Marilyn Grant wanted a college education. After all, she wanted to spend the rest of her life as a teacher. She also wanted the college experience. Her mom, who had been a Zeta Gamma Tau at Dickinson, still kept those connections. Marilyn wanted a similar experience; she wanted to come out of it with similar connections.

So, in August of '75 when Marilyn arrived at her dorm on the U of I campus, she didn't spend much time trying to make her room into a home. With any luck, it wouldn't be home for long. She moved in, partially unpacked, and went to registration. She saw that getting to registration early would be advantageous in later years, but the courses she wanted to take now had so many sections that the precaution was totally unnecessary. She signed up for English 101 -- required prerequisite for most of what she wanted to take later, American History -- required for any teaching credentials, Psychology 101 -- prerequisite for Developmental Psychology which -- in turn -- would be prerequisite for many education courses, and Geology -- which would take care of her natural-science distribution requirement. The schedule for rush week and a map showing the campus and all Greek houses were the last things she picked up.

She bought the books for the courses and some notebooks and brought them back to her room. Then she set out to explore the campus. The Zeta Gamma Tau house was one of the smaller ones on sorority row, but it looked neatly maintained. Since nothing ever guaranteed getting into your choice of sorority, she checked out the others, as well. On the way back to her temporary dorm, she located the buildings in which she'd have class. By dinner time, she was tired out.

Classes went decently. Several of the professors started right out, which is something high-school teachers hadn't done on the first day of class, but Marilyn had been warned about that. One side of college was going okay -- now for the other.

Before rush began, however, she got a call in the dorm.

"Marilyn Grant speaking."

"Marilyn, this is Andy Trainor. I used to be in your MYF in Evanston. Nashville is playing in the Danielson theater this week. I wondered if you'd want to go with me?"

"Why Andy! Of course I remember you. I'd be pleased." They settled on Wednesday evening. He picked her up at seven. The movie was fine, the entire evening was fine. He treated her to a sundae afterwards, and walked her home. He kissed her at the door to her dorm.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said as though the kiss had been special. He straightened up and watched her until she'd gone through the door.

He took her to another movie. On their way back, she warned him that rush was about to start.

The first evening of rush, everyone who wanted to join the sorority system was ushered into each of the houses in clumps. She was polite in the other houses, and -- actually -- interested in them for back-ups. For Zeta Gamma Tau, she put out her best effort.

"Hi. I'm Sarah Jane."

"I'm Marilyn. Nice house you have here."

"I'm glad you like it. Zeta is one of the oldest sororities in the nation."

"I know. My mother was a Zeta in Pennsylvania."

"That's just great. Do you know what you're planning to major in?"

"English. I'd like to teach it in high school."

"That sounds wonderful. One of my sisters is an education major. You should talk to Pamela."

Pamela told her what to expect in the education department, although she was in primary education. Marilyn told her about her mother, as well.

By the end of the evening, the pattern was so predictable that she started varying her description of her plans between English and teaching to get, at least, a variation in the girls she talked to next.

"And what does your father do?" One Kappa Kappa Gamma active asked her.

"He works for the Illinois Central Railroad."

"That must keep him moving around." Hardly. What did the girl think he was, a brakeman?

"Not particularly. I'll tell you a secret. These days, when railroad executives do travel on business, they usually travel by airplane." She didn't go back to that house.

She went back to three sororities the next night, Zeta, Phi Mu, and Alpha Delta Pi. After all, she shouldn't pin all her hopes on Zeta. The other two had larger houses and many more members.

For the last night, when the sororities and the rushees had narrowed down their choices, she still visited the three houses. Zeta, however, seemed really interested in her. She found that she had bids from all three, but her choice of Zeta was obvious.

She moved into Zeta as a pledge on the weekend. There were 12 girls in her pledge class. There were 40 actives, and all but Georgiana and Sharon lived in the house. She set about putting all their names with their faces. Actually, there was a lot to learn. Since the history of the founding was public information, Mom had already taught her that. This gave her a step up on the other pledges. Still, since the actives quizzed all the pledges over and over until they all got it right, knowing things first was no great advantage. She took to helping some of the slower-to-learn pledges on the history in self defense. The professors would never dare demand 100% recall, but these details were important.

The pledge period wasn't all work, though. The entire house was guest at a dance at a fraternity. Her first dance was with Joe, one of the Gamma pledges. This had been arranged beforehand, possibly on consideration of height. Joe was the shortest pledge in his fraternity, although he still had at least six inches on her 4' 11". When they'd seen her, however, the Gamma upperclassmen were happy enough to dance with her. She had to refuse three invitations in order to sit out two of the dances to rest her legs. They served punch, and it tasted strong. She left her glass on the table half-full and didn't go for another.

Joe walked her home, no great distance. He obviously knew the territory, because he stopped her in a small patch of trees three houses down from Zeta. Fine, she was happy to give good-night kisses, even if walking her home was no great service. When Joe kissed her, though, his hand grasped her tit. It wasn't brushing, or even holding the way Colin sometimes had. He grabbed it and squeezed. She shook herself free and walked towards the house. After a second, Joe caught up with her.

"Look," he said.

"Fine. Look all you want. Don't feel."

"But I only..."

"Walk me back." And he did, giving her more kiss than she thought he deserved on the porch. Still angry, she kept her mouth closed. That got part of her face licked as he tried to force his tongue in. She went to Marguerite, who was in charge of all pledge activities.

"Look, the Gamma pledge who walked me home groped me."

"What did you expect? Is that the first time a boy has touched you?"

"It's the first time one has grabbed my tit on a first date." Had it even been a date?

