Variation on a Theme, Book 6
Copyright© 2024 by Grey Wolf
Chapter 81: Still More ‘More’
Tuesday, January 14, 1986
I called Ken Albright in the morning and let him know we were back in town, then called the College Station Police Department and told them the same thing. The secretary I eventually talked to thanked me for letting them know and told me to expect a call later this week. She wasn’t sure when, but knew Chief Palko and others were actively working on things.
I thanked her as well before ending the call. The ball remained in their court. I still felt confident about the eventual outcome, at least.
We went out shopping after that. The goal was to buy a reasonably capable fax machine for the house. ‘Reasonably capable’ turned out to be easy enough. A bit more money than I expected, but nothing terrible.
Was it extravagant? Maybe, but we could use it. Cammie alone might make it worthwhile over time.
Once we got back, I got the phone company working on adding another line specifically for the fax machine. No one wanted it answering any of our other lines with beeps, boops, and weird screaming noises.
We didn’t do it right away, but we made a mental note to get new business cards. For now, we could just handwrite the fax number on the existing ones whenever we needed to.
After that, I skimmed the P.C.’s Limited reports. As best as I could tell, everything was going well. There were issues, to be sure, but nothing unexpected. It was nice to have the extra detail, but the quarterly reports would still matter.
I checked in with Al Cooper in the afternoon. He assured me all had been well, there had been no issues, and he loved the house and would be more than happy to stay there again. Cammie and Mel had paid him when they got back, so that was taken care of.
We had plenty of possibilities for him for future housesitting. Cammie and Mel hadn’t set a date, but it would likely be at a semester break (to allow time for a honeymoon), and the rest of us would likely go somewhere, not sit around the house. Cleo and Tony would need minions, and resolving things with the College Station Police Department wouldn’t necessarily mean the end of all troubles. They weren’t about to assign a patrol car to being our security force, and we wouldn’t want that if they did.
Al might not attend this one, but we started planning a party for this Saturday. Study group members, other friends, lovers, and so forth would all be invited (not that anyone but those affected were really supposed to know who the ‘lovers’ were).
Cooler weather meant more hot tub demand, probably, so we were going to mention bathing suits, while also mentioning that they would be optional after ten at night. We could move the time up if everyone was agreeable, but that gave modest (and/or shy) folks a chance to soak and not worry about seeing other people’s naughty bits or having theirs seen.
This being 1986, and classes not yet being in session, this meant phone calls. Many, many phone calls. We dove in and had about half of the invitations made by six, including Darla’s. I added Amy in the early evening. She was surprisingly unhesitant about saying yes. I wasn’t sure if that was moving past the chaos of the last party or if the chaos of the last party was a draw.
Since the party was on Saturday, I planned dinner dates with Amy Thursday and Darla Friday. Jas was seeing Monique on Friday as well, and was currently planning on just using the second-floor apartment. Unlike the basement room, it had a shower. We would have to stock it a bit better, but Jas was on that.
It was easy to assume that I might need our room (or the second-floor room) either or both nights, but that might be wrong. Either woman might want to ease back into things or might go full-speed right out of the gate.
I had already decided that Darla and I weren’t adding anything new of note, sexually speaking, on this date. That was, per our relationship, mine to decide (though she could veto anything at any time, too). One set of ‘new’ things required Jas to be available, after all. The other would be better the more Darla anticipated it and made it a turn-on.
Wednesday, January 15, 1986
We got some good news on the party invitations. Cal and Andy were planning on being there and would bring not only their nominal girlfriends but also some other friends of theirs. That would greatly increase the celebrity factor! Football players were stars wherever they went in town, pretty much.
It would be really nice if we could see more of Cal and Andy. They had been somewhat at arm’s length for very good reasons, but I hoped that was ending. Football would always be seriously in the way in the fall, of course, but football players weren’t hermits, either. The bigger concern had been Cammie and Mel. Publicly, the story continued to be that Cammie and Mel had ‘hoodwinked’ Cal and Andy for years. That also meant the public story was that Cammie had done a number of things she had, in fact, never done with any guy. I doubted Cal had gotten into specifics, but it was still one of those rare cases where a guy talking about his ‘conquests’ was fully acceptable.
The story led to obvious tension, though. It had been long enough that it was plausible for Cal and Andy to be ‘past the hurt’ and ready to ‘be friends again’ with the ‘girls who had wronged them.’ The fewer questions that were asked, the better. If the wrong person asked, any of us from study group would be forced to say we had never had so much as a hint that Cammie and Mel weren’t straight and fully in love with their hunky boyfriends.
