Chapter 19: Why the Sudden Interest?

October 1, 1982, Kenosha, Wisconsin

“‘No’, as in you won’t, or ‘no’, as in you haven’t decided.”

I smiled, “I answered the question you asked.”

“Now you’re just being obtuse! You must really think you’re God’s gift!”

I shrugged, “What I think isn’t particularly relevant; what you think is. And this is not about me playing hard to get, or having some inflated sense of self-worth. I mean, sure, I like who I am and I’m confident in myself, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. The problem, if you want to call it that, is you’re so focused on going to bed with me and why I appear to be resisting, that it’s coloring all your impressions of me.”

“‘Appear to be resisting’? I’d say actively resisting, at least from where I’m sitting.”

“It’s always a dance,” I replied. “Or a negotiation of an exchange of value, which I mentioned before. When both people come to the conclusion that appropriate value is being exchanged, they do whatever it is they were negotiating about.”

“You make is sound like prostitution!”

“In that case, all that’s happened is the government has defined any exchange of value that includes money changing hands as illegal. What if I gave you an expensive gift instead? Or candy and flowers? Or bought you dinner and drinks?”

“Seriously?”

“Think about it,” I replied. “If you meet a guy in a bar and he buys your drinks, that’s fine; if he gives you the money and you use it to buy drinks, that’s not fine. If he buys you a diamond necklace, that’s fine; if he gives you the money and you buy the necklace, it’s not fine. And, as my mentor says, anything worth doing is worth doing for money!”

“That just seems so wrong! Would you go to a prostitute?”

“No, but I don’t deny that there is always an exchange of value even if no cash changes hands. And a corollary is that everything has a price.”

“I’d never have sex for money, no matter how much!”

“Taking that at face value, you equated price with money again. Perhaps, instead, your price is a wedding before you’ll make good on the consideration.”

“You don’t believe me?!”

“If Noel Spurgeon offered you a million bucks, free and clear, to have sex with him, would you turn it down? Be honest now.”

“I don’t know him, so I can’t say.”

“He’s good looking, wealthy, and reportedly very generous. But pick anyone for whom a million bucks is pocket change. Would you really turn it down? What if it were ten million?”

“Is there a price that would convince you to have sex with a guy?”

“I am sure someone could come up with something of sufficient value that I’d be willing to at least consider it. A hundred million?”

“Would you commit murder for enough money?”

“The problem with that argument is that it harms another person. That changes the situation sufficiently that I don’t think it’s a contradiction to say ‘no’. There’s no consent with the person I’d be murdering, so it’s not an exchange of value. Assisting suicide? That might happen in the right circumstances for the right person.”

“Really?”

“To help someone end their life when they were suffering in great pain from terminal cancer? I think it’s at least an open question. Think about the ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ orders some people create for themselves. A doctor could save them, but has been ordered not to.”

“That’s different.”

“Perhaps, but it shows that it’s possible to consent to die when you could be saved. I don’t see a huge gap between that and electing to end your own life actively, instead of passively waiting for it to happen. I don’t think I’d want to be that girl in New Jersey who was put on life support despite being in a permanent coma.”

“Karen Ann Quinlan,” Marcia replied. “But she’s still alive, even after they removed her from the ventilator.”

“I understand, but it wasn’t wrong to remove life support, at least as I see it. I’d approve of that for myself, for sure. Why burden society in a totally hopeless case? Now, I’m not talking about anyone making that decision except me, or, if I’m unable to decide, my mom, or in the future, my wife, kids, or grandkids.”

“You have an odd way of looking at the world, almost like it’s like a stock trade, or whatever.”

“Shocking, I know,” I replied with a grin. “And you see everything as political, right?”

Marcia laughed, “Because everything IS political!”

“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” I smirked. “Is wanting to go to bed with me political?”

“I ought to smack you for that dumb Brady Bunch reference, but you’re driving!”

“So answer the question.”