"Well, you're in college now." That was hardly comforting to hear. Sure, the actives were supposed to push the pledges. She accepted that. But she could have used a little sympathy, if not a complaint to somebody at Gamma house.

Now, she thought after she went back to her room, it would have been different if Andy had held her tit -- not that he had, he'd been a perfect gentleman, maybe a trifle old-fashioned -- but just as an example. Andy was a friend whom she knew -- a guy who had selected her and invited her. Joe hadn't known who she was. He'd clearly thought he was entitled to a feel of any girl he walked back to the house.

Well, she had padded bras -- something she considered an occasional necessity for an A-cup. The next time she went to a frat house, she'd wear a padded bra. If they thought they'd cop a feel, let them feel a little foam.

The party at Delta house went about the same way. Her escort stopped at the same patch of trees. He was much more gentle, though. And for that gentleness, and to compensate for not getting anything with his touch, she opened her mouth on the porch. When their house held a party, she was assigned to an Alpha pledge. She danced the first and last dances with him and was expected to see him off from the porch. In the light, he kissed her but didn't grope her.

In the midst of this social non-whirl, she got a call from Andy.

"How did you find my new number?"

"I haff my sorrssess." He had a horrible fake-German accent. "Notably, I have the number of the campus student register. The question is getting repetitive, and I hope I'm not boring you, but would you like to go to a movie?"

"I don't know what pledges are allowed. Let me check." Which was a little weird. If Mom had tried to stop her from going to a movie with a boy the year before, she would have thrown a tantrum that would raise the dead.

Marguerite, the pledge chair, said that it was all right for a pledge to date, but Wednesday was a problem. She and Andy agreed on Tuesday. Marguerite knocked on her door a few minutes after she'd hung up the phone.

"What are you going to wear?" She hadn't decided yet, but it was an easy decision.

"Jeans and this top." She pulled the top out of her closet.

"No. Zates don't wear jeans on a date." (The three Greek letters were often condensed into one syllable in speaking of members.) She shrugged and brought out a dress.

"It's only a movie, after all, and he'll wear khakis or jeans." For some reason, Andy had worn khakis on their two previous dates. The dress got Marguerite's approval.

They went to another movie theater, Oak Street. She realized that Andy had chosen it because it was closer to the Zeta house. He sat with his arm across the back of her seat and his hand on her shoulder. After the last couple of dances, having her shoulder held felt a little strange, but quite pleasant. On the way back, they approached the clump of trees where she had engaged in those struggles. She decided that a third date with a friend -- a boy who had supported her when she needed support for MYF activities -- justified a long period of kissing and making out so long as he was gentle -- nothing justified squeezing -- and stayed above the waist. The decision was totally wasted. Andy continued on past the trees as if he hadn't seen them. He walked her nearly to the door.

"Marilyn," he said when she was on the porch. She turned to see him standing two steps lower. That brought their faces to the same level. He kissed her, this time holding both shoulders. Somehow, her mouth opened, and their tongues met. It felt better than it had even with Colin. This went on for the longest time, but she wasn't about to end it.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said when he broke the kiss. He watched her in the door, and she turned to see him adjust his pants before he walked back. Well, it was nice to know that he'd responded to her, too.

She went back to her room, and the girls asked about her date. She described the movie, but that wasn't what they wanted to know.

"He's a guy I used to know in Evanston -- a really nice guy."

"What fraternity?" asked Peggy.

"I really don't know. I don't even know whether he pledged at all." And that was sailing close to the edge of truth. Andy listened to what she could tell him of her experience; details, of course, were secret. If he'd pledged he would have known much of it and shared what he could from his own experience. Instead, all that he said about himself -- and that was less than boys usually talked about themselves -- was on his courses.

"Weird," said Grace, as if she couldn't imagine any boy not joining a fraternity. But there were all those huge dorms. They had to hold some guys. She got ready for bed. The room held two bunks, one of them a triple-decker. Since only four of them lived there, the top level of the triple decker -- with springs but no mattress -- was one more storage space. Marilyn's taking the middle level of that bunk had pleased her roommates. She didn't need much space to sleep, after all.

All the Zates were officially her sisters. Peggy, Grace, and Lisa were sisters in a special sense. They all talked about what they had expected of sorority life, what the surprises were, and what they hoped would end after Hell Week.

Andy kept his hand on her shoulder during the next movie, afterwards she guided him into the clump of trees while they were walking home.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said before he kissed her. That kiss was long and wet. When he straightened up, he lifted her!

"Andy!" He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck so she wouldn't fall. The kiss was lovely, the most exciting one she had ever had. When it ended, she found that her legs were wrapped around his waist and his hands were supporting her seat. They had another kiss almost as long as the previous one, but the position was starting to be hard to maintain.

"Maybe you better put me down now." So he let her slip down slowly, kissing the top of her head while he did. He turned from her briefly to tug at his pants. Then they walked back to the house hand in hand. Again, he stood on a lower step to kiss her good night. This kiss was short and almost formal.

She agreed to another movie, but the entire pledge class was sent on a scavenger hunt that Tuesday night. Iris told her the next morning that Andy had come by and been told where she was. "He said he understood."

That evening, he called.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I couldn't." It was hell to tell a boy that you had something more important to do than go on a date with him. But Zeta was important to her.

"I'm sorry, too, but I understand. Your sister explained that they sprang the scavenger hunt on you. She said it would be cheating if I helped." Well, it certainly would be. If they wanted boys to help, they'd tell them to get the boys. On the other hand, they were capable of thinking up anything.

"Look, I wouldn't have been able to call you yesterday. They hardly gave us time to change our clothes. But, if I want to call you, what's your number?" He gave it, and the name of the dorm. "You didn't pledge?" If he had applied and been turned down, that was the wrong question. But, somehow, she couldn't imagine anyone turning Andy down.

