
classes, I smiled to myself and slung my backpack over my 
shoulder. When the girls forgot to be annoyed with each other, 
they got along just fine. By the time we reached the library, 
they were making plans to quiz each other for their chemistry 
exams. I didn't know how long it would last, but I was happy with 
the return to the way things used to be. I smiled to myself and 
held the door for them as we entered the library.

The main floors of the building had several large areas devoted 
to tables and chairs, but many of the smaller sections were 
almost private. Kendall suggested a part of the library that saw 
little traffic: the philosophy reference section. It was tucked 
into a corner of the building, and had only one table and four 
chairs.

When we got there, the study area was deserted. So we sat down, 
opened our books, and got to work. After two solid hours of 
studying, I leaned back and rubbed my eyes.

"Okay," I said. "If I go over these design paradigms _one_ more 
time, I think I'm gonna go crazy."

"Be glad you're not memorizing the properties of alkali metals," 
Gina said.

"You think _that's_ bad?" Kendall asked. "Wait 'til you get to 
stereochemistry and classification of isomers. _Yuck_."

I looked at my watch--it was after ten o'clock. The library 
closed in a couple of hours, but I was tired of studying. When I 
stood up to stretch, the girls decided that stretching wasn't 
such a bad idea, so they stood as well.

When Gina laced her fingers together and thrust her hands above 
her head, her shirt rode up, revealing her midriff.

"Cute," I said with a nod.

As she lowered her arms, she grinned at me. Then she grasped the 
hem of her shirt and flipped it up, flashing her bra-clad 
breasts.

"I dare you to take off your shirt," I said.

Since we were in an isolated part of the library, she grinned and 
pulled her shirt over her head.

Kendall looked around nervously, but she also looked a little 
excited.

"How 'bout the bra?" I asked.

Gina arched an eyebrow and then reached between her breasts to 
release the catch on her bra. It fell open and she shrugged it 
off.

"And the skirt?"

"Paul," Kendall cautioned.

"We'll hear if anyone's coming," I said, although I wasn't 
entirely sure that was true. It _was_ a library, after all, with 
thick carpeting and lots of sound-absorbing books.

Gina bit her lower lip for a moment. Then, with a challenging 
look, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

"If we get caught, they'll kick us out of school," Kendall said.

That seemed to spur Gina on, and she hooked her thumbs in her 
panties before I could even ask. Instead of lowering them, 
however, she looked at me.

I lifted an eyebrow in question, but she simply cocked her head 
to the side, as if asking what I wanted her to do.

When I waggled my eyebrows at her, she smiled and lowered her 
panties.

"Next," I suggested to Kendall.

"Paul, I can't. What happens if someone sees us? They'll call the 
campus police."

Instead of replying, I gestured for Gina to come around the 
table. When she did, I pulled her close. Then I reached for 
Kendall and pulled her against me as well.

"I want to fuck you both," I said, my voice pitched low. "Right 
here, in the library."

Kendall squirmed anxiously, but Gina merely smiled in 
anticipation.

I kissed Gina quickly, feeling her pulse race.

She put her hand on my crotch and cupped the bulge of my 
erection.

When I broke the kiss with Gina, I turned to Kendall and kissed 
her as well.

As I did, Gina unzipped my pants and pulled out my erection. Then 
she sank to her knees in front of me.

I continued kissing Kendall as Gina began sucking me.

"At least sit down," Kendall said when we broke the kiss. She was 
flushed, and her breathing had quickened. "The table will hide 
what we're doing," she explained.

With a nod, I pulled my cock from Gina's hungry mouth. Then I 
hooked a chair with my foot and dragged it close. As soon as I 
sat down, Gina returned her lips to my manhood. Before Kendall 
sat, I stopped her.

"Take off your panties," I said.

She looked around nervously, but then reached under her skirt. 
After a moment of fumbling, she tugged her underwear down her 
long legs.

"And your shirt," I said.

She shook her head.

"Then take off your bra."

She looked at me pleadingly, but I reached under her skirt and 
"persuaded" her by stroking her damp pussy.

With her shirt still on, she unhooked her bra and drew one 
shoulder strap through her sleeve and down her arm. Then she 
repeated the maneuver with the other strap. Finally, she tugged 
the garment from beneath her shirt.

I chuckled silently; we were accumulating quite a collection of 
discarded clothing.

