Chapter 1: Why Me - 1

The change from high school to college had really disappointed Candace Wharton. She’d been 1979 Prom Queen at Steinmetz High. Nobody at the Chicago campus of the University of Illinois, except for a few high-school classmates who had come here, too, knew she existed. Well, the teachers did, sort of. Some of them called roll every class instead of putting your face with your name. Hell! Teachers at Steinmetz who had never had her in a class had been able to recognize her in the halls. Her current professors were divided into those who knew who she was when she was in class and those who didn’t. When she went to Prof. Janowski’s office to ask him about the paper he’d assigned in English, he asked her what class she was in -- what class of those he taught.

She’d been an okay student in high school; she didn’t get many As, but she didn’t get any Fs, either. She had been able to get into Circle, after all. But so had all of her college classmates, and necessarily some of those were at the bottom of the class. She wasn’t quite at the bottom. Her lowest midterm had been a D in history. Still, the work was harder than in high school, and the teachers didn’t care. Well, she was a worker when she had to be, and she would pull that grade up.

The studying wasn’t fun, and there was virtually no social life to compensate. The administration tried, she had to admit. There were basketball games; there were even dances. She was a commuter, though, and so were most of the other students. She came to class, ate lunch, attended more classes, and went home. Between classes, she sometimes studied in the library. In good weather, she’d tried to lounge around outside the oh-so-elegant campus buildings. Often, some guy would come by and start a conversation, but few of those guys attracted her. The good weather, though, was a thing of the past. And, whatever she did, it didn’t put her in a group doing that.

She went to a basketball game, and it was fun while it lasted -- more fun because the Flames won. But, aside from the company of the entire cheering crowd, she was alone while she watched it.

She hadn’t gone to a dance without a date since her freshman year, and this was the first dance to which she’d ever driven herself. Before she’d turned sixteen, her dates had licenses. Well, she was a freshman again, and going stag. Once she got there and found parking, it wasn’t so bad. The song playing at her arrival soon ended, and she was asked for the next one. She didn’t sit down until she was tired, and then she declined a dance invitation.

The neatest guys seemed to be taken, but most of the ones who asked her were perfectly acceptable dance partners. Except for one guy who looked fine but had two left feet, she avoided the others by politely declining. Late in the evening, a guy came up who was much more than acceptable. He towered over her, and not only because she was sitting down.

“Jerry,” he said.

“Candy.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Root Beer.”

“Want another?” She was only half-way through her glass, but she certainly wanted him to buy her another.

“Please.”

He came back with a root beer and a Coke, set them down, and took the chair opposite her. His head was still above hers, and his knees touched hers. It wasn’t flirtation; he just had a lot of leg to put under the table. Everything about him was long. Even his hair was shoulder length. It was also red.

They talked for a bit, and she discovered that they were both business majors. Well, he was a junior, and she intended to major in business. He asked her for the next dance. It was a fast one, and she appreciated seeing his moves. There was a lot of him, but he moved gracefully. At the end, he thanked her for the dance, but they were clearly parting then. She saw him dancing twice later. She was with different partners both times, but he was with the same girl.

She might get the car for Saturday-night dances, but she had to ride the bus to class. After her Economics 101 lecture Wednesday, someone called her name. She looked, and it was Jerry. His clothes weren’t so stylish as he’d worn to the dance, and he was wearing a headband, but his height was unmistakable.

“Hi.” They got to the side of the hall, so they weren’t blocking traffic.

“Hi. Have a class next hour?”

“No.” She actually didn’t, but she’d have gladly cut class to talk to Jerry.

“Want a coffee?” So he bought her a coffee. He asked for her phone number. She gave it, and her full name.

“Jerry Lambert,” he responded.

“Hey! I’ve seen you play.” And she should have guessed earlier, from his height if nothing else. He was only a junior, but he was a starter for the Flames. “You dressed different at the dance.” Duh! What a stupid comment.

“Yeah. I only wear the uniform on the court.” He thought the comment was stupid, too.

“And I was way up in the back. Still...”

“That’s okay. Anyway, I enjoyed dancing with you on Saturday, but I was with a girl, you know.” He owed his date some attention. Assuming his date was the girl he saw him dancing with, she deserved some attention, too. Why was he talking with Candy now? But she enjoyed the talk. She also enjoyed that a couple of guys greeted Jerry while they were having their coffee. If nobody at UIC knew who she was, they damn-well knew who she was with.