"That's your thing. You didn't take Calculus, either." Which was, she figured he was saying, his thing. "Anyway, subject to some other surprise, could you come to a movie next Tuesday?" She could and did.

They walked home from that movie hand in hand. It seemed natural, somehow. When they got to the bunch of trees, he stopped and looked at her. She could barely see in the dim light that his eyebrows were raised. She turned into the trees, and he followed.

He lifted her again, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He held her up by her seat while they shared the sweetest kiss. When his tongue retreated from her mouth, hers chased it. When she'd explored his mouth, she brought her head back. They stared into each other's eyes for minutes in the dark. Then he set her down.

Before she could be disappointed, he turned her around. He wasn't forceful, but his pressure on her shoulders was enough to tell her what he wanted her to do. He held her shoulders while kissing the top of her head. Then, quite slowly, his hands stroked down her front. He stopped when he was cupping her tits.

"Oh, Marilyn." She didn't say anything, but she moved back against him. She could feel his hardness pressing into her back. They remained like that for a while. Then he moved back, bent over, and kissed the top of her head and the top of each ear. She shivered. He turned her and lifted her for another kiss. They walked back to the house very slowly.

Even there, his last kiss was wet and seemed to go on and on. Finally, she heard another couple came down the walk. Andy stepped back and down one more stair. She looked and saw Esmere, an active, with a boy she didn't know. Andy moved aside and watched as she went in the house. When Esmere followed, the boy came in with her.

Esmere and the boy were cuddling in a large -- although meant for one occupant -- armchair in the "front parlor" before she went upstairs to her room.

Andy's next invitation was to an all-university dance. She happily accepted. The actives were unlikely to schedule anything to conflict with a dance. They would be too busy getting ready for it. Indeed, she found that they expected the pledges to attend.

"And," Marguerite said, "we'll arrange dates for the pledges with Pi Kappa Phi guys."

"You don't need to arrange a date for me," she told Marguerite after the meeting. "I'd already accepted an invitation before I heard your announcement." That seemed an obvious comment -- she hadn't had time to get an invitation between the announcement and the discussion. On the other hand, she didn't want Marguerite thinking she's acted to thwart her.

"But you can't. I've already heard from two Pi actives who want to be your date."

"Well, I can't go with both, now can I? So one of them is certain to be disappointed, anyway. But I've accepted an invitation. Does a Zate renege on an acceptance because she has a better offer?" The answer to that was clear. Actual Zates might; the ideal Zeta Gamma Tau woman would never do anything so chintzy.

"What fraternity does he belong to?"

"He didn't pledge any."

When Andy showed up, they were the only couple walking to the dance from the house. Fraternity actives drove cars, sometimes loaded with three couples, to the dance. She danced the first two dances with Andy. Then she alternated dances with him and with others, who seemed to be half actives and half pledges. The only request she turned down flat was from Joe, the guy who had mauled her tit. She danced the last dance with Andy, and then they walked slowly back.

They paused in the trees for a long time while a parade of cars drove by outside. Finally, he walked her home. Even on the sidewalk she could hear voices of both sexes coming from the house.

"Would you like to come in?" After all, this was her home. The other women were her sisters, not her parents.

"I'd be delighted." He was probably less delighted when he saw the front parlor. She certainly was. Couples were making out all over the furniture. She didn't see anything she hadn't experienced, and only a few couples were doing more than the two of them had just done. But they'd sought a little privacy. He would be able to see at least three tits just by looking, and she was sure that he was looking. Luckily, all the seats seemed taken. She took his hand again and led him to the stairs.

"Let's say good night here," she said. He watched her climb up one stair. This time, between the height of the stairs and her heels, her head was even with his. That kiss was long and passionate. He gripped the back of her neck and held her while his tongue explored her mouth. She held herself up by his shoulder and the banister while enjoying all the sensations from the kiss.

"Antisocial," said a voice from behind him. She looked up to see Kathleen, a senior. They both moved aside to give her more room, though the stairs were wide enough without that.

"Goodbye," he said. He walked out the door. She went up to her room. She was asleep before any of her roommates came up.

"You know, Marilyn," Kathleen said at breakfast, "men aren't allowed above the first floor."

"Well, he wasn't. He didn't set one foot on the steps. We just like it better if I'm standing a little higher than he is."

"What happened?" asked Willa.

"Johnny was too drunk for fun. I sent him home early. I caught Marilyn saying good night to her date on the stairs up to the second floor."

"Well, I was on the stairs. He wasn't. And, you'll have to admit, you didn't catch us about to sneak up. We'd been standing there for a while."

"Yeah. And why didn't you come inside?"

"Well, in the first place there didn't seem to be any space that wasn't being used. In the second place, when I want my date to be ogling a tit, I'll let him ogle mine. And we aren't at that stage, yet."

"A Zate says 'breast,'" admonished Caitlin. Apparently, talking about tits was beneath the sisterhood; showing them wasn't.

Marguerite took her aside later and complained about her accepting the date. She agreed that throughout her pledge period, she'd let the pledge chair manage who took her to dances. After all, part of the plan was to set them up with a different fraternity for every event so they would meet the greatest number of boys, and their pledge class was small enough that Marguerite's job finding frats which wanted that exchange was already difficult. One fewer girl available would make her job all the harder.

She explained that to Andy on their next date. He said he understood.

"You always say that. Do you really understand everything?"

"Look, I want you. You decide how much of you can I have? I decide whether I want that much. Well, I do. I might want more, but more isn't on offer. Wouldn't it be childish to refuse what is available?" That seemed to treat her as a commodity, but -- if it did -- it was a commodity which she controlled completely. This was a nice contrast with Joe who groped because it was within reach -- even with the actives who demanded all of her time and all of her behavior.

