Chapter 8: Every

Andy Trainor found the rest of the week of Spring Break fun, but less fun than the first half had been. Marilyn seemed distracted when he wanted to cuddle while they were dressed, and – in bed -- insisted that he come into her after she’d had only two climaxes under his hand or mouth. They didn’t try anything more in front of the mirror or with her on top. It was a far cry from celibacy, but it was more restricted than he had hoped for from the week.

The pleasure of discussing their future married life also seemed drained. What they really wanted -- what he really wanted for sure -- was a marriage that would begin earlier than they would actually begin theirs. Somehow, any mention of the marriage would bring that frustration to his mind. So, he stopped mentioning the marriage.

So, for a while, did she.

Friday, he was waiting in bed while she took her bathroom time.

“Look, Andy, are you doing to participate this morning?” she suddenly asked from the bathroom door. He didn’t really trust his erection.

“I thought maybe tonight.”

“Fine. Let’s make a date for tonight.” She went back inside. When he heard the shower, he joined her. She looked unwelcoming enough that he washed only himself. After breakfast, though, she kissed him. Taking that as permission, he lifted her so she was standing on the chair. They had a great time cuddling before he did the breakfast dishes.

“You know,” she said, “you could do them once a day.”

“When you’re here?” She’d said something like that earlier, but he figured that the cleaning up was to please her.

“Once we’re married, I’ll always be here -- or, at least, there.” Well, that topic was mentionable again.

“Yeah! And you’ll sleep in my arms every night from June of ‘78 ‘til I die.” And he would accept the delay, painful as it was.

“Every night. Andy, for all your faults, you’re sweet.”

“You’re the sweet one.” He kissed and caressed her before starting to study. After lunch, she stopped him from washing the dishes again.

“Come here,” she said from the bed. But she was dressed and sitting on it. Even so, it was nice to be summoned. She gestured for him to lie down, and he did. He looked up at her sweet face past her sweeter breasts. “What courses are you going to take next year?” she asked while playing with his hair. That opened the floodgates.

“Well, they open up when you’re that far along. And so much is a prerequisite that I couldn’t have taken much if I’d put off the distribution work. Then, too, AP Calc in high school, despite all the problems it caused me, will really free me up next year. PDE is normally a senior course. So, I can take one more – three more if they’re only for a quarter -- courses next year than some other students. I’ve told you that electrical engineering splits?” She didn’t look like she understood that.

“You’ve talked about it. I’m not sure I got clear.” Well, he wasn’t sure that he’d explained it clearly. She was smart, if ill-informed.

“Well, you have clock and a radio.”

“A clock radio, actually.” That was a problem.

“But they’re two different things. In one, electricity produces power which moves the hands. Now, that’s a damn small amount of power, but electricity can do that. It can run motors from tiny clock motors to amazingly powerful motors that move L trains and more powerful motors yet that they use in industry. That’s one branch.”

“And the radio is the other branch?” See! She was smart.

“Yeah. Information. Each radio frequency conveys another set of information as to what sounds were made back in the radio studio. TV is a bit more complicated, and computers are nothing more than processing information. Now, information used to be processed by vacuum tubes. You started out with a little current, and that allowed more of a bigger current to flow. Now, it’s done with transistors. And that’s what I’m mostly studying next year, transistors.”

“So, when you graduate, you’ll know all about transistors?” Probably nobody knew all about anything, but transistors were less known than, for example, planetary orbits.

“As if. It’s like counting Chinese.” This might not be clear. “They’re inventing and discovering more about transistors faster than schools can teach it. And, really, I’m not learning all about transistors. You ever hear of a black box?”

“Tell me.” And now he was back teaching the prerequisites. He might bitch about distribution courses in the humanities and social sciences, but they did, at least, give guys like him some of the vocabulary. You couldn’t become an engineer without hearing about gerunds and the Rump Parliament. You could become an English teacher hearing absolutely nothing about engineering, and damn little about science.

“Well, we use it a lot in designing things in engineering. You take something somebody else is producing. You don’t look at what’s inside. You know how it responds to input, and you use that. You treat it like a mysterious, sealed black box. You have to do that, if you’re going to design anything in finite time -- even in other fields. An architectural engineer knows what the bearing strength of a steel beam is. He doesn’t know the metallurgy that gives it that strength. You take Driver’s Ed?” Her face looked confused, even though the breasts nearer to him looked more interesting.