With an eager smile, I pulled a chair next to mine and nodded for 
Kendall to sit. Between my legs, Gina took my cock as deep as she 
could, clamping her lips around the middle of my shaft.

When Kendall leaned in to kiss me, I reached behind her. Then I 
lifted her skirt and cupped her bare ass.

"Put your hand on Gina's head," I said to Kendall when we broke 
the kiss. "Direct her while she sucks me."

After a moment's hesitation, she moved her hand to Gina's bobbing 
head.

"Do you remember when Gina taught you how to suck my cock?" I 
asked.

Kendall's face flushed as she nodded.

"You'd never done it before," I recalled quietly, "but you'd read 
about it." When she nodded, I kissed her again. "You scraped me a 
couple of times with your teeth, but Gina showed you what to do. 
Do you remember?"

"Yes," she breathed. Then she held me tight as I reached between 
her cheeks and started playing with her pussy.

"Gina wanted you and me to be happy together," I said. With all 
that was going on--and where!--I couldn't believe I was giving 
Kendall a lecture about how much Gina loved her. "She taught you 
how to make me happy," I continued. "Would she do that if she 
didn't love you?"

Kendall shook her head and then kissed me again. Her hand still 
rested atop Gina's head, and I indicated it with a glance when we 
broke the kiss.

"Push her down," I said. "Make her take me as deep as she can."

Gina heard me, so she plunged her head down and wrapped her lips 
around my shaft. Then she gently sucked, her cheeks caving in and 
caressing the sides of my cock.

"Oh, God," I groaned. "That's nice."

Gina moaned around my cock as she slowly pulled back, her lips 
dragging along my length.

"I wanna fuck her," I said to Kendall. "And while I do, I want 
her to lick your pussy."

Kendall started to protest, but my finger on her clit convinced 
her not to.

"Sit on the table and spread your legs," I told her. Then I 
looked down at Gina. "Stand up and turn around. Sit on my cock."

In a moment, we changed positions. I put my hands on Gina's hips 
as she reached between her legs to guide my shaft to her opening.

With a whimper, she lowered herself onto my hard-on. She was hot 
and wet, and I slid into her easily.

"Lift your skirt," I directed Kendall. "Show us your pussy."

She put one foot up on the table and I shoved a chair toward her 
so she'd have someplace to put her other foot. When she spread 
her legs, her pussy spread open, revealing her pink inner folds.

With my hands still on Gina's hips to steady her, the darker girl 
leaned forward and began sucking Kendall's clit. I lifted Gina's 
hips and then she started moving on her own, gently bouncing atop 
me, my cock impaling her each time she sat back.

"Lift your shirt," I said to Kendall. "Play with your nipples."

At that point, I was too far gone to worry about anyone 
discovering us. We were in a seldom-used part of the library, and 
we were trying to be quiet, but a librarian or another student 
could still happen upon us at any minute.

Instead of worrying, I concentrated on the feeling as Gina's 
pussy glided up and down my shaft.

For five or ten minutes, we moved together, soft moans and 
whimpers occasionally breaking the silence.

"Stand up," I said to Gina with a pat on her ass. "I want to fuck 
Kendall."

She moaned, but lifted herself off me.

"Suck her nipples while I fuck her," I said to Gina.

Then I eased into Kendall's tight pussy. Since Gina had been 
fingering her, it only took me two thrusts to completely bury my 
length inside her. She moaned softly when my hips ground against 
her pelvis. Then she moaned again as Gina latched onto one of her 
nipples.

For the next several minutes, I simply plowed into Kendall, her 
pussy gently contracting around me. With my free hand, I played 
with Gina's pussy from behind.

Finally, I pulled out of Kendall, my erection shiny with her 
juices.

Gina didn't need me to tell her to drop to her knees. She knew 
what I wanted as well as _I_ did, and she was more than happy to 
comply. As she sucked me, I felt my orgasm welling up.

I pulled Kendall toward me and kissed her fiercely. At the same 
time, Gina went into overdrive, sucking my cock while she pumped 
her fist around the base, driving me toward release.

A moment later, I groaned into Kendall's mouth as I filled 
Gina's. Spurt after spurt gushed over her tongue, and she 
swallowed it greedily. When I finished coming, she sucked my 
still-hard cock, nursing it and savoring the taste.

When I looked down, she was playing with her pussy while she 
sucked me. Kendall was still hot and ready as well, but it would 
take me several minutes to recover. (I was hard enough for Gina 
to enjoy sucking me, but I wasn't nearly hard enough to fuck 
either of them.)

