Bill Pierce didn't really approve of wearing political buttons to church. His employer, Andalusia Pharmaceuticals, didn't allow them at the work-place, either. He was tempted, though, by all the McGovern buttons the students in the church were wearing. Carolyn was acting like an adult, though, and he still had enough hopes of moving their friendship further sometime in the future to keep his Nixon-Agnew button for the street, too.

His interaction with Carolyn was friendly, if not so friendly as he would wish.

"Welcome back," he had greeted her after the service her first Sunday in town. "Did you have a nice summer?"

"Restful after exams. And you?"

"Pleasant, if a little hot. Can't say that Chicago climate doesn't give you variety, sometimes it's too hot, sometimes too cold, and sometimes too wet." She'd laughed lightly, but more than the joke deserved.

"And your luck on the baby front?" she'd asked.

"The Bells are awfully possessive, but I have hopes for the Robinsons." Vi Robinson was clearly pregnant, if not yet in the last months. He was tempted to ask when she was due, but she was very recently married to Dennis, and he suspected that the topic might embarass them.

"Poor Bill. You should start a family of your own." He'd been tempted to ask whether she was volunteering. But that was his dream for their relationship. She'd turned down his invitation to dinner, let alone bed.

"A bachelor has no children to speak of. Besides one's own would grow up."

"Somehow, I can't picture you with a claim on kids without your holding them in your arms. Secret sins, I can believe; a secret family, I can't."

"You, on the other hand, look too innocent to have any secret sins."

"I'm not innocent at all." She'd seemed slightly pissed at being called innocent.

"Well, if you tell me, you still won't have any secret sins." She'd laughed and walked away. He'd watched her buns flex under the dress. The weather had been too fine to believe she would accept a ride. They'd talked the next week, too. After that, she sang in the choir and left by another door. They only spoke at coffee hour.

The election roused tensions even among the adults. But those tensions soon dissipated. The second Sunday in November, Dan Hagopian came up to him. If they'd kept their conversations short and avoided certain topics, it was to maintain their friendship.

"Would you like to have Thanksgiving with Gladys and me? The kids are coming back and would probably like to see you."

"Why thank you. Should I bring something?"

"Nothing but yourself." Despite those words, he arrived with a bottle of wine. The store told him that white went with turkey. Barbara was pregnant, which led to Keith teasing him about his kidnaping the baby. Not that he had any hopes of prying a baby out of Gladys and Dan's hands. Many parents were easy; grandparents, especially grandparents with distant families briefly visiting, were impossible. Still, he'd try to wrangle an invitation to next Thanksgiving from Dan. While they were still talking, Carolyn walked in.

"Bill?"

"Hey, this wasn't my idea." Carolyn had definite rules, and he couldn't always figure them out. He had no idea how she'd interpret this.

"It wasn't the idea of either of you," Gladys said. "Guests don't get to veto other guests. Now, be nice and sit down."

He and Carolyn weren't only both guests, they were seated together. Keith was on their side of the table, while Barbara and her husband, Brian, were on the other. The host and hostess took the two ends. Dan said a prayer and began to slice. Keith took a massive serving of dressing and passed that bowl. Carolyn seemed to accept that the surprise was Gladys's doing. She was quite nice to him. Her grades had been quite satisfactory, two As and two Bs.

"Professor Kindle was quite nice about my paper on Chicago as a transportation hub," she said. "I called it, 'From the Chicago River to O'Hare.'"

"And how long is that?" The river had two main branches, and he didn't know how close the northern branch got to O'Hare.

"More than a century. Chicago was first settled and grew because of the river and its mouth. Then railroads came here because it was a big city -- other reasons, of course, but the railroads went from city to city -- the bigger the city the better. Then, because it was an even-bigger city and because it was already a transportation hub for railroads, O'Hare became a major airline and air-freight hub. Sorry!" She directed the last to the whole table.

"I know what it means to have written a paper on a fascinating subject which doesn't fascinate quite everybody," Dan said. "Damn frustrating."

"'Not quite everybody'" Keith said, "means his entire family. And we're the ones who got frustrated."

"After all," Dan continued, "it's better than the minutiae of pushing pills." Dan needn't worry. He didn't take his work to social gatherings.

"Minutiae, maybe," Carolyn responded, "but Bill can make his work fascinating." The girl was defending him.

"Maybe, just maybe," Gladys put in, "the fascinating part was less the speech than the speaker. Just maybe." Carolyn actually blushed. She hadn't been fascinated by him; she'd thought he was a piece of shit.

The talk turned to what the kids had been doing while away. Keith might have been bored with his father's academic activities, but Dan was quite interested in Keith's studies. While Bill was less interested, he did like Keith. Barbara, on the other hand, had the real news. Carolyn was sympathetic, and Bill learned the due date and her planned schedule for a visit home.

"Don't worry, Bill," Dan said. "You're invited to next Thanksgiving, too."

"Bill's a baby freak, Brian," Barbara explained. "You can trust him not to hurt them, but you might keep your eye on the door next year just in case."

"Now, Barbara, I always give a kid back when asked."

"By an armed mob of parents." Then she changed the subject entirely.

"Really, Bill, isn't Carolyn too old for you?"

"Too young?" he responded, "She is hardly jail bait. She's a grad student, older than you are if she didn't skip a grade or a year in college." Even so, she was probably older than Barbara, but you didn't make peace with a girl by overestimating, or even correctly estimating, her age.

"Too old," Keith said.

"Like twenty years too old," Barbara explained.

"Now, Keith." Not that Keith was the worst of this pair, but he didn't like to pick on a pregnant woman. "You've clearly been enjoying the stuffing. That doesn't mean that I expect you to skip the pie. You like more than one kind of food, and I like more than one kind of person."

"Speaking of age, Brian," Dan asked, "aren't you ashamed of yourself for knocking up an immature girl."

"But I didn't. Barbara is an adult when she's in Cincinnati, able to give informed consent. She may revert to childhood in Evanston, but I knocked her up in Cincinnati."

"'Revert to childhood'? You'll pay for that, mister." Brian seemed unruffled by Barbara's threat. The conversation turned to less personal topics, and the meal ended. He took mince pie, and Carolyn took apple. Keith, as he'd predicted, took a piece of each.

"You'll take Carolyn home, won't you?" Gladys asked.

"Gladly." More gladly, indeed, than his tone suggested. Carolyn didn't argue. They were practically to her dorm when she asked a question that totally lost him.

"Which am I, the stuffing or the pie?"

"Huh?" Maybe not the brightest response he could have made, but brighter than he felt.

"You said that Keith could like both stuffing and pie, and you could like both Alice and me. So which am I?" It was a comparison, a metaphor, damn it. She wasn't either one. Then he thought again.

"You're definitely the pie. A big, beautiful, pie in the window of the bakery. And the bakery is closed -- locked up. I can drool outside the window, but I can't get the pie." By this time, he had parked.

"Why do you think the bakery is locked?" she asked.

"Because I was an ass, but..." Couldn't he get another chance?

"No! What makes you think it's locked up?" Well, she'd told him she'd never date him if he was the last man left alive. And, then, when he thought he had mended his fences, she had refused a date. She'd been much more polite, but equally definite. Well, maybe he could mend the fences better.

"Look, we have a bit of unfinished business. You were telling me about my greatest faults when we got distracted. Maybe, if you finished that list, we could go on."

"One evening of blowing off wasn't the end of the world. I don't want to go over ancient history. You've been a perfect gentleman since." Which wasn't what she'd said earlier. On the other hand, a woman is entitled to change her mind, and he wasn't about to complain of <b>this</b> change. Of course, he didn't want to be a perfect gentleman, either.

"If you don't want to go over ancient history, would you be willing to go out for dinner this Sunday?" he asked. "It seems ridiculous to think of dinner right now, but we'll be hungry again by then." She laughed her pretty laugh.

"Much sooner than then. Thanks, I'd like to go out with you." Which was great! He got out to open her door and walked her inside. He lost his nerve at the inner door, though. This, after all, wasn't a date, and he didn't have the right to a good-night kiss. He watched her walk through the inside door before returning to his car.

Where should he take her? He was tempted to go to McDonald's again. It had been their most pleasant meal together. Manfredo's would evoke too many bad memories. He settled on a family-style restaurant. At least, he would know how she'd be dressed.

The meal went swimmingly. He got her to talk about her courses. She soon lost him.

"Look," he admitted. "I like to watch you when you talk. I like the sound of your voice. But you've taken more prep than I have in economics, and then you take this course what? three times a week?"

"Yeah."

"It's a compliment that you think I can absorb a ten-minute summary of a quarter's course. But I'm not <b>quite</b> that smart."

"I'm sorry." But he didn't want her to feel guilty.

"Don't be. But also don't blame me if I don't get everything."

"That's fair," she granted. "Look, the details vary -- they vary infinitely. But one problem keeps coming up in all those details. You sell a medicine for blood pressure, right?" He nodded. "So do some of your competitors." He nodded again. Actually, most drug firms made more than one medicine for blood pressure.

"Dr. Smith prescribes your drug for one patient. The patient improves dramatically. Dr. Smith is sold on your drug and keeps prescribing it. Dr. Jones prescribes your drug to one patient, and the patient doesn't improve at all. Dr. Jones goes over to your competitor's drug.

"Now," she continued, "you can't deal with that, even if you know it, in figuring out your sales strategy. The detail is too small. Similarly, economics can't explain actual consumer choices. Johnny choked on this brand of cereal once; Johnny's mama never buys it again. Fred scores for the first time while the Pepsi commercial is on. Fred drinks Pepsi 'cause he finds it much sexier than Coke. And on, and on, and on. We have to simplify.

"But what simplification actually holds the data? And what is a result of actions versus what is a result of accident? Look, what was the greatest and longest-lasting drop in GNP since the Great Depression?" It took him a moment to tell that her latest question was actually directed at him.

"You're going to tell me that it was the last one."

"Nope! it ran from 1944 to 1947. GI Joe went from freezing in a foxhole on Omaha Beach eating C Rations to marrying Rosie the Riveter and living in a Levittown bungalow eating meat loaf. It was much cheaper; his standard of living as measured by GNP went way down. Nobody complained.

"Anyway, that drop in GNP was clearly due to the end of the war. Indeed, if you analyze GNP into separate factors, every factor except defense spending soared over that period. But what of slighter changes? Does dropping GNP -- GDP today -- mean that the government is mismanaging the economy, or is it due to extrinsic causes?"

"Why did they rename GNP?" That was the one thing in that swarm of words he got.

"They didn't quite. They still measure both. It's just that Gross <b>Domestic</b> Production is a better measure of the economic health of the country. You take GNP, add income payments to the rest of the world, and subtract income receipts from the rest of the world. It isn't that different for the USA; there are huge differences in some countries where the industries are owned by foreign investors. Look, why not keep that fact in mind, and I'll wait for them to assign me a class before I give another lecture."

"That's fair." He would remember that. They talked about the church for the rest of the meal. Driving her home, he asked her out for Wednesday. She accepted. When they were inside, he dared to kiss her. She kissed him back, pressing her melons into his chest and meeting his tongue with hers. He had to stop it before he came in his pants.

Wednesday, they talked about his work. She congratulated him on his promotion. Tentatively, they found a way to talk about her current work without drowning him in the details. When they got into her entranceway, she broke the kiss too soon.

"Carolyn..." She put a finger to her lips and turned to the inner door. When she opened it, however, she beckoned him in.

"You can come this far." The room was bigger, with chairs and couches. Students were draped over the furniture, mostly in pairs. But Carolyn was unbuttoning her coat and then holding her arms out towards him, and he couldn't pay attention to anything else. They hugged, and it was mutual, she pulled him towards her as much as he pulled her towards him. Their arms were underneath the coats. and he could feel her warmth all around him.

He caressed her buns as they kissed. He tasted her tongue and felt her melons pressed against him. The kiss went on for the longest time while he was oblivious to their audience. He took her melons in his hand without the slightest objection from her. He even touched the skin that had been enticing him throughout dinner. Finally, he stepped back. The kids in the room weren't looking at them. For that matter, his and Carolyn's actions differed from the actions around them only because they were standing up.

"Carolyn," he began. He couldn't remember how he was going to finish the sentence. He took her hand to kiss it. Then he left, happier than he'd been for a long time. It wasn't until the next day that he remembered that he'd not invited her out again. Well, that was an excuse for a phone call the next night.

"Hello?"

"Carolyn Nolan, please." He heard her name being shouted. Then she was there.

"Carolyn Nolan."

"Bill Pierce, here. Look, what are your Saturdays like?"

"Class in the morning."

"Would you care to come for lunch afterwards?"

"That would be great." She had accepted! That was easy.

"I got so interested in the Carolyn present last night that I forgot to deal with the Carolyn yet to come. Look, should I pick you up at your dorm? your classroom? and when?"

"Outside the building where I take the class would be great. Do you know Brooke Hall?"

"I can find it." Indeed, he knew where to get a map of the university.

"Then maybe 12:15."

The restaurant they had eaten in the previous Sunday didn't serve drinks, which was part of his plan. So was cleaning up his apartment, including -- cross his fingers -- the bedroom. He picked Carolyn up a little after noon and went to the restaurant. She described the course she had just taken and why it was so important. He understood that an invitation-only seminar put her at the peak of her academic life. When she got to the subject of what had been discussed that day, he found it harder to follow. As they were leaving the restaurant, he pushed his plan one step forward.

"Look, this place doesn't serve drinks. Would you like to come back to my apartment for a nightcap?" She stopped and thought for a moment while he held his breath.

"Okay."

In his apartment, he took her coat and hung up his own and his suit coat before kissing her. She made no protests at the kiss. Soon, they were sitting on the couch and his hands were all over her. She held his face while she kissed him. His hands were under her sweatshirt, feeling her luscious melons through her bra. Rather than resisting, rather than even raising a pro-forma objection, she leaned forward. Gratefully, he unsnapped the bra. Her melons were even sexier without the covering, and warm. He weighed one in his hand. Then she pushed him away. Before he could be disappointed, she spoke.

"Let me." When she was topless, she asked him, "Aren't you a little overdressed?" Well, if she wanted his skin, his skin wanted her. He stripped off tie, shirt, undershirt, shoes, and socks. When she saw him start on his shoes, she removed hers. He was tempted to see if she'd follow him to full nudity, but that might be going too far. Besides, he wanted to remove those clothes of hers himself.

When he went back to kissing her, they really touched. Her unbound melon was soft against his chest and arm. He could just feel the edge of the other with the fingers of his right hand when his arm circled her back. He kissed over her face, her neck, her shoulder. The tips of her melons were attracting his mouth like a magnet, but the journey was delightful, too. The smooth softness of the melon was especially delightful, and he kissed all that he could conveniently reach from this position. He could make a career of kissing those melons. The tip was the greatest treat, and he saved it for last.

She sighed, apparently appreciating that kiss almost as much as he did. He kissed and sucked the other tip. Then he slid off the couch while easing her down full length. Then he had the tip of her melon in his mouth. He held her forehead with his left hand, while his right explored the rest of her. Her belly was slender, firm, smooth, and warm. He'd like to kiss it if his mouth wasn't so pleasantly busy elsewhere. He stroked her leg and -- then -- her mound through the jeans. The shape was delightful if the real Carolyn was unreachable. He tried to open her jeans. He got the zipper down, but the button defeated him utterly. She moved his head over to her other melon, and he cooperated gladly. He resisted a little when she pushed him away altogether. She was decisive though. Then she laughed.

"You'll never got those down while I'm lying down," she said. Well, she wasn't saying 'don't,' but she wasn't saying 'I'll do it,' either. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Would we be more comfortable in the bedroom?" She seemed to think about this for a while. It wasn't that difficult a question, really.

"Sure." He'd planned out a slow seduction quite thoroughly. She seemed to be considering an invitation to a familiar sort of game. Well, she talked like she'd be willing to play with him.

He helped her up and led her to the bedroom with his arm around her (naked) waist. She removed jeans and pantyhose, but stopped while still wearing panties. She didn't suggest that he remove his. When he got the covers to the foot of the bed, she got in on the left-hand side. Well, he could walk around to be next to that much beauty. His rubbers were in the drawer of the night stand, though, and the night stand was on the left side.