“My Dad taught me.”

“Well, he didn’t begin with the nature of the internal-combustion engine and what the manifold and brake drums do. He taught you that you turn the wheel this way and that heads the tires that way. He said that if you step on this pedal, it goes faster, and if you step on that pedal, it slows down. Black box -- it doesn’t matter why it works that way; it just matters that you know that it will work that way. Well, I won’t be designing transistors. I’ll be designing things which use transistors. It’s just like driving a car instead of making one.”

“If you say so.” Which meant that she’d stopped listening. Well, he could learn if he couldn’t teach.

“What about you? I’ll tell you, they didn’t teach any of that Fleurs de Mal when I went to high school -- neither at Gordon nor at ETHS.”

“Well, I have a double major. You knew that. Remember when you taught College Math?”

“Yeah.” He sure hadn’t forgotten in less than a year.

“Donna asked how well you’d done in it, and you said that you’d never taken it in that form. You looked like a teacher because you knew more math than was in this course. Same with Lit. Lit teachers study more Lit than they’re going to teach. So, I’m never going to teach Baudelaire. It’s a shame, though. The whole class would read that section. Anyway...” She took a breath, which did interesting things to his view.

“Anyway,” she continued, “having an English degree will help me get a job as an English teacher, and English majors have lots of choices about classes. Ed majors are more like engineers. There are so many things you have to take that you don’t have all that many choices within the field. And there are two groups making rules for education. You have to take these courses to get a degree and those courses to get certificated.” The last word triggered an old complaint.

“If engineers used ‘certificated’ to mean ‘certified,’ English teachers would sneer at them.”

“Maybe. Anyway, the two lists aren’t that different. One thing is that you need to take Illinois History to teach in the state. A lot of other states have similar requirements. I’ll take it next year. Then, you’ll get a job in Kentucky, and I’ll have to take Kentucky History.” Maybe, maybe not. If she wanted to stay in-state, he’d probably be able to. Well, they’d discuss that when he had offers to discuss.

“Look, I expect to get a fair number of offers. That’s what happens every year; the companies come recruiting. You go down to interview with the ones which look promising, and some of them make you an offer. All right. We’ll look at those offers together. Where you live means where you teach. I could get a job in Gary and live in Illinois, but not a job in San Francisco. So, where you want to live and teach is part of how we evaluate the job offers. Everybody does that, everybody sensible, that is. Part of what you consider is what they’ll pay, but part of it is what you’ll work on and your future prospects, and part is where you want to live.

“So, some guys will be favoring the places which have great skiing within reach. I’ll be favoring those where you’ll be happy. I won’t tell them. After all, the company only has a set number of locations to offer. They couldn’t change them. But I’m going to consider your happiness as much more important than the starting pay. For that matter, you might consider having more money to spend better than getting a lovely school to teach in. That, however, will be your choice.”

“Andy, you’re sweet.” She was hearing more than he was promising.

“Not all that sweet. I won’t go back to being a hardware clerk to get you your preferred school district.” Actually, of course, what he had originally wanted from engineering work was an opportunity to work on puzzles. The pay was a secondary consideration. But he had another, much more general question. “Change of subject. The way I picture it is for me to commute farther, and for us to live close to your school, maybe in the district. That’s just picturing it. Maybe you’ll see a house you love across the street from the plant, but it’s not likely.” There was a long silence.

“You look pensive,” he said when it had gone on long enough.

“You’re a much nicer man than the society allows you to be.” Which was not only over-praise, it was a logical contradiction.

“If you really believe that, you’re as in love with me as I’ am with you.” Assuming that Dad’s claim was correct -- that the beauty he saw in her was exaggerated by his love for her.

“Of course, I’m in love with you, but your head is so full of deep thoughts that it’s getting heavy. Time for some more study.” So, they returned to the table and their books.

Sunday night, she asked him to get her to Abbot Hall fifteen minutes earlier than her classes began the next morning. They made it easily. Instead of getting out of the car, even instead of a good-bye kiss, she turned to him and gave what sounded like a rehearsed speech.

“Look, I know my parents. If they have a choice between paying my tuition as a married woman and paying it as a single woman, they’ll choose the second -- guaranteed. So, if we want to be married this year, what we have to tell them is that if they won’t pay my tuition, I’ll drop out and go to work. The bottom line is that we’ll be married. But we have to mean it. They may well say ‘no, no, no’ until August. And, if they do, we’ll have to be married. I’ll have to have a job. They may actually say ‘no, no, no’ and mean it. That’s our risk.

