Chapter 9

On Friday, the limo arrived at Kendall’s apartment building promptly at four o’clock. As it pulled up, people stared at us. I liked the attention, but I was also a little embarrassed by it.

Kendall and I weren’t quite dressed up, but we weren’t wearing our everyday school clothes either. She wore a pretty off-the-shoulder dress that showed off her body, and I was dressed in khakis and a button-down Polo shirt.

“Mr. Hughes?” the limo driver asked as he walked around the vehicle. He was an older man, with dark hair going to grey at the temples.

I nodded.

“My name is Raymond,” he said. “I’ll be driving you and Miss...?”

“Payton,” I supplied.

“Of course,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Payton,” he added with a half-bow. Then he paused deferentially. “Will we be picking up the other young lady at a different location?” he asked, referring to Gina.

“Um ... she won’t be joining us tonight,” I said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” Raymond said.

I shrugged.

“If you’re ready...?” he ventured.

When I nodded, he opened the limo’s back door and ushered us inside. Then he walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Ms. MacLean’s flight lands at 5:05. Is that correct, sir?” he asked through the divide.

“Uh-huh.”

“Very good, sir. Would you like to make any stops along the way?”

I started to shake my head, but Kendall forestalled me with a hand on my arm.

“We should probably get some flowers,” she said softly.

I nodded. “We’d like to stop by a florist,” I said to Raymond.

“Very good, sir. Do you have a preference?”

“Um ... do you know of a good one?” I asked.

“Might I recommend Crouch Florist?” he suggested.

“That would be fine,” I said. Crouch was the same florist where I’d bought flowers before, and I mentally chided myself for not remembering it.

Raymond put the car into gear and smoothly turned onto Andy Holt Avenue. Then he drove to the Strip and pulled into the florist’s parking lot.

“What should I buy?” I asked Kendall as we entered the shop.

“Roses are always nice,” she said.

“I know,” I said, “but I think it’d look kinda funny if we showed up with a dozen red roses. You know? I mean, that’s pretty romantic.”

She nodded and then turned thoughtful. “Casablancas are nice. So are Stargazers. Or any kind of lily, for that matter,” she suggested.

“Which is your favorite?” I asked.

“Calla lilies,” she said without hesitation.

Before I got to the counter, I had a brilliant idea: roses came in a variety of colors, not just red.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like a dozen pink roses, please.” Then I glanced at Kendall. “And a dozen calla lilies,” I added.

“Paul, no,” Kendall whispered. “That’s too much.”

The clerk hesitated for a minute, glancing from Kendall to me.

“I’m serious,” Kendall said, leaning close. “That’s too expensive. Just get the roses.”

“A dozen of each, please,” I said to the clerk.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Paul,” Kendall protested as soon as the clerk headed to the back. “I don’t need flowers.”

“But I want to get them for you.”

“Can you afford it?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said confidently.

With that, her face softened and she smiled at me. Blinking back tears, she kissed me. “You’re so wonderful,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” I said, my chest swelling with pride.

When the clerk returned with the two bouquets and told me the price, however, I almost choked. They were beautiful flowers, but Kendall had been right, they were expensive.

Kendall and Susan are worth it, I silently convinced myself.

Earlier in the day, I had cashed a check for the exorbitant sum of one hundred dollars. I thought it would be enough to pay for everything we could possibly want—that night as well as the rest of the weekend. I tried not to blanch as I spent nearly half of my cash on flowers alone.

Kendall and Susan are worth it, I repeated.

When Kendall’s eyes lit up as I presented her with the bouquet of lilies, however, I nearly forgot how much I’d just spent.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Back in the limo, Raymond pulled onto the Strip and then headed toward the airport. It was a half-hour drive, so Kendall and I settled in. Her eyes were still aglow—and damp—and she kept glancing from the flowers to me and then back again.

“They’re beautiful, Paul,” she whispered.

“Just like you,” I said. Then I pulled her close and kissed her.

Our kisses soon heated up, but a soft whining noise broke my concentration. When I looked up, I realized that Raymond had discreetly raised the opaque privacy panel in the divider.

“Have you ever had sex in a limo?” I asked Kendall. Then I waggled my eyebrows.