He lay with his feet off the end to put his mouth where it was needed. While he licked, kissed, and sucked her melon, his left hand stroked down her belly to her pantied snatch. He was lying on his right elbow. Then he returned to her belly before slipping his hand into the top of her panties. He combed his fingers through the hair on her mound, but he'd be cramped going further this way. Well, let's see. He rose to his knees on the bed and took her panties in both hands.

"Lift up." She raised her hips off the mattress, and he pulled the panties down. Her mound was as beautiful as her face, the hair -- if short -- as lovely as that on her head. He took the panties all the way down to her feet, having to raise the covers at the bottom to do so. He lay so he could kiss the tip of her melon again. When he combed his hand through the hair on her mound again, he kept going all the way to her snatch.

She was nice and juicy, and he stroked some of that juice up her groove to her nub. He sucked and stroked, sucked and stroked. The feel of her in his mouth, to say nothing of the warm smoothness under his finger, was incredibly arousing. And she sighed, probably meaning that she was aroused too.

Indeed, he felt her tense. Her legs clamped together, but holding his hand in rather than out. When she raised her head, he took circular strokes around her nub. She dropped her head to the pillow. Then she went over with a stiffening of her body and a thrust of her pelvis upward. Damn! He'd give anything to have that thrust be against <b>his</b> pelvis. Maybe soon. Meanwhile he kept up suction on her tip and slow strokes across her nub until he was sure that she had finished going over.

Then he moved away to strip off his trousers and boxers together. He reached over her to open the night-stand drawer and grab the box. Then he opened it, removed one rubber, stripped off the wrapper, and rolled it down his dick. He stilled his frantic motion to get to his knees on the bed beside her. Her legs were so close together that he could only fit one knee between them.

"Carolyn, lovely Carolyn, say yes."

"No." She closed her legs, trapping his knee.

"But you'd be safe," he said desperately. He held the wrapping from the rubber before her eyes. She glanced down to see that his dick was in the rubber.

But, "no," she repeated. She pushed him away. It was a gentle push, but the rejection was clear. He dropped down to his side. She reached for his dick, but to touch the rubber, not in acceptance. "Poor Little Bill," she said. "All dressed up and no place to go." Suddenly, the response turned his furious lust into hysterical laughter.

"You're sweet!" he said when the fit had passed. And she was sweet, as infuriating as she was arousing, but she was sweet most of all. She might refuse him, but she amused him. He started kissing her sweetness. From her mouth, he kissed down to her melons. The far breast hadn't had enough attention. From there, he kissed down her belly, licking her belly button once. When he kissed her thighs, they opened, leading the way to her snatch.

Kissing there was the ultimate sweetness. He licked up her groove to her nub. After kissing it once, he licked it until she went over again. When she did, he kissed and sucked her nub until she pushed his head away from her snatch.

She lay in his arms as her breathing eased. He should pull up the covers -- then they could lie like this until dinner time. It would require too much motion, though. But Carolyn turned over to face him.

"Now, let me take care of Little Bill," she said. She reached her hand down to hold his dick. She stroked it. The motions of her hand might not be as expert as the motions of his own, but the idea was thousands of times sexier.

"Yes," he said as he gushed out. The rubber caught it, but Carolyn wiped her hands off anyway.

"Happier now?" Well, he'd got off. But he'd been perfectly happy holding her in his arms. Maybe she didn't trust a hard dick that close to her snatch, but he hadn't had any plans. And, if she was so opposed to sex, why was she so ready to beat him off without his even asking?

"Some day," he told her, "I'll understand you."

"You're not supposed to. Haven't you ever heard of feminine mystery?" Wasn't that 'Feminine Mystique?' and wasn't it something that women were supposed to resent.

"I suppose. I don't really think they had you in mind. But mystery you are. Turn around again and let me hold you." When he gave her room, she did. Well, if they were going to have all this activity, he could pull up the covers, too.

"Want covers?"

"It would be nice." So, he got up and tucked her in. While he was up he went into the bathroom, threw away the rubber, and washed off his dick. She was warm and waiting for him when he came back. They spooned, and he held one of her marvelous melons. He kissed the back of her neck, and she shivered.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not really." He kissed her again and got another shiver. He chuckled at the thought that this lovely girl responded to him. He held her warmth and thought back on how he'd got to this wonderful situation. Suddenly, he remembered his original offer of a drink. He didn't want her thinking him deceitful again.

"I never got you that drink." But she held his hand to her melon.

"Not now. Do you really drink in the afternoon?"

"Occasionally." He didn't want her thinking him a lush. Actually, most of his booze went in entertaining. "I couldn't say, 'Want to go back to my apartment and make out?' now could I?"

"I don't see why not, except I wasn't going back to your apartment. I'd never been here." Well, there was an opening. He took it.

"Okay. Want to come here tomorrow afternoon to make out again?" It didn't work.

"Are you crazy? Look, I don't ask you to meet me on weekday afternoons. Some of us don't get the weekends off. I lost study time today. Not complaining -- this was great. But I have to make the time up before Monday morning." And she was less relaxed in his arms. It did, however, open a point for discussion. He wanted her as his guest more often, but he didn't know her schedule. Asking her for dates when they would be inconvenient would be silly.

"Speaking of schedules, I asked you out on Wednesday. Would Tuesday or Thursday have been better?"

"Is this an invitation?" She sounded flirtatious. Considering that they were in bed together and she'd been quite clear that it wouldn't go to the conclusion that suggested, flirting was rather silly.

"Not really. First you tell me which day is most convenient, and then I invite you."

"Wednesday is fine." And, if she wanted flirtatious, he could provide flirtatious.

"Miss Nolan, might I have the pleasure of your company at dinner this coming Wednesday?"

"Why, Mr. Pierce, the pleasure would be mine... Thank you. When should I be ready downstairs?"

"Would six-forty five be too late?" He was conscious that getting back from the Loop was always problematic. On the other hand, she was in Evanston all day and probably used to eating early.

"Six-forty five it is." And, so, they had another date. This one probably shouldn't end in bed. She had studying to do midweek. Maybe they could come back here, and simply keep to the living room for some kisses.

After taking her home, he spent the evening remembering the date. He fixed his own dinner -- with the sauce of memory, it tasted as good as anything he could buy. The big question was why she'd balked at actual sex. It wasn't dislike for him; she'd taken care of him and lain in his arms afterwards. Was she a virgin? Was that as far as she'd ever gone? It sounded crazy. Had the sexual revolution bypassed Arkansas entirely? On the other hand, she'd drawn a line. It wasn't as if he'd coaxed her almost all the way. She'd been willing, even eager, almost all the way; then, she'd been adamant. You could almost hear a switch being thrown.

She was equally adamant about a Sunday date, but she'd explained that. One thing he'd learned from this afternoon was that Carolyn didn't expect him to take hints. At least, she was perfectly willing to be straight-forward with him. For that matter, she'd been straight-forward in the past, too. "Never if you were the last man on earth" wasn't all that hard to decipher. She'd changed her mind, and he was glad she had, but she'd been quite explicit at the time.

Well, maybe she'd change her mind about this, too. Meanwhile, he'd take the pleasures which were available. Being there when she went over was erotic as hell. She didn't seem to have any reluctance about that. And she'd bring him off, too. And the cuddling, while not as intense a pleasure, felt luxuriously comfortable.

Sunday, he drove her home from church. He parked and offered to walk her to her door. Of course, he was thinking of the goodbye kiss at that door.

"No," she said. She reached over and pulled his face into a kiss. Their tongues dueled. Minutes later, she pushed his face away. "That's enough. We can say goodbye here. Goodbye"

"Goodbye." He watched in the mirror as she walked to the door of the dorm. Some day, he'd promised her, he would understand her. That day was looking more distant all the time. Well, the view of her walking away was still sexy. Next time, he'd park where he could watch through the windshield.

Tuesday night, he cleaned the apartment and set his alarm 15 minutes earlier. He made the bed and straightened up the bedroom Wednesday morning. He got back quite early Wednesday, with time to spare to give himself a second shave. He parked by Carolyn's dorm, and was in the entrance area at 6:40. On his giving her name and his, she came down immediately. She was dressed in a skirt, the first one he'd seen on her except on Sundays. She was carrying a shopping bag, but he didn't ask. When he'd joined her in the car, they had a kiss. He almost reconsidered the restaurant because of her skirt, but he didn't.

When he'd taken her coat in the restaurant, he admired her dress. The meal tasted good, the sight was more enjoyable, and she described her day in a way that allowed him to understand her classes. When they left the restaurant, he asked the most important question.

"My place?"

"Sure." She'd left the shopping bag in the car when they were in the restaurant, but she brought it with her to his apartment. He thought of offering to carry it, but that might sound like inquisitiveness. Well, his curiosity was aroused, but it wasn't going to interfere with his lust. When they were inside and he'd hung up their coats and his suit coat, they had a lovely kiss. When her tongue chased his into his mouth, he sucked it. His hands were on her melons when she moved back.

"Like this dress?" She twirled around.

"It's lovely. I already said so."

"Well, if you want it, it'll cost you another kiss." He didn't particularly want the dress, but he was more than willing to pay the price. This kiss was even warmer; she held his hips and ground herself against his dick while he explored her mouth. "Okay. You can take it off." She stood still while he removed the dress. He looked around, although it was difficult to take his eyes off her in her slip. He figured that the dress could go on a chair.

"Now," she said, "you're definitely overdressed. I'm willing to pay the same price." She went into his arms and kissed him enthusiastically. Then she removed his tie and threw it on the couch. "Still too much." She kissed him before unbuttoning his shirt. "Well, I bought it. Give it to me." Bemused, he pulled the shirt out of his trousers. When he gave it to her, she threw it after the tie. Then she came into his arms for another kiss before tugging the undershirt up out of his trousers and shorts. Again, he had to do the actual removal.

"I think it's my turn," he said. This sort of exchange sounded great, although he thought they had a use for the couch she was covering with his clothes. Oh well, this was fun and sorting things out with a half-naked Carolyn would be fun, too. She came into his arms for a kiss. When he cupped her buns to pull her against him, she pulled him by the buns, too. He stepped back and removed her slip. Carolyn had been beautiful dressed, and the parts that would get you arrested were still covered. Even so, she was even more beautiful like this. Fine, They had a long kiss with his hands exploring her sweet back as his tongue explored her mouth. Then he went down on his knees to take off one of her tennis shoes. She held his head while she stepped out of it. Being down there already, he grasped her buns and pulled her against his mouth as he gave her mound an enthusiastic kiss. She didn't argue, but he could see her belly quiver in silent laughter as he went back to the other shoe.

"My turn now," she said when the shoes were off. "Come up here." He rose, giving only a short peck to one bra-clad melon on the way. They had a long kiss, while her tongue dueled with his. Each of them had their hands on the other's buns. He couldn't tell whether groping her or being groped by her was the sexier experience. When they broke, she was on her knees taking off his left shoe. He could have sworn she looked at his crotch as if she would kiss it, but it was either a tease or his imagination. She rose for another kiss before taking off his right shoe. Two more kisses, two more dips down, and his socks were off.

They had an even longer kiss. He left her mouth for her ear and her neck. But when his hands went to her bra clasp, hers stopped them. She pushed them down to her waist. Well, considering what the lady wanted, why not give her what she wanted? As he pulled down the waistband of her pantyhose, she held up the panties. When he was back on his knees removing the pantyhose, he got a good, up close, view of her panties. They were red, almost scarlet, and fairly minimal. A few pubic hairs escaped around each side. They clasped her mound closely and were tight enough down below to show the shape of each lip.

She let him take a long look before coming into his arm for another kiss. Her hands fumbled with his belt, but she had to step away before she could get everything open. Then she was on her knees again, holding his trousers while he stepped out. His boxers weren't providing much concealment just then. His dick stuck out through the fly.

"Bill liked his view, and Little Bill wanted to have a view, too," she said. She rose and placed the trousers along the couch while he hurriedly concealed his dick. He appreciated the care she was taking with his trousers, but it looked less and less likely that the couch would be getting much use today. Well, it was her game, and he was having fun playing it. "Like these panties?" He nodded. "The sexiest pair I own. They don't make sexy bras with D cups." He laughed.

"Bras with D cups are already sexy. Come here." When she came into his arms, he turned her around. He kissed her ear and then her neck. He backed off a little to unsnap her bra. Then he reached around to stroke her melons. He teased himself, and -- hopefully -- her, by stroking all over the smoothness before reaching the tips. "Mmm," he said when they firmed under his fingers.

"Mmmmmm," she responded. She backed against his chest. She rubbed the side of her head against his jaw while her back caressed his chest. He finished removing the bra and tossed it towards her other clothes. "But I'm getting cold." She walked towards the bedroom. The edges of the panties were a diagonal across each flexing bun. The view was even better than it had been when she was dressed. He hurried after her when she disappeared into the room. She was standing by the bed when he came in.

"Can I get in?" she asked. "Under the covers?" Was she asking if she was welcome in his bed? Any time.

"Certainly!"

"Let's do the last stage on credit, and we can pay when we're warmer." She walked back to where she could reach him. She was staring into his eyes while she pulled out the elastic on the waist of his shorts. Then she looked down to make sure that she was missing his dick when she pulled them down. When she was bending over and the boxers were at knee level, she stood up. She raised her arms, lifting the fantastic melons slightly as well. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic of her panties. Bending to push them down brought his face near her melons. He kissed both and then continued down. The hair on her mound was rising from the compression her panties had imposed. He stroked her thighs as his wrists pushed the panties down.

She dropped suddenly, pushing the panties all the way down. She turned towards the bed. He got a great view of her snatch when she had one knee on the bed. Then she was lying down under the covers. He hurried to join her. When he raised himself on his left elbow to kiss her, she carefully adjusted the covers around his back. During the kiss, she kept stroking his back while their tongues played tag. He finally left her mouth to kiss her face and ears. When he started kissing her neck, she raised her hand to his face. He kissed down the neck, down the chest, up the melon.

"Oh yes," she said when his mouth reached the peak. She started playing with the hair on his chest. "Furry," she said. He stroked down to her mound.

"Furry," he answered. She chuckled, which moved her belly against the palm of his hand. The outside of her snatch was furry, too. When his hand got there, she spread her legs slightly. This didn't really give him much more room, but it gave him worlds of permission.

When he penetrated to her groove, she was wonderfully juicy. He brushed the juice up to her nub. She seemed to relax beside him. He stroked her nub and sucked her tip until she tensed again Then he licked the tip while rubbing a circle around the nub. When she tensed even more and was taking shallow breaths, he sucked hard just as he was rubbing right across the nub. That took her over. He kept stroking and licking until he was sure she was finished.

When she was flat on the mattress and breathing hard, he kissed her forehead. Sweet girl! He knew the answer, but -- while a good salesman might take no for an answer -- he never puts no in his prospect's mouth. He reached into the drawer to get a rubber. He held it where she could see it.

"Carolyn, lovely Carolyn, say yes."

"Put it on."

"You're saying yes?" He couldn't believe what he'd heard.

"Yes." She looked like she was laughing at him. He opened the wrapping and rolled the rubber down his dick. He got between Carolyn's knees. She closed her legs around him and put one hand on his chest. Her other hand went to his crotch. Holding the base of his dick with two fingers, she relaxed her legs and removed the hand from his chest. As he pushed forward, she guided his dick to her snatch. When the head was just inside the entrance of her tunnel, he paused to take a breath. She might be a virgin despite how she was acting. Then he drove hard into her. There was no obstruction. He went in though her smoothness until he was entirely enclosed. Then he paused.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Move!" That was an easy command to obey. Indeed, he'd been gritting his teeth at holding back. As he moved in and out through her warm tunnel, she matched his strokes. Raising herself as he entered and falling back on the mattress as he left her. He was too close, though.

When he was nearly out, he stopped to kiss down one melon to bury his face between them and kiss her skin there. Meanwhile, he brought his hand to her belly between their bodies. He thumbed her nub as he drove in. She circled his thighs with her legs. She threw her pelvis upward against his next down stroke. She scratched at his shoulders as she went over.