"Same guy?" Crystal asked when she got back from that date.

"Same as took me to the dance? Sure. It was just a movie. If he hadn't taken me there, who would have? It didn't interfere with anything else."

"Well if pledges have time for their own dates, we probably aren't working you hard enough." She didn't think up a task right then, though, and Marilyn figured she'd forget it. She missed one more date because of another pledge task, but she and Andy got together several more times. Andy didn't seem to expect her to grant him the access he'd seen in the front parlor. Then, she warned him that Hell Week was coming up. She wouldn't have any time for him. (In the event, she didn't have any time for sleep, either -- or, at least, not nearly enough time.)

She got her badge. She was an active.

She got her Big Sister, Natalie, and her Grand Big Sister, Caitlin. What she didn't get was a call from Andy.

But finals were coming up fast, and she had papers due that she hadn't thought about. She kept busy. When the finals were over, there was one more house celebration. Then she went back to Evanston. She didn't see Andy there, either. Now that she had time to breathe, she was beginning to miss the guy. Finally, just before going back to school, she saw him after service in church.

"Hi. Long time no see." Stupid comment! It sounded like she had missed him.

"Yeah. You were busy, and then I was studying like mad, and then, I'll admit, I tied one on. Only way I can stop thinking after exams are over. Did you make it through?"

"Yeah." She showed him the badge. "I'm a real Zate now."

"Congratulations.... Dad," he turned to a man who showed a close physical resemblance to him. "This is Marilyn, the prettiest girl on the U of I campus. Marilyn, this is my father."

"Jim Trainor."

"Marilyn Grant. Didn't you teach him not to lie in church?" She wasn't even the prettiest freshman in her house.

"Well, I'm sure he hasn't taken a full survey. What is the number of your student body, anyhow? But an opinion based on an inadequate sample doesn't qualify as a lie." Height wasn't the only thing they had in common.

Mom called for her to come to the car, and she had to leave with all sorts of questions unanswered. She didn't want to tick Dad off, though. She hadn't failed any courses, but a B in English and C s in the rest weren't what he had expected.

"Well," Mom had said. "Pledge period is always rough. I'm sure she'll do better next semester."

"She'd better. A summer taking some courses in junior college might teach her how to study again."

"And how well did you do during pledge period in your day?" Dad hadn't answered that.

When she got back to campus, her first thoughts were registration and books. She'd had all the Geology she'd ever want, and she registered for Chorus -- it didn't put her in the official University chorus, thank God, but it was a class in singing. That took care of her fine-arts distribution. It also had the reputation of being an easy class, two-hour instruction periods, but no homework. For Phys-Ed, she signed up for swimming. The rest of the courses were the continuations of the previous semester's.

Shortly after classes resumed, Andy called again. He invited her to another movie. The walk there, though, was freezing. The walk back was even colder.

"No?" Andy asked when they passed the trees.

"I'm afraid not." He didn't argue, and when they got to the house, she didn't stop on the porch. "Come in," she said. The front parlor, if not empty, held only three couples. She took his coat, and they made a fourth.

The kisses were sweet, but Andy kept his hands on her shoulders. Then, he picked her up and placed her on his lap. The kisses were not only more comfortable, with him holding the back of her neck they were hotter too. Finally, he picked her up again and turned her around. He hugged her so that his arm was touching the underside of her tits. He kissed the back and sides of her neck and the backs of her ears. She felt him hard against her seat and rolled her hips to rub him there.

"Please don't," he whispered. She stopped, grinning at the idea of making him come. But it would embarrass him, and wouldn't impress her sisters with him. She scooted a little forward on his thigh, and he went back to kissing her neck and ears. She was feeling sweaty before he left. She hoped he wasn't as wet for his cold walk back.

Pamela got up at the next chapter meeting.

"We have no more pledges, now. We're all sisters. We're going to hold a party to celebrate the new sisters. Everybody is going to invite their own date." (Marilyn, as an English major, winced at that construction. She rejoiced, though, in the possibility that it opened up for her.) "Freshmen, the rest of us know who we're going to invite. If you don't have somebody in mind, you might talk to your big sister. If that doesn't work, speak to me. There are a lot of guys interested in you from the pledge period. Don't talk to Marguerite. She's taking a well-earned rest. The responsibility for the parties rests entirely on the Social Chair." Pamela, as everyone knew, was the social chair.

When Andy called her up to invite her to a movie Tuesday, she countered.

"I have an alternative. We're having a party-dance Friday night. Instead of your inviting me, why don't I invite you?"

"Jeans, khakis, or suit? Let me back up. Thank you very much. I accept with gratitude. Should I wear jeans, khakis, or a suit?"

"Definitely a suit event. 7:30." And so it was settled. The sisters removed all the paraphernalia from the chapter-meeting room for the event. Then a work crew was brought in to move the furniture from that room, the front parlor, and the TV room into the basement. Even the dining-room chairs, but only some of the tables, were moved. As a special concession, a velvet rope was wound between the bannisters near the top of the front stairs. Men would be allowed to sit on the stairs with their dates that far up.

All the members, especially the new actives dressed to the nines. A scattering of dates didn't wear ties, and more than half the rest wore sports coats and slacks. Andy in his suit looked like he was honoring the event. There was plenty of punch and cases of beer -- Zates were too ladylike to provide a keg -- in the dining room. There were also all sorts of sweets and snacks.