"I want you two to sixty-nine," I said to Kendall.

"Here?!"

"Mmm hmm. I wanna watch you go down on her. I wanna watch you 
make each other come."

"Oh, God, _yes_," Gina panted.

I arched an eyebrow at Kendall.

She hesitated.

I reached between her legs and teased her clit.

"Please, Kendall," Gina begged. "You know you want to."

I kept playing with Kendall's pussy until she gave in.

"I just know we're gonna get caught," she said ruefully. "And 
then they're gonna kick us out of school." Then she gazed at me. 
"I can't _believe_ I let you talk me into this."

In spite of her words, she stood and moved over Gina, who was 
already on her back. As Kendall knelt over the darker girl, I 
pulled a chair over. Then I sat down and stroked my semi-hard 
cock.

In a moment, the girls forgot I was there. For several long 
minutes, they tongued and sucked each other, whimpering softly.

Gina came first, crying out softly as she did. When her orgasm 
subsided, she paused for a moment, her breathing heavy. Then she 
opened her eyes and smiled up at me.

A moment later, she resumed sucking Kendall's clit. The taller 
girl groaned softly and hung her head. With Gina's skillful lips 
and tongue at work, Kendall didn't hold out long. When she 
climaxed, she shuddered and gripped Gina's hips to steady 
herself.

Still in their sixty-nine, both girls panted from the exertion.

When she recovered enough to move, Kendall threw her leg to the 
side and rolled upright. After she did, Gina sat up. Kendall's 
knees were red, from the carpeting, but she flashed me a sated 
smile.

Before I could tease her about her reluctance, we heard someone 
coming.

"Quick, hide under the table," I hissed to Gina, who was still 
nude.

As she did, I lunged across the table to retrieve her clothes and 
underwear. Kendall straightened her skirt and top as I snatched 
_her_ underwear from the table as well. Frantically, I threw the 
bundle of clothes at Gina.

I could hear the person drawing closer, the jingle of keys 
heralding their arrival.

Kendall hastily sat down and tried to compose herself.

I reached for a chair and then pulled it to the table. I had 
_just_ sat down when a librarian came around the corner.

"The library closes in fifteen minutes," she said.

I nodded.

As she turned to go, she stopped.

Had she heard us? Had she seen Gina? Could she tell that we'd 
been having sex?

My heart raced, and I frantically tried to come up with an 
explanation.

In growing panic, I watched the librarian's nostrils flare. She 
sniffed the air once, then twice. When she furrowed her brow, I 
almost leapt up to explain. Instead, I smiled as innocently as I 
could. She flashed me a look of reproach, but didn't say 
anything.

"Fifteen minutes," she stressed.

As she turned to leave, I sagged back in my chair and quietly let 
out my held breath.

When the librarian was out of earshot, I pushed my chair away 
from the table and motioned for Gina to come out from under it. 
With the bundle of clothes cradled to her chest, she crawled 
toward me. When she emerged, she sat back and shook her head in 
disbelief.

A moment later, I realized that my dick was still sticking 
through my fly.

_It's a good thing I didn't jump up to explain the situation,_ I 
thought wryly.

Then I glanced at Kendall. Her hair was in disarray, and her 
braless nipples threatened to poke through her shirt. To make 
matters worse, her face and chest were flushed.

I could only imagine what _I_ looked like.

The librarian must have known what we'd been up to, but without 
catching us in the act, she didn't have the nerve to say 
anything.

We looked at each other for a few moments in stunned silence.

Then Gina started giggling. A moment later, I laughed as well. 
Kendall tried to maintain her composure, but the absurdity of the 
situation finally got to her and she laughed right along with us.

If anyone had seen us at that point--three laughing, half-naked 
idiots--they would've thrown us _under_ the loony bin.

-----

On Wednesday, Christy, Wren, and I walked back to the dorms 
together after Siobhan's class. Christy shared her bag of carrot 
and celery sticks with us, and we talked about life in general. 
(I also learned their last names: Christy Carmichael and Wren 
Hilliard.)

Wren still didn't quite know what to make of me, and I was having 
fun keeping her off balance. I obviously didn't lose my cool when 
we modeled together, and even though I had finally taken a good 
look at her body--including arching an eyebrow when she 
"accidentally" flashed me a shot of her pussy--I didn't react 
predictably.