At the clasp of her tunnel around his dick, he drove forward again and gushed into her throbbing warmth.

"God!" he said. When he was himself again, somewhat later, he withdrew from her -- holding the rubber on his dick so that it came out, too. He moved to his own side of the bed and lay on his side facing her.

"Love you," he said.

"Oh yes. You were great..." There was a long pause. "Why wouldn't I be all right?"

"Huh."

"You asked if I were all right." She said. So he had, years, decades, centuries ago. The experience between had driven the question from his mind.

"Well... Sometimes..." How could he say this? "Sometimes, her first time hurts a girl."

"First time?" A long pause. "You know, you're a good lover, even a thoughtful lover, But you're awfully egotistical."

"Why?" Better to get this out than to let it fester into another multi-year grudge.

"Because a woman says no to you doesn't necessarily, in absolutely all cases, without any possible exceptions, mean that she says no to every man."

"Well, I didn't say that it did. After all, when you told me that you wouldn't date me if I was the last man on earth, I didn't say that this meant that you would never date anybody... Unless, of course, I did turn into the last man on earth. Anyway..."

"Anyway?" she asked when he didn't go on.

"Anyway, it wasn't just saying no. You were perfectly happy to make out with me, naked, on a bed -- in my bedroom in my apartment. It isn't as if I coaxed you that far. I don't mean that you were loose, or anything. I just mean that you seemed happy with making out with me, and quite opposed to the next step. I figured that it wasn't about me; then I figured that it was about you. So, maybe, you'd done all the rest before but not gone all the way."

"Still, it's a quite personal matter. It's not something you should ever ask a woman."

"I asked if you were all right. When you said you were, I went on. I didn't ask if you were a virgin. Indeed, if you hadn't been so insistent, I wouldn't know now." That sounded silly. "Well, I'd know about your state now, but not your state then."

"Still, your assumption was egotistical." Well, if his talk could be criticized, so could hers.

"And speaking of word choices and my ego..."

"Yes? Were we speaking of word choices?" she asked.

"There are some parts of them that men don't enjoy having described as little."

"Little? Oh, Little Bill. I didn't say that he was a little penis; I said he was Little Bill. You're what? Six feet?"

"Almost exactly."

"If he'd been even one foot long, we'd never have done this. So, however big he is of his kind, he's still little for a <b>Bill</b>."

"I wasn't happy."

"For that matter," she went on, "if you had a son, he'd still be Little Bill if he topped you by a head." He was never going to persuade her of anything. And, really, was persuading her the best use of his time when he had a naked woman -- a naked Carolyn -- in bed with him. Well, there were some things he needed to take care of.

"Keep my place warm, will you?" He turned on the lamp. He went into the bathroom, disposed of the rubber, pissed, washed dick and hands, and returned to the room. He closed the door to the mess in the living room and turned off the overhead light. He got back in bed to cuddle against her.

"Chilly," she complained. She didn't push him away, though.

"Can't see why you feel that way. I feel nice and warm." Despite her complaint, she snuggled back into him. He put an arm around her, and she pulled it into the valley between her breasts. This felt lovely, and he soon grew warmer. "I don't want to bring up an unpleasant subject, but when do you need to get back?"

"Should be by 7:30. The dining hall stops serving at eight, but the selection gets bad earlier than that." He had his back to the alarm clock, but it must be later than eight. They must have left the restaurant after eight.

"Should we start now?" Then his mind caught up. "Dining hall? Didn't you get enough to eat?"

"I eat three times a day..." Then she must have caught his misunderstanding. "Or wasn't I invited to spend the night?"

"Well, I'm totally willing to have you spend the night -- willing? I'm delighted. I just hadn't thought it possible."

"Since you brought it up, what do we need to do in the morning?" She didn't seem to think possibility worth discussing. "I'd like to shower. Can I use yours? I brought a travel alarm. I can set it so that I'm out of the shower by the time you usually wake up. I don't want to be in the way."

"You're distracting, but not disrupting. My alarm is still set for fifteen minutes before my regular time." He wasn't going to tell her that he didn't usually keep the apartment this neat. "Do you require more than that much time for a shower?"

"Nah! that's great. I need longer to put on my face, but I can do that while you're dressing. Can you drive me to the residence hall before 7:30?"

"Sure. Won't they ask questions?"

"Never do. They may guess, but you'll drop me by the door. No public good-bye kisses before breakfast. Not that I haven't seen a few." He kissed the back of her neck while she was still talking. If they weren't going to get any kisses in the morning, he ought to steal a few now. "Yeah. Anyway, I still have to prepare for the night. I'll be back." She got up and circled the bed heading towards the door. The view was delightful, since his contacts were still in. He got up. If he couldn't have her company, he'd take care of his clothes in the living room. First, he ducked into the bathroom to get the stuff for his contacts.

"Look," she asked him, "do you mind if I smoke here? I can go outdoors, if you'd prefer." He didn't even know she smoked. There was so much about her he didn't know. Anyway, he'd had guests who smoked, and they hadn't slept with him.

"Why, Miss Nolan! Seeing you like this I'd take you for a total innocent, and now I learn that you're an addict to the vicious weed." But she deserved a serious answer. "Do you mind smoking out here in the living room?" He went to the kitchen for one of his two stored ashtrays and a book of matches. When he got back she was in a nightgown. It was probably advertised as provocative, but much less interesting than her previous costume. Her brand of cigarettes was Kools. He took his trousers into the bedroom to hang in the closet, and put on a robe before he came back. The shirt and underclothes went into the wash; the tie went back on the tie rack.

When he'd taken care of his clothes, he hung hers in the living-room closet. She was still sitting there smoking, but she had her brush on the table in front of her.

"Would you let me brush your hair?" They'd had sex. He was going for intimacy.

"Let?" Which was a strange choice from the words he'd used to question.

"You have beautiful hair, and I'd love to brush it out. You can tell me if I'm doing it wrong." Indeed, he would enjoy caring for those gorgeous locks at her direction.

"Go ahead." He picked up the brush and began. Immediately, he ran into a snarl. The pulling must have hurt, but she made no complaint. He saw what the trouble was. With her hair so much longer than his, you had to come at the snarls from below. He pulled up a chair and sat behind her. Really, that got him clear of most of the cigarette smoke, too. He started on the last inch, easily got that straight, and went on to the next inch. Even so, he ran into snarls. A few, he could undo with his fingers; most had to be pulled. Hairs came out and wrapped around the brush, but she didn't complain. Before she'd finished the cigarette, he was standing behind her running the brush all the way through those lovely locks with every stroke. He should express how sensuous that felt.

"Mmm. Your hair is gorgeous. And so pleasant to feel, too." He thought of starting on the sides, but he didn't want to leave the back until she expressed approval. But she never did. She stubbed out the butt, took the brush from him, and attacked the rest of her hair. She was much harder on it that he had been. She started from the top, and -- when she hit a snarl -- she kept pulling until the snarl broke up or a hair came out. He almost winced.

When she went into the bathroom, he took the ashtray back to the kitchen. He dumped the butt -- mostly filter -- in the garbage and wiped out the ashtray. He took the time to remove his contacts. The kitchen sink provided the water he needed. When he went back, the shower was running. The brush with some of her lovely hair wrapped around it was lying where she'd left it. That gave him an idea. He got a pair of scissors, cut the hair along the back of the brush, and removed it. Now, he had a lock for himself.

He turned off the lights except for the bedroom lamp, removed his robe, and went to bed. He lay on the side he'd assigned to her. Her memory of sharing his bed should be of warmth; maybe that would make her more willing to share it in the future. He did confess to himself, though, that he'd hardly enticed her into it this time. Carolyn's decisions were delightful -- delightful recently, at least -- but he didn't see anything he'd done to influence them.

"Close the door?" she asked from the doorway. She was not only wearing the nightgown, she was far enough away to blur all the sexy details. Her question was real. He kept the door open, since that kept the bedroom a little warmer. On the other hand, she might like the greater feeling of privacy a closed door gave. What the hell? The two of them could keep each other warm.

"Please yourself... I kept your place warm." He rolled over, and she took her place. The sheets on this side were a mite cooler, but the thought that she had a place in his bed warmed him.

When they kissed, he could taste the tobacco. It wasn't all that bad, combined with the tastes of toothpaste and Carolyn, but it rather spoiled the experience of the kiss. She turned, however, and backed into the spoon. That was an unalloyed pleasure -- unalloyed, at least, after he'd moved the hair out of his face. Her hair was wonderful to see, not so wonderful to breath. He did, however, have a melon in his hand, her sweet buns against his legs, and kissable skin within reach of his mouth. When he took advantage of the last, she squirmed. The squirming rubbed her buns across his dick.

They really had to sleep, but it was early yet, and this sort of cuddling was restful. Sex was great -- the last sex had been <b>really</b> great, and he knew himself well enough to know that he would have been much less happy with this cuddling if it hadn't happened -- but this was another, almost a deeper, pleasure. An hour of this would leave him plenty of time for sleep, but what of her? Well, she'd demonstrated that when she wanted something, she knew how to ask for it. He'd keep it up until she told him it was time for sleep. Her comment, however, was quite unexpected when it came.

"Look, do you have another of those things?" Things? Oh, rubbers. Yes he did. Did she want another go? The thought hardened his cock. He wasn't sure how well he would perform this soon, though. The part which would be called on to do the performing felt real sure.

"Yes? Yes, I do."

"Do you want to use it?" Now, she was putting the burden on him.

"Always. Do you want?"

"I'm willing." Having started the discussion, she was backing off. Well, he always said he'd prefer to be the pursuer.

"I'd prefer eager, but I'll take willing." He pulled the bottom of her nightgown up to give him access. The feel of her buns hardened his dick even more. Good! He'd need all of that. He got the rubber out of the drawer, opened it, and rolled it on. Now to get in. She hadn't turned on her back. He was quite aware that it could be done from here, he'd even gone at it doggy-style more than once. Lying on their sides like this, however, was a new experience. "Lift your leg." Obediently, she raised her knee high. This gave him great access. If he tried to work with his hand back there, he'd block himself. He snaked his arm around her front and opened up her snatch. When he moved forward, the cock didn't hit the target quite right. "Help me in."

She took his cock and put the head right into her snatch. She might know more about this than he did. He slid forward as far as he could go. There was less room like this, and the sensations were delightful. Then he went back to stroking her nub. When he felt himself soften, he would move out as far as seemed safe and then in again. This snuggled him up against her warm buns. This felt arousing, but the warm friction on his cock felt much more arousing.

He felt nearly ready to pop. He had to bring Carolyn along for this. Beside kissing her skin, which felt heavenly, he stroked her nub whenever he wasn't moving. He could tell this brought some sucess, too. The muscles in her legs and buns were firming; every time he thrust forward, she pushed her snatch back around him. But he might be too near. He wasn't sure he could hold back.

"Carolyn," he said. How could he express his need for her to come? But he didn't need to. Her snatch clenched around him as she went over. Now for his. He grabbed her and stroked his dick through those delightful clenches. . "Love," he gasped. "Love... love." He pulled her back into his lap as he drove as far into that delicious, smooth, warmth with her flesh grabbing him as he could get. He was so close -- the sensations were such a fiery delight!

He was close, but he wasn't there. Her spasms stopped while he was still moving. The sensations were gentler, and -- perhaps because of this -- even more sensuous. He was at the peak, but he couldn't go over. And he couldn't stop either. If she'd held a gun to his head, he wouldn't have been able to stop now. He was so close, feeling more excited every second, but not getting any closer.

Then, when he was in agony, she clenched around him again. That took him over. With a groan, he pulled her tighter than ever, thrust into her harder and deeper than ever, and poured himself out into her.

"Gah!" he exploded. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, even his breath felt as if it was being torn from him. She took his hand off her hipbone. His grip must have hurt her. "Sorry!" Then he couldn't say anything else. He was either asleep or unconscious when she spoke again.

"Here. This is yours." What? Whatever it was, she was holding her arm up. He traced that arm to the rubber she was holding. He accepted it.

"Thanks. Sorry." He got it into the wastebasket. "I don't think any got out." He cuddled her back again. She let his arm rest between her magnificent melons. This was the loveliest way to go to sleep.

He was a little further away when the alarm woke him, but he held her melon as she stirred against him. Her buns rubbed his dick, threatening to turn his morning piss-hardon to a serious one.

"Good morning, Carolyn," he greeted her. And it was a <b>very</b> good morning. It was, however, also a workday morning -- a class-day morning as well. Practics first. "Who's first for the bathroom?"

"Me." Even the soft sound of the piss gushing out of her into his toilet was sexy. When she'd flushed and washed, though, she returned. "It's your house. If you want to shower first, that's okay." He needed to piss fairly soon, and he should probably shower first. Anyway, he needed his contacts in earlier than usual if there was a possibility of seeing Carolyn. He gathered the day's underwear and the robe holding his contact case. He went in.

When he came out, he was clean, shaven, seeing, and half dressed.

"All yours." Well, he cooked breakfast before putting the shirt and suit on. He should ask her breakfast preferences. He hoped he could supply them. "Eggs do for breakfast?" And that sounded as though he were offering more than his skill could deliver. "All I do is sunny side up."

"That would be fine." Lovely girl was being agreeable. He fried the bacon, set it on a paper towel to drain, and started his own eggs. He decided to eat and not to fix her eggs until she was done. Cold eggs are no treat. She came out quite promptly, though.

"Start the eggs now?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Thanks," she said when he put the bacon and eggs before her. He poured the coffee and handed her the sugar and creamer. Thank God he had some of that on hand for guests.

"Toast?" She'd have to say how dark.

"No thanks." That left him with no excuse to stay and watch her. If he were to dress where he could watch her, she would think him an exhibitionist. He came back before she was quite done.

"There's more coffee. More eggs, for that matter," he said when she'd drained her cup.

"No thanks."

"Anything else you have to do before we leave?" He didn't want to have her break their kissing session for something she'd think he should have known. He glanced at his watch, saw it was 7:05, and set the kitchen timer for ten minutes.

"Not really," she answered. He sat down, and she got up.

"Then come here." She sat, quite willingly, in his lap. "We need to leave at 7:15 if you're going to get there before 7:30. That leaves us a few minutes. No kissing in front of the dorm, you said." She took the hint. The kisses were sweet, and she seemed as eager for them as he was. Well, that was a good -- a <b>great</b> -- omen.

But the timer closed their session down. They got in the car, and he realized that this was the end of their time together, but not -- certainly -- their last time together. He glanced at his watch on the way downstairs. When the car started immediately, he knew he'd get her to her dorm on her schedule, before 7:30.

"And, speaking of schedule, if a strange man were to ask you for a date, would Saturday or Sunday be more attractive."

"Well, my dates recently have been with a <b>really</b> strange man." She paused for his laugh. "Probably Saturday, but I'd want time to get back to the residence hall beforehand." Well, Saturday would be fine, but her walking home would not only wear her out, it would cut down his time with her.

"Well, then, lovely Carolyn, may I have the pleasure of a date with you on Saturday? Why don't I pick you up after class, drive you to the residence hall, and wait for you downstairs while you gild the lily?"

"Thank you. I'd be delighted."

And they had another date. Except, they almost didn't. She came right out when he stopped in front of Brooke Hall.

"Now this is a pleasant surprise," he greeted her as he opened her door for her.

"Enjoy it." Then she got in the car and waited for him to get around and in the driver's side. "The next surprise is less pleasant. I have to call off our date." What the hell had he done wrong <b>this</b> time?

"What did I do now? I haven't spoken with you since you were agreeable to this date."

"It's nothing you did." Which meant she wasn't going to let him know what he did. And every second he failed to guess what his latest flagrant sin had been would be a new and separate offense.

"Then what is it?"

"If you must know, if you're so fucking nosy, then I'll tell you. I have my period." Well, she was mad at him now, but she hadn't been before.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"So why is that better?" Well because it wasn't something he had done. Indeed, her period meant that there was one offense they could be certain he hadn't committed. How could he explain?

"Try to hear two sentences as though you were a man. 'I don't want to make love to you.' Or 'I don't want to make love.' Do you see that the second one sounds much better, even though the consequences are the same?"