With a hundred people there and maybe a dozen chairs left on the floor, there was nothing to do but dance. And dance, they did. Andy was a good dancer, never -- despite his height -- taking too large a step for her to follow. She introduced him to her roommates, and he invited each of them for one dance. She danced one of those with another man. Two she sat out on the stairs. Sisters, none of them freshmen, took turns serving the punch. It was strong, and she was careful.

Halfway through the evening, Deborah, the president, tapped her on the shoulder while she and Andy were about to start a dance.

"Can we see the two of you in the kitchen?" They followed her past the people filling up on the desserts and guzzling the punch and beer in the dining room. Deborah closed the kitchen door. Three other seniors with Natalie and Caitlin were sitting around the kitchen table. When Deborah took her seat, there was only one more chair. Andy pulled it out and held it for her.

"So," Deborah said to Andy, "Marilyn seems to have chosen you. Who are you?"

"I'm Andy Trainor. I'm a freshman like Marilyn. I knew her last year in Evanston, and I was impressed then. She, however, was unavailable. I asked this fall, and she agreed to come on a date with me. We've been on several dates since." This was greeted with silence.

"Let's see," he continued. "I'll be an electrical-engineering major -- not yet; you know the rules -- but I will be."

"How did you do last semester?" asked Amy. She was the academic chair, but it seemed a strange question even so.

"Not all that well." Which could mean anything. This group might think he was on academic probation.

"Andy," she said, "be precise."

"Well... I got a C in Phys-Ed, an A in Physics, and B s in English, American History, and Calculus. Well..." he sounded like he was making an excuse. "Well, I took AP Calc in high school. It was enough to get me into second-year Calc, but it wasn't quite enough to prepare me for that course. I started badly, but I worked hard and got my grades up in the end."

"How badly?" she asked again. He made it sound so much worse than it had been.

"I got a C on my first test -- a low C."

"You have to understand," she told the audience, "it might have been the first C he'd ever received on a math test."

"I blew a couple of pop quizzes in high school. But it was damn-well the first B I'd ever gotten as a final grade in math."

"I remember," said Phyllis, "the first B I ever got in a math course."

"You do?" asked Deborah. Phyllis was notoriously fuzzy-headed, and math wasn't her strong suit.

"It was also my last."

"Well," said Andy, "I want to make that my last, too." He wasn't following the conversation, at least not the subtext.

"Well," Deborah changed the subject. "You want better grades. Are you on a scholarship?"

"Hah! Not unless you count my dad, like most of us."

"And is he raising a ruckus? My dad would be thrilled with three B s and an A, but I've known parents to go off every deep end there is."

"Nah! He did bribe me, though. If I pass phys-ed and get more A s than B s for the year in academic subjects, he'll give me a car. He'll count by credit hours, and -- since Physics is a lab course -- it has four credit hours. But that means I'll have to get an A in either English or History."

"What does your father do, anyway?" asked Phyllis.

"He's a VP -- one of the vice presidents -- of a small Chicago bank."

"And what makes a bank small?"

"It's not a small bank. It's a small Chicago bank. Put it down in Champaign, and Albany might be the largest bank in town. It's just that Chicago has a couple of humongous banks that play on the national level. Albany isn't one of them. It's the bank for Albany Park, a Chicago neighborhood, just like any small town has its own bank."

"Did you try to enter the Greek system," Deborah asked.

"Nope. And, as I've said, I had to put some serious time into studying this last semester. If I had pledged, I wouldn't have had the time. Marilyn showed me that."

"But that wasn't your reason?"

"No. Really, I don't want to ruffle any feathers, especially Marilyn's, and I know how important this is to her. Still, I don't go around asking, 'what made you decide not to major in electrical engineering?' From your perspective, sororities are the natural choice -- and, I suppose, fraternities for guys. For loads of us, we didn't choose not to pledge a fraternity any more than you decided not to major in electrical engineering.

"As I've said, I came to school to learn electrical engineering. They say I have to take various distribution courses, too. So be it. I'm not fighting. They don't say I have to join a fraternity, too. They don't say I have to join the tiddley-wink team, either. So I don't."

"Well!"

"Look, as I said, I don't ask why you didn't major in electrical engineering. People go to school for various purposes. It's just that I have my purposes, which are different from yours. I'm here to learn something particular. After all, going to college to learn something isn't an idea that would shock most of the people at this university." She wasn't sure of that last statement, but maybe she'd spent too much of the last semester partying and going on scavenger hunts.

"You seem to want to participate in student life when it comes to dating Marilyn," Natalie said.

"Well, I want to date Marilyn. Sure, I was glad to come to your dance with her, but I was glad to go to the movies with her, too. I don't claim to be some studying machine. I take part in school life. I took part in high-school life, too. It's just that I came to the university to learn electrical engineering. I'm here, and I live here, and I enjoy what's going on. When I was in Evanston, I took part in Evanston life, most -- because I was in high school -- high-school life, but not all. It's just, if you'll pardon me, that what attracts me about Greek life is one particular Greek -- one particular Zeta Gamma Tau." Which was nice to hear.

"That's nice," said Deborah. "We'll send your particular Zate out to you in a minute." Andy, who could take a hint when it slammed him over the head like that, thanked them and left.

"Well," Deborah asked her when the door had closed, "is all that true?"

"All what?" she answered. "A hell of a lot was opinion, but I believe it is his opinion."

"What he said about himself. Do you know his father's name?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. It's Jim. Look, Andy was in my MYF. A lot has changed, but so have we all. Nothing he told you is different from what I gathered last year -- more thorough, maybe."

"He is a geek."

"In some ways. We don't talk about science, but don't get him off on the Civil War. He is equally geekish about that."

"The Civil War?" Caitlin was a History major.