She blushed and her breathing quickened. Before she returned to my arms, however, she carefully set her flowers aside.

When we resumed kissing, I put her hand on the bulge at my crotch. She started massaging my swollen cock through my khakis. As our kisses heated up, I pulled down the bodice of her dress to reveal her tanned breasts and stiff nipples. While we kissed, I gently kneaded her breasts.

When we finally broke the kiss, I reached between us and unzipped my pants. As I extracted my manhood, Kendall moved between my legs. Then she practically inhaled my shaft, taking me into the back of her throat. She still couldn’t swallow all of me, but she came close.

For a few minutes, I simply watched as she bobbed up and down in my lap. When she began to take me as deep as she could, I directed her movements with a hand on the back of her head.

With scenery whipping past the dark-tinted windows of the limo, I rapidly approached the point of no return. When I bucked my hips, Kendall clamped her lips around my shaft and began pumping me. I groaned as I emptied my balls into her willing mouth. Finally, my orgasm subsided and I gazed down at her.

“I think I could get used to this,” I said.

She simply answered with a smile.

Susan was one of the first passengers to debark from the plane. When she emerged from the jetway, we waved to her. Her eyes lit up when she saw us. Without setting down her carry-on bag, she hugged me tight. After greeting Kendall with another hug (and cheek-kisses, of course), Susan stepped back to look at us.

“Welcome to Knoxville,” I said. Then I handed her the flowers.

“Oh, Paul, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush. “They were Kendall’s idea.”

“Thank you both,” Susan said. “Very much.” Then she looked around. “Where’s Gina?”

“She couldn’t make it,” I said. “She has to do something with her sorority tonight.” I tried not to sound peevish, but I don’t know how successful I was.

“Oh,” Susan said. “That’s too bad.”

“She wanted to be here,” Kendall added, “but...” Her shrug spoke volumes.

“She’ll hang out with us tomorrow,” I said.

Susan nodded and then deftly turned us toward the main terminal. “You two look great,” she said. Then she glanced at me as we walked. “Have you lost weight? Are you eating enough?”

“No, he’s not,” Kendall said before I could answer.

Despite what Susan and Kendall said, I didn’t think I’d lost weight, and I was still worried about gaining the “Freshman Fifteen.” Since I’d begun working out with Trip and the other guys, I wasn’t as worried about my muscle turning to fat, but it was still one of my major concerns. I wanted to look good—for Kendall and Gina, as well as for myself—and that meant I had to exercise and watch what I ate.

“How was your flight?” I asked Susan, trying to change the subject.

She and Kendall shared a look. Evidently, they decided to let me off the hook.

“Fine,” Susan said. “I flew from Austin to Dallas on a commuter plane. And from Dallas to Knoxville, we only had one stop, in Memphis. From here, the plane continues to Washington, D.C.,” she said. Then she glanced at me. “I was hoping your dad might be flying, but he wasn’t.”

“The crew was probably based in Dallas,” I said. “I don’t know where my dad’s flying these days, though. Last time I talked to my mom, he was in Orlando. He usually tries to get the lines with a lot of Florida trips, since he likes it down there. And ever since he transferred from the L-1011 to the 727, he doesn’t fly to Dallas or the West Coast much anymore.”

“Ah,” Susan said. “That makes sense.”

“So, tell us about your trip,” Kendall said when we reached the baggage claim area. “How’s Doug? How’s he like his new house?”

“Doug’s fine,” Susan said. “And his house is very nice. It’s near UT—the University of Texas, I mean,” she said, grinning at me. “His girlfriend, Olivia, also graduated in May, and she moved from Houston to Austin with him. She wants to get a job as a teacher, although she’s thinking about getting her master’s degree.”

“So she lives with him?” Kendall asked, lifting an eyebrow as she glanced at me.

Does that mean what I think it does? I wondered. When did my life get so complicated? Oh, yes, I thought with only a trace of sarcasm, it happened when I thought I could handle two girlfriends at once. Before I carried that line of thought to its logical conclusion, I returned my attention to Susan.

“—met at Rice. They’ve been dating for two years,” she was saying. “She’s a wonderful girl. And she survived having me underfoot for almost a month, so at least she’s patient.”

“You’re not that bad to have underfoot,” I said with a sly grin.

