Chapter 4

“Bullshit, Jason! You showed me photos you took of the blonde who moved in next door to your parents’ house over the summer. The divorced woman who doesn’t close her bathroom blinds – what’s her name? Jenny? Jaime?”

“Julie.”

“That’s it. She’s, like, thirty, and definitely still fuckable. You have about a dozen pics of her nude in the back yard sunbathin’ behind her privacy fence and a bunch of shots you took through her window. You even told me how you pulled your pud watchin’ her shave. You know the woman, and you showed me pics of her tits, pussy, ass, and face that you took without her knowledge. The next time I visit you at home, I’ll recognize her if I see her, and I’ll know what her cunt lips looks like, so don’t go all moral on me.”

“No sharing, Matt. I mean it. I don’t want anything to do with that crap. What if we get an illegal image?”

“You mean an underage girl? Hell, no, I agree with you there. I’m not into that shit, and I sure don’t want to get caught for it. But we’re on a university campus, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

I shook my head. “We could get caught for all of this, especially if we share! Everything about this is illegal!”

“It’s voyeurism, dude. Calm down. People have been doing it since the days of fig leaves. Why do you think porn is such a big deal? You’ve been to strip clubs. Same shit.”

“No, it’s not, and you damn well know it. Porn stars and strippers do it ‘professionally’ for money. We’re talking about invading girls’ privacy. That’s not the same thing at all.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Go ahead and live by your cute little standards. Don’t share, Mr. Moralist. Jeez, I thought we were buds.”

“We are buds, Matt, but sharing pics of girls who don’t know they’re on camera is over the top for me.”

“Fine, but quit tryin’ to be my mommy.”

“Whatever.”

It was raining on Sunday when I woke up. I stumbled into the kitchen to find Matt, obviously just out of bed himself, sitting slouched at the counter. “Coffee should be ready in a minute,” he mumbled.

I flopped on the stool next to him. “The weather’s crap.”

“The manual says you can fly in rain, but watch out for wind,” he grumbled between bites of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I’m not up for crashin’ in a storm, and we wouldn’t see much today anyway. Pics of girls in raincoats don’t do it for me.”

“Maybe we should finish our term papers.”

“There you go again, Jason, bein’ all responsible and shit. But this time you’re probably right.”

We slaved through the day, helping each other with wording and proofing each other’s work. I emailed my paper to my prof and then made dinner. Matt sent his off after we ate.

“The rain stopped,” he said. “I just checked the weather online. Supposed to be clear and calm for a while tonight. No wind or rain until later.”