In reality, I'd spent most of the class thinking about my 
Faulkner paper. My eyes were open, but if I actually thought 
about _Wren_, I knew I'd get a hard-on. So I mentally wrote the 
closing paragraphs of my paper. Wren didn't know that, of course, 
so my lack of reaction to her body drove her to distraction.

To my surprise, Christy seemed to be enjoying Wren's confusion as 
well. The girls were obviously good friends, but I think Christy 
liked seeing Wren get a little payback.

When we reached Morrill, Wren turned toward me.

"Okay," she finally asked in exasperation, "_what_ is up with 
you?"

"What d'you mean?" I replied (as innocently as I could, of 
course).

"You know."

"No, I don't," I said.

"Why did you walk back here with us?"

"It seemed like the polite thing to do," I said.

She threw her hands in the air.

Christy merely grinned.

"And I like talking to you," I added.

"But...," Wren stammered.

"But I don't react the way other guys do?" I prompted.

"_Exactly!_"

"I'm not _like_ other guys," I said evenly.

"So... what? Are you gay or something?"

To her surprise, I actually laughed.

She looked at me skeptically.

"I like girls," I assured her, still chuckling. "Trust me, I like 
'em a lot."

Christy covered her mouth to keep from laughing at her friend's 
expression.

"But I'm not going to turn into an idiot every time I see a good-
looking girl," I continued.

"But you _used_ to," Wren half-whined.

"_That_ was before I got to know you," I said. I tried to hide 
another grin, but I just couldn't.

With her hand still covering her mouth, Christy's eyes grinned 
right along with me.

Wren simply huffed. Then she looked at Christy and flashed an 
accusing look.

Christy tried to compose herself, unsuccessfully.

"_You_ are impossible," Wren said to me. Then she whirled around. 
"And you're just as bad," she said to Christy. "I'm going 
upstairs."

"Bye," Christy said to me, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

I think she was enjoying herself as much as I was. I don't know 
what had come over me, but when I'd gotten over my initial 
awkwardness with Wren, I'd done it with a _vengeance_.

_Things are finally back to normal with Kendall and Gina,_ I 
thought. _More or less._

Maybe _that_ was my source of newfound coolness. I didn't want to 
over-think things and ruin it, though.

As Wren disappeared into the dorm, Christy looked back and waved.

With a smile, I waved in reply.

She was chuckling as the door closed behind her.

-----

After dinner, Trip and I got together to study. Luke and Tara 
were in his room, and Billy was at the theater (the next night 
was their play's opening night), so we had my room to ourselves.

About eight o'clock, the phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi," Gina said.

"Hi yourself."

"What's going on?"

"Trip and I are studying," I said. "I'm gonna ace that Design 
exam if it's the last thing I do."

She chuckled. "That Joska guy's really gotten under your skin," 
she said. "Just like that wrestler in high school. What was his 
name?"

"Pete Yeager?"

"No, the one you didn't like. Um... Emmett something... Emmett... 
Carstairs," she said at last.

_The arrogant prick,_ I thought.

"That guy's the reason you started taking wrestling so 
seriously," she added.

"Well, I _did_ like wrestling itself, but you may be right."

"I'm right," she said with certainty. Then she chuckled good-
naturedly. "I know you, and I know how you _hate_ losing."

"No kidding," I said.

"Anyway, that's not why I called," she said.

"Oh? What's up?"

"Regan's birthday is Monday, but on Saturday, her boyfriend's 
having a surprise party for her at his house. It's gonna be a 
birthday party, but he'll also have the football game on TV. So, 
do you wanna go?"

"Yeah. It sounds like fun," I said.

"It's gonna be _so_ cool. Anyway, I asked if I could bring 
someone else too."

"Oh?"

"I thought it'd be kinda nice if you, me, and Kendall could go 
together. I mean, except for the other night in the library--
which was _really_ cool, by the way--we hardly get to do anything 
with each other. And since things are starting to get back to 
normal, I thought..."

"Yeah," I said. "That sounds cool. Do you want me to call 
Kendall?"

"No, I'll do it."

"Okay."

"Anyway, I'm sorry I can't talk longer, but I've gotta go. Regan 
and I have to meet our big sisters at Panhellenic."

"No problem," I said.

"Remember, though, it's a _surprise_ party, so don't tell Regan."

"I'll be sure to keep my mouth shut the next time I see her," I 
said facetiously.