"Well, yes." And, now that she was saying yes, they might still have a date, if not as fun a date as he had planned on.

"And, now that we know the problem, we need to know how to deal with it. You still need to eat, don't you?"

"Well, yes. But I have a meal plan at the residence hall." Which did not, he'd bet a million, allow her to bring in a male guest.

"And we need to talk. If you're going away, I need to know for how long. You've been to my apartment, but I need to have your address in case I want to send you a Christmas card."

"Actually, while I've been in your apartment, I don't know the address." He'd give it to her gladly. Although she could find it within minutes in the Evanston White Pages, he wanted her to have as many mental links to him as possible.

"So, why don't we go out to eat and discuss these matters? I won't touch you, I promise."

"Do you have a reservation?" What? Had she expected Manfredo's?

"I'm scared to take you to Manfredo's. Last time I did that, I lost you for a year."

"McDonald's?" That was a contrast.

"Deal. You are a cheap date, aren't you?" He pulled away and headed for Mickey Dee's. "Big Mac?" he asked her. Two? Shake?"

"What's with this? You think I'm too thin?" No, darling, but -- if I can't fill you through the route I want to use -- I'll take the other. Actually, caring for her was becoming more and more pleasurable.

"You're the perfect shape. I just like nurturing that shape. If you need to work off the extra calories, I'd be happy to provide some exercise." Although she'd already said she wasn't interested today, which meant until she returned from vacation. And when would that be?

"Exercise? You keep driving me everywhere?" Sometimes she was so sexually aggressive, and then she missed an obvious double entendre.

"Vertical exercise? That's so passe'." And the darling actually blushed.

"Anyway?" he asked when they were in line.

"One Mac. A shake is okay."

"Chocolate?" That would be his choice.

"Yeah!"

"Two Big Macs, two chocolate shakes." She held their food while he drove. He stopped before parking. It was now or never. "Look, we can eat here. We can go back to my place. I already neatened it up. You don't want me to waste that, do you? I promise I won't touch you."

"Okay." She was saying yes again. they both were silent until he'd parked a long walk from -- although the closest parking space to -- the apartment.

Inside the apartment, he got a promotional pad and two ball points before joining her at the kitchen table. The food was pleasant, but watching her eat was more pleasant. Maybe it wasn't nurturing her that he enjoyed, but simply watching her.

"Now." He handed her a sheet from the pad and a pen when she had finished. "Give me the address where you'll be staying." He wrote his address and phone -- with zip and area code. She might want to call during the vacation, after all.

"Now," he said when she'd given him the first information. "When are you going, and when are you coming back?"

"Monday. Saturday, January sixth."

"What time?"

"They're both morning flights. I've got the specifics written down, but not on me."

"Okay. Can you call me with the particulars of the return flight? Including airline and flight number?" She was agreeable. But there was more to be decided.

"And now for more immediate issues. I've obeyed your rules," he pointed out. "I intend to keep obeying your rules. I don't think it's demanding of me to ask that you make your rules explicit."

"I was one hell of a lot more explicit than I wanted to be." Well, yes, she'd confessed to having periods. And he hadn't known women did until he was something like six. Modesty -- it wasn't that she had an extraordinary amount, it was that she had an always-surprising assortment.

"You were quite explicit about the situation. That doesn't communicate the rules. If I had my druthers, we'd put a towel down on the bed and go at it like bunny rabbits. That's not your preference, and your preferences rule. But I can't guess your preferences. I won't see you for another three weeks." That seemed an eon just now. "So, how much more than seeing can I do now? Can we kiss? Can I touch above the waist? Everything else but? Will you sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas?" She didn't choose any of these. Had he really expected her to not have her own ideas?

"Stand up, hands at your sides." She gave him a great kiss. With his hands bound, both by her orders and by her arms, he could feel only her lips and tongue, her melons pressing against his chest, and her belly pressing against his dick.

"Now, I need a cigarette," she said when she finally backed away. "Please take me back to the residence hall."

"Sure." Whatever your majesty commands.

"Look," he said in the car. "Remember when I told you that I would understand you some day?"

"Yeah."

"Don't hold me to that promise, okay?" She didn't answer.

He heard her during church on Sunday. Maybe not -- the voices were supposed to blend in. He always thought the choir sounded sweeter when she was singing. Afterwards, he waited by the choir exit until she came up.

"Drive you home?"

"Why, thank you." She always sounded as if the offer was a great surprise.

"Want another Big Mac?"

"The dining hall is going all out for this meal. Sort of a celebration of how much less they have to do over the next two weeks disguised as a send-off... Anyway, you feed me too much."

"Well, you'd starve if you only ate what I feed you. Anyway..."

"And, in case you have forgotten," she continued over his comment, "I'm going home. I'll come back ten pounds heavier. Anyway?"

"Anyway, the answer is no, and I can take your no for an answer."

"Same rules apply?" he asked when they were by her dorm. She blinked, then got it. His hands were down.

"Yeah." She gave him a lovely kiss before getting out. "Goodbye."

"Until Saturday," he whispered. He didn't offer to open her door because his hardon would be too prominent for the street. Perhaps because she knew that, she didn't wait for him to offer. She sauntered away, lighting her cigarette. The view of her buns was terrific, but not enough to keep him warm for two weeks.

It didn't even keep him warm for three days. By Wednesday the 20th, he already missed her, and it hadn't been much more than two days since he'd seen her. He bought her a card, signed it <i>A Secret Admirer</i>, and mailed it to her at her parents' home. That took an hour, although he dawdled over shopping for the card. He ate in town and took two ELs back north. That involved a cold change at Howard, but the trains were less crowded that late.

She could, he figured, have stayed in Evanston if she had wanted to. Her dorm must have students who didn't go home. For that matter, he would have been happy to put her up for the three weeks. In her third year of graduate study, was she that bound to her parents that she had to spend Christmas with them? What did the third year of grad study make her? 25? She hadn't seemed to have thought of staying. Which meant that this affair must be much less important to her than it was to him.

And, of course, the third year of graduate study meant something close to the last year of graduate study. How long did doctoral candidates take, anyway? Not as long at Northwestern as at the U of C, he'd wager. Kissing her goodbye before she left for the three-week trip had been fun while it lasted, although he was depressed now. Kissing her goodbye forever in June wouldn't be any kind of fun at all.

Which led him to an inescapable question. He wanted that girl. How much, and for how long? She was perfectly willing to fuck while she was in town, knowing that she'd be gone somewhere else -- probably fucking someone else -- in a year or two. Was he willing to settle for that? Did he want something permanent?

Did she? Well, that wasn't his first problem. First, he had to decide what he wanted. Then, if he wanted more than she did, he had to persuade her otherwise. And had he ever persuaded Carolyn of anything?

Well, she was an independent woman. If he wanted something permanent, that would mean marriage. That was a big step, and one he'd avoided -- sometimes consciously, sometimes instinctively -- up to now. Well, he was guessing about Carolyn's situation. He'd go to someone who knew, at least someone who knew more.

"Progress towards a doctorate is far less cut-and-dried than progress towards a BA," Dan Hagopian told him Sunday. Dan was a professor and a PhD. He knew this stuff. He was also a professor who answered a question with an entire lecture. That was okay; Jill really wanted to know. "But, first you take courses. Then you write a dissertation. Then you go off to teach. That's the formal pattern.

"In more cases than not, however, you go off to teach somewhere while you're writing your dissertation. And, the teaching jobs available for a guy (or gal) with a master's ain't much." Bill had put the question in the total abstract. Dan must, however, guess whose progress he was worrying about. "If you've got a research grant or a rich dad, you might get a teaching assistanceship for pennies at the institution you're studying at. Teaching assistanceships aren't enough to put bread on the table. Anyway, then you get your degree.

"That is usually enough to get you a job in a four-year institution. Most stop there. As it is, the journals are flooded. What it would look like if everybody who'd written a dissertation kept publishing, I couldn't imagine. Those people are teachers, and only teachers. The dissertation is an initiation that they had to go through in order to teach in college instead of in high school.

"The rest of us keep publishing in hopes that we'll produce enough significant work to land -- and, then, keep -- a job at a research institution, a real university. And, then, there are the happy few. Those produce a dissertation which is significant enough that their advisors persuade the faculty to sign them up at once before they get away. But you'd get better odds playing the lottery."

So it would be goodbye soon. Not great news to receive on Christmas Eve, but that was what that Sunday was. Dan had guessed enough as it was. Calling him up, as opposed to posing an idle question while Dan was waiting for Gladys after service, would have made him more certain of his interest in Carolyn. The problem was two-fold. He wanted her; did he want her permanently enough to propose? Her future involved moving around; would she accept him and the problems that would raise about moving around, or would she reject him as an unbearable anchor?

Well, deciding for her was a bad management strategy. If he had any asset, it was that he knew how to manage. He could decide for himself. And, actually, he had decided for himself. He wouldn't be in this awful funk if he didn't want her permanently. He went to the Christmas-Eve service that night determined, if still worried.

Determination, however, wasn't enough to change the calendar. It was Wednesday before he got to an open jewelers. The ring could be returned if it wasn't accepted. It could be fitted to her finger.

"Really," the jeweler told him, "this may be the first time you've dealt with this sort of situation. It's not the first time I have." How long Bill wanted to wait before asking did present a problem, but they agreed he would pick the ring up the next Wednesday. Bill didn't really want it in his apartment while Carolyn was out of town. Thursday night, he wrapped the box in some Christmas-gift paper and attached a tag -- larger than the package -- with her name and his address on it. He didn't know why he was being so elaborate. Carolyn was a decisive person, and he had never figured out how to influence her decisions. The next day, her Christmas card to him arrived. She'd obviously sent it after she got his.

Saturday, he met her plane at O'Hare.

"Bill! I didn't expect you."

"I, on the other hand, have spent the last three weeks expecting you." That got him a kiss. It was long and ardent. Their tongues met and wrestled. He got his hands under her short coat to her buns. The coats were an impediment, otherwise. The crowd went around them quite politely. "You have more luggage?" She was carrying a large package in a shopping bag.

"Better believe it. This is what wouldn't fit." She let him take her hand -- except on the escalator -- as they went to baggage claim. She had a large suitcase on rollers and a smaller suitcase. After a little juggling, he carried the smaller case and the shopping bag. He let her pull the larger one. He set his burdens down when they got to an exit.

"Why don't you wait inside until I fetch the car?" But she shook her head. When he brought the car back, she was smoking on the sidewalk. He popped the trunk and put the suitcases inside. He lifted the shopping bag and looked a question at her. She shook her head. He put the bag in the back seat, closed that door, and closed the trunk. She dropped the cigarette and stepped on it when he opened the passenger-side door for her. He walked around, got in, and drove away. The O'Hare signage was confusing.

"We're going directly to my apartment," he said when he was sure he was headed towards the expressway. "You can go back to your dorm just before classes begin."

"That's sweet of you, but I have to go to the residence hall. If you want, I'll come with you after."

"As if you had any question about what I want. Well, what I really want is to pull over and take you right now, but I'll take what I can get."

"Fine," she said. "But I'm really not into love in a car, especially not in January."

"Well, I can love you in this car. I just can't strip you. Beautiful as you'd look, I can see that it wouldn't be practical." So, he drove her to her dorm. She didn't take all that long -- among her many virtues, she was unfailingly prompt -- and she was carrying the smaller suitcase with her when she came down. He put it in the back, no need to open the trunk.

When they were in the apartment and he'd hung up coats and stuff, they had another long kiss. He thought he could taste the tobacco, but only faintly. And, this time, he could feel her.

"Welcome home. You're looking great."

"That's because Mama stuffed me. You always want me heavier. You're looking great, too. I haven't seen you without a coat and tie before. Well..." She'd seen him without a lot more than that, but she'd never seen him in a sports shirt before.

"Well... But you look just like you belong here. And Santa thinks you belong here, too. He left a package for you." He brought out the box.

"Bill you shouldn't have."

"Well, open it first, and then decide." She tore off the outer wrapping.

"You really shouldn't."

"Open it, already." The joke had been a mistake. She did finally pop the lid.

"Oh, Bill!"

"Carolyn, will you marry me."

"I have to think." Which was better than immediate rejection, he told himself. And, over more than a minute, he kept telling himself that.

"Would you still let me smoke in the house?"

"Certainly... Or is that a trick question?" She looked puzzled. "When it's my house, I make the rules. I permit your smoking. When we're married," -- keeping it positive -- "we will make the rules. Technically, I won't be permitting you anything. I certainly won't be prohibiting you smoking, or anything else." She nodded.

Then she went on. "The question is... I really haven't persuaded you about economics. That's my life." Well, he wanted to be her life, but he could see her point.

"Not really," he admitted. "You know more than I do, I'll admit that. Do you know more than Professor Becker does?"

"More to the point," she said, "you and I know less than either Samuelson or Friedman. And they are at loggerheads. I'm not asking you to yield to my greater wisdom -- really you'd only be yielding verbally to get me to yield sexually. But, if I do live with you, will you listen to the arguments? I think I can persuade you. I don't go by 'Samuelson says this, and so it must be so.'"

"Yeah. Long ago, Dan told me that you'd know the arguments for your positions." She was waiting for more, almost tapping her foot waiting. "I'll listen. After all, I don't love Becker. I do love you."

"Well, that seems to be it. I do like you, too. Yes, Bill, I will marry you." She stuck out her finger, and he took the ring out to put it on. It was a little loose.

"The jeweler said he could adjust it. He's open until five. Want to do that now?"

"Now?"

"Or Monday night," he answered. "We're limited by his hours, as well as our own."

"Let's." She got on her coat. The size adjustment was a less finicky business than he'd expected. The jeweler suggested that they select some wedding rings while they were there. He was a good salesman, and asked Carolyn if they wanted a ring for him, as well as for her. When she said yes, he had no choice.

Back at the apartment, their kiss was a mere prelude. When he kissed every part of her he revealed by removing a garment, she insisted upon doing the same to him. He took off his own socks and boxers. Her kissing his foot would scare him off her mouth much worse than the smoking did, and he didn't trust himself not to explode if she kissed his dick.

As before, he watched her get into bed. The view from in back was good when she was wearing clothes and standing up -- if not as good as the view from in front. The glimpse of her snatch as she knelt on the mattress bending to get under the covers hardened him. He followed her into bed and reached into the drawer for his rubber.

When he'd kissed those melons a welcome on their return, they kissed again. And, while he explored her snatch, they had another kiss. He sucked the tip of a melon while stroking her nub until she went over. Then he needed both hands to get the rubber on. He moved between her legs, pulled the sheet and blanket so that it was covering them, and stopped just outside her snatch. He spread her lips and fitted himself.

"Oh, Carolyn." He didn't need to ask; he already had permission. He pushed himself into her smoothness, pressed ahead until he couldn't go further, she was holding all of him. "Oh, Darling." Then he began the ancient rhythm. Every motion inside her tight snatch sent him exquisite sensations. His chest hair was just brushing the tips of her melons. He watched her face go from delight to worry. She looked near to agony just before he felt her go over.

He drove into that warm clasping once, drew out through it once, then thrust deep and exploded. He was lying on her, sagging from his arms, his head hanging, when he next was conscious of the outside world. He lifted his head to look at her face, which was now relaxed.

"Love you," he said. He grasped the rubber and moved off her slowly. "Sorry." They worked mutually to adjust themselves and the covers. He dropped the rubber into the wastebasket and snuggled against her. He felt her buns with his legs. "Mmmm," he murmured into the back of her neck. He clasped a melon. She was sexy, and she was his -- or would be his.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked in a whisper.

"Warm inside and cold outside. I'd thought I made out like gangbusters. I didn't realize Santa left his best gift up here." Now, that was sweet.

"You forgive me for the joke then?"

"Sure," she said. "Nothing to forgive. I felt like you were calling me a kept woman 'til I opened it. I don't mind being a fiancee. And how was your Christmas?"

"Great, now. Actually, if I hadn't been worrying about this, I'd have been quite happy. Vi Robinson is due in early February." She laughed, quite a delightful feeling from this position. Her buns shook against his dick.