With enough digging, someone not on the same page (a debater, perhaps) might contradict the story, and fingers would point right at Cal and Andy. Their next best step would be to say they had been willingly providing cover for Cammie and Mel for years and the whole thing was a lie. That was accurate, but it was only a tiny step from there to questioning whether there were other lies.
All of this was very unlikely. But the best way to keep unlikely events unlikely is to be aware of where the risks are. Cal and Andy were by no means shoo-ins to be playing on Sundays, but they had a legitimate shot. They weren’t going to get there if their secret came out.
Thursday, January 16, 1986
I had a call in the morning inviting Cammie and me (and our lawyer) to a meeting on Friday at one in the afternoon with Chief Palko, the Mayor (Jeff ‘Buzz’ Wilkins), and several others. Harry Penders wasn’t named, but I would put very high odds on him being a key part of the meeting. Buzz was probably a reasonably competent mayor, but he was also a politician. Maybe I was reading him wrong, but he seemed like a ‘kiss the babies, shake every hand, make lots of friends’ sort of guy, not the sort of person who got in the trenches. His day job was owning a car dealership, after all. A seemingly prosperous and well-run car dealership, but still. Harry struck me as the sort of ‘fixer’ one needed, especially if their skills didn’t run towards ‘fixing’ things.
Cammie was happy about the meeting, and Ken Albright had no problem with the time, so we were in. Hopefully, we could start the semester with this wrapped up and our worries about the police and graffiti set aside.
The camera setup would remain, but likely with a cheaper camera doing the work. The good camera didn’t need to sit out there endlessly. We had the setup and might as well use it, though. It would also catch anyone sneaking into the backyard from the front. Those who lived here knew how to avoid it, so it wouldn’t catch them.
My dating attire for Amy was about the same as on previous dates. This time, I had a tan shirt, gray pants, and nice loafers. My job was to be the backdrop for whatever Amy wore.
That turned out to be her purple studded leather collar and cuffs, a black t-shirt showing a bit of tummy, a black skirt, and the purple stockings and ankle chains I’d bought her for Christmas.
“Like?” she said, turning around in the doorway to her dorm room.
“I do,” I said.
“See?” she said, looking back at Meg. “It’s not ‘too much’ at all.”
Meg giggled a bit.
“Hey, it works for you! It would be too much for me.”
“You don’t have the complexion for purple. Maybe ... a pale green,” Amy said.
Meg said, “Hey! You be careful! You’re starting to reveal actual fashion insights!”
“Can’t have that,” Amy said, smiling.
“Oh, and, hi, Steve!” Meg said.
“Hi, Meg,” I said.
“Remember what I said,” Meg said.
“I will!” Amy said. “Have fun!”
“I will!” Meg said.
Closing the door behind her, Amy stepped into the hall, then took my hand for the walk to the car.
“Should I ask what she said?” I asked.
Amy chuckled just a little.
“She has a boyfriend. She has had a boyfriend, but apparently ... more of one? Enough so she is not expecting to be back tonight. He is in the dorm, but his roommate is not back and he is much more concerned about time with Meg rather than with breaking a few rules.”
I grinned.
“Sounds like a guy, yes.”
“There are a certain number of rooms on my dorm wing where hearing male voices in the late night or morning hours is not uncommon. In at least two, the roommate need not be gone for there to be an unauthorized sleepover.”
“Maybe I should have said ‘Sounds like a college student.’”
She snorted a bit and nodded.
“Indeed.”
“So ... how were your holidays? You already know my big news.”
She smiled at that, then said, “We may start by saying what I always say. I did not necessarily want to be home. My parents did not necessarily want me to be there. Yet, we had a perfectly fine time and I believe they are glad I was there. For my part, I am glad I was there as well. The visit to Missouri was pleasant as well. I quite enjoyed the snow, and my relatives are used to me and were fine.”
I stopped to help her into the car. She seemed to like that even more now that we’d discussed the implications of ‘gentlemanly’ things like that.
Once I’d gotten in and had us on the road (to the Grapevine, an easy choice since it would be very quiet and they could use the business), she said, “I do love my parents. They do love me. We all agree. But they do not understand me. I understand them better over time, but we clash over many things. They do not think, for instance, that I could ‘get a boy’ with these.”
She tapped her collar, then her cuffs.
“I say, ‘But I would not want a boy who would be dissuaded by them.’ That leads us into a long and unsatisfying discussion of why I wish to be prickly. We have had that discussion six times, at least, and no one comes away from it with a better understanding of the other.”
“I feel certain there are discussions I could have with my parents that would be nearly as fruitless,” I said.
“And yet you love them, and they love and support you,” she said, nodding. “We have very different relationships with our parents, but you can see how it is for me.”
