Chapter 5: Loneliness

Andy Trainor was deep in his Differential Equations study when somebody called his name from the hall. He had a phone call. It couldn’t be Marilyn, and the old man wouldn’t call unless it was bad news. Did Mom have this number? No, he hadn’t sent it to her yet, and he was on a different floor than last year. Of course, she could have called Dad to get it, but she wouldn’t unless the need was serious. While he was thinking all this, he was getting to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Andy?” It was Marilyn. Well, she wasn’t as locked in as he had thought.

“Surprise!” he said. “I thought you were incommunicado this week.”

“I practically am. Saw Brittany last night, though. She said that you were the nicest guy.” But she’d been going steady in the spring of ‘74 when he dated Brittany. She couldn’t hold him to blame in the fall of ‘75. Wasn’t there some statute of limitations? Maybe not for girls’ jealousy.

“Well, at least somebody appreciates me.” He’d try to keep this light.

“I appreciate you.” She didn’t sound jealous. “But you were in her house, weren’t you? You were certainly in mine. Would you say hers was furnished more expensively, less expensively, or about the same as mine.” Huh? That was a weird question. Bethany’s dad had given him a standard grilling -- maybe not quite so standard for a junior, which Brittany had been -- but probably no worse than Marilyn’s dad had intended even after his daughter had spent a year away from home. Marilyn’s mom had chilled him. The situations around his visits to neither home had really invited a furniture appraisal, and that wasn’t one of his skills.

“Huh? About the same, I guess.”

“But it was a house, not an apartment?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“You are more mysterious every time we talk.”

“A mystery who loves you.” And that was good news.

“And that’s the greatest mystery of all. I love you, too.”

After that exchange, he took a while to get back to his books, but the books were a necessity and Marilyn was again unavailable.

He increased his chair-lifting routine to before his shower in the morning and before bed at night. If he couldn’t lift Marilyn this week, then he was damn-well going to be sure he was able to lift her the next week. That week came, and he phoned her on Monday.

“Would you like to go to a movie tomorrow?” he asked. He’d stopped mentioning the movie some time back. This time, Bound For Glory was at the Danielson, and he figured that proximity to her sorority house was not an issue now that he’d be driving.

“Why Andy, I’d be pleased.”

So, they saw the movie and parked afterwards. He’d taken some time to drive around in daylight looking for places that were out of sight from houses and far from well-paved highways. He figured that the gravel roads wouldn’t be traveled much at night. Didn’t farmers have to get up early?

When they got into the back seat, Marilyn helped while he lifted her into his lap. They had a sweet kiss while he opened her blouse. She didn’t quite giggle at his difficulties opening her bra, but he felt the giggles being repressed. Well, he wasn’t a Lothario; he hadn’t unsnapped many bras, and none but hers with his left hand.

They had another lovely kiss while his right hand cupped one of her breasts and then the other. Her nipples were so responsive. She was so responsive. He just had to taste one, and -- when he did -- the taste was sweet, and the nipple hardened further under his lips.

“Oh, Marilyn.” She had responded to him.

“Oh, Andy.” And that was another response.

He kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth, until she shifted in his lap. He drew back so that he was supporting her but not pushing her down. She started dressing again. When she got back into the front seat, he drove her back towards her sorority.

“Dad was right about me, you know. Even if he ignored me at the time.” He’d rehearsed this. He wanted more of her than a few hours once a week.

“Huh?” She didn’t sound as though he’d made himself clear.

“I did like sitting next to you, even in church. We don’t always have to be doing this, much as I enjoy doing this. I like being with you.”

“Yeah. That was fun.” Which was agreement of a sort.

“Well, want to do that again? I could pick you up Sunday morning.”

“I don’t know. I tried out the campus ministry twice. Can’t say I was impressed.” And that was disagreement. Well...

“Well, we have a car now. Much as Dad would hate having provided the means, we could go church shopping.” Which would, after all, mean more time spent sitting beside her, if not touching. And he’d have to give too much attention to driving.

