Chapter 2

'Uh, Mr. Taylor?' He was standing at the door, looking nervous. The new guy, third floor front. I was feeling pretty good. I'd put in an hour at the gym, first time for a while, and my body didn't like that much, but the first beer of the day had hit the spot and Stevie Ray Vaughan was doing incredible things with a guitar.

'Doug. No mistering in this house. Whaddya need, Nick? No need to stand in the doorway: you been here a while, you'll discover I'm easy, long as the rent's on time.' He flushed scarlet.

'Uh, that was it, actually. I wanted to show you this, and I don't really want to ask my folks; this is costing them a bunch of money already.' He meant college. He handed me an official-looking letter. I looked at him suspiciously, then scanned the half-page of jargon-filled crap. Long and short of it was that his State funding was gonna be ten days late because a bunch of pissants had decided to go on strike. Sorry for the inconvenience, etcetera. People nowadays plain won't work. I glanced up at him.

He was one of the ones who'd had his parents with him when he viewed the room. Shy boy, looked like a good gust of wind would knock him over. His Mom and Dad ordinary folk, proud as hell that their son had made it to a good school; if he qualified for funding then they were probably not rolling in the long green. I checked the letter again closely. Seal looked right, raised letterhead at the top. He was definitely going to be late with the money. I did sums in my head. OK, just this once.

The house is big enough for five renters, and five renters is a nice piece of monthly change when you collect, but big old houses have big old yards and big old maintenance costs, and hired help isn't for the simple chores.

'Yard work this weekend, Nick, you lemme see the check when it arrives. Good enough?' Save me having to do it, I thought, feeling pleased. 'You know how to rake leaves?' He nodded anxiously, then realized I'd made a joke, smiled in a relieved way.

'Yessir, Mr. Taylor.' Polite kid.

'Call me Doug or I throw your ass out now. Say it.' He gulped.

'Uh, yes ... Doug.' Good enough for a first try. He fled and I settled back down on the couch. College is a mixed experience. I learnt to enjoy reading, iron shirts, polish my social skills, drink beer, discover the joys of grass; made me kinda sloppy mouthed though. The polite High School kid who'd arrived pretty soon turned into a guy who cussed up a storm without realizing it. I guess that shows some, even just telling the story. Poor ol' Nick was still in his first week though, bewildered, feeling like an ignorant jerk, trying to act like an adult. I been there too, and I almost felt sorry for the kid.

After a while I got up and looked out of my big bay window. When I bought the house I remodeled the first floor to make a nice apartment for myself, closed the hallway, except for my door and the staircase; upstairs was the original six bed floorplan, except I put in an extra full bath and a utility kitchen where the sixth bed used to be. Way too much effort, but it works pretty good, and I got an income, privacy, the nicest rooms, and a big bay window to stand in and think and watch the world go by. I thought back to my first year here, in this very town. Shit, don't time fly?

Julie Anderson had howled and cried and carried on like an unmilked cow when the time came for me to leave. Turned out she was dreaming of engagement and marriage and babies and a lot of stuff that plain didn't interest me, so the last week was kinda stressful. More stressful, because I'd spent the summer goofing off and doing as little as possible, and my body was slack and my mind was pure putty. No way my gift was going to work until I straightened out. But hell, Julie was happy to blow me regularly, long as I returned the favor, and I plain wasn't willing to get off my ass just to give her a soft landing.

Being a slacker has a downside though, and I felt kinda bad as the Valiant rolled along the Interstate. Mom was pretty pissed at me: Julie had gone so far as to catch her one weekend, sob and whimper, tell her what a cruel jerk I was, how I'd ruined her rep and a lot more stuff that plain wasn't true; what the hell: she wasn't pregnant, but Mom had told Dad and ... you know how it goes. So I left home unescorted, and, tell the truth, a little nervous.