"You know what I mean, silly," Gina said, a smile in her voice.

"Yeah."

"Oh, rats, I'm running late. I've gotta go," she said. "I love 
you."

"I love you too."

When I returned to my room, Trip looked up.

"Kendall?" he asked. "Or Gina?"

"Gina," I said.

"How're things going with the three of you?"

"Pretty good," I said. "I mean, things seem to be getting back to 
normal."

"I still can't believe you've got _two_ girlfriends," he said. 
"Most guys'd be lucky to have _one_."

"Well, two girlfriends pose their own set of... oh, let's call them 
'challenges.'"

He grinned.

"Anyway, Gina's best friend's boyfriend is throwing a party this 
weekend, and Gina invited me and Kendall."

"Sounds like fun," he said.

"It should be," I said. "On that note," I added, changing the 
subject, "what's up with you and Abby? I think she likes you."

"Yeah," he said flatly. "Kendall's really playing matchmaker, 
isn't she?"

"Sorry about that."

"I like Abby," he said with a shrug, "but that's just it... I 
_like_ her. You know?"

I nodded.

"I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I don't wanna date anyone 
right now. It's not her, it's me," he said. For a moment, he sat 
in pensive silence. Then, "I guess I'll have to talk to her 
sooner or later."

"Do you want me to ask Kendall to back off a little bit?"

"If you don't mind," he said. "I mean, I can let Abby down easy. 
We've got a lot in common, and I _do_ like her, but just as a 
friend."

"I'll say something to Kendall," I said.

"Thanks," he said. Then he lifted his textbook. "But if I don't 
learn this human sciences stuff," he said, "it's not gonna 
matter. Joska will kill me with a kinetic energy strike from 
lunar orbit. Or worse."

I chuckled.

"I'm serious. Help me out with this stuff," he said.

"What're you hung up on?"

"I understand the natural light part, but this texture thing has 
me completely back-asswards."

"Okay," I said, "here's how it works: texture breaks up the light 
and reflects it differently, which means that when people 
perceive it..."

-----

We were still studying at midnight, when Billy came home. He 
looked dead tired. Trip glanced at his watch and then started 
gathering his books.

"Thanks for letting me use your desk," he said to Billy.

"No problem," Billy said. "You're welcome anytime."

"Breakfast tomorrow with you and Kendall?" Trip asked me.

"I'll be ready at six forty-five," I said.

With a nod, he headed back to his own room.

Without saying a word, Billy got undressed, collapsed into bed, 
and turned out his light. I turned out the overhead light, but 
left my desk lamp on. Then I stripped down to my shorts. I needed 
to get some sleep, but I decided to do a couple of sets of curls 
before turning in.

In the weeks since I'd started working out again, I'd managed to 
get my bench press back up to a respectable three hundred pounds. 
Luke and Jeff no longer worked out with us, but Trip was a 
dedicated partner. He couldn't lift as much as I could--not even 
close--but that didn't stop him from offering good-natured taunts 
to encourage me.

After my curls, I stood in front of the mirror and simply looked 
at myself. Then I struck a couple of bodybuilder poses, flexing 
my shoulders and chest. At a noise, I turned, but Billy looked 
like he was asleep.

With my side to the mirror, I studied my stomach. I needed to 
lose a few pounds, which would eliminate the thin layer of fat on 
my midsection. Since I wanted a bodybuilder's washboard abs, I 
decided to do several sets of sit-ups and crunches.

Finally, I decided to take a quick shower and then try to go to 
sleep. Without thinking, I shucked off my shorts and kicked them 
into the corner. I glanced at Billy, but he looked sound asleep, 
so I grabbed my towel and padded into the foyer.

After my shower, I didn't worry about wrapping my towel around my 
waist. Billy was asleep, and even if he weren't, I didn't think 
he'd have a problem with me being nude for the few minutes it 
would take to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

It was after two when I finally turned out my light. I was asleep 
within minutes.

-----

The Art History exam was a breeze. Christy, Wren, and I talked 
about it as we walked back to the dorms. We all thought we'd done 
well.

When I got to Kendall's apartment, we both had work to do. She 
had to finish her Child Psychology paper and I had to write out 
the final draft of my American Literature paper (I _still_ hadn't 
figured out how to use my computer's word processing program, 
Jeff's offer for help notwithstanding).