“But it’s our one hope. Love you. Goodbye.” She ran into the hall. He’d parked the car already, and he could probably have caught up with her. That would have looked too much like coercion, though. She’d left him a lot to think about.

Around his classes, he thought about it. She knew her parents; people, in general, were such a mystery to him that he’d have been tempted to trust her judgment even on his own family. Say that her evaluation of her parents was correct. Then they would be risking her future against a year of his pleasure. That was just too great a risk. It was his own fault for bringing the earlier wedding up. After all, he’d gone through 20 years without having Marilyn in his arms, 17 of them without having seen her. One and a half more years shouldn’t be a problem.

Well, she had left books at his apartment. She’d left clothes, too, but those were hostages guaranteeing her return. She’d need the books Tuesday. He brought them over to Zeta House Monday night after dinner.

“Seventy-eight,” he said when he handed them to her. Then he left just as she had left him. But he did go back on Wednesday night. They had a date, after all. She gave him a kiss and her books to carry.

“Seventy-seven,” she said in the car. Well, she hadn’t said ‘Seventy-seven or never.’ They had a quarrel going, but not a quarrel which threatened to break them apart.

“Well, which should we do first, fight or make love?” She laughed. It wasn’t a funny issue. “I want to marry you, but I don’t want to ruin your education by marrying you.”

“You claim to love me, but you’re always putting limitations on marrying me.” Always?

“Always? I only remember this one.”

“You said that you didn’t want me to have to marry you.”

“And I don’t. It’s not an objection to pregnancy. Throw away your Pills on May of ‘78 for all of me. It’s a matter of your will. I want you to desire me the way I desire you. And I’d hoped you’d forgotten that. Anyway, twice in ten months isn’t always.”

“I remembered that. And if you desired me as much as I desire you, you’d marry me this spring.” That wasn’t fair. He desired her like he desired oxygen. She was that necessary for his life.

“I desire you. It’s just that the cost is too great. You’re making a romantic gesture. I’m risking damage to the future of the woman I love.” She didn’t say anything while they got out of the car and climbed to the apartment.

“Well,” she said when they were inside, “let’s continue the argument later.” Delightful girl -- delightful woman. Her priorities were the same as his priorities. He kissed her.

“I love you,” he said as they started stripping each other. “Get your own shoes,” he said when she was naked otherwise. He carried her to the bed, slowly because his jeans were hobbling him. While he removed them and his shoes, her hands were all over his torso.

Once he was naked, he kissed her mouth before traveling down her body. She writhed for him over and over. Finally, she pulled on his hair.

“That hurts,” he said.

“It will hurt worse if you don’t get up here.” So, he kissed back up her body. He stopped for a moment when his tip was just nudging her labia apart. She felt so moist, so warm. “Ahh,” she said as he pressed slowly inward. That it was good for her made it even better for him. Slowly, her smooth walls slid along his shaft. “So full,” she said when she’d enclosed him completely. He kissed her brow and gloried in being hugged along the entire length.

“So warm, so creamy, so sweet clasping me.” Then he began long slow strokes in and out. She raised her groin to welcome him and clasped his butt. He would be no use after he’d come, but she didn’t think of that. she merely expressed her desire by stroking his erogenous zones. He shouldn’t complain, though; her hands felt so exciting. Her face went through the worried expression and started to look pained.

She looked agonized. “Oh,” she said, and she clamped his cock in tight, wet, warm velvet. She began to writhe under him as the clamps took on a rhythm. He stroked through that delight once more while he felt his response pulse up through his cock.

“Darling!” He poured his love, his very self, into her depths.

When he could gather the energy to do so, he rolled to his left. Soon after, he gathered his energy again and pulled her into a cuddle.

“Every night,” he said. “I’ll hold you in my arms every night.”

“Every night, beginning in June of this year. All you have to say is yes.” Well that was a gross understatement of what it took.

“Saying is easy. It’s what comes afterwards that’s hard. You’re asking me to watch the woman I love trade her dreams for waiting on tables.”

“Andy, it’s not an even trade. What we get is the certainty of sharing a life a year early. What we risk is the possibility of my waiting tables for a year. Do you think Mom is going to relish talking about ‘my daughter the waitress?’ She’ll want to put a good face on things. She’s one of the alums who are still involved with Zeta. She gets added respect as the mother of a chapter VP. That would disappear if I drop out to wait on tables. We don’t know that she’d cut off my tuition.”