“Why would he hate that.” Her question was what he got for bringing up irrelevancies.

“Man has a bitter prejudice against church shopping. You attend your local church.” And, after all, that prejudice had led them to Aldersgate and him to Marilyn. But he wasn’t superstitious enough to believe that that fact justified the prejudice. “Still, it wasn’t mentioned in the bet. This is my car now. He only pays insurance.” But would she see the continuous gamesmanship that he and Dad played?

“Want to?” she asked. Which sure sounded like agreement.

“Want me to pick you up at 10:15 Sunday?”

“Sure.” So, with another date already, he walked her to her porch. The last kiss was sweet, if not sexy. Back at the dorm, he fell asleep remembering the date.

She was ready at 10:15, which turned out to be much earlier than they needed to start. Sitting beside Marilyn was fun, being seen as a couple was significant, and her parents weren’t here to frown at them. On the other hand, the service dragged. It was as though an Aldersgate service had been taped and played back at half speed. He hadn’t thought he’d be listening to a sermon with Marilyn sitting beside him, but he could tell that this sermon was about how these people were an island of goodness in an evil, urban world.

On the way back to her sorority, they agreed to try another church the next week, but starting at 10:30. He’d figured that she’d be taking American Lit, and she was. They decided to study together Wednesday afternoons. He would drive her from classes to her sorority house every Wednesday afternoon.

They studied seriously, and got a lot done concentrating on only one subject. When they were done, he set the chair blocking the door again, and set her on the chair. Then he could fondle her sweet, firm butt while he kissed her sweet, soft breasts. She kissed his head and ears while he did so. Then they had a long kiss with their tongues playing tag and her bending her neck to reach his mouth before he set her down. They had had the room to themselves the entire time.

They went to the first dance of the year together. They parked afterwards, and in the back seat he not only kissed her breast and sucked her nipple, he stroked her leg under her skirt. True, he was afraid to stroke higher than her knee, but she didn’t object.

The next Sunday, they visited First Methodist Urbana. It was the largest church they’d sampled down here, and the one he felt most comfortable in. It was still early days, yet.

“Let’s keep shopping, though,” he suggested. Marilyn agreed.

If you enjoy sitting with me, you have another opportunity,” she said. “You could take me to the home football games.” Marilyn had a great idea, which he should have had first.

“So I could. The first one is in six days.” He was a little out of the loop with regard to non-academic campus life, but he would have had to be deaf and blind to not know that. “Do you want to go?”

“I feel like I’m begging for a date.”

“When the reality is that you have a dense boyfriend.”

They went and sat with her sisters. Okay, so sometimes he was jealous of all of Marilyn’s time that the sorority took. They didn’t perceive his jealousy, though, and most of them spoke of him as “Marilyn’s Andy.” He liked having everybody see that he was hers. Besides, Marilyn sat right next to him. Aside from the exciting parts of the game when everyone was on their feet, she had her hip and thigh pressed against him. And when it was time to celebrate a great play, they celebrated with a kiss.

They gave two sisters rides back to the house, and then went off to park. They didn’t go beyond kissing since it was still light, and the streets were busy.

The next several weeks, they kept up their usual activities while the weather became chillier. Making out was much more comfortable in a car with a heater than it had been in the sometimes wet -- often chilly grove.

He figured that she wouldn’t be too hard on him if he crossed some secret line she’d set as long as he didn’t rush things. On the other hand, if she articulated a rule, she was likely to make him keep it forever. Still, he’d applied sunscreen to her naked thigh in public, if only once. She couldn’t be too shocked at his touching her pantyhosed thigh while they were making out. Every week in the back seat, he stroked higher on her leg. He kept his arm against her knee and measured his distance by what part of the arm the knee touched. When he’d reached the limit for that night, he stroked up and down her thigh to that limit while kissing her and stroking her breast with his other hand. She was so smooth, both her breasts and her legs.

