Chapter 63: Mid-terms

October, 1984, Chicago, Illinois

When I woke up Monday morning, I carefully disentangled myself from Kara's embrace and quietly dressed for my morning run. When I came back, she was in the shower, but was just finishing. I had her leave the water running and took my shower, and then we went down to breakfast. Sofia had eaten and was leaving for Loyola. She came back a few seconds later to hand me the newspaper she'd retrieved from the front porch, gave me a quick kiss, and was on her way.

After breakfast, I went into my study and got my books and the paper that I'd finished on Saturday. Dave and I had managed to get the printer hooked up to the Mac, but I wasn't happy with the quality compared to what I had seen from the ImageWriter, so I had decided to purchase the printer on Tuesday night when I picked up the programming language packages at the computer store.

When we got to campus, I kissed Kara and we headed to our classes. I was curious what would happen when I saw Wen, but that was still a couple of hours away. First, I had my literature class and a class discussion on Death and the King's Horseman. Surprisingly, my viewpoint caused a massive uproar in the class.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't see why the British should have prevented him from doing his duty," I said. "In fact, you can see the bad result in the outcome of the story!"

"But those aren't the fault of the governor!" a male student in the back of the room protested. "He was right to prevent a barbaric rite — ritual suicide by Elesin,"

"And yet," I countered, "in the end, not only did Elesin die, but so did Olunde, and the entire tribe was thrown into an uproar because some outsider imposed his views on other people."

"Steve," the professor said, "Soyinka says that the story isn't anti-colonial, that the governor is merely a vehicle."

"I wasn't blaming colonialism. It wouldn't have mattered if it was a British governor or a random man on the street or an 'enlightened' Yoruba leader. Duty is vital. Even if it means suicide. After all, we praise a Marine who throws himself on a grenade to protect his fellow Marines. And even so, maybe this is extreme, but there's a price to be paid for ignoring duty."

"Do you believe duty trumps everything?" a girl in the row behind me asked.

"No. I don't. But Elesin did! And so would my proverbial Marine. They think it matters. What I think about duty is for me alone, not for anyone else. That said, I feel that I have a duty to protect you from harm, even though I barely know you. And I'm willing to bet nearly every guy in this room would agree with that, and they'd be quite upset with people who wouldn't protect you!"

The conversation went back and forth on the value of duty and my apparently contradictory view that duty was important if the person who had the duty felt it was important, and not if they didn't. Most people couldn't see past the idea that Elesin was compelled to commit suicide against his will, because, in their minds, no sane person would kill themselves. My Marine example was held out as an aberration or as a result of conditioning.

I was actually glad when class ended, as I was becoming very frustrated. On the plus side, I knew that I would get a good grade on my paper because as I was walking out, the professor said that I'd made some good, thought-provoking points. I pointed out that it didn't seem to have much effect on the other students and then went to get a cup of coffee to take with me to Scott's class.

After I got the coffee, I stopped at the pay phone and made the call to the union hall. I spent ten minutes talking with my contact there about the changes and the new programs and told him that I'd start on it right away, but with school and work, it would take some time. I'd get the changes to them fairly quickly, but the new programs would take at least four or five weeks. After a bit of further discussion, I hung up and headed to the Stuart Building.

Instead of sitting in my seat, I put my books next to the desk and then sat in the hallway to wait for Wen. I wanted to make sure that she was OK, and that we didn't have an issue. I had finished my coffee and about half the class had arrived when I saw Wen coming down the hall. I stood up and waited. She smiled at me and I said hello and asked how she was.

"I'm OK," she said, looking down, not making eye contact.

"I was concerned about what happened Saturday night," I said.

"Talk to me after class, here comes the professor," she said, and hurried into the room.

Indeed, Scott was walking down the hallway, so I went inside and took my seat. Wen seemed embarrassed rather than upset, which put my mind at ease. I'd gone over the events of Saturday several times and didn't think that I'd done anything particularly wrong, though I certainly was a bit forward. I pushed it out of my mind because I needed to concentrate on Scott's lecture. He was talking about testing and I wanted to make sure I paid close attention because he'd called me out on this specific topic.

