Chapter 1

It seems strange to think that no matter how involved we are with a person, we may not really know them. Everyone has been in that situation with a co-worker, classmate, or friend. You think you know someone really well, and then they do something so totally unexpected that you question how well you know them. There are people who would call this naivety, I disagree. If it were that simple to explain, the human race would have destroyed itself long ago.

I don't believe that there are people in this world who have never been surprised by the actions of another person. Anyone who claims to be is a liar. Perfect people do not exist, perfect intentions might. The point being that life is made up of experience. Whether or not we learn from our experience is entirely personal, but sometimes we find that we learn a lot more than we think.

I think a good example of this is my relationship with Kathy. I thought I knew her, received the shock of my life, and discovered a lot more about her character than I thought ever existed. In the end, she turned out to be a much stronger person than I would have given her credit for.

"... We move in circles with our eyes on the door, saying so little, thinking much more, stranger and stranger we start to feel, the night is over and nothing is real..."

Patty Smyth and Scandal continued to harmonize in the background as I got down my suitcases and began packing. Kathy had finally gone too far and I was leaving. I had really tried to make the relationship work, but her mood swings, along with her drinking were finally proving to be too much. Ever since the fight last month, things had been somewhat icy in our relationship. Try as I might, I couldn't forgive her, or myself, for what happened. In some ways, I suppose it would be cliche to say, but she had really gone too far, and I wouldn't forgive her. Of course, I've said that before.

It had all started so long ago. She had been in one of my classes at school, and I thought she was very attractive. I was a twenty year old junior Business Administration undergraduate student. My last serious relationship had fallen apart some six months earlier, and I was just trying to get through another semester. I had to take a history class as an elective, so I had chosen a 300 level class about Ancient Rome. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone that way -- liberal arts elective and a 300 level elective. I also figured that it would be an easy A. Funny how things never quite turn out as we plan.

I was sitting in class, patiently waiting for the professor to arrive, when she walked in. She was tall - about five feet, eight or nine inches, about one hundred twenty five pounds - with long sensuous, straight blond hair that curled at the ends, generous breasts that made me wish I was the sweater covering them, nice hourglass shape, and legs that went on forever. She came into class wearing a midriff baring white half-sweater -- showing her pierced belly button --, black mini-skirt and sandals, calmly looked around, and selected a seat further down the row I was in. As she settled in, she turned and winked at me with one of her beautiful brown eyes. I think I needed a crane to yank my jaw back into place. Normally, the girls who flirt with me tend to be the 'nerdish' type with thick glasses and no social life, kind of like me. It is not normal for a girl that half the men in school are lusting after to give me a second glance, let alone flirt. I must have missed at least half of the lecture I was so stunned. At least this class would be interesting I decided, one way or another.

A few weeks into the semester I noticed something. No matter where I sat, she would sit a few seats down, in the same row. As the semester continued on, she would move about one seat closer a week. There was no real pattern to it, some weeks she would move two seats, some one, one day five.

I would occasionally glance her way during the lectures. She always seemed to catch me at it too, and flash a little leg, or breast depending on how she dressed. I became convinced that she had a wardrobe that consisted solely of mini-skirts and low-cut blouses. Actually, she did wear jeans sometimes -- I lived for those days, did she ever fill them out! -- but only with a shirt she could undo some of the buttons on. She really loved catching me glancing her way then. A sly little glance from me, she would drop her pencil and lean my way to pick it up, or lean back to stretch much like a cat with her arms over her head, thus causing my eyes -- and those of anyone else who might be looking -- to leave my head.

Finally, I was sitting there one Tuesday towards the end of October, when she appeared next to me and sat down. She had on a dark blood-red blouse, with the first three buttons undone showing some tanned cleavage lightly brushed by her blonde locks, faded black jeans that looked painted on, and bright red pumps with a sensible one and a half inch heel. My heart about stopped when she sat down. She just gave me her usual dazzling smile, fixing her liquid chocolate eyes on me, and made herself comfortable. I was so shocked that I dropped the pen I was taking notes with right next to her left foot. She bent down, picked it up -- almost popping open another button on her blouse, and widening my eyes considerably -- paused while she was bent over and glancing up at me, flexed her considerable cleavage I flushed and averted my eyes at having been caught staring. She giggled and handed my pen back to me with her typical mischievous smile.

I think I missed at least half of the lecture that day. I couldn't concentrate. I would try to pay attention, then I would catch a whiff of her spicy perfume, glance her way, get caught in the usual manner, and turn away slightly crimson. Then she would go to get something out of her bag, brushing my leg as she bent over. I, inevitably, jumped as though burned, much to her obvious delight. When I looked down at her to see what was going on, she flexed her very exposed breasts at me and winked. I'm lucky the professor was too oblivious to notice or I'm sure he would have thrown us both out of class.

As the lecture ended, she leaned over, brushing up against my arm and scribbled something quickly on my paper, blew me a kiss, then she was gone. I had to run to another class across campus, so I didn't read what she had written until that evening.

All her note said was Tau Omega 9:00 Saturday. I just rolled my eyes and crossed it out. Tau Omega is a frat that my friend Chuck belongs to. I am not big on the Greek scene, and I would never make plans to go to a party at one of the houses, especially that one. The Tau Om's seem to think that all there is to life is making up stories about the women they have supposedly scored with, drinking until you puke, then starting to drink some more. In between drinking bouts, they attempt to pick up the the drunk sorority girls. It makes me wonder why more girls don't end up pregnant, and more guys don't end up with funny diseases.