Chapter 37

It wasn’t a long nap, since Larry came bounding in thirty minutes later, but I felt marginally better.

“C’mon, Carter, let’s get some dinner, then it’s party time. There’s gotta be something going on tonight to blot out the gloom of impending finals, you in?”

“I dunno, Larry, I’ve been fighting off a headache for the past hour. Loud music and alcohol may not be conducive to a cure.”

“Au contraire, mon ami, it could be exactly what you need. You know what they say about wine, women and song.”

“I remember the quote from Lord Byron: ’Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter ... sermons and soda-water the day after.’ I need my head in good shape for tomorrow.”

“You’re a tool, Carter. Let’s get some dinner and I’ll convince you by dessert.”

But, as it turned out, by dessert time Larry had been collared by some of his party buddies to discuss the evening’s options and where their best bets were. I piled both of our dishes onto one tray and bused them. I was zipping my jacket at the door when Con Doherty came out of a side door.

“Carter, how’s it hangin’? Where are you off to tonight?”

“Maybe nowhere, Con. I’m trying to get rid of a headache. I might lie down for awhile.”

“Heresy! I’ll not hear of it! You need to party, Carter. Exams are coming up and we could be screwed. Better enjoy college life while it lasts.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood tonight, Con. Alcohol isn’t going to do my headache any good.”

“So don’t drink! Nobody’s forcing you. Just find a place with some fun people and some laughter, it’ll fix you right up. Listen, there’s another party at Kappa house tonight. Join me. You had fun last time, right?”

I remembered the girl Alicia and her sorority sisters from Forbes University at the last Kappa party I’d been at. I’d wound up DP’ing her with some other guy I’d never been introduced to in front of a crowd. I had to admit it was an experience to remember. But there had been a lot of alcohol, and it was loud} there. Con could see me thinking about it.

“Look, what’s the worst that could happen? Too many drunk people, too much loud music, you grab your coat and walk back to the dorm. On the other hand, you might find a crew to hang out with, have some laughs, forget books for awhile. Whaddya say?”

“What time are you going over?”

“I think around nine-ish. It’ll be slow till then.”

“Knock on my door. I’m going to take a nap, but I’ll see how I feel about it then, okay?”

“Deal.” And he walked off. To my amazement, I heard him reciting Edgar Allan Poe as he went down the path:

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

Doherty sometimes surprised me. I went back to the dorm and closed my eyes on the bed, trying to push conscious thought away with only partial success. But I think I did sleep for a short time, because I was startled awake by the knock on the door.

“Oh, Car-ter, it’s your nine o’clock wake-up call.”

I told him to come in while I sat up on the bed.

“So? Are you made whole again? Ready for some laughs?”

I thought about it. I felt around for the headache and mostly it seemed to be gone. I didn’t think I could do any more reading tonight, certainly nothing as intense as this afternoon. I mentally shrugged. He was right. I didn’t have to drink, and if it was too loud and too rowdy, I could just leave.

“Okay, Con, I’ll see how it goes. Lemme grab my jacket.”

We went off towards the frat house, and he started a monologue about basketball and how weird the coach could be and fine points of the last game they’d played. I had to smile at sports guys. If they were into it, they were all in, no reservations.

He was still talking when we got to Kappa house. The house was hopping, you could see people through the windows in every room, all of them holding drinks.

As usual, Con just walked in, well known here. We tossed our jackets on top of the pile in the little space that served as a cloak room. Behind me I heard, “Doherty! You made bail! We were so worried.”

“And screw you, too, Ahern. Why are you still sober? You remember Carter?”

“The famous Carter of story and legend? Of course. Welcome back, Carter. Wait, wasn’t that a TV show?”

“Time for another beer, Bobsy. I’m gonna wander around, Carter, see who’s here. Make yourself at home.”

Easy for him to say, it wasn’t his home, but Ahern didn’t seem to mind. He wandered off, too, after raising his glass in salute.

I didn’t feel like beer or anything harder, and it took some time before I found where they had the soda used for mixers, where I got ginger ale in a plastic cup. Everyone would assume I was holding a mixed drink. I rambled around, somewhat familiar with the layout after my first visit here.

