Chapter 33

THEY DID A 50S RETRO SOCK HOP in the gym for a mixer. It went about like sock hops did in the 50s, if Happy Days was genuine. The guys sort of lined up on one side and the girls on the other and nobody hit the dance floor. At least I was thankful I had clean socks in my gym bag. The fact that they were bright white made me look hip in this environment. Black jeans and a black t-shirt made me look like the local bad-guy. Hello Fonzie. I headed over to the snacks and drinks table to get myself a Coke.

“So y’all the fella on the poster?” drawled a sweet voice beside me.

I turned to look and then looked up. The eyes I was searching for were at least three inches above mine. They were so dark brown they looked black. Her skin tone was dark tan and she had a ton of black straight hair tied up in a knot on top of her head so that it gave her another two inches over me. She was thin as a rail and if it hadn’t been for the slight but obvious breasts and flare of her hips, I might have thought she was a guy at first. But her voice was soft and heavenly. I love a southern drawl, Miss Scarlett.

“Hi,” I said, always quick with a clever response. “I’m Tony. If you are referring to the racquetball poster, then yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Whitney,” she said. There was a softness to the i-sound that just sucked me in.

“Nice to meet you. Can I get you a Coke?”

“They got fizzy water? I don’t do caffeine or sugar.”

I rummaged around in the ice bucket until I came up with a can of sparkling water.

“Is this what you’d like? It’s lemon flavored.”

“It’ll do. Would you mind opening it? I don’t want to break a nail before the first day is over.”

She reached to take the open can from me and I handed her a plastic cup as well. As she poured her drink, I noticed that her nails were all perfect in length and had as much paint on them as one of my canvasses. There was a pink undercoat with blue tips and a silver swirl painted over the top.

“That’s a beautiful manicure,” I said. “I’m glad I took the bullet and was the one to break a nail on the can.”

“Did you? I’m sorry. And thanks.”

“I was kidding. About the broken nail, not about the manicure. Where are you from, Whitney?”

“The Louisiana Bayou,” she said. “I’d pick your accent as being Middle America. Iowa, Missouri, Nebraska, Kansas. Close?”

“Dead on. How’d you know?”

“I’m planning to study Linguistics. I listen to how people talk.” I chortled a little. “You laughin’ at my accent?”

“It just took me by surprise. I love your accent.”

“I could change it if you’d prefer something closer to home,” she said. I was dumbfounded. There was no trace of the Louisiana accent of just a minute ago.

“Wait. Are you fooling with me? Where are you really from?”

“Really, Louisiana. But I listen to people and can copy almost any accent. I like my own most of the time, though.”

“I do, too,” I said enthusiastically. “It’s cool.”

A bouncing bubble of blonde mirth came into view and in a moment was looking up at me.

“Tony! I’m glad you came to the mixer. Rick said he thought you were anti-social and wouldn’t be here,” Rio said. “Hi. I’m Rio,” she said turning to Whitney.

“I’m Whitney,” sniffed the tall girl. There was not a trace of any accent in her voice that I could identify. Uh-oh. These girls were on a collision course.

“Tony, do they have any 7-Up in there?” Rio asked. I turned my back to paw through the ice again and came up with a can of 7-Up. I opened it and poured the contents into a plastic cup for her while trying to listen to the whispered conversation between the two girls. I couldn’t make out a word, but when I turned, they were both looking at me with smiles pasted on their faces. I handed Rio her drink.

“I was about to ask Tony how a freshman can already be an Intercollegiate racquetball champion. You saw the posters, didn’t you, Rio?” Whitney asked. Whatever had passed between the two had apparently left Whitney confident because the full accent was back.

“I wondered about that, too, Tony,” Rio said.

“Well, without going into too much of a story, I’m technically a freshman with sophomore standing.”

“You transfer?”

“No. I’m double enrolled. I did last year at Pacific College of the Arts and Design and this year I’m mostly at SCU but have a class at PCAD, too. I’ve got my freshman requirements all complete, but it’s my first year here. I competed in the championships last April under a new joint enrollment agreement between the two schools.”

“You mean that was all real? Rick said that there was no such thing as a double degree program and figured you just transferred,” Rio said.

“Who’s Rick?” Whitney asked.

“He’s our cohort’s mentor,” I said. “He can’t help it if he hasn’t been told about the new program. I’d guess that the eight of us from PCAD are the only ones in this room who know about the program. And I’m not sure if the other seven are even here tonight.”

“Well, I came over here to find out if you dance as well as you play racquetball. Come on. Nobody’s dancing,” Whitney said.

“Aw...” Rio complained as Whitney grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the front of the gymnasium.

“Oh, come on,” Whitney said, waving to Rio. “Bet you never had two girls on your arm at once,” she smirked.

If she only knew.

“I politely walked them to their dormitory and said, ‘Goodnight.’ That’s all,” I said.

“Aw. No goodnight kisses? No passes?” Melody whined.

“You, little devil, know I would never do that,” I said, tickling her.

“Variety is the spice of life,” Lissa quoted. “So I’ve heard. I certainly enjoyed sucking Beth’s clit, though, of course, I’d never trade either of you for her.”

“True,” I said, “but let’s not forget that we were all together when you did that. I will never just step out on you.”

“I love you, Tony,” Lissa said. “But why don’t you pretend I’m that tall skinny Cajun girl and show me what you could have done to her?”

I got the hint and while Melody occupied Lissa’s mouth with her own and then progressed to the nipples she so loved to suck, I dove into Lissa’s hairless mound and began licking. Is it still called muff-diving if there’s no fur? Oh, what the fuck!

“You’d want that Rio on her hands and knees, wouldn’t you, baby?” Melody asked, waggling her ass in the air. “You’d want to hang onto her love handles and push against her soft buns. Oh, like that, Tony!” she screamed as I entered her.

“Coffee?” Lissa asked plaintively after I’d finished emptying myself into her the next morning and we’d caught our breath. Melody was in front of Lissa and I was shrinking out from the back. The two kissed.

“The two of you are like ten of anyone else,” I said.

“You’re sure?” Lissa asked. I decided not to answer that one.

I padded to the kitchen and before I had the first cup of coffee brewed, the boys had come sleepily in from their bedroom.

“Why so early, guys?” I asked.

“Miss you, Tony,” Damon said. “You weren’t here to read last night.”

“Oh, buddy, you know I wish I was. Being out last night was more trouble than it was worth. I miss you, too.”

“Read a story, Tony.”

“Sure, kiddo,” I said. “Let me take Mommy and Meddy their coffee and then we’ll have a story just for us guys. Okay?”