“Well, no, it’s not political.”

“But it would be some kind of exchange of value, even if it’s simply the potential for orgasms.”

“Guys ALWAYS get off; girls have to hope for the best!”

“Not true! Bev told me exactly what to do that first night and she got exactly what she wanted!”

“In my experience, men do not listen! They think they know what to do and they couldn’t be more wrong!”

“Well, I certainly listened, and it was to my advantage because Bev enjoying sex meant I got to enjoy sex with her! My ego isn’t bruised by a woman telling me what she likes and how to make her feel good!”

“I could tell you,” Marcia offered.

“I’d prefer you showed me!” I teased.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! Guys are SO hung up on two girls getting it on! If that’s what it’ll take, I’ll call one of my old sorority sisters!”

“Who knew?” I smirked.

“I’ve actually never been with a girl, but I know one who’s a lesbian who thinks I’m hot!”

“So, you think the value proposition is so good, and you want me so badly, you’ll have sex with another girl to entice me?”

“WOULD that entice you?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t necessarily be sufficient.”

“You’re just being difficult now,” Marcia declared, exasperated.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “There are other considerations than just sex. Remember what I said about me seeing someone.”

“But you said you aren’t a couple, and you’d be free to do it.”

“Being free to do something doesn’t make me free from the consequences! Going to the South Side and yelling racial slurs is something I’m free to do; the residents there are free to beat the living shit out of me for doing that, and I’d deserve it.”

“You don’t use language the way most people do.”

“How so? I told you I could have sex with you if I wanted to, and that’s true. But it might also impact my relationship with the other young woman, and I have to take that into account.”

“So I’m totally wasting my time?”

“That would only be true if your sole goal in spending time with me is to convince me to go to bed with you.”

“I guess it seems like that to you, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I agreed as I pulled into the pub parking lot.

“I doubt you’ll answer this, but what do I have to do?”

“Back off and allow it to happen naturally. Let’s be friends and associates, and see where that leads. It’ll be far less frustrating!”

“Says a guy who appears to be getting laid regularly,” Marcia groused as we got out of the car.

“I’ve always been under the impression that if girls wanted to have sex, it was a lot easier for them than it is for most guys. Am I mistaken?”

“I have standards,” Marcia replied. “Most guys your age don’t.”

“And those standards limit your choice of partners so much that you don’t have one now?”

“I learned in college to be picky. It didn’t start out that way Freshman year. I mean, I didn’t sleep with every guy who was interested, but enough, and I figured it out by the end of the school year. I had two long-term boyfriends over the next five years. I broke up with my latest boyfriend in March. I’ve gone on dates, and to clubs and parties, but nobody interesting has come along until you.”

“You appear to have overcome your concern about my age,” I said, holding the door for her.

“One of my friends pointed out I’d be an idiot to reject you because you’re only nineteen; well, twenty, next month. She said that if you were how I described you, you weren’t a ‘frat boy’ and were far more mature than the college guys we’d dated. She also asked for your number!”

I laughed, “Sight unseen?”

The hostess directed us to a table and gave us menus, and the waitress took our order for a pitcher of beer.

“I described you,” Marcia said once the waitress left.

“So, you’d say she approves?”

“More like encouraged me!”

“To be honest, one of my concerns was you expressing the complete lack of approval from your friends. To me, that seems like a recipe for disaster. It would be the same if my friends didn’t like you.”

“Hang on! You wouldn’t date someone your friends didn’t like?”

“Asks the woman who was reluctant because of what she thought her friends would say! Honestly? Yes, because if you didn’t get along with my friends and they didn’t get along with you, I’d be forced to make a choice that I am not interested in making. If you have a problem with gays and lesbians, say something now, please.”

“I work for a Democratic Congressman!”

“So? Robert Byrd, the Senator from West Virginia, was a leader of the Ku Klux Klan, and is a Democrat. George Wallace is a Democrat and segregationist! I remember both of those from Civics class in High School. And you told me about the racist Chicago Aldermen who are all Democrats.”

