86 comments/ 192822 views/ 38 favorites The Prisoner of Glenda By: Salamis Chapter 1: A Friendship is established My name is Andrew Johnson. I grew up in South Philadelphia the oldest of two children. My father was a postal driver and my mother a stay at home mom. My story starts in my twelfth year when we moved into our first house. Like most of the homes in that part of town, that house was a small "row house" located in a very narrow street. At twelve years old my world was not much larger than that one block. It's funny, but as I travel back to the old neighborhood today the one thing that I notice immediately is the absence of trees and shrubs. Grey remains the dominant color. Down the street, only ten doors away, lived my grandmother and her own mother's home was just a few streets to the east. In my community, families tended to live close to one another. Members rarely moved away. This custom held regardless of the ethnicity of the neighbors. I was a rather shy kid and not one to make friends easily. I was also tall for my age and lanky. My height made me a target for every bully in the neighborhood. I had had a few fights a couple of years ago in my old block, just enough to establish myself in the pecking order. Therefore, I had grown unaccustomed to the violence that marked my age. In this new place, the process was starting over. My adversary was a boy called 'Tank'. He was half a full foot shorter than I was but made up for his height in bulk and bravado. I was called out one afternoon while coming back from the corner grocery. Unfortunately, for Tank he managed to break one of my packages during our introduction. That act infuriated me. I was facing big trouble from my mom for that damage. If I were going to pay then Tank would pay double. The fight was over quickly. I dispatched Tank with a left jab to the eye. He went down hard and stayed down. He was literally carried away by friends. I knew that there would be a rematch but I thought I would have a few weeks of relative peace. Tank had other ideas. He used his time to persuade four other boys to assist in his revenge. A week later, his gang jumped me on my way home from school. I was unprepared for the attack and would have gotten seriously hurt had not it been for the intervention of two other boys. I did not know their names; I had seen them only a few times. I only knew that they went to the local Catholic school. The smallest of the pair rushed in fists flailing and overcame two of my assailants single-handedly. His partner intervened when it was apparent that his friend was going to be hit from behind. I had never seen boys fight like that. They fought as a team and they were fearless. There was a calm confidence in their movements that dominated the fight. My attackers were beaten back and never challenged me again. Later we introduced ourselves. I thought they were brothers since they bore a strong resemblance to one other. The one who first came to my defense was Michael McCarthy his partner was Bradley Thomas. Both were my age and we soon developed a fast friendship. Michael was the most outgoing of our group. He had an easy manner, was quick to laugh and always had a ready joke or funny story to tell. He was also the most athletic. He knew everyone in the neighborhood and was liked by most; he was a natural leader. Brad, as he preferred to be called, was our negotiator. Where Michael genuinely enjoyed meeting people Brad enjoyed striking deals. Brad was the talker. He was the most adept at reading people, at sizing up situations quickly. If a situation posed any danger, Brad would alert us. He seemed to have a sixth sense about such things. Since Brad was an only child, we became his brothers. Neither Michael nor I had brothers. We both had younger sisters though his was much younger by seven years. My own sister was just two years younger than I was and she acted as if she were the older one. At the time we met, Michael had lost his father in a fire some six months prior. The absence of his father during the school year acted to restrict many of our activities; so the three of us became accustomed to hanging out at his house as he babysat for his sister or helped his mom with various chores. Much of the time at Michael's was devoted to reading and trading comic books or baseball cards. All of us were big comic book fans and by extension, avid readers. We graduated to short stories and adventure books with the help of Michael's mother who was an English teacher. Our reading kept us out of much of the mischief that was endemic to the neighborhood at that time. When that first summer arrived and Michael's mother was home our interests changed. Now that were free we played baseball from sunup to sundown. Most times, we played in the sandlot behind our street. Brad got permission from the manager of the container company that owned the lot to use it for our games, while Michael became the organizer of the teams. I was not a particularly good player but I was chosen on all teams where Michael was the captain; and Michael was always the captain. It was in this setting that Rueben Lopez joined our group the following summer. Rueben's was the only Puerto Rican family in the neighborhood. I had heard whispers from the adults in the block soon after they arrived. Being curious, we introduced ourselves to him. Rueben's love for baseball made us all instant friends. For his part, Rueben became very infatuated with my sister, so I never knew whether it was baseball or she that made us become friends. Years later, when he married my sister Debbie I thought I knew the answer to that question. I found that I could not be my normal introverted self around these boys. I was used to being the odd man out, but their outgoing natures carried me along. Michael had a habit of always drawing me into a conversation and Brad knew how to push me into meeting new people. Looking back, I can say that I met most of my other friends through them. For the next six years, we were inseparable. By our eighteenth birthdays, we were looking toward college. My grades were exceptional and so were those of my friends. Our sights were set high. Over the objections of our parents and some of our teachers Michael, Brad and I had applied to the University of Pennsylvania. We had spent the last six years as an unofficial study group. Even though I was in public school and they were in the catholic school we still shared notes and papers. I tutored Michael in math when he fell short and Michael tutored me in English. Brad was a science nut so he helped in those related subjects. This time together had paid off. Our SAT scores were all in the high 1400s. Rueben however, had a different plan. His dream was to become a military officer. Upon graduation, he became property of the U.S. government as a Marine recruit. He would eventually become a Captain in the Intelligence service. When we were accepted to the University, our parents were overjoyed. None of them had dared believe we could be admitted. Most of the kids I our neighborhood did not go on to college let alone an Ivy League school, so we became minor celebrities. Our timing had been perfect. The University was making an extra effort to recruit within the city and we were the beneficiaries of this change in policy. The policy reflected political pressures of the times. While there were scholarship funds coming our way we were also taking on a huge