Chapter 5: Labor Day, 1990

It had been a slow process, deciding we liked each other, the first kiss, proving our mutual trust, sleeping in the same bed, deciding what we meant by love and finally professing our love for each other.

Once Shirley proclaimed that she loved me she set out to prove it. The golf glove came off that Saturday night in the hotel and her sex-spigot turned on.

"You weren't kidding about liking sex, were you?" I asked after our second time.

She spread a clean towel on the bed and got back in beside me.

"Please don't tease me about it, but yes, I love sharing sex with someone who loves me."

"I notice you refer to it as sharing sex, not making love."

"We made love the first time. You were gentle and waited for me to respond to your caresses. The second time was... wow... it was raw and... I guess you could call it pure fucking."

"Which do you prefer, making love or... the other?"

Shirley laughed. "You can say the word, can't you? I said it," she teased.

"You must find it easy to talk in the dark; I don't. It's all right for the girl to talk that way, but if I say it you'll accuse me of being vulgar."

"No, I won't. I love you. Nothing you say could ever offend me. Ask the same question again, only this time, use the word."

"We made love and then we fucked. From the way you bit my shoulder it would seem you liked getting fucked best. Am I right?"

I felt her whole body shake. "Now you're being vulgar. Just for that you deserve a sore shoulder."

"Did I offend you?"

Shirley eased her body upward and softly bit my lips. "Both ways are an expression of our love for each other. Making love is a testimonial to our feelings. Fucking is taking care of each other. You take care of my needs and I take care of yours. I bit your shoulder to keep from screaming, 'FUCK ME!'"

"Are you blushing right now?"

"No," she whispered, biting my lip again, harder than before.

"You are, aren't you?

"Yes," she whispered and swallowed the cherry, devouring my lips.

"Does this mean you have no reservations about living with me in the apartment?"

Shirley lifted herself above me and stared down in the dark.

"How could I have reservations after discovering how great we are together? How could I stay away from you? We'll move my things tomorrow," she said, decisively.

"I'm so fucking lucky," I declared.

"You're not just lucky. You're fucking good!" she giggled.

We had to change the towel again. I don't know what time it was but I woke up feeling her hand around my cock. She was running the head up and down her slit.

Her pussy was already moist and one of her long legs was wrapped around my waist, her heel digging into my ass.

The next morning she claimed that she had been asleep and only woke up when she felt me inside her.

"You had me inside you before I woke up," I argued.

"I did not. I woke up to find you on top of me."

"Shirley, you complained when I told you to wait until I got a condom."

"I didn't," she giggled, blushing and trading kisses with me.

"You were in such a hurry that you tried to help me put the condom on."

"NO!" she practically shouted, disbelieving.

"Don't you remember saying you wanted to be on top?"

"NO! I woke up and you were fucking me. Don't try to tell me otherwise."

"Well, you sure didn't complain," I laughed, having given up getting her to believe it was she who had initiated our middle-of-the-night lovemaking.

We ordered breakfast in the room, and all the time we were eating, Shirley made various arguments, denying that she had gotten my cock hard and inserted into her pussy before I woke up and warned her that we needed a condom.

After breakfast we used a fourth condom, showered, left the housekeeper a huge tip and walked out of the hotel joined at the hip.

We were still giddy when we got to the stairway leading to the apartment.

Shirley stood on the first step and put her hand on my chest. "Promise me you'll behave. Don't overreact. Let me talk to her."

"I'm not going to overreact. The apartment is too small for four people. Inviting them to live with us was my mistake. I'll make the best of things," I said to appease her, knowing she could see through me. I was seething inside.

"Do you promise to be good?"

"Yes, dear," I said, attempting a smile. She kissed me before dashing up the stairs.

The apartment was quiet and the mess we had witnessed in the kitchen had been picked up.

Thinking Charlie and Angie were still asleep, we tiptoed to our bedroom door, which was open. Shirley took one look inside and leaped into my arms but not before we heard the shriek.

"Don't you knock?" Angie asked as she ran past us, dressed in low-slung panties and nothing more. Charlie, wearing shorts, followed her with a sheepish grin on his face.

Two of the three chairs were next to the computer where a game of solitaire was in progress on the screen.

Shirley held me in a rocking motion and stoked my back, willing me to remain calm. "You go for a walk while I talk to her," she said.

"Charlie, put some pants on. We're going for a walk," I yelled in the direction of the other bedroom door.

I waited for Charlie at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what I was going to say. He hadn't really done anything wrong. I had invited him and Angie to share the apartment without first giving them a set of ground rules. It was my apartment. I had signed the lease and written a check for the rent. Nothing had been stipulated about their responsibility, financial or otherwise. No limits had been set on how they could use the place.

The thing that was really delicate was Shirley's status. While I didn't expect her to contribute to the living expenses, it would seem unfair to point out that Charlie and Angie were receiving a free ride unless Shirley was also assessed something for her keep.

Why did life have to be so complicated? Charlie was my friend from Cromwell and we had roomed together the last half of our freshman year at Pontiac. I liked having him around, even if Angie came along as part of the bargain. Anyway, I couldn't kick either of them out. All the dorm rooms were full and the possibility of them finding a place to live in the town was remote.

I wasn't sure what Angie's financial status was but I was certain Charlie couldn't afford to pay more than a dorm room would cost. As far as I knew, his old man was using the excuse that Pontiac College was too expensive and Sheila was paying all the costs for his education.

"I'm sorry about everything, Sammy," Charlie said as soon as he came down the stairs. He was wearing short pants, a T-shirt and sneakers, quite a contrast from my jacket and tie.

This was going easier than I'd expected. Maybe I wouldn't have to remind him that my name was on the lease and it was my apartment.

