Chapter 4: Trip preparation

Andy Trainor walked out of his PDE final cautiously pleased. None of the questions had stumped him, and he’d finished in time to check every answer once before he had to turn the test in. When he got back to the apartment, he straightened it up. He took a shower and put his old clothes in the laundry bags. He shaved with a blade.

When he’d finished finals in the past, he’d been unable to stop thinking about the exams. He’d taken to a binge as the solution. Now, he hardly thought about the exams. There was nothing he could do if he noticed a blooper at this stage, anyway. Now, all he could think about was Marilyn. She still had one exam to go, or she was already taking it. He could have picked her up outside the exam hall, but she chose otherwise. Finally, the phone rang.

“Andy?” It was Marilyn.

“I love you. Should I come over now?”

“Give me an hour. I’m not packed yet.” Well, at least he had a limit to his worrying.

“There in an hour,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He looked at his watch. 12:17.

He left too much time for the drive. He really could have walked it in the time he allowed. So, he spent six anxious minutes sitting in his car. Then he walked up to Zeta House and rang the bell. One of the members yelled “Andy’s here, Marilyn,” in the general direction of the stairs.

“Be down in a minute,” answered the sweetest voice in the sorority, if louder than usual. He wasn’t allowed to set foot on the stairs, but when she was within reaching distance, she stopped. He took her suitcase and book bag from her. He set the suitcase on the floor and the book bag on it. By then, she’d come down to kissing distance. They had a sweet kiss, but a short one. They’d have more without the audience. Then he picked up the bags, switched both to his right hand, and opened the door for Marilyn with his left.

“If engineering doesn’t work out, Andy,” Marilyn’s Little Sister, Beverly, said, “you could make a living giving boyfriend lessons.”

“Yeah,” the academic chair answered, “but would the guys pay for them?”

“Maybe the woman’s parents would,” another sister said. “If Gary treated me like that, Dad would stop mentioning haircuts.” He was embarrassed, and the warm air was escaping while the women shared a laugh. Marilyn followed him to the car, and he opened her door before putting the stuff in the back seat.

“See,” she said when he got in the driver’s seat, “they all appreciate what a nice guy you are.” Then she kissed him again.

At the apartment, he helped her out, got the stuff, opened the door for her, and gestured her towards the stairs. All the way up he stayed far enough behind her that he could admire her lovely hips flexing as she climbed the stairs. She unlocked the apartment door with her key, a symbol that, despite her denials, she lived there. Once out of their coats, they kissed and hugged. She stopped him from undressing her, though.

“It’s chilly. Faster to do our own.” And she was quick in stripping and getting into bed. When there was nothing left to see, he finished undressing and joined her. He stroked her, avoiding the most sensitive bits until his hands were warmer. Her lips were cool at his kiss, but her mouth was warm for his tongue. When he ducked under the covers, her nipples were cool on his tongue. Between her legs, she was warm, and the sweet nest was hot.

As he licked or sucked and stroked, he felt her stiffen under his arm. He drew his head out of the covers at just the right time. As he focused on her face, it went from worry to pain. Then she grimaced as her back arched, driving her mound upward into his hand. She writhed under his hand.

“Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling.” He felt her relax and hatched watched her expression go from agony to a relaxed, satisfied smile. She was such a sexy sight in all of her moods. He kissed over her face, avoiding the mouth that she needed for breathing right then. She had a faint salt taste, her sweat, the last of her response. “Sweet girl, delicious woman.” He began to stroke her again, keeping to her outer labia. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you fully packed?” She was changing the subject with a vengeance.

Maybe he should stop stroking before she pushed him away.

“Yeah. You?” He’d leave his hand there, though. He could feel the three layers, crinkly hair, soft pad, and hard bone.

“I want to bring a couple of the tops I have here. I don’t need to go back to the house.” Well, he didn’t have to let her escape to her damn sorority. The clothes were a problem, though. ‘Tops’ sounded like blouses, and that sounded like colored. He hadn’t done a colored wash.

“They may not be washed. I only did the white stuff. I could do a colored load today.”