"There were two wars. East of the Alleghenies, the Union tried to take Richmond, didn't, changed generals, and tried again -- over and over and over. West of the Alleghenies, the Union conquered Confederate lands. When they took Vicksburg it was all over but the mopping up. The teachers spend most of their time talking about the eastern piddling around, and not enough talking about the western campaigns which won the war.

"Look, it's not my favorite conversation of all time, but I'll take a description of battles which meant something -- battles starring somebody named Grant, after all -- to a guy's play-by-play description of his last intramural football game -- featuring how much ass he kicked."

"I'm not saying he's right," responded Caitlin. "I will say he has a point. I'd love to hear him make that argument."

"Be my guest. Just let me be somewhere else."

"What do you see in him, anyway?" Deborah was back on the main question.

"He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Sometimes you get tired of guys who treat you like a slab of meat. One of the pledges who walked me home squeezed my tit so hard he caused a bruise -- walked me home from an event his frat hosted, but he had nothing else to do with. The first time Andy walked me home from a date, he kissed me on the porch while keeping his hands to himself. A date he'd paid for and one he'd specifically asked me to."

"Is he queer?"

"No. As I said, that was the first date. He gets hard ons when we make out, but he doesn't grab my hand to show me what he's got."

"Is his father really a banker?"

"I'll believe him. I've spoken to the man once. I'd have taken him for a lawyer, myself -- smooth talker."

"But not a garbage man?" No. How could she explain this?

"Heavens, no! Look, our church is full of professors. They're nice guys and all, and they don't wear jeans and sweatshirt to service, but -- when they've put on dress pants, a dress shirt, a tie, and a sports coat -- they don't ask whether those match. Well, Andy's dad wore a coordinated outfit. The shirt complimented the suit, and the tie complimented the shirt."

"Thanks." which was her dismissal. The downstairs bathrooms had been labeled mens' rooms for the occasion. She took the opportunity to go up the back stairs and visit a bathroom. She went up to her room on the third floor, got her glass, and drank a glass of water in the bathroom on that floor. She'd been standing for hours, so took her shoes off for a minute. She carried them downstairs.

"One thing is easy enough to check." That was Amy's voice coming through the door to the stairs. She stopped. "Is there an Albany Bank in Chicago? Is a James Trainor a vice president there? The first is in the Chicago White Pages. Do you really think he's bullshitting the rest? Remember that you can tell any sort of story on campus, but Marilyn knew him in high school."

"Bullshitting us that he is a nerd?" Phyllis sounded dubious.

"Oh, I believe all that," Deborah said. "But the sudden campus romance sounds awfully suspicious. Marilyn was terribly anxious to belong...."

"No more anxious than we were to pledge her," Amy said.

"True, but she might have thought that a non-Greek boyfriend would block our acceptance. They both tell the same story, but that's a guy who supposedly aced physics. Do you think he couldn't learn a story that simple? Do you think he wouldn't do it for her? Did you see the way he looked at her? The guy would back her in anything."

"Well," Caitlin said, "she's a sister now. And, really, she is a good addition. As Amy said, we were anxious to pledge her. There were only twelve pledges this year. You guys are moving on, but some of us have to stay for a year after you leave. Don't poison the house with your suspicions."

"She's right, you know," said Deborah. "That's all water over the dam. She's our sister, and we'll believe her. And, actually, how long do campus romances last, anyway?"

Marilyn crept up to the top of the stairs, put on her shoes, and came clattering downstairs. When she got to the door, the meeting had broken up. She smiled to them and went to find Andy. She danced as many dances with him as she could, and -- when she had to sit out -- made sure he sat out with her.

Well, she was their sister. Which meant that they were her sisters. But this semester she'd make sure that she got all of her schoolwork done. And she'd go out with Andy when he invited her. She'd do sorority stuff, but not to the exclusion of her future or the guy who would back her.

Walking to the movies the next week, Andy asked her about their English classes. They had different teachers, but the syllabus and texts were the same. They were in nearly the same place in the book. Andy asked for study hints.

"I've talked to my History professor. He suggested that I could have got an A if I'd put more effort into my paper. Maybe so, but that semester included the part of American history I really know about. I can't be sure enough about my History grade to omit trying for an A in English, too. You're the English expert. What should I do?"

"Well, I'm not going to compare our grades, expert or not, but what got me through the pledge period with a B was that I'd read the literature stories early on. When I read them for assignments..." She wasn't about to tell him how often she'd not read the assignments immediately before class but winged it from memory. "... I was dealing with familiar material."

"I can do that." Andy, whatever the stereotypes of engineering majors, regarded reading as something everyone did.

"Now, what help can you give me on History?"

"Not much," he replied. "If I'm going to write a better paper, I'm going to concentrate on an early period of what this semester covers. I'm going to write about the guys who led us into the electrical era -- Edison, Tesla, Steinmetz. Maybe I'll include Westinghouse, too; I don't know anything about him. That's playing off my strength, but it's not your strength."

"Well, that's at least a suggestion -- not the engineers, the strength. I know about writers. Maybe I'll cover some literary movement."

"Wasn't the wild west invented during this period? I know it was after the Civil War."

"Well, I'll work on some authors who interest me." But that was typical of Andy -- give him an idea and he'd see a concretion.

It was still too cold, and the trees were dripping. They returned to the front parlor. They weren't the only couple, but Andy sat on the piano bench and held her on his lap. They looked out the window with the piano shielding most of their bodies from others' eyes. Andy not only held her tits like that, he started stroking her legs. He kept his hands outside her clothes, however. She didn't get to kiss him much, but he continually scattered kisses over what he could reach -- her neck, her ears, even the back of her head. Those kisses were as arousing as his hands on her tits. She called him up the next night.