amount of debt. In my case, that debt was actually larger than my parent's mortgage. My parents were horrified at the prospect but I was undaunted. Given our close friendship made it a foregone conclusion that we would become roommates. In late August of 1978, we moved into a two-bedroom suite in one of the new high rise dormitories. Our apartment was located on the 13th floor of a 24-floor story tower. Having lost a coin toss Michael got the smaller bedroom to himself while Brad and I were sharing the larger one. This was my first real venture outside the neighborhood. I had passed through the University's sprawling campus many times while riding the bus, and dreamed of what it would be like to be a student there; but the reality was very different. There were almost 100,000 people employed at Penn and another 20,000 students. The campus was a city within a city. I was awestruck. I would have probably been too intimidated to function had it not been for my friends. They would simply not allow me to withdraw into myself. The fact that we were often mistaken for football players as we walked through campus helped too. I should mention how we looked at that time in our lives. Michael was 6 feet 2 inches tall and about 210 lbs. with broad shoulders. His hair was black and worn short. A casual observer might see the resemblance to the actor George Clooney, though Michael's body mass was more well defined; and of course there was that engaging smile. Brad was slightly taller than Michael at 6 foot 3 was. He was also not quite as muscular but he was solid. He too had black hair worn in a longer style than Michael's did. What one noticed about Brad first was the cleft in his chin followed by and those piercing light blue eyes. Brad's voice was also distinctive; he was rarely one to be quiet. Except for when he slept, Brad was always talking. I was the same height as Michael. However, he out weighed me by about 20 lbs. As for memorable features, I am told that my eyes set me apart, but I cannot see it. Other than that I am pretty much average...certainly when compared to my best friends. To Michael the University was no more than a macrocosm of our old neighborhood. He set about making friends in every corner of the campus. It took him only a few weeks to meet most of the freshmen class. In addition, I was amazed at how many professors, teaching assistants, secretaries and janitors Michael knew on a first name basis. He never failed to introduce me to everyone during our walks across campus. Over time, whatever anxiety I had about being there vanished as my circle of acquaintances expanded. Of course, Brad was busy making friends too, getting up close and personal with the female population on campus. We met ALL of Brad's girls. He had this ritual of sorts where he had to introduce us to his dates prior to going out for the evening. He was not bragging or anything; it was almost a way of getting our approval for his choices. I never understood his reasoning but since we were meeting some of the most beautiful girls on campus, I never asked either. After the first few weeks, I was beginning to wonder how Brad was financing so many outings. He was gone almost every evening. My question was answered when Michael explained that Brad had a particular penchant for ensnaring "wealthy" female students. They were happily paying his way. I do not know how he did it, though he certainly extended numerous double dates. The girls came in all shapes sizes and ethnic backgrounds. Brad simply had a passion for girls. I got the impression though that Brad was sometimes 'too smooth' for his female conquests, many of whom distrusted being out with him alone that first time. Me, I was not particularly articulate with girls. I had had no experience in dating. Now Brad was offering me introductions to women almost daily. Later, the introductions came after offers of double dates. Of course, I accepted every offer! Looking back on this, I would now admit that I went a bit too far. By early in the second month of school I was dating 2 to 3 times a week. When I was not preparing for a date, I was following up on previous ones. These women quickly became my obsession. My grades plummeted. At the end of that first semester, the Associate Dean threatened to pull my scholarship unless I shaped up. The threat was a wakeup call. By Christmas break, I stopped accepting all dating offers. When the second semester began, I was a confirmed scholar. I missed the girls; I was not having sex with any of them and no lasting romantic relationship ever resulted, but I honestly enjoyed the conversations and just being around them. Their perspective on things was so different. It was refreshing. They were fascinating people and every so often, I was surprised by a more passionate than expected kiss at the end of the evening. So yes, l was very sad to leave that life. When I became unavailable, Brad went exclusively to Michael when he needed to double. This was a challenge for two reasons. First, Michael was very popular among the girls and preferred not to double date. Second, he offered a lot more competition for Brad. However, some of these girls simply refused to date Brad alone. He required a buffer. Michael was perfect for that role. It was on one of these dates late in the spring of freshman year that Michael met Glenda. Brad had been talking to Glenda for several weeks by that time. Though she was very friendly, he was having difficulty getting together with her. Without 'alone time' he would never be able to separate her from her panties. To get there she needed to become comfortable with him so Brad arranged a double as the first step. He appealed to Michael. Would he please go on just one last double date? Michael being the friend he was reluctantly agreed. Michael gave me perspective on this episode years later. Glenda was actually trying to get Brad to leave her alone. While she enjoyed his wit and found him amusing, she was not interested in him romantically, nor was she interested as a sex partner. Nevertheless, she also thought he was a nice person so she did not want to hurt his feelings. She surmised that the only way to get Brad to move on was to deflect his attention. Brad was manipulated into a date and baited with one of her girlfriends. As was his habit, Brad had the girls come by our apartment at the beginning of the evening. They knocked on our door about 6pm. He was waiting; sure to be the first person they saw. I was sitting in the kitchen area off to the side with papers strewn across the table in effort to finish an upcoming paper. The girls entered the room and Brad was speechless. Glenda had chosen the bait with great care. Her name was Sonya. She was a part-time model and actress; and in a word, she was gorgeous. She stood about 5'9" with long blond hair and a face made for magazine covers. When I saw her, I guessed her to weigh in at about 120 lbs distributed over a 34-23-33 frame. This last piece of information was a fair guess (Brad had taught me well in estimating measurements). Where this girl was tall, Glenda was probably no more than 3 inches above 5 feet. She too was blond but her hair was styled in a shorter cut, more contoured to her face. One look and I knew immediately why Brad was pursuing her. Glenda was very pretty. Had it not been for her height she might have been a model like her friend, and she was stacked. In my neighborhood, we would have