There were frat guys standing in a circle seeing who could get drunkest first, frat guys in ones and twos trying to put the moves on whatever girls were in attendance, and even some packs of girls huddled together in groups, giggling, while they fended off the frat boys.

I checked upstairs, just for the hell of it. I saw a mixed group in someone’s room, sitting on the floor passing a joint around and laughing at something. There were a couple of closed doors, and at the end of the hall the same group of guys from last time arguing loudly about sports.

Boring. I went back down and not much had changed on the first floor, but I remembered where the basement door was and descended to the frat’s party room.

Which was crowded, but surprisingly sedate. There were plenty of people, some of them already drunk, but not loud. Is this just end-of-term depression rearing its ugly head, or had the party just not gotten under way yet?

I peeked into the little alcove where I had spent some quality time performing for the crowd with Alicia and her other partner and now saw only some folks sitting on the couch laughing while they drank.

I felt a finger tapping my shoulder. “Hey, aren’t you that guy, Carter was it? I recognize you, you helped us decide whether Brianna had passed her initiation, remember? I’m Allie.”

“I do remember. You’re in a sorority at Forbes, right? How come you’re always here? Don’t you sorority girls throw parties?”

“I’m a Delta Lambda. Yeah, we have parties, but our houses are on campus and they keep a pretty tight rein on the kind of parties we can throw. It’s easier to just come here, and the Kappas always like to have extra girls at their blowouts. Plus, we don’t have to clean up afterwards.”

“Good point. Well, it’s nice to be wanted.”

“Yes, plus there’s free booze.”

Just then, several girls, also Deltas I assumed, came up to Allie and told her, “We’re bored. I thought you said there was gonna be a band. All they’ve got is someone’s boom box. Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Patience is a virtue, Bonnie. Andy told me that the band called and said they’re running late. Flat tire or something. They’ll be here. Why don’t you go tease some frat boy or something?”

“They’re so boring. I wanna dance. To a band. They just wanna do the horizontal dance.”

“You’re just discovering this now?”

“C’mon, Allie, how much longer?”

“I dunno, maybe 30 minutes. Can’t you amuse yourselves for thirty minutes? What am I, your activity director?”

They stood in a tight group and looked sour, and I think Allie saw her entourage wavering and planning a retreat. In desperation, she said, “Okay, how ‘bout we come up with something fun to do for 30 minutes? Have some drinks and a few laughs. How ‘bout ‘Never Have I Ever’? The big girls version.”

The group looked at each other and shrugged.

“Go fill your drink cups and come back here. We’ll commandeer this room with the couches. See if anyone else wants to play. Maybe a couple of frat boys? How ‘bout you, Carter, you want in?”

“I guess I could find worse things to do for 30 minutes.”

“That’s the spirit! You got a drink?”

My ginger ale was mostly still full, and no need to tell them it wasn’t alcohol, so I nodded.

In a few minutes, the other girls trickled back down with a couple of frat boys in tow. Allie asked in a loud voice if anyone else downstairs wanted to participate and got a few takers.

We settled in, either in chairs or standing or sitting against the walls. Whether she wanted to or not, Allie was the activity director.

“Okay, you know how this goes. You say something out loud that you have never done, in the form ‘Never have I ever... ‘. If anyone in the group has done that thing they have to take a drink. And ... they have to give details about how it happened. If no one has done the thing, then the person who said it has to drink. And this is the adult version of the game. So none of those cheap ‘Never have I ever visited Washington D.C.’ things. Personal stuff, got it? I’ll start.”

She thought for a moment. “Okay. Never have I ever fucked a teacher.”

Everyone looked around the group. No one moved. Finally one guy, looking guilty, lifted his cup and took a swig. The crowd erupted with catcalls. “Details, Rob, details!”

“I hoped no one would ever find out. Okay. Senior year, high school. New math teacher, really just out of college, I think. Kinda hot. The guys started calling her Legs Halliday behind her back. Nice legs, long. I messed up a quiz, ‘cause I hadn’t studied, and she made me stay after school to go over the things I’d missed.

“It took me a while to realize that she was coming on to me, brushing up against me, putting her hand on my shoulder. I don’t want to drag this out. Bottom line, she got me to come over to her apartment, ostensibly to help her put up some book shelves, but twenty minutes after I got there we were screwing on the rug. I think I wasn’t the only one, too. I wonder if she’s still teaching there.”