“I’m curious, do you have any black friends?”

“No. There were almost no blacks in Goshen, and you know about Spurgeon. So, do you have a problem with gays or lesbians?”

“No.”

The waitress brought our pitcher of beer and took our orders for burgers, fries, and a basket of onion rings.

“I guess your point about friends makes sense now that I think about it,” Marcia said. “It would suck if there was a conflict like that.”

“Absolutely. I also have female friends, including Jeri. I know some girls can’t handle that, and that’s another bright line.”

“Are we negotiating?” Marcia asked.

“Always!” I chuckled. “Isn’t that pretty much the way it works? Guys do their best to figure out how to get the girl into bed. And, because I’m no sexist, I think girls do the same thing, though often their job is easier because, as we agreed, guys tend to be less picky about sex partners.”

“You?”

“It depends on the circumstances. I certainly haven’t been a monk living here in Chicago, and I’ve been, shall we say, free with my affections at times. But that’s not your question, really, and we’re right back to it again. Let’s talk about something else.”

We actually managed to get through the meal without talking about sex, and I concluded that I liked Marcia a lot, but as always happened now, I was comparing her to Huifen, with Bev always being in the back of my mind. I absolutely wanted to see Bev at Thanksgiving before I made any decisions. That meant, at least as I saw it, I shouldn’t go to bed with anyone new who had any expectations of a potential relationship. In the car, on the way home, I decided to try to explain that to Marcia.

“So,” she said, when I finished, “if I have this right, you’d consider going to bed with me if it was just a physical thing and I wasn’t interested in dating, but you won’t go to bed with me if I want to date in a serious way?”

“As goofy as that sounds, yes. Until I sort out my feelings about Bev, I’m kind of in a holding pattern. That’s the main reason I don’t have a steady girlfriend right now.”

“And if you decide you and Bev don’t belong together as a couple, does that mean you’ll ask your girlfriend here to be a couple?”

“It’s certainly an idea that is open to consideration.”

“So, I’m like, your third choice?”

“I can see why you would say that, but I think it’s a question of sorting out my feelings for Bev, and once I’ve done that, then I’ll consider what to do next. That’s exactly why I’m in the situation I’m in. I’m sorry if it makes you feel bad, but I didn’t want to lie to you or mislead you.”

“And there’s apparently nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you,” I said. “I just can’t start any kind of relationship until I sort things out with Bev without it feeling as if I’m leading someone on.”

“Sadly, that makes sense and makes you a good guy.”

“It’s up to you if you want to see me again or not,” I replied. “Well, we’ll see each other at Jeri’s for dinner in two weeks, either way.”

“I take it you’re OK with me saying I want to think about it?”

“I’ll be your friend no matter what, so of course it’s OK.”

“Thanks.”

October 2, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday I attended the last of the day-long Series 3 licensing classes, with the afternoon spent on taking two different practice tests, both of which I easily passed. That made me extremely confident I’d pass the actual exam, which I’d take in about two weeks. I declined an offer to go out with Melissa, Gary, and Leo, as I was having dinner with Lily, and drove back into the city.

“Hi!” Lily exclaimed when she opened the door for me.

“Hi!”

She gave me a hug and a quick kiss, then let me into the house.

“The food smells great!” I said.

“Broiled chicken, mashed potatoes, and homemade bread!”

“Awesome,” I said.

“And for dessert,” she said, picking up a jar of fudge, “chocolate covered Lily!”

“Delicious and fun!” I grinned.

“And I think I’ll have a chocolate covered banana!” she giggled. “With delicious crème filling!”

“And dessert first would ruin dinner, wouldn’t it?”

“Unfortunately! If you want a Coke or Sprite, there are bottles in the fridge. The opener is in the drawer to the left of the fridge. I’ll have a Sprite.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I got myself a bottle of Coke and a bottle of Sprite for Lily.