Kendall and I spent the afternoon proofreading each other's 
papers. When I went to work out with Trip, it was a welcome 
relief from Kendall's "Cognitive and Logical Development Stages" 
and my own "William Faulkner's_ _Yoknapatawpha County."

Trip and I did a light workout, because we had an early-evening 
football game versus the SAE team. The intramurals were open to 
all on-campus organizations, but this was our first game against 
a fraternity team.

Unfortunately, the SAE guys were a lot better than we were, and 
they beat us 21-7. We were lucky to get the one touchdown, which 
came on a screen pass from Trip to T.J. I took out the nearest 
tackler and then T.J. yelled at me to block for him. Without 
thinking, I started sprinting toward the end zone. T.J. was right 
behind me, easily matching my pace.

With me running interference, we weren't the _fastest_ pair on 
the field, but I easily knocked aside the two SAE defenders who 
tried to intercept us. After I cleared the way, T.J. whooped and 
then sprinted around me, intent on the end zone. When he scored, 
he spiked the ball and then pointed at me.

"Kick _ass_, Loverboy!" he shouted exuberantly. "That was fuckin' 
_awesome!_"

Unfortunately, the SAE defenders shut us down after that. We got 
the ball three more times, but didn't make a single first down, 
and they ran out the clock before we could make anything happen.

When the game ended, I said goodbye to Kendall and Gina and then 
headed back to the dorm for _more_ studying. On the way up the 
hill, Trip and I commiserated about the game. It had been a tough 
loss, but I tried to put it behind me. I still had lots of 
studying to do, and thinking about a lost football game wouldn't 
help me pass my exams.

-----

On Friday, my Calculus exam wasn't exactly easy, but I was pretty 
sure I did well. In my Intro to Architecture class, Professor 
Spielman gave us a pop quiz, which I aced. Finally, I turned in 
the Faulkner paper in my American Literature class. Given 
Professor Feller's grading habits, I was positive that I'd get an 
A. Fortunately, I thought I deserved it.

I spent the rest of the morning in one of the student design labs 
in the A&A building. I sat at a drawing board in the corner and 
pored over my Design textbook. I even skipped lunch, determined 
to cram everything I could into my brain.

Finally, it was time for class. I gathered up my things and then 
headed toward Joska's classroom.

"Are you ready?" Trip asked as he slid into his seat a moment 
after I did.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"I don't think I slept a wink last night," Samantha said as she 
joined us.

"Time to apply at McDonald's, y'all," Antonio said from beside 
her.

"How long did you all study?" Samantha asked.

"Paul and I were up 'til midnight," Trip replied.

"I got my beauty sleep," Antonio said.

We looked at him in disbelief.

"The textbook fell off my shelf and knocked me plumb 
unconscious," he said with a grin. Then, "Naw, I know this stuff. 
It ain't nothin' but couple of big words and a few fancy 
pictures."

Trip and I grinned at each other.

Samantha looked nervous, but she smiled at Antonio's light-
hearted attitude.

When Professor Joska entered the classroom, we reflexively grew 
quiet.

"Today, we see who has a future as an architect, and who 
doesn't," he said. Then he held up two sheaves of paper. "These," 
he said, shaking one set, "are your exams. And _these_ are job 
applications for McDonald's."

"See?" Antonio whispered.

Trip and I looked at each other in shock.

"One of my buddies told me," Antonio quietly explained.

"You can have one or the other," Joska continued, drawing my 
attention back to the front of the class. "So," he asked, "which 
will it be... Miss Fisher?"

"The exam, sir," she said.

"Mr. Whitman?"

"The exam."

Joska's merciless eyes settle upon me.

I clenched my jaw.

"Mr. Hughes?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. _No matter how hard he tries to beat me 
down,_ I reminded myself,_ I'll keep standing up._ I wanted to 
wipe the smug expression off his face--with my fist--but I took 
another deep breath instead.

"Well," he prompted. "Which will it be? The fast food industry 
always needs more college dropouts."

"I'll take the job application," I said impudently. "_And_ the 
exam," I added a half-second later.

_That_ got his attention.

"I can use the back of the application to write my graduation 
speech," I said evenly.

I think the rest of the class didn't know whether to snicker or 
to dive for cover.

Joska gazed at me calmly. When the class grew ominously quiet, he 
nodded--once. It was curt and ambiguous, but I knew I'd just 
gained a measure of respect in his eyes.

_And I'll keep coming back for more,_ I silently vowed.

-----

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

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