“I can see it very well,” I said, nodding. “You are unconventional on the outside. Most of my unconventionality is more private.”
“Unless it comes out.”
“Absolutely!”
“In any case,” she said, “It was good. Perhaps better than other recent visits. My mother believes I need a Mister Right, though. I am much less sure, and that is ... a matter of some contention.”
With that, I parked.
She smiled, said, “Perhaps we should continue this inside,” then waited for me to come around and help her out.
Once we were seated, we picked out our meals and ordered quickly, then settled in.
She said, “Resuming ... I do not know what I want. A ‘Mister Right’ sounds ... complicated. Limiting. It is...”
She shrugged and said, “Perhaps I am too prickly. I have no way to know. A semester ago, I was resigned to thinking there would be no such thing. You may be unusual, but you are clearly enjoying our dates, and I am enjoying them as well. Both of those greatly surprise me. Overall, it is ... I have things I wish to do. Be an engineer. Make things. See them get used. Be respected for my skills, professionally. I do not think those completely contradict a ‘Mister Right’, but they greatly constrain him. Who I am also constrains him. At some amount of constraint, perhaps such a person is not to be found.”
Before I could say anything, she added, “I should also say: ‘Mister’ Right is hypothetic. It will clearly work, I think. But ‘Ms’ Right is an unknown. I do not know if that would work or not work for me.”
“I get that,” I said.
“Girls are very ... attractive. But that...”
She made a strange noise, then said, “I believe this is becoming a strange dating topic.”
“We’re both strange,” I said. “It’s fine. Talk about what suits you.”
She smiled, then said, “Attraction is also strange. I found you very handsome from the first. Attractive, certainly. But ... exciting? Inspiring feelings of ... interest? That was after long discussions. Perhaps a woman would be just the same.”
“I think we’re more alike than not, in some ways. I find plenty of women ‘attractive’ but not ‘exciting.’”
“Yet...” she said.
Then she stopped and shook her head a bit.
“I should not say ‘Yet, you are dating several.’ The women in your life are all very interesting. If I can say that about myself. But, apparently, I can,” she added, smirking a bit. “It is not that you collect attractive women, it is that you spend time with interesting women.”
“You are very interesting, Amethyst Finch,” I said, smiling. “And that comes from all of you. You would be less interesting without your collar and cuffs, perhaps, just because they reflect who you are inside.”
“I have been thinking about that,” she said. “For ... some situations ... I believe who I am inside might be suited to a flat collar and cuffs, or a choker, or ... perhaps with a ring. Rings. Or even not wearing any of those things.”
“I can take that in many ways,” I said.
She grinned a bit, smiled, and said, “Yes. You can.”
After a second, she added, “I probably intended them.” After another little hesitation, she finished with, “All of them.”
“Touché,” I said, smiling.
“I may not be ... prickly ... in ... certain settings,” she said, smirking a bit. “Or ... perhaps I will be, and might need to be ... settled down. Perhaps I will wish to be without anything to hide any part of myself behind. I truly do not know, but I intend the possibilities to be possibilities.”
“And those might vary from time to time, so...”
“So the options remain. Yes.”
She sighed and said, “I think ... we...”
The waiter arrived with our dinners, so we slowed down a bit and nibbled.
Eventually, I said, “You were saying?”
“Oh!” she said. “Yes. I was saying ... I think we can be ... we are ... rather candid with each other, saying things people do not usually say.”
“That seems entirely fair,” I said.
“So — being candid — sex has not felt like a ... likely outcome ... until recently. I am female, and most men are who they are, so it has always been a possibility, but there was nothing there that seemed attractive to me. But I have read extensively. Seen romantic movies. Even bits of ... not-so-romantic, more ... direct ... movies. It has always seemed interesting. Now that I suddenly find someone who makes it a much more likely outcome, I ... envision how it might go.”
She wasn’t blushing, which ... well. I knew plenty of girls who could bring up sex (before we’d had it) without blushing. Some of them had wound up sharing an evening or two with me. But it was still a pretty unique statement, and it said a lot about Amy that she simply said it rather matter-of-factly, much less mostly in her ‘Wednesday Addams’ voice.
I nodded, and said, “I think it would likely be lovely and wonderful.”
“I was thinking of sweaty, messy, and naughty, personally,” she said, grinning.
“That ... too,” I said.
“Yours are also correct. This dinner is a bunch of words. Talking. Communication. It is also lovely and wonderful. I might enjoy sex even if it was just sweaty, messy, and naughty, but it also being lovely and wonderful sounds better.”
I chuckled a bit and nodded, saying, “It does seem hard to argue against.”
“Ah, but as I said long ago, maybe I don’t like ‘nice.’”
“Yet you do.”
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