“How’s the new renter?”

“He pretty much minds his own business and pays his rent on time. He’s absolutely not as interesting as the previous renter!”

“Costas told me he’d been here for dinner. That’s a good thing. Any chance he’ll be able to bring Trevor with him?”

“I’m working on Mom. Did you have any Tylenol in your house?”

“Bianca and Shelly had a bottle,” I replied. “They tossed it. You?”

“Yes. It’s scary because nobody knows how it happened!”

“I’m sure the police and FBI will figure it out.”

“Would you ever take Tylenol again in the future?”

“I’ve never taken anything but aspirin. But I think any drug that comes in those capsules that can be opened, emptied, and refilled would be a problem. Somebody is going to have to figure out some kind of security method.”

“Did you have stock in the company that makes it?”

“Johnson & Johnson? Yes. But I didn’t sell. In fact, I bought more after it crashed.”

“Wow! Why?”

“I don’t think J&J did it,” I replied. “So the worst case is they rebrand it. It’s just acetaminophen, or what they call paracetamol, in Europe. So they give it a new Brand name and move on, though with some security measures to make what happened more difficult. The fact that they issued a recall on every bottle of Tylenol capsules was brilliant and offering free replacements with tablets was a gutsy move, and I think it’ll pay off.”

“And you’ll make a lot of money, right?”

“If the stock recovers the way I think it will, yes.”

“Cool! How was your class?”

“Good. We took two practice exams this afternoon, and I scored much better than the minimum I need to pass, so I’m confident.”

“And then you’ll get your promotion?”

“That’s up to Mr. Matheson, and I suspect the earliest would be sometime next year, and maybe even two years. It’s possible it’ll be sooner, but I’m not counting on that. My next step is to study for and take the Series 7 exam. The two licenses will let me do anything except sell real estate and insurance products, and I have no interest in either of those.”

“That’s so cool! Dinner is ready, so will you help me get it on the table?”

I did, and we sat down to eat. The food was delicious, and I didn’t need to save room for dessert, because while it might be high in calories, it wouldn’t be filling. Well, I’d be filling Lily, but not with food! When we finished eating, we cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes, then Lily warmed up the fudge, making sure it didn’t get too hot.

“You know what?” she asked.

“What?”

“It’ll work better if I shave! Or if you shave me!”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive! If I don’t like it, it’ll grow back. And without hair, it’ll be perfectly smooth for the fudge!”

“I hope you don’t want me to shave.”

“There’s no hair where I’m going to put the fudge!” she smirked. “Well, there is on your sack, but I totally understand if you don’t want to shave.”

“I’d prefer to keep sharp objects away from that part of my body!”

“Come upstairs with me!”

We went up to Lily’s bathroom, and she quickly stripped, sat on the sink counter and leaned back so I could, following her instructions, carefully shave away her pubic hair. When I finished, she had me use a washcloth to wipe away any remnants of the shaving gel, and then we went to her room where I stripped, then again following her instructions, put warm fudge on her nipples and mons, and enthusiastically licked and sucked until I’d removed every drop of fudge.

Lily was so turned on, and I was hard as a rock, so we had a very energetic screw before switching roles, with Lily coating my dick with warm fudge and licking and sucking until she’d removed every bit of it and I’d cum hard into her mouth. When she released me, she winked, spread fudge on her lips, then French kissed me. I was happy she’d swallowed, but the fudge would have masked the taste and texture of cum if she hadn’t.

“That was awesome!” she exclaimed as we cuddled. “Round two as soon as you recover?”

“Same thing?”

“Yes! And then a third round!”

“I’m happy to oblige!”

October 3, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

By Sunday morning, it had been four times, though the fourth time was before breakfast. Fortunately, I’d had a reasonable amount of sleep, so I wouldn’t be too tired when my friends joined us for the afternoon, or for Huifen, if she wanted to fool around, which was usually a given.