Before Susan could reply, someone cleared his throat behind us.

“Excuse me,” Raymond said. “I’m sorry to interrupt...”

In a fraction of a second, Susan took in his appearance and then smiled. “It’s no problem. You must be Raymond.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, surprised. “How did you know?”

“I asked the owner of the company for the best chauffeur he had, and he told me that you were the man for me.”

To his credit, Raymond almost managed to hide his boyish blush. “Thank you, Ms. MacLean,” he said when he regained his composure.

“It’s Missus MacLean,” she told him politely. “But please, call me Susan.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he said. When the baggage carousel behind us clanked to life, Raymond turned businesslike. “If you’d like to give me your baggage claim stubs,” he said to Susan, “I’ll fetch your luggage.”

“Why, thank you, Raymond,” she said. Then she presented him with her entire ticket envelope. “The suitcases are dark green leather, Louis Vuitton, two bags and a trunk.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

“So much for calling me ‘Susan,’” she said when he was out of earshot. “I didn’t think he actually would, but it was worth a try. Anyway,” she continued, “where was I? Oh, yes...”

As Raymond waited for the luggage to appear, Susan told us more about Doug, Olivia, and the house. She also filled us in on her oldest son, Kirk, who was stationed at NAS Kingsville, Texas—at the Navy’s Advanced Jet Training school. There, he flew the TA-4, the training version of the same plane his father had flown.

“Kirk loves flying,” Susan said, “just like his father. He and an instructor even flew up to visit us one weekend, since it’s only about 200 miles from Kingsville to Austin. He looks good, although he still doesn’t have a serious girlfriend. He’s too much like his father, and worse, he knows it.”

Kendall and I chuckled at Susan’s rueful look.

When she sighed and stared wistfully into the distance, however, I realized that she was thinking about her husband, Jack. He and my father had flown together in Vietnam. My father had returned. Jack hadn’t. He’d been shot down near the Cambodian border and officially listed as Killed In Action (after an odd twist of fate where his death was confirmed and his dog tags returned by “friendly villagers”).

Susan usually didn’t dwell on him, but thinking about her oldest son—who was following in his father’s footsteps—must have brought back memories.

“How did Doug buy a house?” I hastily asked, changing the subject. “Did you help him pay for it?”

“Oh, no,” Susan said, brightening. “Kirk and Doug have trust funds from when my father died. They’ve both been very careful with their money, and they’ve reinvested wisely.” Then she blushed. “Actually, I’ve reinvested for them, but I’ve still done fairly well by them.”

“Susan MacLean, Wall Street broker,” I teased.

“Actually,” she said, “I do a little better than Wall Street. Quite a bit better, in some cases. But enough about me. Tell me all about college.”

Kendall and I told her about our roommates and friends. We also told her about classes and our professors. To my chagrin, I realized that I didn’t know much about Kendall’s classes. I’d been so caught up in my own life that I hadn’t paid much attention to hers. I didn’t like that about myself, and resolved to change it.

So I listened as she talked about Dr. Zeigler, who taught two of her psychology classes. Kendall had a great deal of respect for the woman, and found the courses challenging. She also talked about her Women’s Studies class, which she enjoyed.

“You’re taking more than three classes, aren’t you?” Susan asked after a moment.

Kendall nodded. “Why?”

“Because you only mentioned Child Psychology, Social Psychology, and the Philosophy of Feminism. What else are you taking?”

“Organic Chemistry,” Kendall said. “I don’t like it, but I’ve got to take it for medical school. Actually, it’s not so bad, but it’s a lot of memorization.”

Susan nodded.

“My other two classes are okay, I guess,” Kendall continued. “I don’t really like French, but I have to take something for my language requirement. Fortunately, I only have two more quarters of it. And last but not least, I have Literature of the English Bible.”

“I thought you liked that one,” I said.

“I thought I would too,” she replied. “But the professor treats it more as a religion class than a literature class. I already believe in God; I don’t need to be ‘saved.’ I want to analyze the Bible as literature, for the stories and allegories, not the religious content. So class feels more like a sermon than anything else. And I don’t like the professor’s brand of fundamentalist Christianity. I guess it’s not what I expected.”