"Look, our talk about the subjects we're both taking gave me an idea. Why don't you come over Friday after dinner and bring your History and English books. Maybe we could study together."

Amy said that they could use the study room if nobody else was using it. It was on the first floor, but it was usually reserved for members only. Everybody laughed at her for studying on a Friday night, but it meant that the house would be practically empty. And, despite her own doubts, they did get a lot of studying done. They split their time between the subjects. She helped Andy more on English, but he helped her more on American History.

When people started to come back, talking loudly, Andy and she quit studying by mutual consent. Nobody had come into the room yet, so they came together for a kiss in privacy. When they were done, he lifted her so that she was standing on a chair. Now, her head was higher than his. He pressed his face between her tits while she bent over to kiss his ears. His hands cupped her seat. He squeezed, but very gently. After his parka was fastened, he bent over to kiss her gently in the entry hall. She went upstairs early.

Sunday dinner was at 2:00 p.m. Despite that, many of the members slept in and skipped breakfast. After dinner, there was always a formal chapter meeting. This day, after all the ceremonies and routine business, Pamela had an announcement.

"Next Friday, we have a chapter date with Psi Upsilon. That means that we will all go there together. We expect everybody to be present and dressed for a party at the end of supper. Georgiana and Sharon (the two seniors who didn't live in the house), warn me if you don't plan to be here for supper."

She'd always known -- and had warned Andy -- that her study dates were subject to house events, but having the second study date cancelled might tick Andy off. And, too, she thought the first one had taught her something. She did want to end the year with a better GPA.

What was worse, Wednesday brought a downpour. When she was called to the phone, she already knew it was a cancellation of their movie date.

"Have you looked outside?" Andy asked. She hadn't had to. He lived in a high-rise dorm with reinforced concrete walls and a roof far overhead. She lived on the top floor of what could have been a private house -- luxurious for one family, but there were larger ones -- with wooden walls. She could hear the storm even now.

"Yeah."

"You don't want to go out in that, and I don't want to take you out in that."

"Well, no."

"It's gauche of me to invite myself over, but do you want a study date tonight and a movie some other time?" That would be lovely, except...

"Andy, that would still mean your walking all that way."

"Half as far, really. I'd have to walk over and back, anyway. I'd also walk with you. And, honestly, Marilyn, I can move faster than you can." He could certainly walk faster than she did on dates.

"Well, if you're willing." More members were home that night, and the study room was in use. When Andy got there and shed his parka and overshoes, they set themselves up in the dining room.

She told him about having to cancel Friday, and they decided to study what they figured would be a week ahead. Andy turned out to have a good voice for poetry. He was really bad at marking accents, but when he read, the accents were there. They were on the Gilded Age in history, and she knew as much about it as he did -- not all that much before they read the section. She had as much right to the dining room as anyone else, and -- having claimed it first -- she chased back out two couples who drifted in looking for a more private make-out space.

She was just as happy when the noise from the other rooms got louder.

"I think that's it." Her brain was about to shut down.

"Yeah, I think we're done, anyway. I'll call, and we'll set up another time depending on your sorority's schedule and the weather." They came together for a kiss. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist -- much easier when she was wearing jeans. The kiss went on and on while his hands kneaded her seat.

"Study? My ass!" said Amy. She hadn't heard the door open.

"Thanks," said Andy, "but I'd rather study hers."

"Really, Amy," she said, "we did get a lot of studying done."

"Yeah, I could tell. He'll probably ace Anatomy, but did you study any course you're taking?" Despite her words, Amy's tone was laughing. Andy put her down but stood behind her. Poor guy probably was trying to hide his hard on. She led him around the table while standing so that Amy's view was blocked. When he'd bundled himself into his parka, Andy bent over to give her a kiss. It was nice, and included some tongue, but it was by-far the mildest kiss of the evening.

She went up to her room to read Psychology. She wished she could study that with Andy, or -- at least -- with somebody.

The weather was still damp, although not at all as wet as Wednesday's, on Friday. The drivers among Psi Upsilon brothers shuttled them to the fraternity house by car. The dance was pleasant enough, and the snacks were scrumptious. She didn't have to watch her weight as closely as some of her sisters did. They were driven home afterwards, and no brother tried to grope her. She'd worn her padded bra, but unnecessarily.

Wednesday, she had a History test. That evening was dry enough for Andy to take her to another movie. As the trees were still dripping, they returned to the house and kissed goodbye in the entryway. Really, the study dates had been more fun. They had been productive, too. Friday, she got the test back. (It had been multiple choice, and Professor Griffin had a teaching assistant to do the grades.) She'd got an A.

"See," she told Amy when she found her in her room before supper, "we did study." She showed her the test.

"Marilyn! That's great!"

"I just wish Andy were taking psych."

"Well, you know, it might be more fun to study with your boyfriend, but there are plenty of your sisters who are taking psych. Why don't you ask." So at supper, she did. Connie said she might be interested.

"I used the house files last semester, but the instructor changed the test."

"Well, I have to learn this stuff as a prerequisite. I'm perfectly willing to look at the house files the day before the test, but I want to learn the stuff first. Otherwise, I'll find myself not knowing what I need next year." Connie, who was not the leader type, agreed. They set Saturday morning for their study-together time, and agreed that each would read the section first.

Still, later that night, it was much more fun to study with Andy. He gave her a big kiss to celebrate the A before they sat down to work.

The pattern went on like that, with regular studying with Connie and irregular, but nearly as frequent, studying with Andy. As the spring weather got better, she and Andy saw more movies and had much more time together in the trees.

The sorority had a group song scheduled as a Greek-week event. Knowing that she was taking chorus, Antonia, the Junior who was in charge, asked her to participate. She agreed bashfully -- she wasn't one of the stars of the music class. She needn't have worried; she was among the better singers in the house.