labeled her a brickhouse. Brad did not seem to notice though; he was studying Sonya. Glenda ended the silence. In a surprisingly raspy voice, she directed Brad to close the door and to close his mouth. Her friend she directed to sit. Then she turned to me and said a quick 'Hi' before asking Brad if I were her girlfriend's date. If I was, I needed to get dressed. They could not be seen with me looking like that. Her girlfriend had a bewildered look when it registered that I might be joining them. As if on cue, Michael came out of his room at that moment and introduced himself. He was to be their fourth. Glenda accepted the news then shifted over to Michael, letting it be known that he was her partner and not Brad. Brad of course was all too happy to switch and Sonya looked relieved that I was not the chosen escort. With the pairings settled, they were off. Glenda's plan worked and Brad left her alone. However, she had not counted on becoming involved with his roommate. Over subsequent weeks, Michael began to spend more and more time with her. She became a frequent visitor to our apartment. One might have thought there might be some friction or tension between Michael and Brad. There was none. Brad had moved on. His relationship with Glenda settled into a playful friendship. From what I could tell, the feelings between Michael and Glenda were serious from the onset. She had a special look for him every time he entered the room or began speaking. The way he looked at her was a mirror image. They were constantly touching one another and deferring to each other in conversation. That was surprising since Glenda was a very take-charge kind of person. It was apparent to everyone that these two were silly in love. Because she was Michael's girl, I made every effort to be her friend. We were polite to one another but that was the extent of our relationship. I now wonder if I did not have some bias towards her that kept us from being closer. Glenda had grown up in the suburbs outside of Philadelphia, had been raised a Quaker like her mother, and had attended Friend's Schools for her entire life. Her parents were from old money. Since she was their only child, they shamelessly indulged her. Why her parents conceded to allow her in University housing was a mystery. Even so, her apartment was furnished with the help of an interior decorator. She had a wardrobe consultant select her clothes, which were both trendy and expensive; and she had a new car garaged on campus for her convenience. Money was never her concern. As a child of privilege, Glenda had traveled extensively in Europe and South America since her pre-teens and was fluent in French and Spanish. Ordinarily I would have found her a fascinating person to converse with. Nevertheless, for all of her exposure to the outside world I was annoyed that she seemed to be so dismissive of places closer to home. She knew very little of the city. What she did know seemed clouded in fear and prejudice. Glenda had never even seen the more upscale places or the cultural sites of the city let alone the array of ethnic neighborhoods that gave the Philadelphia its character. I wondered how Michael would introduce her to his mother. Would he dare take her to his boyhood home? Would she travel there with him or refuse, urging that they meet in some other neutral setting on campus? She and I were from different worlds. I had had classes with rich girls like her, snobs from the burbs who grudgingly recognized my existence, but only when they felt compelled. She seemed to embody that same attitude of privilege and entitlement that I had come to detest. I thought Glenda tolerated me because of Michael. Michael for his part recognized our chilly attitude towards one another. He was quick to tell me about Glenda's good qualities when we were alone. I assumed he was telling her good things about me when he was with her. I knew this tension between us bothered him. Therefore, I endeavored to make our contacts brief and avoid her where possible. Almost a year had gone by since my academic warning. My grades were on track but my romantic life was non-existent. I could not look to my roommates for help. My best friends were engaged in their own pursuits. I was lonely and looking for someone. Chapter 2: Missteps and misjudgments It was near the end of my sophomore year that I met Denise. She was a cute girl of 18 to my 20, about 5'5" tall with curly brown hair and tight body with the roundest little derriere. She was working behind the counter of a deli several blocks from our apartment. I first saw her while she was working. We barely spoke that time. I think we were sizing each other up. I flirted with her off and on for the next 3 weeks. Well, I called it flirting though I doubt anyone else noticed. I tended to linger longer at her register when I paid the bill. She actually started each exchange with small talk. The Prisoner of Glenda One night Brad accompanied me to the shop. I had told him about the girl (whose name I still did not know). He saw her and asked why I had not bedded her yet. It was obvious to him that she was interested in me. I pretended to ignore him but I was annoyed that he might want to compete for her. This exchange prompted me to ask her name. It was Denise. She lit up like a Christmas tree when I asked. I guess she was unsure if I liked her. The next week the university hosted the Penn Relays, a series of track and field events drawing visitors from around the world. The Relays ushered in a weekend of parties across the campus. Brad made a comment that Friday afternoon that if I were not interested in Denise he would like a try. I lit into him, essentially reminding him that I was still pursuing her. There is an unspoken, but strictly observed rule about this in our neighborhood. Friends do not hit on other friends girls. Once your friend has declared his intentions about a girl, she is off-limits. She stays off-limits until your friend says he is no longer interested. If the girl dumps you, she is still not available until you publicly release her. That is the way it was and Brad knew that. His attitude about her bothered me. I felt I had to do something to stake my claim so I told him we had plans for the evening. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if he vacated the room for remainder of the night. I had not actually intended on seeing her that evening. Now I found myself at the deli making a date. Denise showed up after work. I led her to a party in the rooftop lounge of our building. We danced to a few songs then sat down and immediately started kissing. I was still a virgin and relatively inexperienced, but I greatly enjoyed a good kiss. This girl was the most passionate kisser I had ever encountered. For the next 40 minutes, we were lip locked, oblivious to the party. I was in serious lust. I broke our embrace to suggest we go to my apartment and she readily agreed. It was a short walk but seemed to take forever. I was nervous anticipating us getting naked and doing the nasty. When I closed the door, she was all over me. I barely had enough time to guide her to my bed. I was kissing her more urgently now. My hands were roaming over her breasts. Oh what breasts they were! She was at least a C-cup with prominent nipples - very, very prominent and sensitive nipples. I managed to get her blouse off and her bra followed quickly. She was still wearing a skirt and panty hose. I