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  This story is part of a series that I've entitled 'Seasons'.  The
series as it stands so far:

 1. Hazy Shade of Winter
 2. Summertime Blues
 3. Season of the Witch
 4. April Showers
 5. The Cruelest Month
 6. The Real World
 7. A Time to Cast Away Stones <still in the works>

Email is always appreciated.  In fact, it provides a large part of
my incentive to write.  :-)

Hawkeye
_______________________________________________________________________

  Do me a favor, and only redistribute this with the following notices
attached.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the
characters herein, and any real people living or dead, is purely
because I draw from many sources, real and imaginary.  Chew on that.

(c) 1993 Pure Blue Enterprises.  All rights reserved.  Explicit
permission
granted for electronic re-distribution, without changes.


[v1.0]
                          The Real World
                       (part 6 of 'Seasons')
                            by Hawkeye

  I wasn't really surprised when Lisa didn't come back to school in
the fall.  I hardly felt like coming back myself, even though it it
was my senior year.  College felt like just another meaningless task
that needed finishing, and I found it wearying to be surrounded by
people when I would rather have just had the company of my memories.
I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

  Despite that, I really tried to get back into the rhythm of school
life.  I stayed with the movie crew, and after being on it for so
long, I was practically the Grand Old Man of it.  Having started
college a little later than was usual, I was 2 or 3 years older than
most of the other people there.  It gave me a semi-exalted position
among them, but it also made me feel less a part of things.

  That was fine with me, though.  I was already distancing myself from
that life, and those times.

+++

  I lasted out the Fall semester, and squeaked by with decent grades.
That was despite a lot of partying and carrying on, which turned me
into a real slacker.

  I dated a couple of girls who looked passably like Lisa, but of
course nothing happened.  I tried to tell myself that I was just
naturally attracted to that look in women, but it was always me that
broke it off after a couple of dates, when I found out that they
didn't act like her.  I nursed a lot of hangovers, too, and I was
pretty rude company sometimes.  Some of my friends stopped hanging
around with me.

  I went home for Christmas break, and wondered if I would bother to
go back.

+++

  I did go back, and despite my behavior, I even finished the
semester.
I hadn't put much thought into my "future", though.  If you had asked
me about it, I would have laughed at you, waved my beer drunkenly in
your face, and said, "Here's to the future, and all that it may
bring!" And then I would have laughed again, because I was drunk and
didn't know what the fuck I was talking about.

  In May, I got kind of a shock.  I had graduated, and they expected
me to leave.  Well, that sure threw a monkey wrench in my plans.
Meaning, I didn't have any plans, and now I was forced to make some.
I had to find an apartment in town, and I got myself a job working for
one of the engineering companies that flourished around the
university.

  Working wasn't half bad, I decided.  Having a real schedule sort of
restrained the worst excesses of my recent "lifestyle".  Plus I was
getting a new start, with people who were more of my current mindset.
College life had started to seem utterly alien to me in the last year.
I felt like now, maybe I might get somewhere with my life.

+++

  The company I worked for was tiny, which meant that it was de rigeur
for everyone to play on the company softball team.  Now, I can't throw
underhand worth a damn.  I can't usually catch anything except the
most
outrageously easy pop fly.  I'm not built for speed.  But sometimes --
when I get my head down, and really use The Force -- sometimes, I can
hit a wicked, screaming homer right out of the field.

  That's what happened one Tuesday night, in the middle of July.  I
got one of my blind-luck power hits, and won the game for us.
Everyone on the team, plus all our cheering section -- friends, wives,
kids etc, were there to meet me as I rounded home.  I was an instant
hero, on a team that hadn't won a game since early last season.

  We went back to Jerry's house to celebrate.  Jerry was the company
general manager, and had a big, beautiful 2-story in the suburbs, with
a large plot of land and a huge inground swimming pool.  He and his
wife were an easy going 50-ish couple, who didn't mind having a crowd
of young lions roaring in their backyard all night.

  We were reliving the highlights of the game for the 80th time, and I
was thanking my lucky spirits that everyone had completely forgotten
about that missed grounder, when all of a sudden I realized that I was
being watched.

  It was a funny, peripheral sort of feeling.  I knew that someone
was looking at me, although I wasn't sure how I'd noticed it.  It
wasn't like we'd made direct eye contact or anything.  In fact, I
didn't even see who it was.

  So I looked around, real slowly, like I was checking out what a nice
backyard Jerry owned.  I spotted her then.  She was a pleasing, rather
than eye-catching, brunette.  Medium height, and with a slender but
nicely curvacious build.  I especially liked her dark eyes, and the
jet black curls of her hair, which fell down onto her shoulders.  They
gave her a kind of exotic look.

  Anyway, she had on a wide brimmed straw hat, although the sun was
down almost on the horizon by then, and she was watching me from just
under the edge of it.

  Feeling cocky in my new position as Softball Super Hero, I smiled
broadly at her.  She looked down at the lemonade pitcher that she was
pouring herself a drink from, clearly implying that it held her
interest far more than I did.

  I wasn't buying it.  I broke off from the avid discussion of whether
we were now officially a championship contender, and made my way
nonchalantly over to the food and drink table.

  "Is that the lemonade you've got there?"

  "Yes.  Would you like some?" She looked me in the eye this time, as
if she was daring me to just go ahead and _try_ a line on her.

  "So, I don't think you work with us...?"  I knew she didn't.  There
were only about 30 people with the company all told, and I knew them
all by face.

  "No, I'm a friend of Hank's."