The other aspects of this quarter were going great. Differential equations were comprehensible if you did the work, and he was always careful to do the work. After planning so long to become an EE, he was finally studying electrical engineering and enjoying that study. He not only had a brilliant study partner in American Lit, they were now on short stories. Not, except for Twain’s frog, short stories he’d read before, but he’d apparently read short stories for pleasure more than most of his classmates had. In Drawing, those with artistic talent or training had separated themselves out, and he was among the better students of the remainder.

Even Phys Ed swimming was going -- swimmingly. As long as you stayed in your own lane, you didn’t have to worry about an opponent or a teammate, his commonest problems in PE. Again, he didn’t shine, but he was making satisfactory progress.

When he invited Marilyn to the second home game, she asked if she could offer rides to some pledges. He agreed. This turned out to be a greater favor than he’d thought it would be, since it saved them waiting for a bus on a bitterly cold day. It turned out that one of those pledges was Brittany. Well, at least that was one name he didn’t have to memorize on the fly. And Marilyn, who had -- after all -- issued Brittany’s invitation, had no grounds for jealousy. He’d only dated Brittany after Marilyn had told him that she was going steady. Still, Brittany seemed to be trying to make a point, maybe to her fellow pledges, about their previous acquaintance.

“Andy,” she said. “I recognize the car, but I didn’t know it was yours. I thought it was your family’s.”

“It was. Dad gave it to me.”

“For making dean’s list,” Marilyn said. She wasn’t completely accurate, but she sounded like his cheering section when she said it.

“Boy,” said one of the pledges, Robin? “I wish my Dad would give me a car for making dean’s list.”

“Honey,” said another, “I’ll give you a Rolls Royce if you make dean’s list.”

“As if you could afford a Rolls Royce.”

“As if you could make dean’s list.” the back seat girls all laughed at that. He felt that he and Marilyn, only a year older, after all, were adults taking some kids to a game.

“I’ll bet,” Brittany said, “I was in this car before you were, Marilyn.” That was a little too much.

“Yeah,” he said, “but this is your first time in the back seat.” If this implied that Marilyn had made out with him in the back seat, something she might not want the pledges whom she supervised to know, it also stated firmly that Brittany had not.

At the game, Marilyn carried one blanket and one of the pledges carried the other. They sat behind the pledges and at one side of the Zate section. Marilyn handed the blanket to him.

“Wear this like a Superman cape, then sit down.” When he did, much of the blanket trailed into the grit under the bleachers. He stood back up, turned the blanket sidewise, took some folds over his shoulders, and tried again. This time the edge of the blanket was above his pants cuffs. Marilyn stood in front of him, facing away.

“Lift me into your lap,” she said. When he did, she pulled the blanket around them both. Since both were wearing parkas, this would keep them nice and warm. Soon, though, she opened her parka. The blanket was still around them, and the parka covered most of her, but she couldn’t be as warm as he was. And, when it came to that, he wasn’t really warm yet. He was barehanded because he’d been driving, and neither the blanket nor her body heat had had adequate time to warm him.

The unzipped parka, however, gave him something to explore. He moved his right hand inside her parka and stroked over her sweatshirt. Her breast was especially soft. She wasn’t wearing a bra! He reached down, found that her sweatshirt was outside her jeans, and brushed both hands upwards under it. Her skin was hot to the touch, and she shivered.

“Sorry,” he murmured. He pulled his hands down and started rubbing them together. If he stimulated the blood flow in his hands, she wouldn’t feel them as so cold.

“No. Don’t,” she said. She wasn’t talking about touching her. She was talking about withdrawing his hands. He rubbed his hands together more vigorously, then reached for the bottom of her sweatshirt again. She flinched when he got to her skin, but she didn’t try to stop him. He held her belly with his palms until it didn’t feel quite so hot. Then he raised his hands to her breasts. They felt warm, and his hands must have felt cold to her, but she sort of nodded when he reached them. And her nipples were so firm between his fingers.

There was a football game going on in front of them, and he gave it enough attention to know what all the shouting was about. The important occurrence, however, was the soft, warm Marilyn under his hands. He kissed the side of her neck and her ears as often as he could. And, when the home team got a touchdown, he lifted her by her bare armpits so that she could see while everyone was on their feet.