went for the panty hose. Denise had been completely into the kiss, but when I touched her inner thighs, she said no. I withdrew, resumed our kiss then waited a few minutes to try again. Again, she said no, but did nothing to move my hand. I withdrew a second time but my passion was building. A few minutes later, my hand was at her mound. This time she said no and I ignored her. Massaging her over her panty hose, she finally relented as we both grabbed the waistband and pulled the offending material from her body. She said something about how she was not a virgin; she had been with one other person before. I registered only pieces of what she said. I was intent solely on sex at that point. Her scent was strong. She unzipped her skirt as I was removing my last shred of clothing. Now lying before me was the first naked female body I had ever seen up close. I was beside myself. My dick was at full salute and my eyes locked on Denise's pussy. Her pubs were shaven! Others might have found that enticing. I was a product of a prior time. Public hair excited me; a clean-shaven pussy was a slight let down. However, it was pussy. Before diving in, I went to her breasts. I licked, sucked, and massaged both breasts. I never knew breasts could be so much fun. I could have played there all night. However, the pressure in my balls was building. I enjoyed pleasing her but I had to move on. I mounted her as she guided my dick into her pussy. Ah, the feeling! My hand had never felt like this. My God, she was tight. Even if I wanted to start pumping like madman, her pussy would not permit it. I was forced to stroke slowly in and out. To my astonishment, I wanted to prolong this feeling. She was loosening and her body began to trust me. I was into a slow methodic rhythm with her adopting my dance. Instead of crushing her chest, I rested on my elbows holding her shoulder blades with open palms lifting her torso to me so I could brush my chest across her breasts. I loved the feel of her nipples dragging just inches along my skin. My eyes were closed as I pumped her. When I realized this, I opened them to see her faint smile. I kissed her. Alternatively, I should say I covered her with my mouth since the kiss went on for minutes. Our tongues were dueling, and then dancing, making our breathing that more difficult. Then suddenly I stiffened. There was a violent spurt and then another. I did not go soft at once. I stayed in her not wanting to leave the warmth of her body. Her arms were now tight around my back. She wanted us to stay joined too. After a few minutes, I began kissing her again. I was drained but wanted more. So I flipped us over so that she was poised above me. She rose up a bit and when her breasts came into view, my mouth drove for them locking her into position. She acted as if she were unused to being on top. She did not say anything but her expression left little doubt. However, my ministrations on her breasts seemed to overcome her concerns. I was hard again; having receded from her, I now sought re-admittance to her body. This time I moved the head in place. I sighed as I greeted the warmth of her snug pussy. My hand on her flanks I started to direct her movements. When she was rocking sufficiently on her own, I pulled her face down on mine for another kiss. God I loved kissing this girl! I do not know how long we were together like this. I could not tell you if I lasted all night or if I ejaculated in minutes. I had no concept of time. I marked only the events: the shifts in position, changes in breathing, rustling of sheets. When we stopped and I remember closing my eyes as she whispered something about having my children. Her actual statement was long ago lost to me. I only recall the word 'children' distinctly. I had not uttered a word since we began coupling. She might have thought I was sleeping. Her short speech jarred me to full consciousness. My mind reasserted its dominion. Oh, Shit! I had not used protection! She could be come pregnant. What had I done? I did not even know this girl. She was Denise; I never bothered to ask her last name. Where did she live? I had never been to her house. What had I been thinking? Shit! Shit! Shit! I started imagining different scenarios. She became pregnant. We had the child. Abortion was out of the question. I married her of course. How would we live? Where would we live? Could I stay in school? Denise was oblivious to my meanderings. She quietly went off to sleep, her head resting on my upper chest. I could not sleep nor could I look at her. I stayed awake the entire night. In the morning she got up and showered, as I lay immobile, still pretending to sleep. She said something about going home, her mother thought she was at a girlfriends, she would see me later. By now, my eyes were open. I nodded as if half asleep. She dressed and left. Panic ensued. Oh God, if you let me out of this I will never do anything like this again. What was I thinking? I did not love this girl. I did not even know her and she wanted a permanent relationship. Oh no. I felt sick to my stomach. I developed diarrhea. That day I entered into a serious depression. I stayed in the apartment. When Denise showed up in late afternoon, I pretended to be away. I spied on her through the peephole in our door. She was wearing her catholic school uniform. My God, she was in High School! This only made me feel worse. Even so, I remained quiet and she left after a few minutes. When the guys returned I gave them a story about how I wanted to avoid this girl. I asked them to cover for me. I was not to be available at any time for her. She did not have my phone number so I only worried about her showing up uninvited. Brad was cracking up. He thought this entire episode was a riot. He hastily asked if he could make a play for her himself. Michael however, was uncomfortable with this game. He thought she was a nice girl and could not understand why I wanted to hide from her. In the end, he agreed to help me but he was not happy about it. I felt like crap for doing this to Denise but I was too much of a coward to face her. How would I explain that I was carried away? I enjoyed our time together but she misunderstood. I did not want a relationship. Well actually I did, but not under those circumstances. I never saw Denise again but my spinelessness in this affair shamed me. Weeks after we had sex I wrote her a letter trying to explain myself and asking her forgiveness. It was not my finest hour. I needed time to think about my behavior with her. The prospect of sex had led me to hurt someone. I did not think I was capable of such callousness but obviously, I was wrong. I would never allow this to happen again. I returned to concentrate on my studies and closed out sophomore year with a 3.4 cum. Next year I was determined to earn a perfect 4.0. Without any distractions, that goal was obtainable. We had lived in this same apartment for now two years. At the end of that 2nd year, Brad negotiated our move to another apartment in the building. This was remarkable since upper classman no longer had rights to student housing. The new suite had a different configuration. There were still two bedrooms but each room was much larger. Somehow, in the coin toss I still ended up sharing a room with him. It did not matter. I spent most of my time with my head in the books. I came up for air eight months later in March of 1981. # # # # # # # It was near dawn