"That's Bill. Babies are important. Get any gifts that came before February?"

"A delightful one just today. Seriously, I got a book and a tie from my parents. I got the usual from my fellow workers, and gave them the usual." His parents loved him, or loved the kid they remembered. They weren't really part of his present life. His coworkers, competitors except for the president and vice presidents, were part of his present life, but any feelings they expressed were feigned. His were, at any rate. But Carolyn broke that reverie.

"Really, speaking of Arkansas, I have to go back to the residence hall."

"Must you?" He hugged her more tightly. "It's cold out there, and I'll get lonely."

"But I should call Mama. I have to tell her about the engagement."

"You can call from here."

"Really?" she asked. That was what marriage was. He'd have access to her body; she'd have access to his wallet -- well, in this case, his phone account.

"Dear, this isn't the ceremony where 'with my worldly goods, I thee endow.' That's later. But I do think I could spring for a long-distance call."

"Could we be dressed for it?" She was modest at the oddest times and about the oddest things.

"Sure. Want me out of the house to give you some privacy?"

"Nah. I'll put all your faults in a letter."

"Once you said that would give your hand cramps."

"I've got a typewriter." She topped him. So they got up and dressed in what they'd taken off. She put on her shoes; so he did, too. She dialed from memory.

"Mama?... No, I'm okay.... I'm in good health and in Evanston, incompatible as those two are.... Listen for once!

"Y'know how you always ask about my romantic life? Well I'm now engaged.... He's right here. Want to talk to him?" She handed the phone to him.

"Mrs. Nolan?" he asked.

"Yes. I hear you're engaged to my daughter. What did you do, pop the question at the airport?"

"No, although that might have been a better idea."

"And who and what are you?"

"I'm Bill Pierce, William on my driver's license. I'm a regional sales manager for Andalusia Pharmaceuticals. We're an ethical drug company. When you go to the pharmacy with a prescription, you may well be getting one of our products." Her educated daughter hadn't known the term. He'd better let the mother know that he wasn't a pusher.

"I haven't heard a thing about you -- not your fault. She plays things close to the vest. So, when's the wedding?"

"Well, we haven't discussed that yet. She wanted to tell you early. If you want to hear all the details, you can't expect to hear them before all the plans are made. Do you want to talk to the one who'll be making those decisions?"

"You didn't propose with a whole wedding planned out?" her mother kept asking.

"No. I want to keep her always. That means a marriage. And that means a wedding. The wedding is a necessary condition, not something I wanted particularly."

"No. No. No. Remember that I'm the bride's mama. You don't tell me that you want to keep her. You tell me that you'll be getting her for the first time on the wedding night. In my day, a gentleman would tell all his friends the same story. I don't expect you young ones to be gentlemen, but you should -- at least -- tell <b>me</b> that story. Okay, put her back on." He handed the phone to Carolyn.

"Yes, Mama.... It will be up here, and of course you are invited.... Well, we told you first. Bye Mama, I love you...." Carolyn laughed.

"She said that you're the one I'm supposed to be loving."

"Sounds like a great idea. Before or after we go out to dinner?"

"Well," she said, "we <b>are</b> dressed. Actually, you proposed without knowing whether I could cook. Maybe I should make us something."

"Breakfast, maybe." Which would keep her here until then.

"Breakfast certainly." She looked about to say something else, but he kissed her. She participated eagerly. Sometime later, he turned her around. He kissed the side of her neck while holding her melons. "You have eggs, I know. Do you have onions and green peppers?"

"Onions, probably. Green peppers certainly not. Maybe you should survey your domain." So, when he let her go, she did. They stopped at the grocery on the way to the restaurant. Despite her plural, she bought one bell pepper -- also cereal, hamburger meat and buns, tomato soup, and several spices. He wheeled the cart and paid the bill, adding a carton of Kools at the last minute.

"You didn't have to," she said.

"Well, you won't have that excuse for sneaking back to your dorm. After all, don't they last forever if you don't open the pack?"

After dinner, they came back to the apartment, and she put the food away. Carolyn took a little more time looking through the kitchen. Then they watched television on the couch. What the programs were, he couldn't have told you -- he couldn't have named the program if Carolyn had asked during a commercial. He was acutely aware, however, of her warmth beside him, of her soft shape under his hands, and of the taste of her kisses. Finally, he became aware that the news was on.

"Are you really interested?" he asked her.

"Nah." She raised the ring. "They won't have the real news. Look, same rules about smoking? It's all right in the living room?"

"Sure. And, if that feels too restrictive, we can renegotiate."

"It's fine," she said, "but you might want to make your night preparations while I smoke it."

"Fair enough." He came out of the bathroom in his robe. "All yours."

"Thanks." When she went into the bathroom, he went into the bedroom. He stripped off the robe and got into bed. Remembering her chill, he moved to her side of the bed. He heard her in the bathroom after a while. She came in wearing a robe. When she took off the robe, she had on the nightgown.

"Now," he pointed out, "I've been keeping your side of the bed warm. Do you really need that?" She laughed, but took the gown off. She got into bed wearing nothing but the ring he'd given her. They had a kiss. He was getting used to the taste of tobacco. He felt all over her body while their tongues dueled. She moved her hand to his dick. It hardened in her hand, but he remembered their last time. He didn't trust it so soon after.

"Early days, yet," he said. He kissed down to her melon and stroked his hand down to her mound. She spread her legs a little. He played with her snatch and then slid his finger into her groove. She had plenty of juice, and he stroked it up over her nub. She sighed as she relaxed in acceptance of his care. That was the loveliest sound in the world.

He switched melons, kissing from one tip down the valley and over to the other tip. He sucked and licked that tip while his finger continued the gentle stroking. Her leg tensed under his hand, and her belly tensed under his chest.

"Love you," he murmured, "share it with me." And, after a moment, she did. He pelvis raised into his hand; one of her toes pointed over his foot. He sucked harder, and he stroked in a circle over her nub while she went over.

When she relaxed completely and started taking in gasping breaths, he removed his hand completely from her. He kissed down her breast from the tip. Then he kissed a line down her belly until he reached where the hair began on her mound. He had to move a good deal to get between her legs, and then he had to pull the blankets over his head. Her odor in the tent he'd made was incredibly arousing, but there was some bitter component. Still, it almost made him certain he could perform. Then he shook off the temptation.

He kissed her thigh, then the other thigh. She pushed them flat on the bed after his kisses. That raised her snatch as if it wanted its share of kisses, too. He spread the lips with his fingers and tasted them with his tongue. There was a definite bitter taste. Would the tobacco affect that? Well, he was too close to back off. He licked her nub until she shuddered. then he sucked it while she went over. When she collapsed this time, he climbed out and held her from his side. It was like lying on a cliff-side, but he had her to anchor him.

"Could you move a little away?" he asked when she started to stir.

"Sure." She moved over, and he started to lie next to her, but she was still moving. She rolled over so that her back was towards him. "Like this?"

"Delightful." He turned the lamp off before snuggling up to her. "Do you have enough room, now?"

"Just enough. You know, you're going to have to get a double bed."

"Yes," he said, "we are. And what other new furniture will we need? With a double bed in this room, we won't be able to fit much else in. But you need some sort of dresser."

"Will we keep this apartment?" she asked.

"Until June, at least. I have a year's lease. Maybe later, we'll get more furniture, but we shouldn't get anything now which we don't want to keep. One thing you'll need is some sort of study desk or typing table. It will have to go in the living room."

"You picture me moving in, don't you?" she asked.

"Well, I'll get another key on Monday. But I was mostly thinking about after the wedding. You'll be moved in then. When will that be, anyway?"

"You talk as if it's my choice."

"Well, it is, isn't it?" All he wanted was to hold her like this every night. The wedding was a requirement, and her requirement.

"If I said tomorrow, you'd agree." Now she was being impossible, and, to judge from the teasing tone of her voice, deliberately impossible.

"Well, tomorrow is impossible. We'd need a license, and I know the County Clerk isn't open on Sunday."

"Yeah, right. You're just trying to escape now that I gave you my lily-white body in exchange for your promise." He thought of pointing out that he would have got her lily-white (and it was almost lily-white this time of year) body earlier if he hadn't brought up the ring. But he couldn't think of any way to say that funnily.

"Seriously," he said, "if you want the wedding as soon as possible, I'll call the County Clerk Monday. Probably, I should anyhow. We need to know what the requirements are, whether we both have to go, and when they are open. Am I right that you have nothing after noon Tuesday and Thursday?"

"Yeah. Studying, but no class."

"Okay. I can take a late lunch and meet you downtown any afternoon. That may be necessary. Seriously, when do you want the wedding?"

"Seriously? You're taking all the fun out of this conversation." Since he had his hand on her melon and his dick was against her buns, <b>he</b> thought there was a lot of fun in the conversation. "But semester break makes sense. The room and food contracts can be cancelled then. I'll have some time, and so will my friends. Look, something you should understand: sleeping together every night is great, but I'll need study time -- lot's of study time some weeks."

"Sure. and when crunch time comes, I'll either cook or get take-out. I'll come in here and leave you alone to study. I won't be jealous of a book."

"It's a deal," she said. "If I let you flirt with Alice, you'll let me sleep with my books."

"Deal." It was a good deal.

"You sure you don't want me to take care of Little Bill?" She reached back to touch his dick.

"Not tonight." He wasn't sure he could finish if he started. His dick was sure, but that was nothing to rely on. "How about in the morning?"

"Yeah, but I need to do some stuff when I wake up."

"Of course," he agreed. They snuggled together some more. He kissed her neck and stroked her hip before his hand went back where it belonged. She brought it down to the valley between her breasts, and he hugged her while she hugged his arm. He thought, suddenly, that this was his life from now on. It was good thought on which to fall asleep.

When the alarm woke him on Sunday, thought. he and Carolyn were lying side be side on their backs. He reached his left hand over to pat her thigh.

"Good morning, sweet Carolyn."

"What time is it?"

"Way early." He never reset his alarm for the weekend. He often went back to sleep, though. "Want to sleep longer?"

"Want to, but need to..." She headed towards the bathroom. He regretted having taken out his contacts the night before. When she came back he had his own bathroom time, shaving, brushing his teeth, and putting in the contacts as well as the usual toilet time. He climbed into bed beside her. She was lying on her back. He got up on his left elbow to lean over and kiss her. Their kiss was sweet and long. When his hand wandered, hers did too.

"Careful." If he was going to wait long enough to bring her over, he shouldn't be too excited himself.

"Well," she argued, "you're doing it." She, however, removed her hand.

"Yeah, but I'm a one-shot. You have a whole six shooter."

"You've never seen me come six times in a row." His dick twitched at her words.

"No, but I'd love to. Probably not on a Sunday morning, though."

"Miss Armbruster would kill you."

"Her best singer, hors de combat."

"Hardly her best singer," she demurred, "third-best alto." While they were discussing this, his hand had kept wandering. Now, he leaned over to kiss the tip of one melon while his fingers massaged the outside of her snatch.

"You're really going to do it this morning? Not like last night?"

"Did last night disappoint you?" he asked. Now he had his index finger stroking her juices up to her nub.

"Hardly. But if you're going to need it, shouldn't you have the contraceptive out now?" She was right. He'd only been keeping the rubber hidden to shield her modesty by hiding his intentions. He turned over on his right side to get the rubber out, but he left it wrapped. He slid it under the pillow where he could reach it fast.

"That's something else we need," he said, "another pillow. I keep saying I love you, but..."

"Not often enough. Actually, I'm kind of glad you don't have two pillows." When his hand returned to her crotch, she spread her legs to permit it to go back to what it had been doing.

"...But I keep being surprised by who you are. I mean..."

"I'm still the feminine mystery?"

"Yeah. By the way, I do love you." She'd said he didn't say that often enough. "But I keep planning a way to seduce you with a ploy, keep the rubbers in a drawer so they won't intrude on your maidenly modesty." His strokes were having some effect. Every time he dipped his finger down into her lower groove he found her juicier.

"Or under your pillow." He licked the tip of her melon while she was speaking.

"I'll know right where it is when I need it," he explained. "Put it an inch lower on the sheet and it would skid anywhere on the bed when we move."

"Okay." She sounded distracted, tense and distracted. He went back to licking and sucking the tip of her melon, while his finger kept distracting her. Her belly tensed under his hand. He looked down while sucking to see that tense belly.

When she went over, he watched the belly quiver.

When she dropped back in utter relaxation, he moved quickly. He got the rubber, brought it to his left hand -- immobile since he was resting on that elbow -- and opened it. Then he rolled it onto his dick. He got between her legs and used his hand to open her snatch. He was there!

"Carolyn, I love you." He moved forward and inward. She was so warm and smooth around him. He Shifted from his awkward position so that he could rest on his elbows and hold each of her melons. He kissed both tips before looking in her face. She mouthed a kiss at him, and he mouthed one back. Then he moved out until only the tip of his cock was in her snatch. He stroked the tips of her melons as he came back. Then he was moving in and out in a regular rhythm.

She smiled at him in the beginning. He felt the warmth hold all of him when he was at the bottom of his stroke, then the slippery clasp of her on the head of his dick. At the top, his whole shaft was feeling cooler, and only the head was warm. Then the delicious slipperiness on his head again, and more of his shaft was held in her warmth.

After short time stroking like that, she looked worried. He bent down at the top of his stroke to kiss the tip of one melon, bent down at the top of the next to kiss the other.

She looked like she was in pain, and he <b>was</b> in pain. The warmth, the slipperiness, the sight of her face, the feel of her melons, the consciousness that this was Carolyn, were driving him over.

"Come for me darling," he begged, "come <b>with</b> me." Then he couldn't hold back any longer. He went over at the top of his stroke and drove forward to bury his dick in her snatch while he came.

She did. His last spasms were inside a clasping snatch. Then, he was lying, gasping, on top of her while she was hugging his waist. When he caught his breath, he moved off. She rolled half over, and he hugged her. He felt a chill on his back and freed his arm to haul the sheet and blanket back where they covered him completely. Then he brought the arm back into the warmth. Maybe he should warm it up 000000before using it to hug her again.

"Love you," he murmured.

"How long do we have?" she asked. He rolled over to see the clock. They'd have to get another clock as well as another night stand. It was a few minutes before eight.

"Hours. It's not even eight yet."

"Well, I'll need more time to cook breakfast.... Do you have any aprons I haven't seen?"

"Aprons? No." Men didn't wear aprons. Did modern, liberated, women like Carolyn?

"What do you do about cooking spills? Don't they send your cleaning bills sky high?"

"I cook in my robe and underwear. I wash both at the laundromat."

"So I should cook in my robe?" she asked.

"Or borrow mine." He took a long pause to marshal his thoughts. "Look, I didn't think all that far ahead. Mostly, I was thinking about having you in my bed, if you call that thinking. Then I was trying to figure out a way to persuade you. Not until you accepted did I think of us together in the light of day. So, I still haven't planned it through very thoroughly. You can cook in my robe; I can cook -- I've done it most mornings for the past decade; we can go out to eat. Nothing's cast in stone."

"This is. I'm cooking a western omelet."

"Okay. Want my robe to protect you?"

"Okay," she said. "You can shower and dress while I'm cooking."

"I'd rather watch, but we'll do it your way." So he got his robe and held it for her as she got up. She put on her bra from the night before first and her panties, pantyhose, and tennis shoes after. Even so, it was nice to watch. In the bathroom, he discovered that he still had a rubber hanging from his dick.

He tossed it in the bathroom wastebasket, showered, and dressed in his underwear in the bathroom. As breakfast wasn't ready, he got into his suit trousers, shoes, and socks. He decided to delay the shirt until after breakfast. The western omelet tasted good, although it wasn't the time of day he usually went for onions. She'd made coffee, too.

"Delicious meal. I think I'll keep you."

"I'm glad you liked it. Now, it's my shower time." She took that while he put on his shirt. She came out still wearing his robe, but carrying underwear. When they kissed, he discovered that she was wearing underwear all the same. Under her robe, though, his hands could touch skin up and down her back with merely a bra strap interrupting. He tried to unsnap that, but she pushed him away.

"No. It's time to dress. You're dressed for church."