“You’re the sexiest woman,” he told her when he kissed her on the sorority porch. And he had a hard time, and a hard cock, getting down to studying that afternoon because he remembered that sexiness. The next morning, on the other hand, she looked chaste, if sweet, riding to church with him. She probably looked as chaste to the sprinkling of people who showed up, despite how closely they sat together. That closeness was definitely the only pleasure from that service.

“Sorry,” he told her driving back. He’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel on this one. The cabinet probably had too. The minister sounded like he needed lots of practice preaching, and he was -- after all -- getting that.

“I don’t know why,” she responded. “We did what we said we would. We sampled. Now, if you took me back, I’d expect an apology.” She was always so kind.

“You’re sweet. I don’t expect anything better, really, from the rest of the churches on my list -- some of them have local preachers. Do you want to go back to First Urbana?”

“Why don’t we?” And that last word was the decisive one. This was something we -- Marilyn and Andy -- were doing.

Studying together and parking after movies were things they were doing, too. She never made him feel that the touch of her sweet thighs was his pay for providing tickets and transportation. And, as he stroked up one inch higher that Tuesday, she seemed to welcome his hand. He kissed her breast and stroked her thigh, going that high but no higher, until she seemed restless. Maybe their time was up. When he straightened, she began rearranging her clothing. He stroked down her thigh one more time and then withdrew his hand. When she moved off his lap, he went into the front seat. He drove her back to her sorority, and they shared one last kiss on the porch. Her hips swung sexily as she went in the door, but she was going away. He wouldn’t see her for another day.

And that next afternoon, he picked her up after class. They drove to her sorority house and both went to the study room. Marilyn was the English major, and still knew more than he did. On short stories, however, he figured he could participate. Leaves of Grass had left him trying to follow Marilyn through an absolutely foreign environment.

A few people at First UMC Urbana behaved as if they recognized them, but it had been a month since they’d been there. When they went back the next Sunday, however, they were recognized -- sort of.

“Andy and Marilyn Trainor, isn’t it?” a lady asked.

“Half right,” he answered.

“He’s Andy Trainor.” Marilyn was being more helpful than he’d been. “I’m Marilyn Grant. We’re not married.”

“Not even engaged,” he put in.

“We’re just two college students who thought a regular church would better fit our needs than the campus ministry,” Marilyn said. Well, she’d tried out the campus ministry; he hadn’t even done that. But she was right about him. The services of the campus ministry wouldn’t have had Marilyn present, and that was his first requirement for a church service.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Marilyn asked on the way back.

“Why should I mind? To be paired with you is an honor.” And, after all, if other people regarded her being married to him as something likely, she might come to regard it as something possible.

Studying with Marilyn, while it mostly meant being with Marilyn, brought other advantages. He got an A on his midterm. On the way to the movie that Tuesday, he found that she’d got one, too.

“We’re on a roll,” she said generously. “Studying together is obviously good for us.” He was glad she thought so, but honesty made him point out the difference.

“Well, it’s good for me. You’re the English major. I’m not sure I contribute anything.” Then he decided to shut up. He certainly wanted to continue studying together. And they went to a movie together, too. He kept his arm around her for the whole show.

“I’m not sure I should be touching my teacher,” he said. He waited until they were in the back seat after the movie before he said it, though.

“Well, I’m sure I should be sitting on my teacher’s lap,” she said. She got into his lap sideways. After unbuttoning her blouse, he dealt with her bra with his left hand while his right explored between her legs. The fingers of his left hand stroked the smoothness of one of her breasts while his lips kissed the smoothness of the other. As more of his arm was between her knees than ever before, the smooth softness that his fingers were caressing was a new part of her thigh. Then his fingertips met a firmness.