“Andy, if I came home with no laundry to do Mom would call a doctor.” All right. He didn’t really want to go out to do a wash, not when she was here. “I’m not sure you should be doing my stuff.” That was ridiculous.

“It’s seldom an extra load. Warn me if anything requires special care. Today would be an imposition, though. It would be time I had planned to spend in bed with you.”

“You’re impossible. Do you plan to spend the time until we head for the train in bed?” Well, not all.

“Well, we’d have to shower, too.”

“And I have to cook for you. Did you buy the groceries on my list?” Sure. Didn’t he always? Her shopping lists were a reminder that she was coming back.

“Sure. But we don’t need to eat lunch for hours.” And, that being settled, he began to make love to her again. After a long, wet kiss, he kissed her nose, ear, chin, temple, eyebrow, the other eyebrow. Meanwhile, under the sheet, he kept stroking her delightful lubrication all the way up the valley between her labia to her clitoris. And sexy Marilyn was providing plenty of lubrication.

There was no hurry. It was plenty warm under the blanket, and the locked door would keep people out, but the greatest luxury was that they had time. The train was due at noon the next day, more than 21 hours from the current time, and there was no deadline in between. Classes were weeks away, and prep for them, although they’d do it, was unassigned. They wouldn’t do it soon.

He could have one orgasm this afternoon, maybe another tonight, and one the next morning. Marilyn had the marvelous ability to have many orgasms, and Marilyn’s orgasms looked so erotic, so beautiful.

And she was about to produce that beauty again. He could feel her body tense, could almost see it in the subtle change in her covered shape. He watched her expression change from pleasure to worry, to pain. When she grimaced as if in agony, her body writhed under his arm and against his body. He felt her writhe again and again. Then her expression changed to languor and her body sank in rest.

“I love you,” he said. He did love her, although she might not think so if she knew how much he enjoyed seeing her spasms. But, if he was enjoying her, he wasn’t really exploiting her.

“And I love you, too.” That was wonderful to hear. The sentiment was most important, but that she was rested enough to speak calmly meant that she was rested enough to begin another. He wouldn’t hurry. They had loads of time, and every stage of her arousal was beautiful. He did, however, begin stroking again.

“This time,” she asked, “are you going to come in?” Well, her writhings were even more erotic beneath him and around him than they were in his sight. On the other hand, their sessions were likely to end at his orgasm. And, this session had hardly begun.

“You taste better before I do.” Other things were better before he had his orgasm, too, but -- with the temperature of the room -- they were fairly well limited to the bed.

“I get the impression that you are just going to use your hand for the next twelve hours.” That would be lovely, if totally impractical.

“Not twelve. Maybe three.”

“Andy!” Well, if she needed to go to the john, or something, he wasn’t going to tie her to the bed. He just wanted her back in bed and back in his arms.

“Well, you look so sexy when I do.” Which was an admission, but he couldn’t lie convincingly to her. He kissed her. If she wanted to cut their session short, he’d go to the next stage now. He had his Marilyn back, and he wanted to kiss all of her.

Somehow, her mouth, which always tasted sexy, tasted even sexier when she’d just had an orgasm. He licked an ear, and then started down her neck to her far breast. When he’d kissed up to the top and sucked that nipple to hardness, he kissed down the valley in between and up the near breast to that nipple. It was already firm when he got there, but he licked and sucked it. While the sensations were delightful, even greater pleasure awaited him.

He kissed down that breast and down her torso. Her belly shivered when he kissed it. The fur on her mound held the odor of her arousal, and he sniffed deep when he got there. Then he stopped kissing to climb between her legs. When she raised them, he began kissing her thighs. If he suspected the lips on her face tasted better after an orgasm, the taste of her lower lips was incredibly sexy after an orgasm. He reveled in that taste and smell. As he licked up her labia, she held him against them. She stiffened when he first tasted her clitoris. A little licking up the valley between her labia brought her to the brink.

While she writhed under his mouth, he kept licking and sucking her clitoris. She shoved his head away. He knelt with his head lying on her thigh until she relaxed. Then, he turned his head to kiss that thigh. And, not to play favorites, he kissed the other one, too.

“No! This time inside.” Would she let him continue if he did? He certainly would have less enthusiasm and less strength.