“Okay, good start. Deb, you’re up next.”

Deb, who was seated to Allie’s right, said, “Hmmm, okay, never have I ever used a household item as a dildo.”

I thought that ruled out most of the guys, or at least they’d never admit to it, but surprisingly almost all the girls took a drink.

Allie said, “Whoa! Too many for details, we’ll be here all night. All right, those who have, just say what the implement you used was.”

Around the circle they went, everyone looking just a little embarrassed. “Hair brush handle”. “Shampoo bottle”. “Electric toothbrush -- the handle part”. “Cucumber”. “Candle”. “Top of a wine bottle”.

Allie said, “That was inspiring. Umm, Gina, you’re up.”

She thought about it, then proclaimed, “Never have I ever used the wrong person’s name when having sex.”

Everybody laughed, but several, male and female, took a drink. Allie pointed at the first one on her left, a guy.

“Oh, Christ, I’m still hitting myself for this one. Gorgeous woman I finally talked into bed, we’re humping away, and I had to tell her how hot she was, but without thinking I used my ex’s name. I said, ‘Barb, your body gets me so hard!’ She froze and stared at me, then said, ‘My name is Amy.’ She threw me off her, grabbed her clothes, and walked out, me behind her trying to explain. It was no use.”

Everyone -- well, mostly the men -- groaned. Allie nodded at the next guilty party.

“Basically same story,” she said. “Hot guy I’d had my eye on for awhile, till he finally made his move. We’re back at my place, and he’s really good, knows just what to do, getting me really wound up doing me from behind and he’s got me really close and I’m rambling, ‘cause I’m a talker when I screw, and without thinking I tell him, ‘Just a little slower, Eddie, almost there.’

“Except his name wasn’t Eddie, but I’d blanked on it for a moment. He stopped in mid-thrust. And the whole mood changed. He started pounding into me and slapping my butt, which I’d told him I didn’t like, kinda angry, just fucking so he could get off. He was done in another thirty seconds, then he grabbed his clothes and left. I really liked the guy but he wouldn’t look at me after that.”

The women made commiserating noises in understanding. There were two others, who told similar stories. When they were done, Allie said, “Guy in the red shirt, sorry, don’t know your name. You’re next.”

He stared at the ceiling, then said, “Okay, never have I ever had a threesome after being high.”

There was some hesitation, but a couple of guys and three women raised their cups to their lips. There were some calls of “This I gotta hear”, and “C’mon, spill, details.”

Allie pointed to the closest guy who had drunk.

“Actually, it was a foursome, my buddy and his girl, and this other girl who I’d only met a couple of times. He’d just scored some weed and was in a sharing mood. After the second joint we were feeling very mellow and friendly, like we were in a safe place, so we were comfortable touching and hugging. And my buddy’s girl started kissing me, while he and this other girl were talking about something, and when he saw his girl with her tongue down my throat, he started in on the new girl.

“Before we knew it we were naked, and his girl was going down on me, and my buddy was fucking the new girl while she was bent over the end of the couch. Later we traded partners again. I wondered if it had made things awkward between my buddy and his girlfriend. I never asked.”

“Very kinky,” said Allie. “Francie, I think I saw you drink. Speak.”

“Oh, man, this feels weird,” Francie said, looking a little guilty. “Like I’m telling a secret about someone. “Okay, me and my boyfriend had had a joint or two and ordered out for pizza. Just after it was delivered, my girlfriend, Marcy, dropped by unannounced. She and I’ve been friends forever, and she’d confided to me when I first started going out with Bill that she thought he was hot, so I could see she was a bit nervous to find him there when she showed up. I couldn’t throw her out, so I asked if she wanted to join us for pizza.

“What was surprising was that I noticed that he was attracted to her, paying attention to her, complimenting her, while he still had his hands all over me. In between bites of pizza, that is. We got down to the last slice of pizza and we were all still a bit hungry, so he joked and said, ‘I’ll wrestle you for it, best two falls out of three, you two against me.’ And Marcy, the bitch, said ‘Okay,’ and jumped him. I couldn’t just stand there and watch, so I jumped in, too.