First month was pure hell. Biggest town I ever seen, most people ditto, new schedules, new guys to impress, new girls to check out and be too shy to approach, new economic problems, way too much schoolwork: Julie and babies almost began to seem like an attractive option. Truth was, I felt like a fuckin' hick, way outa my depth. Finally, reluctantly, I realized I wasn't gonna cut it unless I made an effort. Bummer.

'Gotta do something, ' I said out loud. My roommate looked up from his book.

'You say something, dude?'

'Gotta do something, or I'm gonna be overwhelmed by all this shit. There a gym round here?' He looked at me strangely.

'Dude, this is a college. Of course there's a fuckin' gym. In fact there's two. There's a library as well: you found that yet?' I heaved myself off my bed, looked for my shoes. Smart-ass, but a good guy: little too serious for my taste, but hell, most people are. So what? What I needed now was to think what I wanted. Some pussy, of course. That was a given: I was getting a sore wrist already. I needed to keep my grades up too, least till I figured out how to live easy without too much work.

'Which one's closest?' He looked at me strangely again.

'Dude, you are a piece of work. The closest one is the one that's closest.'

The second month was miserable too. I made myself work out, hated it; found the library, started hitting the books, hated it. Only good part was deciding which particular pussy to dream about. Hell, I thought: it worked with Patty, it'll work again. Plan for success.

By Christmas my body had firmed up some and I was getting B's, the occasional A. I was also going outa my skull. I'd fixed on a sophomore girl I saw in the library occasionally: mostly to see if the ability could cut it; way outa my league really, but the cutest little thing you ever did see. Short red hair, long slim legs, handy-sized set upstairs, big smile, pair of green eyes looked like she could get real physical if she wanted to. She didn't seem to date much. I managed to find out that her name was Judy Olsen. I thought about her a lot, but it never got quite vivid enough, so I took a deep breath and stopped masturbating. Bummer.

Like I said: outa my skull. On the other hand, the first three lines on my secret activity graph were moving upwards in synch. The fourth one, quality time with Judy, didn't exist yet, but I left space for it, kinda hopeful. If things hadn't improved overall I might have given up, but it seemed like my life was on an upswing. I did my best to keep up the gym time and the library time, and mostly I managed. Four days out of seven anyway. Hated it though.

College is pretty cool once you find your rhythm. I wasn't gonna make the dean's list, but I was up where I wanted to be, and I was discovering how to read stuff for pleasure as well as information. I wasn't totally buff either, but my extra twenty pounds had moved back up to my chest and arms and I looked a helluva lot better for it. I'd plotted Judy's library schedule and was trying to match it, sitting in her line of sight and keeping my head down, running through the conversations we might have.

You want to be an ace slacker, you gotta be realistic. Most of me hated all the shit I was putting myself through, but there was one small part that remembered this was a means to an end, not a lifestyle choice. A little patience and some short term pain was going to pay off if I did it right. That kept my bitching down to a private minimum.

Social life. Well, yeah: the fact of the matter is, third week of January I managed to get laid. Not Judy, hell, that woulda been too corny, but a lot better than nothing. A sign that the effort was beginning to pay back. 'Bout fuckin' time too.

She worked in the head shop that all college towns have, fitted the ambience like a hand in a glove. Old-fashioned hippy look, though she couldn't have been a real hippy, ever; twenty-something, ash blonde and way skinny, looked as if she needed a month of feeding up, but she had something. I didn't stop imagining Judy's eyes fixed lovingly on mine as she removed her clothes, but I took to browsing the shop occasionally, flicking through the Freak Brothers back issues while I checked blondie out.

Third week of January. I'd done the gym and the books, was on my way for a pizza when I stopped in there. Nearly closing time, and she was alone. Usually there was a genuine old hippy there as well, wanting to impress with his tales of Woodstock or some such shit, but today he wasn't about. I moved to the racks of comics, picked one at random. Fat Freddy's fucking cat had crapped in his shoe again, and I pretended to read and snicker while I watched her. She looked kinda impatient.