“Look,” he said finally. “I have to get to class.” Well, she did too. She gave him a minute after he got out the door, and then hurried to her American History section. She was late, but that earned her only a glare from Doctor Hunter. Her attendance was well over the average, let alone the requirement. Hunter called on her as soon as she was settled, and she couldn’t think about Jerry until the class was over.

If the anonymity had lifted slightly, it still gave her problems. If this had happened a year ago, she would have hinted at it to a dozen friends until they pried the whole story out of her. As it was, only a few people she knew from high school were going to UIC, and more than half of those were boys. She finally called Teri.

“Guess who took me for coffee this afternoon.”

“Tom?”

“He went out of state -- U of Kentucky. No, it was Jerry Lambert.” Dead silence. “He’s a basketball starter.”

“Oh. I should follow the games more. What is he like.”

“Tall.”

“Well, duh!” All the basketball team were tall, but Jerry was really tall.

“And he looks good and dresses nice. He wears his hair long, not really long. He’s a redhead who wears a head band. Dances well, too.”

“Today? You danced this afternoon?”

“No. Saturday night. We danced then, and we happened to see each other this afternoon.”

If she had to tell Teri why she should be impressed, she did sound impressed after the explanation. Still, Teri hadn’t been a close friend, and the old bunch were all over the map. The news wouldn’t spread. Even so, somebody knew she was no longer a wallflower. Actually, somebody else knew. Jerry certainly knew who she was; he’d even asked for her number. She never, though, expected him to use it. Still, the phone rang Friday night. Mom called her to the phone.

“Candy? This is Jerry.”

“Why, hello.” She didn’t want to sound too eager, but juniors on the team were probably used to freshman girls sounding eager.

“How you doing?”

“Just great. And you?”

“Couldn’t be better. Look, there’s another dance Saturday. Not tomorrow. November sixth.” There was a silence. Sounding eager was one thing. Accepting before he invited her was another. “Would you like to go?”

“Why, thank you.”

“Pick you up at 7:00?”

“Thanks again.”

“And where is your home?” She told him the address and how to get there. She had a date. She had a date with a junior! She had a date with a basketball team member!! And basketball was more important at Circle than it had been in high school. There was no football team.

‘Why me?’ she asked herself. She had no doubt that she was pretty, but pretty freshmen hadn’t had dates with juniors in high school, certainly not juniors who played on a major team. Well, she’d known college was different in many annoying ways. This seemed to be one very good difference.

She told her parents the next night at dinner. Jerry had called too late to mention it at the previous dinner.

Dad was less pleased than she was. “Tell him to come in. I want to talk to him.”

“Oh, Dad! I’m in college now.” Dad thought she was an infant.

“Why don’t you want me to meet him. Is he white?”

“Of course.”

“Well, all you said was basketball.” White guys played basketball, too. Although the team she’d seen had been mostly black.

As it was, Jerry came to the door for her. Dad invited him inside where he could get a good look at him while she was coming downstairs, but he didn’t try to set any curfew. Jerry’s car was a compact, and he really had to scrunch down to get in. The front seats were as far back as they could go.

“I could move your seat forward if it bothers you. Last passenger was a team member.”

“It’s fine.” Well, he wasn’t going to try to get her into the back seat, at least. She wouldn’t have been comfortable; he wouldn’t fit with the door closed. Probably he was thinking something similar.

“Car’s a compromise -- too big for my wallet, too small for my height.” She smiled, and he started the car. At least he had a student-parking sticker. They didn’t have too far to walk to get to the dance. He took the first dance and plenty of others. He did leave her for a couple of dances and suggested that she might want to accept other offers. That wasn’t how they’d done it at Steinmetz, but she was in college now. She sat out two dances; they sapped her energy if they didn’t sap his. Of course, it didn’t compare with what he had to do on a game night. She danced with other guys, too. During one of those dances, she saw Jerry with another girl. It wasn’t the one he’d been dancing with two weeks ago.

He came back to her however and asked her for another dance. She liked that better than the high-school habit of guys assuming that bringing you entitled them to a monopoly. They were standing on the floor after that dance when the band struck up a slow tune.

“Last dance,” Jerry said. “You dance the last dance with the guy who brought you.”