“Well, it didn’t take too long before we were half naked, all of us, and it wasn’t much later till the three of us were in my bed. I hadn’t known that Marcy swung both ways before that. Anyway, it was surprisingly hot.” She took another sip of her drink.

“And now I’m hot,” said Allie. We heard from the other guy: Girl at a party with too many drinks in her, who he didn’t know but happened to be standing next to, said conversationally to him, ‘I wonder why alcohol always makes me horny? Now I’m drunk and I’m really horny.’ He offered, in a neighborly gesture, to help her out. She grabbed another guy by the hand on her way to the nearest bedroom, and she got spit-roasted till she fell asleep.

Allie commented, “And they say romance is dead. Uh, Kathy, didn’t you take a drink, too?”

Kathy looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. “I think this may be my last party game. This is embarrassing. Actually, I’m not sure this really counts as a threesome. I was at a party, drowning my sorrows after really messing up an exam, so I was pretty wasted. Met a cute guy and before long we had our tongues down each other’s throats and I was kinda liking the feel of his tongue in my mouth.

“I don’t remember the argument he used to convince me, but I found myself on my knees with his dick in my mouth, enjoying it, but my mind was wandering. Then I looked and saw a dick waving in front of me and I said to myself, ‘Wait, aren’t I already sucking his cock? I guess not, since it’s right here in front of me.’ So I grabbed it and wrapped my mouth around it.

“Then I saw a dick to my left, and the light slowly dawned, that there were now two dicks. So I alternated between handjob and blowjob, until they finally both shot their wads at nearly the same time. All over me. Cum everywhere. Oh, and there was applause, too. Not my finest moment.”

“We’ve all been there,” said Allie. “Okay, you, Carter, you’re up next. Whaddya got?”

I’d been half-thinking about what I was going to say when it was my turn and had narrowed it down to a couple of choices. I picked one at random. “All right, never have I ever woken up next to a stranger.”

There was a moment’s pause, then more than half the people in the group raised their cups. Everyone burst out laughing.

“You sluts,” cried Allie. “The guys, too! You’re shameless. Okay, you, you start,” she said, pointing.

The girl, who Allie may not have known since she didn’t call her by name, said, “The Cliff’s Notes version. Party. Way too much alcohol. Vague memories of kissing. Woke up in a bed next morning between two guys I didn’t know. Sticky all over, with a major hangover.”

Allie just smiled, then said, “Brenda. Confession time.”

Brenda said, “Have you all noticed the common theme here? Too many drinks, if you’re taking notes. I went out clubbing with my girlfriends, and guys were buying us drinks -- surprise, surprise! -- and I was dancing like crazy, with a bunch of different guys, enjoying the attention. That’s the last thing I really remember.

“I woke up the next morning in some dude’s bed, and all I remember about it was sniffing and thinking, wow, it’s been a really long time since he changed these sheets. I looked at the guy, sleeping, for the longest time, but I couldn’t remember dancing with him or talking to him. I’m sure he told me his name, but it was lost in the alcohol fog. I sneaked out before he woke up and asked for round two.”

“Hear ya, sister,” said Allie. “Uh, you, yellow tee-shirt, don’t know your name, you’re up.”

“Sorta like the last one. Out at a bar with my buddies, some dancing, maybe meet some girls. Beer’s my thing, and we were going through the pitchers pretty fast. Finally met a girl after we’d been there a couple of hours, nice smile, good dancer, fun. Don’t recall a lot of the details, except the music pounding and us sweating while we danced.

“The next morning when I woke up, I was afraid to move too fast because I might toss my cookies before I got to the bathroom. I got there and peed for what seemed like five minutes straight. I felt better after I brushed my teeth. I crawled back to the bedroom and I stood there staring for a minute, trying to remember who the hell she was. You know the phrase ‘beer goggles’? That’s what came to mind as I looked at the bed.

“I’m trying to be sensitive and respectful here, but she was nothing like my usual type. She was still out cold, but it was clear that she didn’t take care of herself, her hair was unwashed, and she was ... larger than my usual idea of a hot woman.

“She chose that moment to wake up and saw me standing there, and said, “Well, hi there, handsome. Did we have a good time or what?” Repeat that sentence to yourself using the voice of Fran Drescher. That’s her.