“That’s too bad,” Susan said.

Before she could say anything else, Raymond returned pushing a cart loaded with Susan’s luggage.

“I see what you mean about that not fitting in the Jeep,” I said to Susan. In addition to her carry-on bag, she had a largish suitcase, a hanging garment bag, and a steamer trunk. “You needed all that for a one-month trip?”

“Oh, no,” she said, “just the suitcases. The trunk is full of presents for friends.”

“Oh,” I said, perking up.

“And if you play your cards right,” she added, “you just might get a couple of them.”

“I’ll fetch the car right away, ma’am,” Raymond said at a break in the conversation.

“Thank you, Raymond,” Susan replied with a warm smile.

Once again, he blushed.

“You can’t help but charm defenseless old men,” I said to her when he was safely out of earshot.

“I like charming the younger ones too,” she said, glancing at Kendall and sharing a conspiratorial smile. “At least one younger one.”

At that, it was my turn to blush.

With bright laughter, Susan and Kendall looped their arms through mine and we headed out to wait for the limo.

At the Radisson, Raymond signaled a bellman to help with the luggage. When the young man headed into the lobby, his cart laden with Susan’s bags, Raymond took off his hat and walked over to us.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. Then he produced a business card and handed it to Susan. “This is the phone number for the car. You can call it when you’re ready for me to pick you up, or you can call the hotel’s front desk. The manager is Mr. Tilley, he knows me. I’m at your disposal until midnight, but if you need me later than that, I’ll be happy to drive you.”

“Thank you, Raymond,” Susan said graciously. Then she looked at her watch. “It’s only six fifteen now,” she said, “and we probably want to have a late dinner.”

“Very good, ma’am,” he said.

“Can you recommend someplace? A nice four-star restaurant, perhaps?”

“Of course, ma’am. I know just the place. It’s American cuisine, but with continental service. Would you like me to make reservations for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Susan said. “And then if you’d please pick us up here at eight.”

He nodded and started to turn, but she stopped him with a gesture.

“We probably won’t need the car until then, Raymond,” she said. “So if you’d like to have a bite to eat before you pick us up...”

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” he said. Then he straightened his shoulders, put on his cap, and bowed slightly. “I’ll pick you up at eight, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she said.

With that, he walked toward the limo, and we headed inside. After Susan checked into the hotel, the bellman escorted us to a well-appointed room (which was nicer than the one my parents had stayed in). It wasn’t exactly a suite, but in addition to the king-size bed, it had a separate sitting area, with a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table.

While the bellman unloaded the luggage and flowers, I surveyed the room. When he finished with Susan’s bags, she asked him to have the manager send up two flower vases. Then she extended her hand and passed the bellman a folded bill. His tip must have been generous, because his eyes lit up. He promised that he’d personally deliver the vases.

“Tipping is an art form,” Susan said to me when the bellman had gone. “You’ve got to tip enough, but not too much. And you’ve got to be discreet, but obvious enough to get their attention.”

“Did Jack teach you that?” Kendall asked.

“Oh, no,” Susan said with a bright laugh. “My father did,” she said, waxing nostalgic. “He taught me all about business. I think he wanted a son, but he had me instead. And instead of letting my mother turn me into a genteel Southern Lady, he made sure I had a good head for business. I started helping him manage some of his affairs when I was twelve or thirteen. Mother still taught me manners and etiquette, though; I couldn’t escape that.” Then she smiled warmly. “Enough about me, though. Let’s open up my trunk and see what treasures we can find.”

Before we could, the bellman announced his return with a knock on the door. When Susan opened it, he handed her the vases and she tipped him again.

“Before we get to the presents,” Susan said as she closed the door, “Kendall and I need to put our flowers in water. And we need to talk.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“Girl talk.”

“So you’re not invited,” Kendall added with a grin.

“Exactly,” Susan said.

Without another word, the two women sequestered themselves—and their flowers—in the bathroom. They were in there for almost fifteen minutes. When they emerged, they were both grinning.

“Why do I feel like the antelope at a party of lionesses?” I asked no one in particular.

“Come to think of it,” Susan said with a grin, “we were talking about your future.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm hmm. But let’s open presents first,” she said, ignoring my question.