when I rolled out of bed. My bladder left before me pointing the way. As entered he corridor I saw a woman down the hall in a robe going into our bathroom. Who was that? It could not have been Glenda, this person was too tall and she was larger in other ways. Moreover, why was she coming from Michael's room? I slipped back into my own bedroom. Brad was asleep but that did not matter. This was important, so I started to shake him ever so lightly. "Hey Brad. Brad." I called, trying to keep my voice down. "Has Michael split with Glenda?" Bradley was at first immobile, but with that last comment he rolled over with a frown on his brow and the beginnings of a smile on his lips. I continued. "I just saw a girl coming out of Michael's room...and she was wearing a robe. She looked like she slept here." "Oh", Brad said as he nodded affirmatively, partially to clear his head. "That's Gail. She's one of Glenda's roommates and her best friend. She's staying with us a while." "What!?" "Yeah, there's some problem with their other roommate and until that's straightened out Michael offered up his room. He doesn't sleep here much anyway. He's always at Glenda's, now he'll have reason to stay." "Did he discuss this with you?" "Yeah, somewhat. Hey, I'm sorry man I should have told you earlier." I crawled back into my bed. This was an annoying development. Now I'm going to be sharing my apartment with some strange girl; and no one asked ME if it were OK. What kind of shit was this? Lying in bed, I waited until I heard the toilet flush before resuming my journey. To say I was agitated was an understatement. Sharing my space with Michael and Brad was one thing, but a girl who I didn't know? This just wasn't going to work. But could I ask her to leave? Both Michael and Brad had evidently gone along with this. No, there was no point in making a stink. I determined to meet this girl and be friendly. She would only be here a short time, whatever that meant. I woke again at 10am. It was Saturday morning -- laundry time. I showered, dressed and gathered up my dirty clothes. When I returned to our apartment, there were Brad and this girl talking in the front room. "That's Andrew", he said obviously pointing me out. "Andrew come meet Gail." I walked over towards the sofa putting on my best smiley face. I hoped I could pull off this act. I scanned the woman in front of me very quickly. Even though she was sitting, I could tell she was tall with long legs. She was light brown skinned, suggesting a Latin or southern European background. Her hair was long and very curly. It was gracefully lying across her shoulders. Even sitting I detected that she was a larger than average woman. She was not fat by any means. The word that best described her body was "lush", in the same manner as say, Marilyn Monroe. When I saw her face, her eyes struck me. There were large pools accentuated by very dark eyebrows. She had a serious look about her and yet I saw softness in them as she watched me come closer. Suddenly my smiley face was not fake anymore. I extended my hand in greeting. She shook it very quickly. Looking now at her hazel eyes and her smile I detected a fake comfort, an uneasiness with my presence. I wondered if I lingered too long on her body or ogled her during my approach. After that episode with Denise I wasn't known for subtly with women. I began the conversation. "So Gail, how long will you be staying with us?" Perhaps not the best way to begin, but I needed to know. My tone of voice conveyed my disdain for this arrangement and she responded in kind. She was obviously offended. "I hope to be here only a few more days. I'm trying to limit that time. Michael said it would be OK but I don't want to be anywhere that might cause more trouble." Luckily, Brad chimed in changing the subject. I do not remember what he said, only the look on Gail's face. There was dislike, but worse, dismissal. She turned from me and began talking only on him. After a few minutes of being excluded from the conversation, I made my exit. However pleasing her appearance my only opinion now was that she was a bitch, and someone I would happily avoid in the future. Back in my room, I absentmindedly opened my textbook while I replayed the few words said in our first contact. I certainly started us off on the wrong foot, bypassed all the standard greetings and asked the girl how long she was staying; and I did so in a manner that left no doubt I wanted her gone. She had not been a bitch as much as I had been a jerk. Gail was not the problem. The problem was all women. After Denise, I had purposely built up a wall to hide behind. I did not trust myself around women. Female relationships were best kept on a casual or a professional level. I was to extend courtesy not empathy. I did not realize it then, but this was my self-imposed punishment for using Denise. That night I resolved to be as nice to Gail as possible. My first impression had been poor but I did not want her to leave with that opinion of me. Brad had said that Gail was to be our guest for a few days. Well those few days eventually became seven weeks! By the end of her stay, she had in effect become our third roommate. Contrary to my first impression, Gail Montoya was a joy to be around. She made her statement immediately by putting fresh flowers on our dinning table. The kitchen and living areas underwent a facelift as she rearranged the furniture to allow for more space making those areas more open and inviting. Items in the common areas were placed neatly in locations where they belonged and found their way to our room when they did not. One might get the impression from Gail that she came in and started taking over. That was not the case. She asked us about these things first, most of which were not issues that I had thought about much. It was her enthusiasm about her ideas that made us follow her suggestions. I do not want to leave the impression that Brad and I were slobs. We were reasonably neat, at least by our own standards. However, occasionally we did have clothes left in odd places and our attention to dishes in the sink was minimal. Once Gail was settled in, dishes were never left in the sink we got the message that leaving our clothes lying around was a definite no-no. She did not say anything specific. We simply complied with what we thought would make her pleased with us. How does a woman make such an impact so quickly? Simple. She cooked. Gail cooked for relaxation and she asked if she could cook for us. Actually, she looked directly at me as she posed the request. I thought that having been the one to object to her stay that she was more sensitive to my feelings on the matter. Of course, Brad and I readily agreed. It was a decision that proved to be very significant. She was a fantastic cook! With the aromas, emanating from our apartment word quickly got out on the floor that she was a very good cook. Our neighbors started reintroducing themselves at the elevators or in the lobby. Uninvited guests were constantly showing up for dinner. At first, they came for the food. Then they came for the cook. The cook turned out to be both pretty and a lively conversationalist. She was curious about everything and could talk on just about any subject: one night the topic was anthropology the next night it might be horror movies, local politics, pet hygiene or food marketing. She was at ease in all these discussions. The guys were openly