"Be my guest."

"I will. Do I dress out here, while you're in the bedroom? Or do I bring my clothes into the bedroom and dress in there while you're out here?"

"Well," he said "I'd choose option three, but since you've got the clothes out here, call me when you're ready." She was fully dressed, including heels when she opened the bedroom door. He came towards her for a kiss.

"Nope. Lipstick." Well, he wasn't wearing any. He took her hand, and kissed that. She was soon giggling and pulling her hand away. It didn't feel like a serious pull. When he kissed and licked her palm, however, she tugged hard enough to free her hand. She immediately went to the closet. He'd never seen the coat she put on.

"New?"

"Christmas," she said. "From my parents."

"Pretty." It was. He noticed, however, that it went down to her knees. It would keep her buns warm, but block his access as her other coat didn't. Well, he'd have more chances inside, now. He could behave when they were outdoors if he had to. He went for his own coat, though they'd get there early. She was fumbling around with gloves, but was ready as by the time he was.

When they got to the church, he let her out right in front. Parking was easy this early, and he got back when she was climbing up from the cellar entrance.

"Nobody's there," she said.

"We're early. Try this door." The door to the fellowship area was open. The adult Sunday School class was still in session, so they said nothing. Carolyn went downstairs to the robing room, and he went into the sanctuary. He didn't feel like sitting, so he paced. Pastor Jake came out of his office a few minutes later, carrying the bulletins.

"Bill."

"Jake. Want me to open the doors?"

"Please." He took the bulletins and put them on the usual table. The doors had crash bars, easy to open from inside. He opened them only a crack Because of the cold, but anyone coming in could pull them the rest of the way. He stood in the back with a handful of bulletins. He'd play a greeter until the assigned one showed up. The next person he saw, though, was Dan. Well, Carolyn wouldn't be alone downstairs; Gladys was there.

"You're early," said Dan. Yeah. Carolyn's time sense involved walking from her dorm.

"Parking's better. I was up and dressed. Alice isn't going to come to my house."

"School starts tomorrow," Dan responded. "Think Carolyn is back yet? Expect her to attend today?" Right! Well, two could tease.

"I think she will." He handed all but one of the bulletins he was holding to Dan and went into the sanctuary. If he wasn't the assigned greeter, Dan could hold down the fort 'til the assigned one came. Dan saw too much. He didn't know why he didn't simply tell him. It's not like Gladys and the rest of the choir didn't know already. Well, keeping a secret from Dan was an accomplishment. Soon after he sat down, Pastor Jake and Anne Gleason came in to set up the altar for communion.

That raised a question. The choir came down from the loft for communion. Some husbands, and one wife, of choir members waited and filtered into the choir so they could take communion kneeling next to their spouse. Well, to do that would be an open announcement. He should. He did, and when Carolyn saw him standing there when she came out into the sanctuary from the stairs, her eyes lit up.

He and the other drivers with family in the choir waited at the stairs leading down from the fellowship room while the others shook Pastor Jake's hand and filed out the door in the back of the sanctuary. Dan, who would normally be talking to him, was engaged in a discussion of whether too much sidewalk salt damaged lawns. Several eyes flickered towards him, but nobody asked any questions. Then Carolyn came up the stairs with Gladys and Vi. The others were matching their pace to Vi's slowness.

"Congratulations, Bill," Vi said. Carolyn reached her left hand out to him before anyone could ask the reason for the congratulations. The three women in the waiting group crowded around to admire the ring. The men were as admiring, if not so close. Pastor Jake came through from seeing off the last of the main group.

"Congratulations," he said. "Ceremony here?" Bill looked at Carolyn.

"Yes. And we'd like you to perform it."

"That's great," said Jake. "Can you come in for counseling?"

"Well," Bill said, "you work weekends, and I come from the Loop. Why don't you two set the time? Everybody knows my constraints."

"Wednesday evening?" Jake wasn't even consulting his pocket calendar. "Trustees aren't meeting this month. They meet at seven, so I know that's free."

"Pushes dinner a little bit," he answered. "How about 7:30?"

"Is that agreeable Carolyn?"

"Perfectly agreeable, Pastor." And, then, Jake pulled out his pocket calendar and wrote the time.

"My office?"

"Sure." Carolyn didn't bother to look at him. Well, where else would the appointment be?

"Dennis is here, Vi," Dan called from the door. She went out slowly, and others trickled out. Carolyn held his hand as they walked to the car.

"Well, he said, "now everybody knows."

"Everybody in the church. I still have to tell the guys at school."

"And my work." But he already had an idea of how to tell his office. Men didn't get an engagement ring to wave around. When they got to the apartment, he hung up their coats and they had a nice kiss. She broke it, though.

"Nope. I've got to cook. Lunch will be late enough. And you've got to go back in the bedroom while I change. I'm not cooking in my best Sunday dress." He thought for a minute.

"Look. You're going to be moving in, right?"

"Not right away." She was always pushing back when he hadn't been pushing.

"Fine. But some stuff. It's ridiculous for your stuff to be out here all the time. My mistress, fine; my wife, absurd. So why don't you start the kitchen work while I shift closets? Don't put anything on the fire, but get stuff out. I'll be only five minutes." She went into the kitchen. He figured she was following his suggestion. He carried her jeans, blouse, and nightgown -- and his robe -- from the closet to the bedroom. They went in that closet easily, but all her clothes wouldn't fit. He took his suit coats out to the living-room closet in two trips. He grabbed two jackets he'd stored in the bedroom closet to get them out of the way, and shoved his clothes over. That left half the space for her. He was coming out of the bedroom door, still carrying the jackets, when she met him.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Fine. There are still a lot of hangers on my side of the closet. Take any you need. I didn't sort them out yet." She came out a few minutes later dressed in jeans and his robe.

"I figured since it's got splatters on it already..." Unfortunately, she was also wearing the sweatshirt. He thought watching her cook might make her nervous, so he straightened up both closets. He put his outerwear for other seasons in the far side of the living-room one, then his current suit coats including today's which he took off to hang up. After those were his outside coats and -- finally -- her coats. He got all the empty hangers out from among his clothes in the bedroom closet. Those he put on her side before arranging his clothes for greater convenience. Finally he shoved his clothes back to the left side and arranged the empty hangers so they would look available for either person. She was still cooking when he came out, but she didn't seem to mind his watching from the edge of the kitchen area.

Lunch was good. Sloppy joes weren't on his list of adult fare, but they were fun, and -- when cooked by Carolyn -- delicious.

By himself, he washed dishes only twice a week, although Sunday would be one of those days. For Carolyn, though, he shouldn't be quite so sloppy. He washed up after lunch. She was on the couch when he got back into the living room.

"Want television?" he asked. She could have turned it on. She shook her head, which was fine with him. He sat beside her and hugged her "What sort of wedding do you want? A fancy one?"

"Let me think." And, being Carolyn, she thought. He kept an arm around her, but she was far away. Finally she asked, "Well, do you have scads of money salted away?"

"Not really." That wasn't really honest. Sometime, sometime soon, she'd be his wife and they would have one budget. She should know the facts. "Not at all, in fact. I got a nice raise back in July when I was promoted, and I didn't take a vacation then, either, which saved some. I only bought some suits. I felt quite flush. The ring, on the other hand, sank all that, and I'll still owe on the ring for years. Why?" It felt wrong to tell her how much the ring cost, like telling someone how much you spent on their birthday gift. On the other hand, it would soon be <b>their</b> net worth. She deserved to know.

"Look," she started, "the next couple of years decide my future. I'm going to be writing a dissertation while teaching at some junior college or something. They won't get anything out of the dissertation, so they won't give me any slack to work on it. And putting enough work in on my dissertation will be critical to my future. So will performing at least adequately as a teacher.

"So," she continued, "I may have to make decisions between maximizing earnings in, say, '74 and making the best impression on my peers. And that means, really, maximizing earnings over the rest of my life. So, I'd feel much more comfortable saying that I could make decisions for the next three years without looking at how much I'd earn than I would spending a lot of money now."

"That means the honeymoon, too?" he asked. Or was she presuming he'd pay for the wedding? Well, he was wiling. He didn't really know much about her family; they might be dirt-poor. But the honeymoon was his responsibility, and -- thus -- her shared debt.

"I suppose so. Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine with me," he assured her. "I was planning on spending the honeymoon in bed, and a bed in Acapulco doesn't sound any better than a bed in Evanston... really." So long as she was happy, that was better.

"Warmer though." She had a point.

"Yeah. You find this apartment too cool, don't you?"

"The apartment is warm enough. It's not warm enough for the costume you want me to wear." Well, yes. He wasn't naked, except in the shower, for more than a few minutes at a time when she wasn't there. But her words allowed him to lighten her complaint.

"That's unfair. I don't want you to wear <b>any<b> costume." She showed him her ring. "Okay." Point for her, he did want her to wear the ring. Well, if she wanted to be warmer, there were better ways of keeping her warm than clothes. He picked her up to seat her on his lap. "Got to surround this girl with body heat to keep her from freezing to death." She might try to trump his jokes, and successfully this time. She didn't resist his loving.

"Y'know," he told her, "space heaters are cheap. We're getting all sorts of new furniture for the bedroom. We could get a space heater, too." She wanted to be warm; he wanted her to be nude. So, they should find a way for them to both get what they wanted.

"All sorts?" They were off on another topic.

"Double bed," he began the list. "Dresser for you. We need a new night stand, too, for your side. If you don't have a clock, or you want to keep it in the dorm for a while, we'll get you another clock. We could get you one that matched mine, which wasn't all that expensive, but maybe you'd want to distinguish the alarms."

"Look," she said, "I don't want to sound like I'm rejecting you." Which meant that she had an objection to what he'd said.

"You don't want an alarm clock? You wouldn't have to set it, even. But how do you make class?"

"And breakfast," she said. "Let me finish. This is about waking up. I wake up more slowly than you do. When I'm awake and have figured out that I'm in Bill's bed quite willingly, then I can enjoy your petting. If the first impression I get is a man's hand on my breast or close to my delta, I'm likely to scream." Well, that would have been a problem. More than that, he didn't want her experience of him to be unwanted advances.

"Okay.... Problem is, that I wake up a little slowly myself. And the first realization this morning was that the sweet body beside me was Carolyn's. I'm not sure I can remember to go slow." Morning cuddles were such a great way to start the day. He wanted her to bookend what would be some fairly-rotten days. Well, he had her now, and willing now. He cuddled her some more and kissed her neck. There was business to conduct, though. Proposing had made his long-term future brighter, but it certainly had produced obstacles to their present gratifications. He moved her off his lap for a more serious discussion..

"Look, after the wedding, you'll be living here. We'll look for a larger place. The question is between now and then. I'll get you some keys tomorrow. Stupid not to have planned ahead. You'll have study space when I'm gone -- when I'm here, too, though it'll be kind of cramped." But that wasn't everything. He should get her keys to the Packard, too. But that raised another question, "Do you have a driver's license?"

"Arkansas,"

"Well, the Illinois license can wait until we're married. You'd have to change your name, anyway. When I get keys to the front door and to the apartment, I'll get my car keys duplicated, too. Mornings, you can drive me to the EL stop and go on to campus

"Monday," he continued, "you can't get in. We'll go out to eat. Tell me where to pick you up. Wednesday, we'll be pushed to get to the church. We should eat out then, it will be faster." But that was only one week. "Otherwise, you decide when to cook. We'll go out to eat unless you're feeling domestic." That, of course, weren't the only choices. "If you want take-out, however, warn me before hand. Fair?"

"I'll give you plenty of warning when I want take-out." She sounded somewhat cool. Did she resent his putting her off his lap? Well, that was the several month's future. Now for today.

"Do you have another meal planned for tonight, or do you want to go out? I figure we stay dressed until dinner, and then come home and get comfortable."

"No." Which was far from clear. What was she disagreeing with?

"No to which? Do you want to have sex now? Or do you want to abstain after dinner?"

"No, I don't have another meal planned, and I don't want to go out to eat. I want to go back to the residence hall soon." Well, <b>that</b> was clear. What was unclear was why she was being so negative. She couldn't have more studying. Classes hadn't resumed yet.

"Well... I can't keep you if you want to go. Do we still have a date Monday night? I can't give you the keys earlier." How far did her no extend? Was she about to give him back the ring? His arm was still around her, but he was afraid to move it.

"Sure, we have a date Monday. You want me to come here that night?" Well, of course. But he hadn't said so, had he? Still, he'd asked her to move in, that sort of included coming here any particular night.

"Oh, yes."

"Then let's make the date for after dinner. Seven thirty, or is that too early?" She got up -- leaving him and leaving him confused. She got her suitcase and removed some clothes.

"Is there a place I can keep these here?" she asked. Well, she was planning, not only to come back, but to move in a little bit. For that matter, maybe his not providing her a space to move in while insisting that she move in was the problem. But, he <b>had</b> made closet room. Dresser room was only a matter of another rearrangement. But there wasn't time for that rearrangement now.

"Oh, yes. Here..." In the bedroom, he pointed to the drawer he used for odds and ends. "This drawer okay?"

"Sure." He dumped that drawer, put the lining paper back in -- it had followed the contents when he dumped them -- and put the drawer back in the dresser, being careful to leave it open.

"All yours. We really have to get more space for you. I can rearrange a little, but we need another dresser." She put her underwear in the drawer. He had Carolyn's underwear stored in his bedroom! No, it was <b>their</b> bedroom. However much it was their's, she was leaving it. She got dressed for the outdoors.

"Want to drive me back?" she asked when she'd picked up her suitcase.

"Sure." Actually, he didn't want to drive her anywhere, but she was going.

"7:30, your dorm? Right?" he asked when they were almost there.

"Right." She kissed him goodnight in the car. He'd enjoyed the kisses in the dorm more, but they seemed past that point, now. They had their own place for kisses, and for more. Except that she wasn't staying there.

Back at the apartment, he cleaned out a second drawer for her and fitted everything into the drawers he had remaining. There was really not enough space. His drawers were crammed, and he had three to her two. He'd stored some more things on the closet shelf, but that left not much space for her things on the closet shelf, and girls were supposed to have more clothes than men had. He cleared out the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet. She could have that. When he went out to McDonald's for supper, he stopped at a drugstore and bought her a toothbrush. He put it on her shelf.

Somehow, the bed felt lonely that night. She'd been there only one night, well, only two which had been weeks apart, and he felt deprived when she was gone. Well, there were things to do. Monday, he took a long lunch hour but ate quickly. He bought a pillow at Carson's and got his apartment and car keys duplicated. He got a big ring to put the keys on. Back at the desk, he buckled down to work. He was, at least, sober. That was a lot more than the average executive of his company was after a long lunch hour. Back home, the apartment keys actually opened the doors, something you always had to check. He bought himself a good dinner. Even so, he had time to kill before picking up Carolyn. One thing he did was to make the bed, using both pillows. They had two pillows on the bed, two people's clothes in the closet. It looked like a home for a couple.

Well, it was time to pick up the other of the couple. Carolyn came down as soon as he'd given her name to the desk. When he got in the driver's side, she leaned over and gave him a hello kiss, a brief one, though.

"We're gong to a better place for that, aren't we. Watch out; I just applied lipstick."

"You did taste different." And they were going to a better place.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "It wasn't a bad taste, only a different one." He loved to taste her, even with nicotine.

In the apartment, he handed over the key ring.

"They all work. This is the apartment; that's the downstairs door; the car key is obvious." But he shouldn't have done that so soon. When he hugged her, the keys in her pocket got between them. "I shouldn't have given you the keys yet."

"You shouldn't have put them on such a big ring."

"Well," he explained, "I wanted to keep them together, and that ring was right there where they duplicate keys. You can do with them what you want."

"I can't just move in here." Well, she'd said that she would marry him. What she did up to then was negotiable, but giving her the keys wasn't forcing her.

"Yeah, but after the marriage, you'll have to. We need more stuff. What? I gave you another drawer below the one you used, but we really need another dresser. Women have a different style, don't they? I cleaned out a shelf in the medicine cabinet. You've already said double bed. Night stand. Study desk. We can't get more closets 'til we move. What else?"