  Hank, Hank...  Damn.  This was the trouble with being the new guy, I
hadn't learned all the names yet.  I wondered how old Hank was, and
just how friendly their friendship got.

  My mental groping for facts must have manifested itself on my face,
most likely as a look resembling constipation.  She said, "I'm Hank's
liaison at West Line trucking.  He invites me to the games."

  Now I remembered which face in the crowd was "Hank".  Hank was the
handsome -- and unattached -- young guy who ran our shipping
department.
Hank was also gay.

  "Thanks," I said.

  She looked puzzled.  "For what?"

  "For throwing me a rope.  About Hank.  Most people would have just
let me drown." I grinned.

  She laughed then.  She had a really nice laugh -- warm, and not at
all self conscious.  I decided right then and there that she was going
to be the next great love of my life.  All I needed to do was convince
her of it.

  Of course, first I had to find out her name.

+++

  Well, it turned out that her name was Jennifer.  That was 'Jen' to
her friends, which I quickly became one of.  Our "romance" was pretty
quick to get going -- neither of us was a kid, and we didn't feel like
we had to spend forever protesting the purity of our motives.  As
close as I can recall, the decisive line was, "You know, I'd really
like sleep with you."  I can't recall which one of us said it.

  Not long after, she invited me to move into her apartment, and I
did.  It was a spacious, well kept place in a good part of town, which
she was renting for an unbelievably low price.  Well, unbelievable
until you found out that her father was the landlord.  We were pretty
happy there.  She had her peculiarities, and I had mine, but we found
out quickly how to avoid stepping on each other's toes.

  I wondered if this was how people ended up getting married.

+++

  Our softball team got eliminated in the first round of the
championship series that year, and we threw a big celebration at
Jerry's.  Not because we lost, but because we had made it that far.
We shot off firecrackers, and set up a stereo on his back patio, and
danced the night away.

  About 11 pm, Jen and I were sort of buzzed from the champagne and
the
good beer Jerry had provided.  We were making out on the living room
couch while the party continued outside.  People going in and out of
the house pretended not to notice us as they walked past the arched
entrance to the living room.  That was good, because I had Jen's
blouse unbuttoned almost to the waist.

  I was frustrated, because I couldn't undo her bra as long as her
blouse was still tucked in.  And I really, *really* wanted to undo her
bra.  In fact, it seemed like about the most important thing in the
whole world.  I was rubbing her breasts with my free hand -- the one
that wasn't holding her balanced in my lap -- and feeling her hard
nipples through the cloth was making me a little bit frantic.

  I pinched her nipples, with a tender roughness, and she whimpered
and squirmed in my lap.  I groaned as her body rubbed up against my
already straining cock.  She noticed that, and paused in the middle of
our kiss.  She pulled her mouth from mine, and deliberately wiggled
her hips, moving her bottom enticingly against me.  I sucked in my
breath, hard.  My cock was pinned between her body and mine, and it
was like being masturbated by her.

  She laid her lips against mine again, and began to move her bottom
deliberately in my lap.  The heat of my arousal climbed steadily, as
the warm weight of her body moved rhythmically against my groin.  Soon
I was breathing heavily, sucking desperately on her tongue, and
thrusting myself against her.  The springs in the couch started to
make a rusty "squeak-a squeak-a squeak-a" that I was sure would alert
the whole neighborhood.  But the loud rock music continued unabated
outside, and no one had come into the kitchen for several minutes.

  I was panting, and my face was running with sweat as I ground my
cock against Jen's bottom.  I put a hand between her legs, and began
to knead her flesh through material of her jeans, seeking to pull her
up to the same height of arousal as myself.  Jen was gasping between
our kisses, and we were almost rocking the old couch off of its legs.
I was pushing rapidly towards the hot peak of orgasm, when the back
door banged.

  Jen and I immediately stopped our movements.  We stared wide eyed
at each other and sat absolutely still, nerves stretched taut and
straining to hear.  Someone walked into the kitchen, momentarily
blotting out the hall light as they passed.  I was poised on the
desperate brink of orgasm, and felt that if I didn't come, I would
just die right there on the couch.  I had been holding my breath,
and I suddenly needed air.

  Still staring into Jen's eyes, I breathed in cautiously.  She
glanced at the empty hallway, smiled, and moved her hips in a little
circular movement.  I gasped, and came in violent spurts, in my pants.
Jen continued to rock her hips against me, as I pumped out my seed in
wrenching spasms, the orgasm setting my mind ablaze with a hot white
light.

    Jen kept up the steady kneading action of her hips, as I slowly
drifted down from that ecstatic height.  I let out a long, slow
breath, and laid my head on Jen's shoulder, the sweat from my forehead
dampening her blouse.

  She said, "Hey."

  I looked up at her, feeling so light headed that I was almost sure I
was going to pass out.

  "Hey," she repeated.  She was grinning.  "You were supposed to save
that for me."

  It took me a second to get it.  Then I threw my head back in a fit
of helpless chuckling laughter, totally oblivious to any possibility
of embarrassment.  Jen started laughing too, her sense of humor piqued
by my own abandonment.

  "Are you two having fun in there?" It was Jerry's wife, Camilla.
"Yeah, Cam, we are!" Jen shouted in an almost-steady voice.  Then she
started laughing again, as she buttoned her blouse.

  When we stood up to leave, I remembered that I needed to make a stop
in the bathroom first.

  After that, we took our leave from the party.  Jerry said, "You kids
have a good night, now."

  I had a feeling we would.

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