“I apologized to her, but said I had to leave because I had basketball practice, or something, I can’t remember. She gave me her number as she left. The paper was sticky.”

The guys all appeared to shiver before they regained their composure, perhaps recalling similar morning-afters.

Allie continued around the room, all the stories pretty much alike, too much alcohol or weed, bad choices of partners, and much self-recrimination the next morning.

“That’s everyone? Okay, there’s a lesson there, alcohol is not always your friend.” She paused to take a swig from her cup. “Eddie, I think you’re next. What’s your secret shame?”

Eddie flipped Allie a dexterous middle finger. “Right, so, never have I ever purchased a sex toy.”

The guys laughed. Nearly all the women and one guy took a drink. The guy called Rob, who had testified earlier, said, “Let’s hear it. Leave nothing out.”

Allie started to her left. “Marnie. You’re first.”

“Why do guys find this so titillating?” she asked. “Everyone uses something to get themselves off, even if it’s just your hand. Sometimes toys are just faster. Right, so my first was in high school, and I was a little embarrassed ‘cause it was my first time. We had this little sex shop on a side street in our town. It had a back entrance, too, in case you didn’t want your neighbors to see you going in.

“So I was nervous, ‘cause I was kinda new to this, and I didn’t know what this place was going to look like, maybe dark, badly lit, sticky floor and an odd smell, some sketchy guy in a soiled overcoat leering. So I go in the back door, not even sure what I was looking for, and it looked like the neighborhood CVS store, brightly lit, with several aisles and stuff displayed on the walls. And it was actually kinda busy, mostly women. I even recognized someone I knew vaguely who worked at the bank.

“I started looking at the stuff on the racks, picking them up to examine them, trying to imagine how they were used. This woman I didn’t know was standing nearby and she said to me, ‘Looking for something new, honey?’ All I could do was nod, and she came over and pulled something off the shelf and said, ‘Let me suggest this. I got one recently and it’s my new best friend.’

“I mumbled thanks, and took it to the register, ‘cause I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could because I was sure that one of the nuns from parochial school was going to burst through the door at any moment, recognize me, and call my parents to tell on me. Though what a nun would be doing in a sex shop I don’t know.

“Anyway, I took it home, and damned if the woman wasn’t right! It was my new best friend, ‘cause my boyfriends didn’t know the first thing about getting women off. So I became a regular customer.”

Allie said, “Truth, girl. You, guy, what’s your name? You’re next.”

This was the only guy to have taken a drink. There may have been other guys, but at least he was honest about it.

“I’m Tony. And I went because my girlfriend at the time and I had been walking that awkward line about trying some new things sex-wise. She was both curious about and afraid of anal sex, at the same time, and she wasn’t ready to have a dick in there yet. She kinda got off on my finger, but it wasn’t quite enough. Someone, one of my buddies, mentioned butt plugs, ‘cause his girlfriend was into them, so I asked around, quietly, and somebody suggested this place downtown.

“So, like Marnie, I was a little nervous about going in, ‘cause it was my first time and I didn’t know what to ask for. And I felt a little out of place because, like Marnie’s shop, it was mostly women there and I was the odd man out. But the female clerk apparently recognized the signs, and she asked me if she could help me find something.

“It was an awkward conversation, but she was patient, and as soon as I said ‘butt play’, she said, ‘Over here.’ And there was a wall full of stuff to go in your butt. She asked a couple of questions about whether my girl had done this before, and when I said no, she said, ‘You want this one.’ It was a set of butt plugs, ranging from small to better than medium, all enclosed in a shrink-wrapped cardboard display package. She also suggested a small one with a vibrator. And some lube.

“It was more than I’d wanted to pay, but it turned out to be a good choice and after a couple of weeks my girlfriend found she really liked the feeling, so I eventually got to put my dick there. And she really liked the butt plug with the vibrator. She’d have that humming away while I fucked her pussy and she’d go off like gangbusters.”

Allie was about to move on to the next woman who’d drunk, when from upstairs we heard the drummer playing riffs on his tom-tom, getting it properly placed.