"Book case." Well, he had a bookcase. He was willing to share.

"I can clean out some space in that one," he offered.

"Bill, do I leave the books I need to study for my courses in the residence hall?"

"No! Even before the wedding, I want to think of your studying here." They seemed to have a continual tug of war about her moving in, but he couldn't for the life of him see that he was being insistent.

"Well, if you dumped all of your books, that wouldn't hold my currently-needed books, much less my residue." Okay, that was something he hadn't thought about. So what was her suggestion? She was sitting on the couch, which was an invitation he shouldn't ignore. He sat beside her.

"So what do we do?"

"Suggestion," she said. "They sell light bookcases in the campus bookstore. I already own two. I buy another; I put it here; I move a bookcase worth of books here. Then I move that bookcase here. Then I move another load of books here. That goes on until I'm moved in."

"I think of your moving in clothes. You think of your moving in books." Fine, so long as she thought about moving in. "There's so much I haven't thought of. But you speak of your moving the books and bookcases. At that end sure -- unless there is a way of getting me permission to go into your room. But not on this end. When it's getting them up here, when it's getting them from the door into the car, then that's <b>our</b> task. What else haven't I thought of?"

"If I'm going to be living in both places, I'll need some things in both places. It's silly to move my brush back and forth."

"I bought you a toothbrush on the same thought," he said. "It's on your shelf in the medicine cabinet. Can you use my toothpaste?"

"Shouldn't I be asking that?" Um, she was thinking of another question.

"Not what I meant. Can you stand the taste?"

"Sure."

"Look, come the wedding, it will be one purse. Before then, do you need help?" She was obviously pushed for cash. He wasn't Midas, by any means, but he probably looked like Midas from her perspective.

"I don't think so."

"Well, ask if you do," he said. "For that matter, you might find yourself grocery shopping without me. Give me some warning, and I'll get the cash. Since we're on money, I bank downtown, Amalgamated. Makes a lot of sense; I'm downtown five days a week during business hours. Shall we continue that? We'll have to get your signature, but I figure that we can do that after the wedding. After all, Carolyn Nolan won't be on the account then. Carolyn Pierce will." For that matter, she needed to be on his charge accounts, too. He'd write to ask what it took.

"How do you picture our budget?" She'd asked a perfectly innocent question which dropped a bomb down his gut. He couldn't, for the life of him, picture their budget. For that matter, he didn't have the information to picture her side of the budget. If they ate out, especially if he took her to good places, their food budget might be double his. If she wanted to be domestic, and he definitely wasn't marrying her for a live-in servant, their food budget night be less than his. Their rent had to go up. What was her clothes budget? And the next two months, a nightmare.

"After we're married?" he stalled. "Before then, as I said, we'll be dealing entirely with unexpected events. A furniture budget doesn't make much sense when we have to get loads of new furniture over a couple of months. A little more in June, too, probably.

"Anyway, what I heard you say was that we should limit our outgo to my income. Then you aren't forced to take a job that limits your future. Sometime, we should sit down and figure it out. One thing is that I don't know what your expenses will be."

"Something like that," she said. "But that limitation won't last forever. In a few years, I'll have my doctorate, and the best-paying jobs will be the best for my future." Sure. She was a professional woman. They'd save a bundle over what they'd expect to spend on rent on two apartments, if nothing else. But the next two months and the next two years were still a nightmare. It was less seeing themselves going broke -- he had lots of resources that could cover two years; the difference between him and the guys who dug themselves in over their heads for a decade was that she could dig him out -- than the sense that they were totally flying blind.

"The limitation will last much longer than the budget will, I'll bet," he told her. "Right now, I have more questions than I can count. And, whatever we do, there will be something we don't foresee. I pay a third of my health insurance, and that will be more. On the other hand, income tax will be less. I'll check on both those when I've told my boss about the wedding. Have you decided on a date?"

"Didn't we say semester break?"

"I think so, but that isn't a date." He would announce his engagement to his boss when the date was set. And the way he did that announcement would feed the grapevine. The next day, he'd be perfectly free to go talk with personnel about the change.

"You know," she said. "Our communication problems aren't all due to just us." That sounded way off topic, not even an old topic. "Semester break is a set time to me, to Northwestern students -- probably faculty, too. It doesn't mean a thing to your boss or coworkers. I bet everybody you gave that card to except me knew what 'ethical drugs' meant. Two countries separated only by a common language." He had just been thinking he was following her, too. "Somebody's description of the US and England. I think it was Winston Churchill. Anyway, that's us. Sometimes, it's you and me, but sometimes it's your world and mine."

"Maybe. All sorts of people have all sorts of different language problems." That did raise a memory, but she was too far away. "Come here." He lifted her onto his lap. She was sweet, if not always coherent. "Y'know, what you said, I read some language pooh-bah. He wrote that 'finalize' was businessmen being fancy when they meant 'finish.'"

"And it isn't?" Well, she hadn't disagreed. And she was soft, and her neck did taste nice.

"Nope. When you finalize a contract, you put it in the terms that are going to be signed. Both sides, hopefully, know what the contract requires. When you finish a contract, then you complete it, fulfill it, perform it. Two entirely different stages. Sure, both are some sort of end point, but they are different end points. Language purists, who never negotiated a contract, or fulfilled one, either, don't have a use for the distinction. So they make fun of those of us who do."

"Yeah. One of those columns got passed around one of my classes. The idiot had said that 'out of the work force' should be called 'unemployed.' Except, not one single person in the entire country is in both categories at once. If you're unemployed, you're looking for work; if you're looking for work, you're in the work force. Your Alice isn't counted in the unemployment figures, for example." She wasn't his Alice any more than Carolyn was his Carolyn. Both girls had quite definite wills of their own.

"She's hard at work, just not at work on anything she's paid to do -- nor, nine times out of ten, anything she's permitted to do. Is she really counted as out of the work force?"

"Not really," Carolyn admitted. "They start at sixteen. But I'm not in the civilian labor force. They take a survey. They ask how many people in the family are working that week, how many are seeking work that week."

"They say." And, of course, that was what was wrong with unemployment figures. It was what people said. If you really wanted a job, you could find one.

"They say." She went absolutely rigid under his hands. Somehow, his hands could tell anger rigidity from pre-orgasmic rigidity. The objective hardness was much alike, but the subjective sense was totally different. "You object to the size of the federal government. One of the expense is for people to take that phone survey. Each one calls a family, asks a few questions, calls another family. They <b>could</b> be replaced with teams of private investigators shadowing each family member. They'd catch the people who weren't really looking for work and the people who had jobs paid under the table -- although those jobs could be reported with perfect safety. People think that the government's left hand knows what its right hand is doing. <b>But</b> how much would those investigators cost? Really, you know, it isn't that important."

"Unimportant? Isn't that the data you're so proud of studying?" He shouldn't be arguing.

"Sure. But what we study is the changes in the data. Three percent is about the rock-bottom for the unemployment figures. Do you really believe that anything like 3% of your fellow citizens lie about something like that. Anyway, when the numbers change, we have enough other evidence that the change is real; it's not just more people lying. Politicians in office always want the counting methods to change when the figures show bad times. If you threw out the thermometer, you wouldn't know how high your fever was, but you wouldn't be less sick." Now they were fighting, and fighting, not about something he had done, but about something some other guys had done.

"You take this personally, don't you?" He'd just asked a <b>damned</b> rhetorical question. She took it personally enough to be mad at him for what some politician said.

"Damn right, I do. There are people working their asses off to gather figures to tell us what is going on in this country. And I live on those figures -- less present figures than past figures. Then some of those figures are printed in the newspapers. Then some crooked politician gets the figures from the newspaper and makes up some way those could be misleading.

"Look," she continued, "I had a friend once who was into fighting about evolution."

"He didn't believe in evolution?" He was trying to follow her jumps in subject.

"He believed in it. He wasn't content to ignore the people arguing against it. This was in Arkansas, remember." He could hardly remember. It was the first time she'd mentioned it, but it made sense. "Anyway, he pointed out that the Creationists had given up on biologists. They were arguing against what schoolchildren know. They claim that all the animals that gave rise to fossils died at once, and sank into the sea. The dinosaurs sank to the bottom because they were the biggest and heaviest. He pointed out that dinosaurs you learned about as a kid were all big." She gestured grandly. "The oldest dinosaur known, and -- therefore -- the deepest excavated fossil dinosaur, was the size of a chicken. Creationists don't have to explain that dinosaur, 'cause they aren't interested in anybody who knows that much.

"Anyway, your right-wing friends are like that." She was being unfair. They weren't his friends, and they weren't fighting Darwin. "The figures reported in the newspaper are people who report that they are looking for work. The survey also reports the people reporting that they are too discouraged to look for work, but the conservative politicians don't have to explain those figures, because only a few people study them. So they claim that the people reporting that they are looking for work are lying about that. What they don't tell you is that when there is an uptick in employment, the number reporting that they are too discouraged to look drops and the number reporting that they are looking rises. So the first result of a thaw in unemployment is a rise in the number of unemployed. Paradoxical, but well-verified." Again, she saw some connection. There very well might be some connection. But she hadn't made it clear.

"Now," she continued, "it is very easy to explain why more people <b>do</b> look for work when they hear of a friend being hired. It is damn-well impossible to explain why more people lie about looking for work when the employment numbers rise. Can you?" Okay, she made some connections in her diatribe, but the connections were an accusation against him.

"Look," he answered, "we started talking about us. Maybe it's my fault. I thought we could talk about us and then move from talking to doing. Now, you want to talk about my right-wing friends. They aren't really my friends, and I can't see any way to move from talking about them to doing."

"Well, if you're interested in doing, why did you stop?" Because she had been coiled tight as a spring. He'd been afraid she would have hit him, maybe bitten him, worst yet, maybe stormed out.

"I didn't know whether we were fighting or making love."

"Look, Bill, I really like you. Sometimes, though, I have a little problem establishing boundaries with you. You aren't exactly the most perceptive guy dealing with that. Anyway, I decided that -- when we're alone and I think you've crossed one of my boundaries -- I'll tell you straight out." That was another jump in topic, but it would be great if she did that. Reading her wasn't the easiest task in the world.

"I wish you would," he said. "But your voice sounded awfully angry just then. I backed off. Anyway, when I tried to read your boundaries at the end of last school year, I got them. Then, what I didn't get was when you changed them. Maybe you should tell me that, too."

"The end of last year? You were interested in a date. Then, when I came back, you weren't interested any more."

"I was plenty interested," he told her. "But, you told me very clearly that we would talk in a friendly fashion at church. You would not go out with me. I was afraid that any pursuit was more likely to change the first than the second."

"Let's get this straight. I tell you I wouldn't date you if you were the last man on earth, and you kidnap me to talk over Big Macs." That wasn't when he was talking about at all. "I tell you I won't change my air reservation for you -- change it when my father was expecting to meet me at the airport -- and you decide to leave me alone. That's the opposite of what I said. I said that I'd be clear." Okay, that was, sort of. But it was a skewed description.

"It wasn't like that." He sounded defensive even to himself.

"What was it like?"

"What had I to lose?" He would take care of the first situation first. "You'd said you wouldn't date me if I was the last man alive on earth. Would you say that you wouldn't date me if I was the last man alive in the Solar System?" Now, he would deal with the second.

"On the other hand, you said quite clearly that we'd talk in church. When you 'weren't talking to me' we really talked, but not in a friendly manner. You wouldn't go out on a date, but you would talk to me. I saw that as a threat -- if I kept bugging you, you would stop talking to me in a friendly manner."

"Bill, it's not just our worlds. It's also us." They started kissing again, and she cooperated. When he took it to the next step, however, her naked melons, she got up before he could open her bra. "You're planning this to end in bed, aren't you?" Was something wrong with that? Was she going to fight that?

"Well, yes."

"Then let's go there." She could suggest that any time. "If I have space for my clothes, I'll use it." She got several things out of her book bag, including a brush.

"Will you let me brush your hair? You can tell me what to do." <b>Somebody</b> would have to brush her hair. Why shouldn't it be the person who enjoyed it?

"I'll get too cold," she answered. They really needed to get that space heater. On the other hand, you didn't want loose hair in front of a space heater; it might singe it. Well, her hair wasn't that long, and his plan to persuade her to grow it that long didn't look promising.

"Couldn't I brush it while you're still dressed. It's so lovely." She agreed, He moved one of the kitchen chairs into the bedroom, and sometimes sat in it. She directed him, although a lot of the direction was to brush through snarls -- which would pull out hair -- instead of teasing them loose. He got all the hair this time, and it looked even lovelier.

They had separate bathroom times. When he got back from his, she was already in bed lying on her new pillow.

"Pillow is new." He stripped off the robe and put the wrapped rubber under his pillow. He got in bed before answering.

"Bought it this noon. Should have asked your preference." Instead of responding, she laughed.

"What's funny?"

"I've read about pillow talk for years," she said. "I just realized that now I've engaged in it."

"They don't mean..." Except that they <b>had</b> had pillow talk, even if it was about pillows. "Well, really it is." She kept laughing. He tried to warm his right hand in his left armpit, but took it out too soon. He rested it on her belly, feeling the softness of her acceptance. He kissed her sweet mouth and held her warm melon. She relaxed under his attentions. They had so much, if only they didn't talk to each other.

And they shared so much pleasure that night. First, the sex, then the cuddle afterward. He was still holding her when he awoke in the morning.

"Sweet Carolyn," he asked after tightening his grip."Do you need your bathroom time first?" He watched a nude, although -- unfortunately -- fuzzy, Carolyn scramble towards the bathroom grabbing her robe on the way. He couldn't keep his contacts in all night, could he?

She was back in bed, looking enticing, when he came out. But duty called. He cooked, ate, finished dressing. She still hadn't stirred. He went back to the bedroom to kiss her goodbye and check on her schedule.

"What time is your first class?"

"Eleven." She answered as if she had been awake.

"What time should I set the alarm?" Contrary as always, she got up in response to that question. She was as naked as before, and quite clear in his sight. "I love you," he said.

"Can you wait while I fix breakfast?"

"Made my own." And was quite right not to have fixed her some. The eggs would be cold. "I have to leave, Kiss me goodbye." The kiss was lovely. If the robe blocked his eyes, it allowed his hands access. But he had to go.

It was a busy day. He took a short lunch, but took enough time to cash a check. He left a little late. When he got home, Carolyn was there. The day looked much brighter, even though the sun was down.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine. I'm going to have a teaching assistanceship next semester. Professor Kindle said so."

"Didn't we say that we would live on my income until you got your PhD?"

"No," sh answered, "we said I would do what it took to get the best future. The teaching assistanceship is one part of that. When you see the paycheck, you'll understand that it's not moneygrubbing on my part."

"Then congratulations. I shouldn't be trying to manage that. I don't understand that part of your life at all. But, since I don't understand it, maybe you could explain it when something happens."

"You're right." Which seemed to surprise her. Well, her saying that surprised him.

"And, speaking of money, here's some. I know you said that you had enough, but I got a little cash. You might want to shop for groceries or gas." He gave her the fives. "I figure that anywhere, even on the CTA, you can use one of these. Twenty-five dollars isn't going to get you far, but you can tell me when it runs out." She took the money, looking dubious. "Did you study here?"

"Sure."

"How did it go?"

"Well," she said. "I brought the books with me."

"And do we celebrate your good news with a meal out?" He couldn't smell anything from the kitchen. Anyway, he didn't want to look like he expected a home-cooked meal. She was in jeans, though, which limited their celebratory options.

"If it's my celebration, can I choose the meal?"

"Sure." She could choose the meal, anyway.

"Pizza!" Carolyn was many things, but she wasn't a gold-digger. So they went out for pizza. The place served wine and beer, but she opted for a root beer.

"Look, can you give me the date?"

"Well," she said, "I have said it is semester break. I haven't written Mama, though. I don't want to say a day until I'm sure." Well, that wouldn't work, but she didn't know why.

"Let me tell you my situation. I want to announce the marriage (or the engagement, or something) to the company by a memo telling that I'm getting married and I want one week of vacation time for prep and for the honeymoon. Your semester break is one week, no?"