“Oh, Marilyn,” he said. That was her delta. Through her pantyhose and, he supposed, her panties, he could feel the springiness of her secret hair. From marriage manuals and from centerfolds, Andy had a theoretical expertise on female anatomy. But he’d never felt (or seen) any woman’s delta before, and this was Marilyn. He slowly drew his hand back from that mystery, but he needed to return. Well, she’d said that she should be sitting on his lap, and she’d certainly meant this as part of that sitting. Still, he’d move slowly enough that she could stop him before he crossed any line she regarded as a serious violation.

He rotated his wrist so that his hand was mostly under her leg. The bottom of her thigh was even softer as he started his return journey. He licked her breast down to the nipple and sucked gently there. When his fingers struck his own leg, he moved them to the side, still slowly. Then he could feel a new softness, a new complexity. Through pantyhose and panties, he was touching her vulva. As gently as he could, he stroked there. When she tensed, he stopped afraid that she would push him away and jump off his lap. She didn’t, and he understood that her tension was internal, responding to him. He resumed stroking, but he was brimming over with love, pride, gratitude, and even lust.

“Oh, Marilyn,” he said straightening, “kiss me.” And they had a lovely kiss while his fingers caressed her. He desperately continued the same motions, conscious that he was operating from total ignorance. He had to have been doing something right, though. She kept kissing him, and her body tensed in his circling arm. Finally, she gasped under his lips.

“Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling!” She’d responded to his caresses. Marilyn had responded to him. He removed his arm and kissed her all over her face. “You are so lovely,” he said between kisses, “so sexy, so sweet.” He was hugging her when she shivered.

“You must be getting cold.” He relaxed his arms and sat back so she’d have a little freedom.

“A bit. Don’t move.” She reattached her bra and buttoned her blouse. She was right. She did that much faster than he could have. When she relaxed against him, he hugged her again. She still felt chilly, though, and she was such a tiny girl. He should have turned up the heat when he parked. He handed her her parka, and she put it on but didn’t zip it up. That meant that he could hug her underneath it. That kept both of them warm.

After he’d scattered kisses over her face, she did the same for him. This was lovely, saying she not only accepted his intimacy, she welcomed it. After cuddling her some more, he wondered how much longer he had.

“Do you have to get back?” he asked.

“Not really. I’m scheduled to torture the pledges at 2:00.” Which meant that she did have to get back but not soon. Too soon, but not soon.

“I’ll get you back before then.” And they sat like that for more than an hour longer. The cuddle was a wonderful intimacy. His legs started to complain about her weight towards the end, and he wouldn’t have traded what had gone before for anything, but the cuddle was special, too.

After a sweet kiss, seeming more intimate than their previous ones, at her sorority door, he watched her in. It was the first time he’d seen her use a key on this door. Then he went back to his dorm. In bed, he remembered the evening. If her release had taken a long time, his occurred in seconds. Conscious memories of that night turned rapidly into dreams of that night.

And, for Tuesdays thereafter, he caressed her, and she stiffened in his arms. The memories of those evenings disturbed him at the most embarrassing times, but one time had serendipitous benefits. Thursday afternoon was PE. Swimming doesn’t require all that much attention after you’ve got the strokes down. He checked that he was in his own lane, got in the rhythm, and let his thoughts drift to sweet Marilyn two nights before. She’d been so accepting of his kisses, of his hands. She’d relaxed in his arms and then begun to stiffen in his arms. At this point the memory was interrupted by the end of the pool. He stopped, turned, made sure he was going straight, and let his mind drift again. While he stroked her and sucked her nipple, she’d tensed more. Then she’d shuddered, almost writhed. He turned again and went back to the memory. He had gone through the entire evening from her climbing into his lap to the sweet cuddle afterwards several times and had got to the shudder again when the bell rang to announce the end of class. He swam to the end, clutched the gutter and waited his turn at the ladder hoping his erection would go down by then.

“Trainor.” That was the teacher, right above him. He sank a little in the water, but the anxiety over being singled out was taking care of his erection.

“Yeah.”

“That was your best time by far. Do you know how many laps you took?”

“No. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to that.” Nor, really, to swimming. Teachers didn’t like it when you admitted that your mind had wandered, though. Their class was supposed to be the center of your life -- even piddling Physical Education.