When class ended, I simply stayed at my desk as everyone else filed out. Wen stayed as well and when the room was empty except for the two of us, I turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry about Saturday," she said, looking down at the floor.

"It's OK. Something's bothering you, though," I said.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked.

"No. Why would I be?"

"Because I made you take me home," she said softly.

"Are you upset with me for kissing you and touching you like I did?"

"No," she said, and then almost inaudibly, "That was my first real kiss."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Of all the things I'd thought about, that hadn't been one of them. She was a Junior, so she was twenty or twenty-one, and the idea that she'd never been kissed had never crossed my mind. Now all kinds of thoughts flooded my brain.

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Why? I liked it," she said softly.

"Then what was wrong?"

"You had your hand on my breast and I was afraid!" she said, continuing to look at the floor.

"I shouldn't have done that, Wen. I'm sorry."

"Most people call me Wendy," she said.

"I know, but your name is Zhao Wen, and I want to use it properly."

She looked up and smiled, "You know my name is written the opposite way?"

"Yes. Do you use 'Wendy' because people have trouble with the name 'Wen'?"

"Yes. They get confused by my name," she said. "But you don't have to apologize for what you did."

"But I scared you," I said, feeling like a total ass.

"Because the feeling was so overwhelming! Not because I didn't like it," she said, the words tumbling from her mouth.

"All you had to do was ask me to stop," I said gently.

"I didn't want you to stop! That was what scared me!" she said, looking down again.

I smiled, "Even so, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I hope it won't keep you from coming to the house on Saturdays."

"That depends. Will you kiss me again?" she asked shyly.

I wasn't sure if that was a request or a concern.

"That's completely up to you," I said. "I'll see you in accounting class, OK?"

"See you then," Wen agreed.

I packed up my books and went to meet Kara for lunch. After lunch, I headed to my world religions class and took my usual spot. Mark walked in a few minutes later and tossed his soft-sided briefcase on the desk. He took a few more steps to stand by my desk.

"I hope you're not going to make a habit of being quiet in class and skipping the beers after class," Mark said to me.

"Sorry. I was just a bit preoccupied on Friday. It's not going to be a habit. I had something that needed to be done on Friday afternoon. I'll probably miss Wednesday's bull session for the next few weeks, but I'll be there today for sure."

"I was wondering if the talk about religion had bothered you in some way."

I chuckled, "Only in that it adds one more complication to my already complicated life. I actually decided to put any investigation on hold until after I graduate. Well, except for what I need to do for this class or next semester."

"You're planning on taking the second part of the class?" he asked.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm guessing we'll have a similar quiz?" I said with a grin.

"Of course. And I expect you to get the top score again. It'll be tougher, I suspect. I haven't had anyone who wasn't from the sub-continent get more than 22 out of 40. And the high score is 33."

I nodded, "I'm not going to cheat and run off and read extra stuff. I'll take it based on what I've already learned. And I think I'll beat that high score!"

"I don't doubt it! Do you know if Staci is taking the class?"

"I don't think wild horses could keep her away," I said.

"Good," he said and then went to his desk, sat on the corner and started class.

After class, in which Staci and I got into a serious debate about Calvinism that Mark surprisingly allowed to continue despite the two of us monopolizing the discussion, I walked with Staci to The Bog.

"I can't wait until Wednesday!" she whispered excitedly.

"Mark asked me about Friday. I just told him I was preoccupied, and that I had something to do after class."

"Something or someone?" she smirked.

"I do want to ask you about something. We had a rip-roaring debate about Calvinism, with you defending all five points. But you're an unrepentant sinner. Doesn't that mean that you're going to Hell? You're not demonstrating that you're one of the Elect!"

"Haven't you heard of the Devil's Advocate?" she giggled. "I was taught all of that crap, but I don't buy it for one second!"