“But we have hours.”

“I’m going to fix you toasted cheese sandwiches. Now, get up here, or I’ll go do it now.” Well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be in her marvelous, warm, moist, loving vagina. If she wanted to end the session this early, they were agreed on how it should end. Besides, it was nice to feel wanted. He moved rapidly up her body, stopping only for brief tribute to her lovely breasts.

Then he was at her entry! The feelings on his tip were so wonderful that he wanted to pause to savor them, but the promise of more drove him inward. She was gloriously warm, sensuously slick. As she parted before him, she hugged around him. Then, encased in her depths, clasped by her warmth, he paused to savor the welcome. He kissed her hairline before speaking.

“I love you.” And he loved all of her, not just the center that held him then. Her arms and legs came up to express her welcome as he lifted himself to see her face. As he moved slowly in and out of her, he watched her face. Her expression was loving and welcoming as she lay under him receiving his thrusts. She looked distracted when her loins started rising to meet his. Then she looked worried while her hands grabbed his butt and she pulled him hard against her

Then she grimaced as though in agony. Her nails bit into his butt, and he drove harder down into her. She clasped around him rhythmically while she writhed underneath his body. He took one more stroke through those warm clasps. As he pushed into her, he erupted. He could feel nothing but his cock pumping into her depths and her tunnel pumping him dry. For some period, he could feel nothing at all.

He came to lying on her softness with her hands still holding him against her by his butt. She didn’t resist, though, when he moved off. As soon as he was in position, he pulled her against him. He had her back on his chest, her breast in his hand, and her head under his lips. They lay in that blissful condition for a brief time. She still spoke in lovely tones, but they weren’t pleasant words.

“This is lovely, you know, but it isn’t cooking lunch.”

“Lunch isn’t on a deadline. We’ll eat it when it’s ready.”

“And dinner?”

“Can be fashionably late. If we eat at midnight and get to bed late because of it, I’ll still get you up when the alarm rings. You can sleep on the train.” She lay in his arms as if she were considering that, although not relaxed. Soon, though, she rejected it and moved to get up. All right, the room was chilly. Still, she not only got up but wrapped herself in the concealing nightgown, then the robe, and then the apron.

He put on his own robe to make the bed. Then he moved to his chair to watch her cook. It was grilled-cheese sandwiches, which always reminded him of her -- a crisp outside hiding the warm, gooey, tasty interior. While he washed the dishes, she completed her packing. By the time he was done, she was in bed -- although in the nightgown.

“Look,” she said when he’d dropped his robe and joined her, “let’s talk.” That was both a good and a bad suggestion. If they were going to talk, they should definitely be in bed. On the other hand, if they were going to be in bed, talking was way low on his priority list.

“Okay. do you know that you have the most delightful, sexy, beautiful breasts?”

“You wanted me to think about marriage,” she said. “I don’t think we know each other well enough to get married.”

“Well, we’ll know each other better next year. We have a year and a half.”

“That isn’t the question. Are we compatible? How do we know?” Well, he knew how he could tell.

“We felt awfully compatible a half hour ago.”

“Yeah. We’re sexually compatible, but what do you think about children?” Was that a trick question? What did she feel about kids. Right now, he could picture her with a huge belly holding his kid. Not, pray God, before he got a paycheck. But that wasn’t what she’d said about her life.

“I like kids. But I’m not the one who would have to carry one around for nine months.”

“Do you even know what childcare means? It’s fine to like kids when they’re somebody else’s cute twins, but it’s another matter when they’re your responsibility.” That was pushing him. Did she know more than he did about kids, anyway?

“Now you’re being a little hard on me. I was just another baby when Molly was born, just turned three. April, on the other hand, came just before my sixth birthday. I may have been a little young to change diapers when she was at the diaper stage, but I carried her around sometimes. Read her to sleep later. Taught her to tie her shoes. And, even later, when she got older, I kept carrying her around.”

“Still do,” Marilyn said. Not quite, but, really, that wasn’t his choice.

“Well, she’s decided it’s not appropriate recently. But, while I had no real responsibility, I did my share of childcare. April’s still my favorite, too, so I didn’t resent the care I gave. Did you do babysitting? Does that make you an expert on childcare?”