"I have a confession," he said, looking at the ground, boring the toe of one sneaker into the hot asphalt.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Charlie. I know it wasn't all your idea. Hell, none of it may have been your idea. I'm a little disappointed that you went along with it though."

"I'm not talking about any of that," he said, swinging his head upward, toward the apartment. "There's something I've got to tell you. It's been bothering me since last summer when it began."

"Last summer?" I asked, beginning to walk toward Crescent Street where Kent and Skip had taken the apartment.

"It just happened. We dated a few times, casual like, you know."

"What are you talking about? Will you get to the fucking point?"

He stopped walking and looked at me, stubbing his toe and looking nervous, making me feel bad for being impatient with him.

"Deborah Simmons. We've been fucking."

I roared. "Why are you telling me this? I don't care about Deborah. How was it?"

He looked relieved. "I thought you would be pissed. She always asks how you are."

"Charlie, I had a crush on her when we were in the ninth grade. It was forgotten before I came back to Cromwell for my junior year. You know we never got together. So, how was it?"

Charlie grinned. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Sammy. I said last summer, but I should have said ALL last summer. We did it a lot."

I laughed and slapped him on the arm. "You say she asks about me?"

"Well, not so much," he said, grinning widely.

"What did you say to Angie?"

"I didn't say anything but I think she knows. That may be the reason she's been so... cranky."

"You should tell her," I counseled him. If Angie became angry and moved out it would solve a lot of problems. Hell, she could move in with Tammy. But who was I to tell him Angie deserved to know he had slept with Deborah Simmons? I guarded my sexual encounter with his mother as if it were a life or death matter. That was one of two past experiences I hadn't even shared with Shirley.

"I plan to tell her if she asks. She's bound to find out when I get the first letter from Deborah."

"I've always found that full disclosure is the best policy. It's better to tell them than let them find out on their own," I said. Damn, what if I talk about Sheila in my sleep and Shirley asks who she is? I don't talk in my sleep, do I? Damn!

Charlie didn't say if he was going to follow my advice and I didn't really care what he did. Nor did he answer my question but it must have been good if they screwed ALL summer.

"We shouldn't have eaten your Chinese food," he said, changing the subject.

"I didn't give a shit about that, Charlie but you shouldn't have helped yourself to my wine without asking. Those two cases have to last me until Thanksgiving."

He didn't comment and I could almost tell that it had been Angie's idea to open the wine.

"I shouldn't have let her move your computer," he offered.

"Fucking right, you shouldn't have. I've got study-desks on order for the space in the bedroom. I put the computer in the front room so you guys can use it without going into our bedroom and I put the footlocker there because there isn't room for it in the bedroom. I know Miss Decorator Queen thinks it's unfashionable to have a footlocker in the front room, but we're college kids, not trendy connoisseurs."

"I'll move everything back where you had it," he offered.

"Am I going to have to lock the wine in my footlocker?" I asked.

Charlie just shook his head and grinned, probably because he remembered the lock's combination anyway. I hadn't changed the lock since we were freshmen, even after my sister learned the combination and stole money from me.

We found the house where Kent and Skip's apartment was located but didn't knock on the door. Instead, we headed back to our apartment.

I was feeling relieved that I hadn't had to mention that I was paying the entire tab for our living arrangements. He had to spoil it.

"I'll pay my share. Just tell me how much I owe," he offered.

"Okay," I said, having no intention of accepting any money from him. I certainly wasn't going to let him pay Angie's share.

"Did you and Angie get together during the summer?"

Charlie and I had been friends since our freshman year at Cromwell when we were the new kids in room Three C and formed an alliance to defend ourselves from our older roommates. I thought I had seen every means of self-expression that Charlie possessed but this was a new one. His shoulders slouched in a who-gives-a-shit shrug while his lips pursed, knowingly determined.

"Why do you think she's so horny?" he asked, grinning. "I visited her one weekend but her mom made us sleep on different floors of the house. She wanted to come to my house but I told her I had to work," he said, relaxing his shoulders, defiantly.

"Did you really have to work?"

The shrug returned to his shoulders as he grinned at me. "I worked for my dad at the station. He let me set my own hours so my schedule was flexible."

"That sounds deceptive to me, Charlie," I said, putting him on the defensive.

"If I said I had to work I had to work," he argued, making me laugh.

"You were protecting what you had going with Deborah Simmons. I don't blame you," I admitted, remembering how she had occupied my thoughts the whole year after I first saw her.

"I've got to make sure I pick up my mail before Angie sees it," Charlie said, thoughtfully, like he was making a mental note to himself.

"You're walking a tight wire, Charlie." I said, secretly hoping he would fall off the wire and Angie would find out about Deborah. I had already given him the benefit of my own experience in such matters; full disclosure is always the best policy, even if it is painful to both parties.

"You won't tell her, will you?" he asked as we climbed the stairs to the apartment.

"My lips are sealed," I assured him. I wouldn't say anything to Angie but I couldn't wait to tell Shirley what I had just learned.

The two girls were in the kitchen, putting dishes away in the cabinet and talking quietly. Shirley looked at me, raised one eyebrow as if to say that everything was cool and then at Angie.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Angie said, sounding sincere.

I stood there, waiting for her to continue but she turned back to the sink.

"What are you sorry for, Angie?"

She turned back to me, nostrils flaring. "Look, I know you were some kind of Colonel or something at that military school and you're used to ordering people around but I'm not one of your..."

"Cadets?" I asked, trying to be helpful. "What are you sorry for?"

Angie, the girl I saved from being raped by my roommate wouldn't tell me why she was sorry. I tired of waiting for her to tell me and turned to see that the computer and my footlocker had been returned to the front room. Now I was the one to raise one eyebrow and smile at Shirley. She winked at me.