"Yeah."

"So," he continued, "I'll ask for the same week. If the wedding turns out to be on a different day, that won't bother them so long as I take the time I said I would. But I want to tell them the wedding is scheduled on a particular day. So what I want from my fiancee is to schedule the wedding. If you change the schedule, so long as it isn't a major change, no sweat."

"Y'know, when you're explicit about your needs, it makes great sense. You should do that more often."

"But, maybe, not where we can be overheard." She smiled at his answer.

"The first Saturday in semester break is February 17. Let's schedule it then."

"Thanks. One more thing," he continued. "Do you have a picture? College graduation portrait or something?"

"I might, but it would be at home."

"Well that would be nice on my desk. We'll get a wedding-day portrait. I know we said we weren't going fancy, but office decor is part of being an executive. Like your assistanceship, although much less work, it says that I'm playing the same game that they are."

"And it's all a game, isn't it?" she asked.

"Not all. Dan told me about he coat-in-the-office rule. A professor can teach in his shirt sleeves all day on warm days, but he has to have a sports coat hanging in his office."

"Yeah, I think I've seen that."

"Well, it doesn't keep him employed if he doesn't publish some papers. Now does it? Similarly, I have to get results. My representatives have to see the doctors. Sales in my region have to keep their percentage of total sales. Otherwise, I'm out. But If I don't have a photo of my wife on my desk, turned to face me, then I'm suspect. They wouldn't fire me so long as my figures remained respectable, but they wouldn't promote me either. I can't work in my shirt sleeves. I can't wear a sports coat, or even a cheap suit, in the office. I can't wear the same suit all week long. I can only eat lunch at my desk when the work requires my presence."

"You know," she said, "I was about to snigger at that, but one question I'm going to have about being a teaching assistant is how women teaching assistants are supposed to dress."

"Yeah. Dress is a smaller part of the unwritten rules for faculty than it is for executives, but they have other rules. Committees, for example. Dan and I have compared notes."

"You're not as ignorant of my field as I thought."

"Well, college teaching from the outside." He wasn't going to claim expertise. That had landed him in deep shit earlier. "And, of course, I was a consumer not too long ago. But that doesn't mean that I have a feel for it."

"And I have to get a feel for business, or -- at least -- parts of business decisions. Location, location, location."

"Well," he assured her, "they'll tell you that, unless it's based on a trade secret. What they'll tell you about the unwritten rules is that they don't exist. Don't want your wife's picture on your desk? No problem. Just do your assigned job. Like shit!"

"What would you do with a subordinate who kept no pictures on his desk?"

"I'd like to say I'd judge him on the job he did. But I'd probably be just a little uneasy. And, of course, I'd worry about what my superiors thought about my promoting somebody a little off-key.

"Look," he continued.

"I'm looking," she responded. Funny? Not much.

"I made up a shopping list. Why don't you add to it? If you want to subtract from it, tell me why. We have an appointment tomorrow night. My picture is that you go down to Carson's some night after that. You make your selections. I meet you there soon after five, use my card, and we go home from there. Maybe eat downtown."

"Will it all fit in the car?"

"Carson's will deliver." One more area in which his experience trumped hers.

"How about Saturday afternoon? That gives me more study time and we'll be together." He couldn't see how Saturday gave her more study time.

"Okay. I'll meet you after class. The store will be more crowded then, but we'll survive. The EL will be less crowded, probably, which will even out the crowding experience."

"Okay."

"Done?" She was. He paid, and they went back to the apartment. The standing kiss was sweet. She didn't push his hands away from anything, but he soon tired of stooping over. "Bed? You want television?"

"Well," she said, "it's early for bed. Nobody's going to come in, so we don't have to pretend to be watching TV. Let's see your shopping list. I'm too full for anything strenuous, but I won't say no to some quiet cuddling." So they sat on the couch with his arm over her shoulder while they both looked at his list. She didn't take anything off except the clock.

"I have my own clock, and a travel alarm. Why don't I use the travel alarm until we're married. I'm used to both sounds, and you're right. We don't want to wake up to the same sound. Now, the first need you've ignored is an apron."

"Okay." He handed her a pen. She was holding the list, after all. She scratched out the clock and added the apron. Then she added 'sheets' as well.

"Your sheets won't fit a double bed," she said.

"Well," she continued, "if you want to go shopping, we could get the bookcase Thursday night. They're open then."

"You sure you don't want to get something nice at Carson's?" Books were more important to her; he'd feel bad about having his books in an oak case and hers in pine or something.

"I'm one hundred percent positive that I don't want to have an ounce or a millimeter of case that's not necessary for holding the books. Remember that you want to move in June. I can carry one of those cases empty in each hand." Well, you pay movers.

"That's all?" he asked. She nodded. "Is having your hair brushed too strenuous?" She laughed, but she went docilely into the bedroom with her brush. "So luscious," he said while brushing it out. "Do me a favor, will you?"

"Maybe."

"Don't get a hair cut before we're married. And warn me before you do afterwards. Okay?"

"Okay. Y'know, I had you all wrong on what you found attractive about me."

"Well, don't get breast-reduction surgery, either." She laughed so hard he had to stop brushing for a minute. She giggled occasionally after he resumed.

"You'd do that forever, wouldn't you?" she asked.

"Well, not forever." They had to go to bed sometime, after all.

"All the fashion mags talk about a hundred strokes a night. Would you do that?"

"Oh, sure."

"Maybe, when I'm an old married woman, I won't look old. I'll have beautiful hair."

"You already have beautiful hair. You did when I met you."

"Something else we need. Another bedroom chair. We can't keep that one in here for the rest of our married life." Another shift in topic, but it wasn't losing him.

"Okay."

"You're agreeable, aren't you?" she asked.

"You're sweet, and reasonable. I don't leave off examining your shopping lists because I'm made of money. I do it because I know you're frugal."

"Otherwise, you'd supervise?"

"Some husbands have to. Some wives, too, I'd suppose. Somebody has to watch the budget. It's just that neither of us is profligate. We're looking at two years, two and a half, being more frugal than we'd otherwise be. The fact is that I'm supposed to be making enough to support a homemaker wife. We'll be far from starving."

"I'm glad you're sure." She sounded just a tad bit sarcastic.

"What bugs me is not that I think we'll go bankrupt. What bugs me is I don't see a budget yet. Not that the budget runs red ink, that it doesn't show any ink at all. It's all up in the air."

"Two numbers-people without enough numbers."

"Yeah." He agreed that they weren't <b>absolutely</b> incompatible. He kept brushing her lustrous smoothness. He hadn't counted -- maybe he should start the hundred now.

"Think it's bedtime?" she asked.

"Probably. Think you've digested dinner far enough?"

"Certainly. My bathroom time first?"

"Sure." He lowered the brush as she got up. She came back in her bathrobe, and he went in. Probably, he should shave again. He did, and came back in his own robe. She was on her side of the bed, naked, as he discovered when he slipped in beside her. He got the rubber out and under teh pillow. The box was getting low. Well, that didn't have to go on a shopping list. He didn't buy rubbers at Carson's. He rubbed his shaven cheek along the side of her melon.

"So smooth," she said.

"Yes it is. So smooth, so soft, such cute peaks." He licked and sucked one, which swelled immediately. "And so responsive."

"You're a romantic." Her voice was quite approving. He kissed her while his hand moved the covers up carefully to her neck. She wanted warmth, she would get warmth; cloth would protect her from the air, just not from him. His tongue explored her mouth as his hand stroked down her belly and across her mound to her legs. She spread them, but her snatch was a later stage. He went on to the inside of her thighs. They had time. He paused in his kissing.

"Here, too. So smooth, so soft, so warm, so womanly." Maybe its warmth meant that his hand was too cold, but she didn't say so. Indeed, she pulled a hand from under the covers to pull his head into another kiss. He licked her tongue before withdrawing it into his own mouth. Hers followed. He sucked hers while continuing to stroke her thighs. She spread her legs a little more, pressing her leg into his on this side. He resisted the temptation, but moved to her mound. He broke the kiss again to speak.

"I didn't brush quite all your lovely hair." He twirled a finger around on her mound. "This hair is even lovelier." He raised his hand to restore the covers as he began kissing her melon. His hand went directly back down, though. He combed his fingers through the hair on her delta once, and proceeded to her snatch. She moved her far leg once more, it must be off the edge of the bed by then. The welcome was unmistakable though. He traced two fingers down along her outer lips.

"And this hair, too. I don't see it enough, but it feels delightful." He traced the fingers up and down again while he kissed more of the smoothness of her melon. Then he pushed his middle finger into her groove. "And here, so warm, so wet, so welcoming." He kissed a line up her melon while his finger stroked up her groove. He managed to reach the peak of the melon and her nub at the same time.

"Oh," she said. She was already tense. Maybe she'd enjoyed the hair brushing, too. He licked the peak and stroked the nub. Her other peak was inches from his eyes. Even in the dimness under the blanket, he saw it swell. He brushed his finger sideways across her nub instead of up-and-down. While he did that, he moved his head to suck on her other peak. He could feel her tense.

"Oh," she said as she went over. When she had gone over completely, he lay his hand on her mound and removed his finger.

He kissed slowly down her far melon, into the valley between them, and up to the nearer peak. A little licking told him that this tip was already, or -- maybe -- still, swollen. He sucked lightly there, while he slid his index and middle fingers down the outside of the lips of her snatch. Very gently, he moved these from side to side and up and down. His knuckles would be moving in very small circles. He imagined that the flesh he gripped was moving in small circles around her nub, as well.

He licked the melon tip when he needed to breathe instead of sucking, and when he thought the sucking might have started to make the tip sore. Whatever Carolyn was feeling, she didn't try to move either his mouth or his hand. And, then, she stiffened again. He broke the mouth play for a moment.

"Carolyn, lovely Carolyn, sweet Carolyn. You are so luscious, so responsive to my mouth. Respond to my finger, as well." A minute after he'd gone back to licking her tip, she did. He felt her stiffen still more. He couldn't hear her breath any more. She thrust her mound up into his hand, and moved her entire midsection in circles against the motion of his fingers. He could feel undulations under his hand.

When she collapsed, he removed his mouth from touching her melon, merely breathing on it. His hand searched under the pillow for the rubber. When he got it, he moved it to his left hand and unwrapped it. A moment later, he was sheathed and between her legs. He stuck his head out from under the covers into the lamplight. (It seemed very bright just then.) He opened her snatch with his fingers and placed his dick right at the entrance. He could see her face, and she smiled as he slid inside.

He must have been smiling, too. He should have been grinning like a maniac when he felt the welcoming smoothness grasp his dick. He adjusted himself so that his weight was on both elbows and each hand grasped a melon. He moved in and out through that marvelous slickness twice before he got control of himself. He went all the way in and pressed himself up the bed with his toes until he could feel her against the point where the top of his dick sprang from his body. He spread his legs as far as he could -- not very far with hers outside his. In that position, he swayed from side to side, looking into her eyes.

"Sweet Carolyn, lovely Carolyn, sexy Carolyn. You look so good from up here." His face was less than a foot from hers, and she was completely in focus. "You feel so good down there, warm and slick and welcoming." His motion was meant to excite her, but it was exciting him. His dick moved back and forth in her snatch, not much, only the tiniest bit. But that tiny bit was enough to put friction across the head of his dick, and it was unusual friction, and unusually arousing.

Meanwhile, he watched her face. She looked loving, then abstracted, as though her attention were turning inward. He didn't feel she was ignoring him; his most important part was inward -- buried deep inside her. She looked worried. As she began to take on the agonized expression that signaled that she was about to go over, he couldn't maintain the motion.

He drew out and pushed in. He was driven to the ancient, instinctual, rhythm of in-and-out. She barely blinked. She began pushing against him in a counter-rhythm. Her expression turned tense, then agonized.

She went over. He could feel the clasp, relaxation, clasp again, of her snatch around his driving dick.

"Carolyn!" he said. He thrust deep into her and poured himself out. He lay panting on her, pressed against her melons though his elbows were on the mattress.

A minute later, he struggled over to his side of the bed. He dropped the rubber in the wastebasket, thinking that she should have one of her own, and clicked off the lamp. In the dark, she rolled away, taking most of the covers with her. He retrieved enough to protect his buns from the night air. She snuggled back against him, and he rearranged the covers once more so none were between them. He hugged her body, and she hugged that arm.

"Bill?"

"Ihm hmm?"

"Don't let me go back to sleep in the morning."

He remembered that when he returned to the bedroom from his shower.

"When is your first class?" he asked the shape hidden under the bed clothes.

"What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

"Nine o'clock.... Nine o'clock? What time is it?"

"Seven fifteen. You should take your shower."

"Yeah," Agreement didn't come with any motion. She did need her own alarm clock. Well, since she didn't have one, he set the alarm for five minutes past the present time and went in to cook. The alarm kept ringing for minutes, but he gave her until 7:30. When he heard the shower before then, he went in the bedroom to turn off the alarm and reset it. He decide against telling her about the snooze button.

"Ready for your eggs?" he asked her when she came into the kitchen. She was dressed in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday.

"You spoil me."

"What did you eat for breakfast yesterday."

"Cereal," she answered. "You saw me buy it." He got up and broke two eggs into the pan.

"So far, you've cooked me two meals. Even the breakfast was fancier than this one. This is the second I've cooked for you. Gloria Steinem wouldn't think I'm doing more than my share of the cooking work."

"Well, eggs are spoiling me. Cereal is a normal breakfast."

"Is that what you eat in your dorm?" he asked.

"Hell, no! The price covers meals, whatever you eat there. Even so, there are women who breakfast on juice and one piece of toast."

"If you want toast, there's the toaster. Better you figure out how to get the kind you like. Juice is an idea, but I don't think I have any."

"I was talking about girls counting calories," she said.

"Which you don't need to do."

"Which I do when you're not feeding me up for slaughter."

"But you're so slender." She was slender, too.

"I was seven pounds overweight when I left for home. I haven't been brave enough to weigh myself since I got back."

"Well, I think you're beautiful. A beauty which, unfortunately, I must leave. Mammon calls. Kiss me, first." So, she interrupted her meal to rise for a kiss. The eggs tasted much better flavored by Carolyn. She felt sexy, even with her melons confined in a bra and her buns armored in denim. He took an erection with him a block towards the EL.

At work, he dealt with the incoming mail and the immediate tasks of the morning. Then, it was time to act.

"Denise." He spoke into the intercom, although the door was open and she could probably have heard him without it. "would you bring your steno pad in, please." She came in with the pad and three pencils. He could probably have dictated all day without her using those up, but she always brought three.

<blockquote>

This is an inter-office memo.<br>

Mr. Roger Watkins, Vice President of Marketing,<br>

Dear Mr. Watkins,<br>

I'm getting married on Saturday, February 17.<br>

I should like to have the time from February 19 to February 23 as vacation time for the honeymoon and so forth.<br>

I have more than that time accumulated. As you may recall, I didn't think my new position last summer could accommodate a vacation at that time.<br><br>

Yours,<br>

Bill Pierce<br>

Sales Manager, Central Region.

</blockquote>

Miss Flaherty typed it up and brought it in. He looked it over. He wasn't going to send anything to Watkins with a typo. She'd done her usual excellent job. He initialed it, and she sent it out.

Watkins came to his door before lunch.

"Bill!" He rose to greet his boss. "Getting married are you?" Mr. Watkins looked at his desk. "Have a picture?"

"I asked her for one. I figured that I'd get one from the wedding, in any case."

"We need to be reminded who we're working for."

"Yes sir, But, right now, I'm not likely to forget. She's a little hard to get out of my mind." Watkins smiled at that.

"Young love." Bill smiled with him. He didn't think of himself as young. but he'd never say so.

"Well, in any case, you'll have the approval through normal channels in a day or two. Congratulations." And Watkins walked back to his office. After lunch, Bill went down to personnel and found out his take-home after the marriage.

"You'll get a little more back from Uncle Sam, too," the payroll clerk told him. "But it won't be for more than a year. You'll get something for the bad fit of last year's raise, too. If I were you, I'd be doing the taxes as early as possible this year and next." Yeah, just what he needed -- another task before the wedding.