“Actually, I was never a babysitter, and Pete wasn’t enough younger to give me even your experience.” Well, that showed who knew more.

“Well, I’ve answered your question. My vote goes yes on kids. I may not know enough about what all the consequences are, but does anybody getting married? And, as I’ve said, I know that kids would impose a burden on you that I can’t share. If that’s too heavy a burden, I’ll understand.”

“When I’ve thought of my future, I’ve always pictured kids. I’ve also, however, pictured a career. I’m not sure how those fit together.” So, they were compatible.

“So, you’re no clearer than I am. Really, you’re not as clear. That must count as highly compatible. We agree on not having a clear picture.” She nudged him as if she thought that was a joke. Maybe it was, but he was half serious. He defended himself by hugging her closer.

“So, what sort of town or neighborhood do you see yourself living in?” One with Marilyn in it, but she wouldn’t accept that answer. He should explain.

“Well, there are limits. I’m going to be an EE. That controls where I can work, but it controls where I’m going to live a lot less. I doubt if there are any electrical engineers working in Evanston. Maybe for the power company, but that’s not the sort of work I’m going to do. I’ll bet there are lots of EEs living in Evanston. Commuting, you know. So, I probably couldn’t live in a real farm community, unless it happens to be near a plant of the proper sort. Anything else, city or suburb, would probably give me an opportunity to get a job. The opportunity, of course, might not turn into a job.”

Well, he hadn’t been totally honest. There was one condition he would prefer. “I really don’t want to live in, or near, San Diego.” Although, if she dreamed of San Diego, he’d move there.

“Well, that’s a generous restriction -- outside San Diego. And what sort of house or apartment do you see yourself living in? In the far future, your goal?” This was getting ridiculous. Did she think that what she disliked about this place was somehow his requirement? How could he explain his position?

“Look, Marilyn. You mean well, but you’re not thinking about the guy you’re talking to. I’ll answer the rest of your questions now. The house I want to live in is one in which Marilyn lives with me. That means it has to be one where she is happy. Not unhappy, at least. I don’t think a house can make you happy.” He thought of an equivalent.

“Look, I went to a professor the other day with a question. He asked me whether I was going to deal with electrical power or electronic information. I told him information. I didn’t consult you. I didn’t think you would be interested. Are you?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Just his point.

“The two kinds of EEs. But, since you’re not interested, it’s my decision. Even if we get married, I’m not going to come to you to ask whether I should change my type of job. In the same way, what I want from a house -- or from a town if I can find work there -- is that you be in it with me.” Couldn’t she see? He’d used to dream about the future, but it had been a future of solving problems. Obviously, if he hadn’t met her, he would have had to live somewhere. He didn’t, however, spend any time dreaming about that. What this place had that the dorm room hadn’t had, was that Marilyn visited. He gladly put up with the extra work of cooking food for that pleasure.

“It should keep the rain off my head. It should have a really good furnace so you’re willing to be naked out of bed. But basically, it should please you. When I was getting this apartment, I knew that you liked places to be neat. So, I learned to make a bed. That wasn’t because I couldn’t sleep in an unmade bed. Actually, doesn’t everybody sleep in an unmade bed? It was so it didn’t make you unwilling to visit.”

“Wait a minute. When I surprised you that time, the bed was unmade and piled high with laundry.” Well, sure. He hadn’t known that she was coming.

“Well, the laundry was temporary. You know how breaks are necessary when you’re studying. I figured I’d put the laundry away on one or two of those breaks.”

“But the bed was unmade. At night. Had you slept in it since morning?”

“Nah. Sometimes I read in bed, but usually not until an hour or two before bedtime.”

“So, you hadn’t made the bed all day, but you made the bed this time for lunch. And it was the second time today.”

“Well, I knew you’d see this bed. I didn’t know you’d come over that time. It really surprised me.” Did she expect him to be ready for a surprise inspection at all times?

“So, the reason you make a bed is?”

“That you’ll see it.” That wasn’t quite it; she’d seen it on her surprise visit. “Or, really, that I think you’ll see it.”