flirting but she was serious in these exchanges. She seemed to be either unaware of their advances or unmoved. However, when you wanted to see her eyes sparkle and catch that beautiful dimpled smile, just mention baseball. I found that out by accident. One afternoon the Phillies had just lost to the Dodgers. As I changed channels on the TV, I made a few choice comments about the pitching staff. I was speaking to myself and I thought I was alone, that is until I heard Gail agreeing with me from her bedroom. We started to talk and I was floored by her knowledge of the game. Like me, she had been to the seventh game of the World Series some six months before. She heard the pops from Carleton's fastball and lost her voice screaming as the Phillies won their first World Championship in 98 years. She was so passionate in her opinions. She had been with us three weeks yet this was our first real conversation alone; it lasted almost 3 hours! During that time, we sat side by side on the couch as she shared her perspectives. She would often touch my arm or my hand as she emphasized a point. They were harmless touches but I was aroused with each contact. Up to that time there were so many visitors in our apartment that I rarely had chance to speak one on one with her. My time was limited to assisting her in preparing dinner or in washing and drying the dishes afterwards. Even those tasks were performed mostly in silence, though I thought I caught her stealing glances at me quite often when we did. Now I learned that she was a baseball fan too. I was beginning to really like this woman. I started to closely observe her every time I was in her presence. Of all Gail's qualities, the one that resonated most with me was her kindness. She was a kind person by nature; she was especially considerate of the vagrants that made their home in parts of the campus. I do not think I ever saw her pass a homeless person without offering some form of assistance. Sometimes it embarrassed others who were walking with her, but I was always proud to be by her side on those occasions. When she was not in class or entertaining, Brad was there to monopolize her time. If he and I were competing for her attention, then he was winning that contest. In a way, I was glad for that but a part of me was also jealous and I felt I had no right to be. She was getting to me and it was frustrating. The Prisoner of Glenda One night I decided to stop off for a few beers after my work-study job in the library. The crowd at the bar was particularly animated and I stayed until closing. The camaraderie and the drink took my mind off Gail, if only for a few hours. It was some time after 2am when I entered our darkened apartment. After so many beers, I was feeling sleepy and having problems negotiating the darkness. I removed my shoes then closed the door. I did not want to awaken Gail. My being drunk would not improve our relationship - what little relationship there was. I felt my way along the wall of the corridor leading to my room. About midway through the hallway, I heard sounds coming from her room. Afraid that she might be soon be coming into the hall I dashed the remaining distance and quickly closed the door. I thought that I had been quiet. I now heard talking through the wall. They were somewhat muffled but I recognized Gail's voice. She was moaning and someone was talking to her. I got very still and concentrated. It was....Brad. Brad was in there with her. From what I heard, they were not studying. There was movement on the bed and moaning bordering on sobbing. I had to leave. Seeing those two huddled together everyday was one thing; I drew the line at listening to them have sex. The fact that it was Gail was particularly disturbing. I could probably camp out in the roof lounge until daybreak. I grabbed my pillow and bedspread and quietly left the apartment. When I arrived in the lounge, I found it deserted. I threw down the pillow and crawled up on the closest couch. Sleep claimed me within minutes. I woke around 7am. The lounge was composed of floor to ceiling 20-foot high windows on three sides. Someone had opened the drapes and the invading light was blinding. Whether I wanted to or not I needed to return to my room. The apartment was empty when I arrived. I showered, dressed and made breakfast. As I finished eating Glenda called for Gail. I told her I had not seen her all morning but I guessed that she was probably out with Brad. Glenda's was curt with me as she asked that I have her call when she returned. An upcoming exam caused me to return to the library. I was there until dinnertime. Brad was in but there was no sign of Gail. I did not let on that I knew about their tryst; instead, I asked if Gail were cooking that evening. He then informed me that she had moved out! Without questioning him, I went into her room. Her clothes were gone and so were all of her things. Gone were the pictures on her bureau, wall posters, even her curtains. I then went in the kitchen and noticed that her cooking utensils were missing. There was little doubt now. She had left. I asked Brad if he had helped her move and he simply said no. When I asked him where she had moved to, he said he did not know. He did not sound too pleased, so I stopped asking questions. I thought it odd she left so suddenly but she had been with us so much longer than expected. A few days later Michael dropped by the apartment and asked about her whereabouts. I told him she moved; she had not spoken with me about her intent to leave. However, I was the last person to ask about Gail. I suggested that he speak with Brad. Michael seemed to suggest that I had something to do with her leaving. He said that Glenda thought I had somehow driven Gail out of our apartment. Nothing could have been further from the truth I told him. Initially, I had been hesitant to befriend her, but now I missed her. I did not pursue any more information about Gail. I wanted to but the knowledge that she had been with Brad acted to check my curiosity. I had no right to be so concerned. She and I merely shared an apartment. That we got along was a bonus. By the end of April Gail's name was rarely mentioned. It was as if she had never existed. Why had she gone? Brad suggested that there was some "female" dispute, similar to the one that had driven Gail from her former roommates. I translated that into an impression that she had had some falling out with Glenda. That would explain her sudden departure and Glenda's distress. That reason fit my limited understanding. One Friday night in late May, Michael made another of his increasingly rare appearances. Glenda was out visiting with her mother and would be away that weekend. Her parents had just split up and her mom was despondent over the separation. We were lounging in the living room watching a game and nursing a couple of beers. It was just he and I. Brad had left earlier for a concert. Michael was fidgety. It was obvious he had something on his mind. "I'm going to ask Glenda to marry Me.", he began. "Am I supposed to be surprised? When did she tell you she wanted a ring?" I said before taking another swig. Michael feigned annoyance but started laughing. "Well she sort of hinted that she didn't want to wait till I graduated law school. But hell, it doesn't matter to me as to when. If it will make her happy..." "You sound married already." I said smiling. "Seriously though, congratulations. You