“We didn’t get you anything,” Kendall said.

“You got me the roses,” Susan said. “And it’s a big present to see both of you, although I wish Gina could’ve joined us.”

“We’ll see her tomorrow,” I said.

“But in the meantime,” Susan said, grinning at Kendall, “she’s going to miss a fun night.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm.” Without saying more, Susan opened her trunk and withdrew several gift-wrapped boxes. She handed a large, flat one and a smaller one to Kendall. Then she passed a box and an envelope to me. Finally, she set another two boxes aside. “These are for Gina,” she said.

Kendall and I nodded.

“There’s one more for you, Paul,” she said, “but I had to order it. The salesman assured me that you’d receive it by next week, though.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but you shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “I’m a wealthy old woman, who else am I going to spend money on, if not my friends?”

“You’re not old,” I said.

Kendall nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Susan conceded, “I’m a wealthy middle-aged woman.”

“How about, ‘you’re a wealthy beautiful woman’?” I suggested without the slightest grin.

“Doesn’t he say the nicest things?” Susan asked Kendall.

Kendall hugged my arm and nodded.

“Kendall, open your big box first,” Susan suggested.

Kendall tore open the wrapping paper, her eyes alight with anticipation. When she lifted the box’s lid and flipped back the tissue paper, she gasped.

“What?” I asked, my curiosity overwhelming my manners. Impatiently, I cocked my head to the side to read the upside-down logo on the box: Christian Dior.

“Oh my goodness,” Kendall gushed, “it’s... stunning.”

“What?”

With tears welling up, Kendall reached into the box and withdrew a shimmering silver dress.

“I actually got it in New York,” Susan explained, “but I’ve been saving it until I saw you in person.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Kendall whispered.

“Nonsense,” Susan said. “It’s something I knew you wouldn’t buy for yourself.”

Kendall sighed again, her eyes riveted to the dress.

“There’s a clutch purse as well,” Susan added.

Kendall withdrew a matching silver purse. At Susan’s urging, she opened the smaller box as well; it contained a pair of shoes.

“I had to call your mother to find out what size you wore,” Susan said.

“Oh my goodness,” Kendall said again. “This is too much.”

“See if the dress fits,” Susan said, ignoring Kendall’s protests. Then she glanced at me. “You might need to help her with the zipper, Paul.”

Kendall started to head into the bathroom, but then pulled up short. “I don’t know where my head is,” she said. “We’ve all seen each other naked. Do you mind if I try it on out here?” she asked.

“I was hoping you would,” I said.

She blushed prettily.

“Here,” I added, “I’ll hold the new dress.”

She nodded and handed me the silver slip of a dress. As she slid off the outfit she was wearing, I couldn’t help but admire her body. When she put on the new dress, she looked fantastic. The dress revealed a healthy expanse of tanned cleavage, and it fit like a second skin.

When she struck a model pose, Susan and I nodded approvingly. Then she looked at her rear end and frowned.

“What?” I asked.

“You can see my panty lines,” she said.

“Take them off,” I suggested.

She rolled her eyes but then smiled shyly.

“He’s right,” Susan added.

“Here,” I said, dropping to my knees, “I’ll help.” Before Kendall could protest, I deftly reached under the dress and pulled her panties down her long legs. Then I grinned up at her. “Much better,” I said.

“For whom?” she asked archly.

“For me, of course,” I said. When I stood up, I grinned roguishly.

“Open your first present, Paul,” Susan suggested after a moment. “The envelope.”

“Okay.”

As I did, she stood and walked to the closet. The card inside the envelope simply read “Brooks Brothers, Madison Avenue, New York.” My jaw fell open. When I looked up, Susan had retrieved a suit bag from her hanging garment bag. Then she unzipped it to reveal the dark suit inside.

“It’s double-breasted,” she explained. “Your mom said you like that style. She told me your measurements, and one of the salesmen helped me pick it out. I hope it fits.”

“Oh, Paul,” Kendall said. “It’s so handsome.”

I tried on the coat and it fit perfectly. The trousers looked like they were a little big in the waist, but I could cinch them in with a belt.

“I wanted to get you a tailored suit,” Susan explained, “but they couldn’t do that without more detailed measurements.”