'You gonna buy anythin' or what?' I looked up, for the first time in months felt a soft click in my head. Way to go.

'Buy you a pizza, you want one. Every time I see you I get the urge to feed you.' She stared for a moment, then smiled.

'Good line. How come you're always in here and never buy anythin'?'

'Waitin' for my chance. Plus, it's kinda nice. Makes a change from the dam' college library. You like anchovies? Me, I can take 'em or leave them alone, but some folks plain can't handle them. Give you a hand with the shutters if you like.' She stared again.

'You coming on to me? I'm old enough ta be your goddam mother.' Click.

'Not unless you were a child bride, and then some. Sister, mebbe, you wanna be kinky. Us country boys, we know all about that sorta stuff.' She shook her head and looked at me quizzically, then cracked a smile. She looked like a tough lady with a dirty mouth and a soft spot ready to be massaged: I reckoned the experience could be a good one.

'You gotta better way with you than a lotta the dumb-ass kids come in here. No anchovies, shutters wind down real easy. I'm Annie. Who are you, country boy?'

'What was that crack about feedin' me?' she asked when the first slices had been dealt with. 'You callin' me skinny?' Click.

'Hell, Annie, slim is what I'd say, but you gotta kind of a hungry look about you. Tell the truth, buyin' you dinner was the plan all along, but I guess I tried to dress it up a tad too fancy.' Her eyes softened a little.

'Nice thing to say, but hell, you were right: skinny's where I am. I eat like two horses and I drink those dam' protein messes the goddam gym rats use and nothin' happens. I was a skinny kid and now I'm a skinny woman and I guess I'll be a skinny old lady pretty soon.'

'That day's a long way off. Howd'ya get to sell bongs and incense for a living?' She shrugged.

'You seen my Dad. Last of the fuckin' hippies. Hell, time's passed him by and what else can he do? I was born a hippy and raised a hippy and I don't much mind. Better than workin' in a goddam office.' Woman after my own heart. I gestured at the remains of the pizza.

'You want the last slice? And then brownies?' She rolled her eyes.

'I've died and gone to fuckin' heaven. How old did you say you were?' Click.

'Nineteen and working on it.' She raised her glass to me.

'And a dam' fine job you're doin' too. You planning on walkin' me home?' I shook my head, tried to grin boyishly.

'My Mom raised me real good, Annie. I was gonna say why not hit a movie and then see if you want me to walk you home.' Her eyes changed just enough that I knew getting physical was right there on the cards.

'Fuck the movie. You can walk me home now, we'll have an early nightcap. Dad's at a Deadheads' reunion all week, why I gotta look after the shop by myself.'

'Whaddabout your Mom?' She shrugged.

'Hippied off somewhere when I was seven. Dad raised me after that.' Click.

'Man did a helluva job. You want another brownie, keep your strength up?' She giggled like a teenager.

'You are a piece of fuckin' work. Howd'ya get to be so smart?'

'I read a lot.' She snickered again.

'Not the dam' Freak Brothers, that's for sure. You're gonna be dangerous one day.' She wiped her mouth and drained her coke. 'C'mon then. Nightcap time.' It was only about seven o'clock but I wasn't gonna argue and we left. All I could think, the clicks were there again and I was gonna get laid, just like I wanted. Not my first choice, but not a total stranger either. I'd need to figure this out some when I had the time.

In January this town's colder than a welldigger's ass, and we had to hurry to keep our blood moving. Turned out she and her dad lived above the shop in a second floor apartment, looked like nineteen sixty-eight. Pictures of the Maharishi and everything. I gazed round the room in amazement.

'Wow. Makes me wanna go pluck a guitar with my teeth.' She smiled lopsidedly and nodded.

'Dad's true to his dream, I guess. Gimme your coat and go sit on the couch. I'll get the nightcap.' When she came back she'd changed and was wearing one of those floaty hippy dresses you can almost see through. No trace of underwear though, not even almost. She was carrying a small bong.