are a lucky man. Glenda is the perfect girl for you. You guys getting married will not be a surprise to anyone. " "Hmm, I guess you're right. Look, I'm in need of a best man..." "Me? I am honored but what about Brad? He has been your friend longer than I have. Aside from that he's known Glenda longer too." "Glenda said the same thing. But this is not her decision." "Michael I don't want to be the cause of your first argument with your wife to be. I don't need to be your best man." "I want you to be. You know Brad. He is a great guy but who knows if he would even show up on time. He hasn't known Glenda that much longer than you have but what matters is that he's too unreliable." "Brad would be on time, he'd just be at the wrong church!" I said, as we both cracked up. Taking another swig of my beer, I was glad Michael was going to tell him and not me. I do not know when Michael and Brad had their conversation about the wedding. The outcome was that Brad was OK with the idea of me as best man but Glenda was not. The wedding was slated for June of the following year, just a couple of weeks after graduation; there was time to change her mind. Contrary to many of my peers, I recommitted myself to my studies in my last year. Senior year came and went quickly. It was June 1982 and we were graduating. Michael had been accepted into the University's Law School. I had job with a local computer-consulting firm and Brad was going into pharmaceutical sales in a nearby drug company. We would all be staying in the area. The wedding however, proved to be more of a challenge than I anticipated. Since Glenda's parents were now divorced, she did not want her father invited. After months of wrangling, Glenda relented. Michael negotiated the settlement with Glenda so her father would be giving away the bride. I was tasked to speak with her father. I initially thought of drafting Brad to help but decided to act alone. I made an appointment to visit his office. As soon as I entered, I could tell that I was not his kind of people. However, I spoke with authority for his daughter, so in exchange for a significant role I managed to have Daddy gift her and Michael a home in Swarthmore as a wedding present. I left feeling good about that. Even with this agreement, there was a recognizable tension the entire day of the wedding. The reception was like a gauntlet with us as Michael's friends avoiding the father's family altogether. Many of them sided with her father and wanted to argue their position with members of the wedding party. Twice irate relatives corralled me. I never saw such a mess. I was glad when the evening was over and that Michael and Glenda had left for their honeymoon. If I ever married, it was not going to be like this. With the wedding over, my attention turned to my career and beginning my life as an adult. For the first time ever I was living entirely on my own. I had found an apartment in University City and was busy selecting furnishings. Late one fall evening I received an unexpected call from Glenda. "Hello" "Andrew?" "Yes, is this...Glenda?" I responded. I knew the voice but I was taken aback that she called. "Yes it's me. Are you busy?" "No, I was just watching a tape of yesterday's game, nothing important." "Good, I wanted to call you to thank you for your help with the wedding....and to....." "Yes?" "Andrew will you please forgive me?" "Forgive you? For what, you haven't done anything to me that I'm aware of..." "Yes I have. I have not treated you fairly. I have purposely kept you at a distance. When Michael told me you were going to be his best man, I was against you. I tried to get him to change his mind. I was upset with you because of Gail. I thought you forced her out of the apartment. After what you did to that other girl I thought you did something similar to her...I was..." "I never told Gail to leave", I said, interrupting her. "I never wanted her to go." I said my voice almost cracking. "I know that now. Michael explained all of that to me. He also explained why he chose you as his best man. I never understood how very close you two are. You are his best friend; he trusts you more than anyone except his mother... or me. It really hurts him that you and I do not get along. I'm so sorry to have misjudged you. Can we start over?" "Yes, we can start over." I said sincerely. Before she could speak, again I spoke up to lighten the tone. I also wanted to avoid speaking about Denise. I was still coming to terms with my immaturity in that misadventure. "So how was the honeymoon? Was Hawaii all they say it is?" "Oh, it was beautiful. The beaches were incredible and resort spared no expense on our behalf. We visited all the major islands. We even went snow skiing." The conversation just flowed from there. We talked like old friends. I found out that night that she had a wicked sense of humor. By the end of the call my feelings about Glenda had turned a full 180 degrees. We were not great pals but we were not enemies either. I was relieved to be feeling good about our talk. She called again a few nights later asking about my apartment and whether I had furnished it completely. When I told her I was still in the process of getting things together, she volunteered to help me shop and to decorate. That way the place would have some semblance of a women's touch and I would not scare away potential girlfriends. For the next few months on Saturdays, Glenda and I formed an expedition to furnish my apartment. Where she found the time, I do not know. With Michael in Law School, she was already working two jobs. The house might have been a gift but the upkeep was a significant financial responsibility as were the expenses related to Michael's schooling. I welcomed her intrusion. What man would not want to be the object of a pretty woman's attentions? Our time together allowed me some insight into her as a person. There was nothing romantic in our relationship. I came to regard Glenda as a second sister and I am sure she felt the same towards me. She was not the snob I had earlier believed. Quite the opposite; she was one of the most down to earth people I'd ever met, and one of the most considerate and thoughtful. I learned that her father was the ostentatious one in the family. He liked to shower her with gifts. He hired the interior designer to reshape her apartment. He purchased her car for her, picked the make and model and had it delivered to her doorstep. She had not asked for any of these things. In fact she was somewhat embarrassed by it all. She just did not want to hurt his feelings by seeming ungrateful. She might have continued on this course had he not cheated on her mother. His infidelity and their subsequent divorce changed everything. She stopped the gifts and determined to become more self-reliant. Her mother became the main connection to her family. I had not thought much about infidelity until I started talking with Glenda. It became apparent to me that the impact of her father's unfaithfulness went far beyond just him and her mother. Glenda was shaken to her core. She began to question all of her beliefs and close relationships. While she never came out and said it, I understood that at times she even questioned Michael's love for her. It did not happen often, but if they had a minor disagreement, which was common for newlyweds, she had a tendency to either call me later or tell me about it at our next outing. Initially, I asked