“And we don’t know that she wouldn’t. For that matter, isn’t it your father who writes the checks?” An uncertainty was what he’d used in his calculation. He’d called it risk. And the risk was too great.

“Yeah. But they decide together.” And, since they were both opposed to him, they would both have to change their minds. He didn’t know all that much about psych, but didn’t that make changing their minds less likely? Then, too, she had a brother who would be entering college next year. That might make not paying her tuition that much more attractive.

“You’re not fair, you know,” she said, although she was the one who was being unfair.

“How have I been unfair to you?”

“You give me all those climaxes when you have only one. How do you expect me to consider things rationally after that?” Well, that she was multi-orgasmic was hardly his fault.

“Well, God may have been unfair to you, or -- more likely -- to me. You can have all those orgasms. I have to wait awhile after only one.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard about waiting. I thought you were insatiable.” When had he ever told her that he was insatiable?

“Well, you may not have heard about waiting, but have I ever gone right back?”

“Well, you certainly go for repeats. Are you really done for the night?” Probably not for the night.

“For the hour, I’m done. I don’t think I’m done for the night. After all, you’ve been gone for days. I should have lots stored up.” And he’d have more stored up if he’d been able to control himself. He was too ashamed of masturbating, though, to admit that.

“And you figure I have more stored up?”

“Well, as I said, you can have more than one in a row. You really have an obligation to use the talents God gave you.” And, of course, she was so lovely when she had an orgasm.

“Andy, somehow I don’t think they’re going to ask you to be a Sunday-School teacher.” That was a safe bet, even if they didn’t hear that last opinion. It was standard teaching, but the particular application wouldn’t be popular.

“Ya think not?” he asked. She leaned over to kiss him. When he reached for her breast, however, she stopped him.

“Let’s give it a break. We have studying to do.” She held his hands to prevent any caresses, but she gave him another kiss. When she got up, though, she dressed completely. It was fun to watch, but fewer clothes would have made studying more fun to watch. He dressed in underpants and jeans when he got up to do his own studying.

“It would mean holding me in your arms every night,” she said without even getting up from the table. Apparently, they were arguing now instead of studying.

“It would mean your not being a teacher in ‘78 - ‘79. It would mean your waiting tables or selling in a store.”

“Well, you sold in a store. It didn’t seem to warp you.” That was different. She was Marilyn, and it would be in place of being a student. He’d never worked in a store instead of learning.

“Maybe I’m warped in ways you can’t see.”

“Maybe you were already warped.” Well, maybe.

This was an odd sort of quarrel. They weren’t mad at each other. He was angry with her family, but probably less than she was. Anyway, it didn’t interfere with their kisses or with their sex play when they were in bed later. He watched as she writhed twice. When he tried for a third time, she reached for him. After he got in position, she guided him in. Somehow, although his cock was more sensitive and he was more aroused, he didn’t feel any danger of going off too fast. He stroked slowly through her moist warmth. He sped up when she writhed under him and clasped around him. He felt incredibly aroused, but only on his third stroke through those clasps did his climax come.

Afterwards, though, he felt as though he’d run the marathon and then fallen to the Persians. Long after he should have, he climbed off her. When she snuggled into him, he fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, he dropped her off early. His class met at 9:00, while hers didn’t meet until 10:00.

Saturday was during her period and she hadn’t wanted to be with him. She agreed to come to the apartment, though. Her presence had been a Christmas gift the first time, and it was really a gift each time.

They stopped off at the grocery, and she got all sorts of stuff. They had a little cuddle, but she went into the kitchen early. She sat in his lap, though, while the lasagna was baking. He had to stay away from her breasts, but they had a long time to kiss and her hips weren’t off-limits.

The lasagna was delicious. Then he washed dishes, and they settled down to study. When they’d put their books away, she stopped in the bathroom doorway.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I want you.” he told her. “Are you sure that you can bear my attention?”

She went to bed naked, and he soon joined her. She responded magnificently to his hand. During her periods, she definitely didn’t want his mouth down there. He greased himself up and slid into her slowly. She felt as warm as ever. He watched her face until she grimaced and clasped around him. Then he exploded. What she showed him in the morning wasn’t only hers. He’d contributed to the liquid, too.