'You ever done weed?' I shook my head.

'I start chokin', you gotta promise to help me.' She sat on the couch beside me and crossed her legs under her. The neck of the dress was way loose, I could see her tiny breasts clearly. Her nipples looked to be hard and thick.

'Bongs are pretty good. Ice in this one, so the smoke's chilled; you don't take too much you won't choke. Results are fuckin' ace too. You sure you wanna do it?' Click.

'New experiences is what college is all about. Besides, I plan to major in laid-back and easy.' She reached up and ruffled my hair.

'You're doin' OK.' She plucked a Zippo out of somewhere and fired up.

Well, shit. You might say that Annie was a key part of my downfall. I read somewhere, your first drug experience is a good one, then the odds on carrying on go up by ten million percent or something. Guess they're right: Annie made mine better than good.

Three hits each, small ones for me, and the bong was finished. She set it down, got up and went over to a music centre, only modern thing in the room. Don't know what she put on: Pink Floyd, maybe, but I for sure can't remember now. She came back to the couch, settled herself comfortably, her head on my shoulder.

'Listen, and let it come onto you.' I sat and did as she said, listening to the music, real aware of her slight weight leaning against me. In a while I began to feel kinda different. More relaxed, more sensitive, wanting to express deep thoughts that seemed to make a lot of deep sense. Pure crap of course, but luckily I was too interested in something else to express them.

I felt horny. Hell, not just horny, jumping outa my skin. Wanting to stick my cock into something soft, even if it was a slice of apple pie. I could smell Annie's hippy scent and something else underneath it, and when I sneaked a peek at her I could see that her breath was kinda rapid, her thin chest rising and falling fast under the flimsy dress. Click.

'Mind if I hold you some, try to keep in touch with reality? I feel like I need some kinda human contact.' She opened her eyes slowly and I could see they were huge and slightly bloodshot. She smiled and smothered a giggle.

'Fuckin' Oregon grass. Always hits me like a truck. You know what I wanna do?' I was stoned, but I didn't know it, so I just waited. She began to laugh again. 'Hell, Doug, you're so sweet: hold me as much as you fuckin' like.' She shifted slightly and somehow we were pressed together on the old hippy couch, our bodies molded against each other, noses almost touching. I could feel her skin, fever hot under the thin material of the dress, so I let my hands wander down her back, checking and probing, fascinated by the sensations floating through my fingers. No underwear sensations, I noted fuzzily. Her own hands were roaming too and although it seemed hours before they dropped to my ass and crotch it was probably only minutes. She pulled me close against her, pushing herself into my groin, peeked up.

'Whaddya got in there that won't lay still and chill out?'

'I was kinda thinkin' about how good you feel and smell and all, and it just sorta happened. This stuff always have that kinda effect?' She nodded, still smiling up at me.

'If you're with the right person. You planned for this, didn't you?' I squinted down at her and tried to look sincere.

'First time I came into the shop I noticed you.' She looked pleased and chewed my ear some, then swung herself upright.

'Weed always takes me like that too. I'm gonna go lay down, hope I get some human contact before too fuckin' long.' She floated delicately across the room, the dress rippling round her, and I was right behind, floating kinda clumsy, but definitely floating.

In her bedroom she watched me undress with hungry eyes and when I crawled in beside her she reached down and grasped my cock firmly.

'Looks kinda painful. I deal with it for you, what you gonna do for me?'

'This.' I curled my tongue out and rubbed the tip over the end of my nose and she dropped my cock and sat up.

'Do that again.' I obeyed, and a big grin spread over her face.

'Looks like I for sure got lucky. You a strong boy?' Click.

'And cheerful and thrifty and reverent. Eagle Scout with attitude.' That started us both giggling again and we lay laughing with each other while the weed sang through our veins and our hands carried on exploring.