“Of course.” He held her close, not too tight, but close enough that she could feel his erection against her chest. It wasn’t the first one she’d ever felt during a dance, but it was higher on her body. She was 5’ 8”, and, while she didn’t go out with boys unless they were taller than she was, she’d never gone out with a guy who was this tall.

“How tall are you, anyway?” she asked while they were walking back to his car.

“Six-six. It’s too much for the car; it might be too little for the NBA.” Then, when he’d handed her into her seat and was crawling into his own, “Dear as I love the school, school events are dry. Want to go back for a nightcap?”

“Sure.” Just where was ‘back’? Still, she hadn’t planned on limiting him to a kiss on her doorstep, and they couldn’t make out in this car. He sure couldn’t make out in this car. It was a first date, but she was in college. She was no longer the date everybody wanted, the date that could restrict boys to proper manners. Even in high school, less popular girls had made out on first dates.

He drove to an apartment house, and they climbed the stairs to the top floor. He led her into a large living room.

“Bloody Marys all right? I don’t have much choice.”

“They would be fine.” She wasn’t much of a drinker, anyway. It was mostly what she was served. She sat down while he went into the kitchen. She heard a fridge door open and shut. He came back with two glasses and a large can of tomato juice.

“Look, the vodka is in my room. The rest of the guys are coming back soon, and you don’t want to be out here when they do.” So she followed him into his room. This was small, but there were two chairs and a tiny table. The bed was made, and the room was reasonably neat.

He took her coat and hung it in his closet along with his own. The chairs were next to each other with the table a long reach away. He poured the tomato juice into both glasses, got a bottle of vodka out of a dresser drawer, and poured with what she felt was a lavish hand. He handed her her glass and sat down to her right. Now she saw why the table was so far away; his knee almost bumped it as it was.

“I trust the guys,” he said. As if on cue, she heard the apartment door. There was a high-pitched voice. Not all of the people coming in were guys. “Still, I keep the booze in my room.”

He waited until she put her glass down to kiss her. The guy knew how to kiss, and he waited until she’d had another sip from her glass before his hands went to her blouse. He knew what he was doing with the blouse, too, and with the bra. When they broke from that kiss, she drank thirstily. The salty drink didn’t really help, but her thirst was more from her excitement than from lack of water. She’d had two root beers at the dance. When she put the glass down, he refilled it. Again, he seemed to be pouring more vodka than she would have chosen. Still, she was a college woman; she didn’t want to act like a high-school girl.

As she’d gone to a dance, she was wearing a skirt. As he was a great kisser and she was a college woman now, his hand was up her skirt. He wasn’t the first guy to get that far, but he was certainly the most skilled. When she climaxed, she almost peed on his hand. She’d have to do something about that.

“Look ... I have to...”

“Yeah. It’s through the kitchen. If the door’s closed somebody’s inside. Leave the door open when you leave.” She put her blouse and bra on before going. She didn’t see anyone in the living room or kitchen, but she did hear voices from behind closed doors. When she was done in the john, she left the door open. As she was coming back, she heard some rhythmic squeaking from one of the other rooms. She blushed and hurried to Jerry’s room. He’d turned the overhead light off and a bedside lamp on while she was gone. The bed was now covered with just a sheet. He also seemed to have removed his shoes and put on slippers. He handed her her glass, full again, when she got back.

“I might as well make my visit now, too,” he said. He went out, closing the door behind him. When she sipped the drink, it tasted even stronger than last time. When he got back, he reached out a hand instead of sitting down. When she took that hand, he pulled her up and into a kiss. His hand on her back pulled her tightly against him, and she could feel his erection between her boobs. He must have felt the boobs against him, too. He turned her around and began to kiss the top of her head. His hands were on her buttons. Well, there were better places for those hands.

“Let me.” She took up the unbuttoning, and his fingers played with her nipples through blouse and bra. When she had unbuttoned the blouse, she pulled it out of her skirt. He unhooked the bra. She took them both off and placed them in his outstretched hand. He put them on top of his dresser.

“Now.” He kissed her head again from behind her, while his large hands cupped her boobs. The palms were rough, and they excited her nipples. He took another step back from her. “Look up.” She bent her head back, and he kissed her nose and then her mouth from behind. While their tongues met, he began undoing her skirt. That was too far.