One of the girls who’d been whining to Allie before we started this game said, “Finally! It’s about time. I’m gonna dance. Who’s in?” She got up and moved toward the stairs and several others followed. I’d kinda been getting involved in the game and was a little sad to see it break up.

As people wandered off, I said to Allie, “I admired the way you organized this thing and moderated it, all on the spur of the moment.”

“Yeah, if only I could make a living at this. I’ve gotta go find another drink, Carter. Later.”

I sat there on the couch as the group thinned and went to find other interests. Maybe the party had run its course. The last time I’d been here, the band was way too loud, and I was still too close to my recent headache to deal with that. I’ll finish my soda.

There were a few people still standing around the archway that separated the two rooms. They dispersed and revealed a young woman holding a beer and looking pensive. She caught my eye and I nodded politely. She called across the room, “I got here too late to be part of the group playing. Probably just as well. I’d probably be through my third drink by now. A lot of those hit pretty close to home.”

“Yeah, me, too. But I was adhering to a strict reading of the questions as stated, and convinced myself that they didn’t apply to me. But it was close.”

She’d moved a little closer so she wouldn’t have to yell over the band, which was tuning up upstairs.

“Oh, yeah? Like which ones? You don’t look like the slutty type.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Anyway, who’re you, the neighborhood shrink, come to analyze my twisted desires?”

“I’m Frieda, and you can consider me your analyst if you want. I assure you, nothing you say will ever be discussed outside this room, except possibly with a few professional colleagues, or somebody I happen to meet in a bar, or maybe the girl behind the counter in the convenience store.”

“Well, that’s a relief, then. I’m Tom. You can call me that or Carter, which is what most everybody calls me. And that might or might not be my real name. Just in case you decide to spill the beans.”

By now she was next to the couch I was sitting on, and took a seat to my left. As she got settled, I looked her over. She appeared to be about my height, a strong chin, brown eyes, and a tiny beauty mark on her right cheek. Her hair was brown with highlights of something else. She had a sweater on, so I couldn’t tell much about her muscle tone or her chest, but her backside, what I could make out through her slacks, was nicely shaped.

“So, Carter, if that’s your name, which questions did you split hairs on? Did you lie about using the wrong person’s name? Or the threesome while drunk? Do you have a closet full of sex toys?”

“I can see why you became a professional analyst, Frieda. You ask probing questions. Some people might call it nosiness, but I recognize professional dedication when I see it. So let me know when my fifty minutes are up. For the record, no sex toys, nor have I used the wrong person’s name during sex. Yet.

“I weaseled on the threesome question because I wasn’t high when it happened. I was fully aware, because that happens to be one of my things, making sure everyone consents. Maybe it’s my Boy Scout background.”

“That’s it?” she said. “Just the threesome? I was expecting something more salacious. You said the questions hit close to home.”

“Well, I’ve used sex toys with some of the women I’ve been with, but I didn’t purchase them. Purchasing was part of the question. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been long before somebody asked a question that had my guilty name written all over it and I’d have had to drink. And tell.”

“Maybe I’m a voyeur. Is that the word? I think that only applies if you’re watching someone have sex, rather than listening to them talk about it. Well, whatever it’s called, I’ve probably got it. Why am I telling you this?” She took another sip of her drink.

I was surprised how often this Viennese psychiatrist persona popped up in a sexual situation. It started as a joke years ago to set someone at ease. I had this kind of fake-German accent I used, so I put it on.

“Und zo, Fraulein, how often do you find yourself aroused in zis fashion? Und, how duss it make you feel?”

She laughed. “Wait, I thought I was the psychiatrist!”

“Even psychiatrists haf psychiatrists, Fraulein, nein? Now, lie down on zis couch und tell me about your childhood.”

She laughed again. “You sound like my grandfather. Really. Born in Germany. You picked up on the German name, Frieda, right? Anyway, I’ll have to start calling you Dr. Freud with that accent. Wait, you’re not really a psychiatrist, so maybe Dr. Fraud.”

“That sounds about right. But as your fake psychiatrist, my training compels me to ask which of those questions hit too close to home for you? Professional interest only, of course.”

She had a nice laugh. It told me she didn’t take herself too seriously, and was willing to admit her foibles. I wondered what she looked like under that sweater. I channeled a tongue slowly licking her nipples, and a feather brushing her clit.