I chuckled, "That's a relief. What DO you believe?"

"That all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. I'm weak. It's a constant struggle against the flesh. And the flesh wins because it feels so good! In fact, it feels better than I imagined!"

"I'm sorry, but you've lost me. Are you saved?" I asked.

"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved. I do believe, therefore I am saved. Peter sinned and yet Christ built the church on his confession of faith. What about you?"

"It's not something I really worry about. I don't play by anyone's rules except my own. I do what I think is right and try to avoid doing any harm. You know, like I said. The whole concept of sin bothers me, at least as it's taught by the Roman Catholics and Protestants. The word is «αμαρτία» in Greek. It's an archery term for missing the mark. In other words, falling short of the ideal. That definition I can handle. The 'do this and go straight to hell, do not collect $200' bit I can't buy. I simply don't think justice outweighs love, and I think the Bible agrees with me when it says that 'God IS love'."

"Interesting. You know this so well and yet you don't believe."

"You aren't the first person to notice that."

"And what we did on Friday? Did that miss the mark?"

"Not by my standards. Saint Paul might have something to say about it, but I don't live by his standards. I enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. It didn't hurt anyone. That said, you called it a sin, along with drinking beer and giving blowjobs."

"I did. I've been mixed up ever since they kicked me out of the church. But one thing is totally clear now."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to enjoy getting laid on Wednesday afternoons!" she giggled.

"Let's have our beers," I said, opening the door to The Bog.

That evening, I finished my homework and spent an hour reviewing for my accounting test. After that, I wrote in my journal and then went to bed.

Tuesday at work was fairly boring because I was writing documentation, but on the way home Dave and I stopped at the computer store and I picked up the software I wanted, as well as the ImageWriter printer and a cable. Dave thought about coming to the house with me, but decided that he could check everything out on Saturday. I was glad, because I planned to study accounting and wait until Saturday to mess with my new purchases.

Wednesday flew by, and before I knew it, I was in Staci's dorm room and she was kneeling in front of me with her luscious lips wrapped around my shaft. She'd insisted on giving me a blowjob even though I offered sex.

"I promised!" she giggled. "Besides, you tasted me! I want to taste you!"

I was amazed at the ease with which she took me completely into her mouth and with her skill at using her tongue and just the right amount of sucking. When I tensed, she put both hands on my butt and pulled me tight to her. The first jet of cum blasted directly into her throat, but then she slowly bobbed up, licking and sucking as several jets of cum splashed into her mouth. I felt her swallow each spurt in turn, and then she took me deep again, ensuring that there was nothing left.

She released me and smirked, then stood up. I pulled her to me and French kissed her, then we sat on the bed and leaned back.

"That," I breathed, "was fantastic!"

"I know, right?" she smirked.

"You can refuse to answer, but how did you learn to do that so well?"

"At the Homecoming Dance Junior Year, I offered it when I chickened out of having sex. I didn't let him go until I'd made him cum three times and by the third time I'd figured out how to take him all the way in. He was a bit smaller than you, but the technique worked on you!"

"Yes, it did! Give me a bit of time to recover and I'll thank you properly!"

"With your tongue, too?"

"Of course! Why did you wait until now?"

"Fear. Sin. And the wrong guys."

"Wrong guys?" I asked.

"I didn't exactly get asked out too often. All four of the dance dates were set up by a friend of mine."

"Guys are stupid!" I said.

"It's more than that. They're intimidated by smart girls. You aren't. I guess you seek them out. And you don't care what I look like, at least to a point, I guess. I mean, I'm not exactly a model, you know? The guys who ask me out always seemed to think I'd let them screw me because they were doing me a favor by taking me out, you know, a quid pro quo."

"They're morons," I said confidently. "All I had to do was talk to you for a bit, and I knew you were an interesting person. Personality is the most important thing for me. After all, eventually you have to stop screwing and talk. That's why I like intelligent girls."