“Andy, you’re weird.” Or all the rest of them were. But Marilyn definitely wasn’t. So, he was. Anyway, that was off the point.

“Maybe. But the point is that what I want of a house is that it pleases you. I don’t dream of a white picket fence or of green shutters. I dream of you sharing my home and happy to share my home. If that means a white picket fence, or if it means a made bed or plates for meals, then fine. But this is my dream home right now. I have Marilyn in my arms. The washed dishes make the dream better only because it satisfies you more.”

“Andy, that’s quite romantic, but I’m serious.”

“I’m serious, too. Look, I had dreams before I even met you. Those dreams, however, were about becoming an engineer. I thought about girls, sure, or at least about sex. But I didn’t think about marriage or anything like that. I didn’t even think about dating much into the future. I knew I would get the girls who were fairly desperate. I knew what they would let me do. When I thought about sex, it was sex with a centerfold, and I didn’t expect to meet them. I sure didn’t think about marriage or having a family in my future. The distant future was about being an engineer and solving problems and making things work.

“So, when you came along, I started to dream about dating you. When you replaced the cover girls in my imagination, I didn’t really think it would really happen. It was just imagining things to make my life sexier. Then I wanted you for longer than the next date.”

“You didn’t think about marrying me?” she asked. Well, he hadn’t dared.

“Not for the longest time. I’d just worry about the next date and whether you’d say yes. Then, when the sorority said you’d chosen me, I was so happy -- happy for me, I thought they were treating you abominably. I would have gotten physical, women or no women, if you hadn’t seemed to want to cool it. Then, after then, I thought we might have a future.” Even then, he had imagined a longer time dating Marilyn. He hadn’t thought about after graduation. He’d avoided thinking about graduation.

“Andy, that was early.” Well, it was early for her, with her many other choices, the many other people who wanted to deal with her. It had been a damn long time of hoping for the unlikely for him.

“Well, it was more than a year after we’d talked.”

“Are you saying that you’d carried a torch that long?” Silly question.

“Well, I’d asked you for a date, but you’d said no. Well, we were both going to be at the U of I. Maybe you’d say yes then. And ... you did. The first time I asked down here.” And, if the period of vain hopes had been agonizing, that acceptance had been wonderful.

“Anyway,” she said, “that’s the past. I’m talking about the future.” Well, she had been asking about desires. He desired her, and not only desire the way his cock was beginning to stir against her thigh.

“What I’m saying is that there are some things you care about and some things you don’t. Maybe you’re willing to marry me and maybe you’re not, but you wouldn’t be willing to marry me if I worked with motors but turn me down because I work with transistors. In the same way, I don’t care about all sorts of things. I do care about spending my life with you. If that means one sort of house rather than another, then that’s the sort of house I want. It’s not because it has an all-electric kitchen, it’s because it has a Marilyn in the kitchen.”

“You’re sure it’s in the kitchen where you picture me?” Well, at that moment he’d been picturing her in the kitchen. She looked delightful in the kitchen, even if she looked better in bed.

“I’m trying to keep this clean, but I like watching you in the kitchen, too. That’s what I keep telling you about studying here. You think it’s just ‘cause we take study breaks in bed. Really, I like seeing you studying at that table. When you’re not here, I sometimes look in the closet or in the medicine cabinet. ‘Those are Marilyn’s things.’” He suspected that she wouldn’t like hearing about his looking in her drawer.

“And, speaking of kitchens, what do you see as the division of chores?” She was still on some generic marriage. Hadn’t she seen that he would do chores, things that really didn’t need to be done like making the bed, just in exchange for her visiting occasionally? For her in his arms every night, he’d so do whatever she wanted. Hell! Mrs. Bryant only worked 40 hours a week; most commuters had more than that time at home. Well, let’s get practical.

“Well, I already know how to do laundry -- dishes, too. There’d have to be more, but you’d have to tell me. Mrs. Bryant could probably teach me anything, and I’ll have the summer. I’ll be working most days when she’s on, but I learned laundry.”

“What can you cook?” Like Marilyn cooked? Nothing.

“Well, do you know those frozen pizzas? I learned to heat them up in the oven real good. They have directions on the boxes. Sometime in high school, I got addicted to those.”