her to speak with her husband, later I learned that it was not about giving her advice but about just listening. With Michael's studies, she could not burden him so her trips with me along with our conversations were a form of relief away from the pressures of her jobs and family. Shortly after Glenda and I reconciled, Michael established a tradition that we continue to this day. We began having monthly poker games at their house. The normal players were he, Brad and I, Reuben when he was in town, and the fifth rotated between friends of his or Brad's. These games became our primary vehicle for staying connected to one another. Chapter 3: Betrayal and Obsession Three years passed without any significant changes in my life. I was making good money in a job I enjoyed. My peers respected me and I was on a fast track to management. I was reasonably happy, my only disappointment being my lack of a steady girlfriend. It was May of 1985 when trouble found me. Michael was graduating from law school. The two of us were relaxing one Sunday afternoon on his patio. It was unusually warm that spring and we were debating the merits of an early barbeque. Michael seemed preoccupied. I opened by asking, "Where is Glenda? I thought she would be taking advantage of the weather to start planting." "Oh, she's at her mother's for the day. I am on her shit list. This is her way of letting me know she's still upset." Now I was curious. "Upset about what?" Michael sighed before he began. "I received a job offer from a firm in Chicago. They are flying me out next week for an interview and a chance to check out some of the communities where we might live. I do not know if I will take the position but I do want to give it a fair evaluation. Problem is that I agreed to the meet without discussing it with her." "Glenda has always felt insecure in our relationship. No matter what I have done to ease her fears, she still thinks I might leave her. This interview has magnified those fears." This last statement was unsettling. I had sensed some doubts Glenda had in our previous conversations. Her fears were just below the surface, nothing specific, but I understood where Michael was coming from. "When I was accepted to Law School they had an orientation for all the spouses. One of the speakers asked everyone in the room to look around them. He said, "Three out of every four of you sitting here will be not being here for your spouse's graduation. They will be under significant pressure and that often transfers to their relationships." I did not know it at the time, but this really freaked her out. I am not like that Andrew. We are married for life, good or bad, sickness or health. She's was not my meal ticket, she is my partner. " Michael paused for a moment. The muscles in his jaw were throbbing. It was clear to me that this issue with Glenda was very sensitive. I knew as his friend that he needed to talk this through, and he needed me to listen. Therefore, I sat very still and waited for him to gather his thoughts. "She worked her ass off for us. For the first couple of years she had two jobs. She never once complained. She managed all of our money, made all of the financial decisions. She bought all of my books, my clothes, my food....everything. She still maintains the same pace. I have tried to get her to slow down. She ignores me." "Then this opportunity came up in Chicago. It is a lot of money. I would have significant responsibilities and a chance at becoming an associate in just two years. Glenda could stay home if she wants, or go back to school. We could begin our family. I could take care of her for a change. " "Besides, it is just an interview. I thought she would be thrilled. We would discuss any offer they made. She would be part of the final decision." "You know", I interjected, "You need to fix this. I remember Bill Cosby mentioning that a husband needed to remember three little words in order to have a happy marriage". That got Michael's attention. "Just three little words....I was wrong". Michael's smile returned with the punch line. The conversation quickly shifted back to what to have for dinner and then the season the Phillies were having. A barbeque was looking more like a winner the more we talked. # # # # # # The next day found me staying late at the office again. It was 9:30pm before I remembered I needed to be somewhere. One of my co-workers was having a bachelor party downtown. I was not looking forward to it but I had known Ted since I joined the business. We were friends, so I was obligated to be there. The party was to being given at a new club in the pier district. I had not been there before and the directions were not exactly the best. The result was that I arrived much later than everyone else and parked in the side lot. The club had only two floors. The lower level was open to the public as a bar and restaurant, while the upper level was rented out for private parties. As I made my way to the stairs, I had to pass the entrance to the restaurant. The décor was ultra modern along the lines of my apartment. They could have used the lighting to better advantage though. Perhaps this explained why the space was sparsely populated. As I scanned the room, my eye caught a man and a woman in a booth across floor on the far side. They were sitting with their profiles toward me and it appeared that they were engaged in a very intimate conversation. The woman's posture was slightly slouched and she looked as if she were going to tilt over at any second. I slowed my movement and squinted in their direction. I knew that pair. It was Brad and Glenda. Courtesy would have dictated that I stop by their table and at least say Hello. However, I was running late and I could see them later. The bachelor party was going full blast as my friend Ted was getting a lap dance from one of the strippers. The crowd hollered when she suddenly let loose her bra and decided to hide his face between mountains of flesh. Two other women joined her. The look on his face was priceless. After a couple of hours of constrained debauchery mixed with some networking, my bladder demanded attention. Getting up from my seat, I went in search of the bathroom. I then remembered Glenda and Brad so I decided to use the facilities on the first floor. Entering the restaurant, I saw the restroom sign and began my approach. The place was still relatively deserted and the booth where Glenda and Brad were seated was now empty. I now regretted not speaking to them earlier. Finishing my business I approached the basin and was startled by a noise. The room had appeared empty when I entered. There it was again. It sounded like someone moaning. Walking back towards the stalls, I heard it again, and noticed one partially open door. Crouching I saw a pair of legs....female legs! I wanted to leave at that moment. Turn. Run. Get the hell out of there. Whatever went on here it had nothing to do with me. She might be junkie or a prostitute. She? Hey, it might be a guy in drag? I should not get involved. All good reasons to leave I thought. Instead, I pushed the door to the stall inward. I was completely unprepared for the scene that unfolded. Seated a mere two feet away was Glenda. Her dress was bunched around her waist; her panty hose torn in at least two places, one area being her crotch. She was leaning backwards trying to get up from the seat and blinking her eyes apparently struggling to acquire focus.