“This is... great,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling warmly. “Open your next present.”

The box contained a pair of shirts and ties, also from Brooks Brothers.

“Your mom said you had dress shoes,” Susan said.

I nodded. “They’re just black wingtips, though,” I said.

“They’ll look fine.”

Kendall nodded in agreement.

“I thought we could get all dressed up and have a nice dinner tonight,” Susan said. “How’s that sound?”

Kendall and I quickly nodded.

“Good,” Susan said. Then she glanced meaningfully at Kendall.

When Kendall nodded, almost imperceptibly, I began to wonder what they were up to.

“Paul?”

I turned to regard Kendall as calmly as I could. “Mmm hmm?”

“Susan and I thought maybe we could...”

“Could...?” I prompted, my eyes smiling.

“Would you two like to spend the night here?” Susan asked.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” I asked.

Kendall’s eyes sparkled in anticipation.

So did Susan’s. “If you’d like...,” she said.

“Is this what you two were talking about in the bathroom?” I asked.

Susan nodded. “It’s one of the things,” she said. “I didn’t want to invite you if...,” she said, trailing off. Then she glanced deferentially at Kendall. “If ... circumstances ... had changed, that is.”

When I looked at Kendall, she could barely suppress her enthusiasm.

“Oh, I don’t think they’ve changed all that much,” I said. “In other words, we’d love to spend the night.”

As the women monopolized the bathroom to put on their makeup and curl their hair, I changed into my suit pants and one of the new shirts. The sizing made it stiff and a little itchy, but I’d survive.

When Susan and Kendall emerged from the bathroom, my jaw dropped.

Susan had a deep blue dress which was similar to Kendall’s, only more demure. It was sophisticated and elegant, much like Susan herself. Kendall, with her hair and makeup done, looked gorgeous.

“Wow,” I said.

“So you’ll be seen in public with us?” Susan asked wryly.

“Maybe not,” I said. “I mean, we might not get that far.”

“I guess he thinks he’s going to get lucky,” Susan said to Kendall.

Kendall grinned at me. “He already is lucky.”

“You’re right,” Susan added. “He just thinks he’s going to get laid.”

“Well?” I asked. “Aren’t I?”

“No,” she said. With a smirk, she glanced at Kendall. Then she looked back to me, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re going to do the laying, though.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I looked at Kendall. “And what about you?” I asked with a wry grin. “Do you expect to get lucky too?”

She merely smiled.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Susan said to me with a grin. Then she held up a hand to forestall my reply. “Your suit looks good,” she said. “How do we look?” With that, she and Kendall posed for me.

“You look ... fan-fucking-tastic!”

After a few more compliments, I put on my coat, tightened my tie, and we headed out. Downstairs, Raymond was waiting for us. When he saw the women and their dresses, he swallowed hard, although he recovered his composure a lot quicker than I would have. With a flourish, he opened the limo’s door and then closed it behind us.

During the short drive to my dorm—so I could change shoes—Susan, Kendall, and I made small talk. When I sped through the North Carrick lobby in my swank new suit, I got some curious looks, but I didn’t stop to worry about them. Upstairs, I changed into dark socks and my dress shoes.

On a whim, I dug to the bottom of my underwear drawer and retrieved the cock ring. Gina and I hadn’t tried it, but I thought it might come in handy with Susan and Kendall. In reality, I was a little nervous about using it, but I figured that Susan would know what to do. Besides, I was willing to try almost anything once. So I pocketed the nubby little ring, picked up the shoebox (which now contained my everyday shoes), and headed downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, Raymond dropped us off at a nice restaurant a short distance from downtown. Inside, the hostess seated us at a round booth near the back of the restaurant. I sat in the middle, with Kendall to my right, and Susan on my left. The restaurant was fairly crowded with people—most of them in town for the football game the next day—but it wasn’t so crowded that it was oppressive.

“Order anything you like,” Susan said after the waiter brought our menus. “My treat.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. Unfortunately, my words rang hollow as soon as I looked at the prices on the menu. I wanted to pay for dinner, but it was well out of my league.

“No, I don’t,” Susan said. “But I want to. And if either of you get to eat out very often, especially on a college student’s budget, I’d be surprised. So this is my treat. No arguments, okay?”