“That’s your culinary repertoire?”

“Well, except for heating up peas and canned goods, yes.”

“Hamburgers. Anyone can fry hamburgers.” He loved Marilyn. He didn’t expect her to be like anyone else. Why did she always expect him to be like some other people?

“Almost anybody. When I wanted a hamburger, Mrs. Bryant cooked one up. She used to chop up a green pepper to add to them, fix up the patties, and keep a bunch of them in the freezer.”

“Andy, you’re pathetic.” Well, unless you considered it reasonable.

“Yeah! Maybe it’s your mission to save me.”

“As if!” Well, he’d tried. Then she changed the subject. “How do you think you did this term?” Quite decently actually. He might not match her standards for cooking, but he was still one of the real students in the EE classes unless something had gone seriously wrong.

“None of the finals shocked me, and the grades going in were okay.” That was only true in two of the four subjects. The other two depended on other ungraded work. “Another guy and I had to design and wind an electric motor. Neither of us were craftsmen, but it ran. That’s a big part of the grade. The final grade in Anthro depends on the paper, but I did all right on the tests I got back.”

“Dean’s List again?” Maybe. Either of the two courses depending on a paper and a project might well give him an A. Of course, either was far from certain.

“Knock on wood,” he said, knocking. “You?”

“Anything can happen in the finals, as you know. And I had several papers and not enough time to do them justice. The grades going in weren’t that bad. Hell Week didn’t do me any favors.” Well, no, the damn sorority never has done her any favors.

“You just don’t do it right. Have the pledges write the papers for you.”

“Whatever you think, the courses I take do require some preparation.” Well, it wasn’t really meant to be a sensible suggestion, though they could be used as research assistants.

“Tell me you aren’t thinking of doing that.”

“You’re evil.” But there was laughter in her voice when she said that. He hugged her. “Warm, though.”

“See, that’s why you should marry me. I’ll keep you warm at night.”

“Electric blankets are real cheap.”

“Hey! I live on corn flakes and canned spaghetti. I’m the cheapest guy you know.”

“Or, at least, the silliest.” Was he any sillier than asking what jobs he would do to keep her in his life? Her breasts were magnetic, and his hand started to respond to the magnetism. He kissed her hair, which was what he could reach like this. “Hey, are you trying to start something?” Actually, he was intending to continue something.

“It’s too early for dinner. We’re all packed. What else is there to do?”

“We were in the midst of dividing up household chores.” Well, he’d answered that question.

“We answered the question for all practical purposes. You make out a list of what you want me to do, and I’ll learn them this summer.”

“You take out the garbage.” That one was easy.

“Already do. If I didn’t, the place would stink by now.” That settled, he started caressing her covered torso in the direction of the bottom of the nightgown.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“The question you wanted to ask is ‘Where are you going?’” He snuck his hand under the bottom of her gown to play with her vulva.

“I know where you’re going.” Well, if so, he might as well go there. He parted her labia to get to the moist valley between them.

“Then there isn’t any question remaining.” He stroked upwards from her pooled juices, went back for more, stroked upwards again. He stopped short of her clitoris each time. He didn’t want to get really serious until she had her mind off the distractions.

“Andy!” She sounded more interested in the main issue, now.

“Did you have more questions?”

“Please!” Well, since she asked nicely. He gathered lots of juice on his fingertip, and then he stroked all the way up over her clitoris. She relaxed briefly, and the tension which followed was of a much better sort. He sustained the same rhythm of stroking her, and her tension grew.

“Andy!” She writhed in ecstasy. He could feel her move against his chest and in his arms. He managed to keep his finger on her clitoris, and she soon writhed again. That was probably as far as he should go until she rested. He held her more loosely and kissed her hair.

When she’d had enough time to recover, he stroked down to her lovely pubic hair. He couldn’t see it while holding her like this -- he could see the hair on her head, could see almost nothing else -- but he could appreciate its crisp feel. She grabbed his hand, though, and moved it to her waist. Well, he’d been wrong about her recovery. He cupped her breast through the nightgown. Soon he was brushing over one of her sweet nipples.