Andy asked her to another university dance. Almost the entire house had their own dates there. People were mostly switching partners, and she suggested that Andy ask some of her freshman sisters. After one dance with her, Andy was about to get them Cokes -- this dance was on school property, and actually dry -- when she saw Caitlin and Natalie sitting together without male companionship.

"Get four Cokes," she said, "and join me at that table." She sat down with her 'family.' Natalie was her big sister, and Caitlin was Natalie's. When Andy set down the glasses, she passed them around. She introduced everybody, although they'd all seen each other.

"Now, Caitlin," she asked. "Do you really want to hear Andy's take on the real history of the Civil War?"

"You can laugh at me, but I'd be interested."

"Here's your chance. And, Natalie, let's move on. Believe me, you don't want to hear this." They took their glasses and moved to another table.

"If he's that bad, why do you go with him?" Natalie asked.

"He's not all that bad. He doesn't talk about his hobby horse any more than the next guy talks about himself. It's just that he's polished this argument with so many repetitions that the second time I heard it sounded like a tape recording of the first. And Andy's the sort of person who thinks numbers communicate. You don't hear him say 'a lot,' 'many,' or even 'a shitload.' It's always '7 million, 238 thousand.'"

"What's that the number of?"

"The beast, for all I know," she confessed. "I just made it up. I couldn't repeat it again to save my life."

"You're serious about this guy, aren't you?" Good question. Now if only she had a good answer.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, you look serious," Natalie said.

"The real question is: 'how serious is he?'"

"If an outside opinion is any help, he looks serious, too. Does he have another girl?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, if he takes you to university dances, and he doesn't belong to a frat, where would he take another girl?" Natalie had a good point, and Andy didn't talk like somebody who saw two movies a week. "The problem isn't whether you're able to keep him, it's whether you should want to."

Two boys came over at this point to ask them to dance. She didn't feel attracted to the guy who asked her, nor did she feel comfortable dancing with another guy when she'd steered Andy into a conversation with Caitlin. When he was dancing with somebody else was different. Natalie went off with the guy who'd asked her.

"Sorry Paul," she said.

"Well, at least you remember my name. What did I do wrong?"

"I'm sort of in a relationship, and I don't mind dancing with other guys when he's dancing with another woman, but... Oh, it's complicated. But it's nothing you did wrong." Which was almost true. she would have refused, maybe refused more vigorously, if he had attracted her.

"Damn! I had it figured out. The brothers tell me that two women sitting together are both looking for dance partners."

"Maybe it's almost always true. Why aren't you looking for another pair?"

"Nope. I'm being watched by the brothers of my house. Two minutes talking with a pretty girl is success. How do they know whether you're too tired to dance? Getting turned down in a few seconds is a bad failure." At this point, she saw Andy get up.

"Well, you'd better head out, then. Here comes my date. You don't want them seeing you upstaged by him." And he left. Andy, however, held Caitlin's chair and it was another minute before they both came over.

"He didn't quite persuade me," Caitlin said, "but it sounded reasonable. He should put it in a paper."

"Did," said Andy. "Bombed."

"Why?"

"I'd said it all in class, beforehand, and I had minimal citations to back up my assertions. Professor claimed I hadn't put in much research nor any thought on it this year. Which, after all, was true."

"And what does 'bombed' mean?" Marilyn had learned that Andy's standards were a little higher than most of her sisters' were.

"A C on the paper. It was enough to get me a B in the course."

"You two go dance," Caitlin said. And so they did. There were only three more dances that night, and they shared them all. The trees were occupied when they got there, and so they went on to the house. Even though the audience inhibited their making out, she was happy enough. She was a little too tired to enjoy being lifted into his kiss.

Many students planned to go away for Spring Break. Andy asked whether she was going back to Evanston. She was.

"Me, too. Taking your books?" She hadn't planned to, but...

"Think it's a good idea?"

"Sure. You get a chance to get ahead of the lectures. Maybe we could study together."

"I'll look forward to it." And, after some thought, she packed her Psychology book, too. While the most attractive feature of studying with Andy was being with Andy, his idea of studying over the break was a good one.

They arranged to go north together on the same train. Many of her friends were going home to the Chicago area. Others were going to visit friends who lived in the metro. And, of course there were a few getting off at some intermediate stops or going on from Chicago. There were nearly a dozen people she knew in the station waiting for the train. Andy had met her sorority sisters, but she introduced him to them as well as to her classmates. He introduced her to three classmates. She didn't know how to describe him besides his name. He called her "a neighbor and old friend," which wasn't any more adequate. They sat together, and he started asking about her recent class experiences.

"Swimming is going fine; I'm going to use it come summer. Chorus is okay...." She could drivel on for the entire trip without getting an answer to her question. "Look, how should I describe you?"

"Six foot one? EE major? Nerd? Basically, as long as I'm not there, say anything you want."

"But when you're there. This is my...?"

"What's accurate? Occasional date? Study partner? Distant admirer?"

"You haven't been all that distant. Should I say that you're my boyfriend?" That was the question she'd been trying to avoid, but he'd been no help.

"I'd be very happy if that were true."

"Well, we go on a lot of dates for not being boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Okay. And may I call you my girlfriend, too? After all, you go on other dates. I haven't dated anybody else since you went to the first movie with me. I'd say that you're the woman I'm obsessed with, except that you're an English major. You wouldn't want to be described by a sentence ending in a preposition." She laughed. As a matter of fact, she was much more a woman than an English major. If a guy said he was obsessed with her, she wasn't going to criticize his grammar. Well, the question was settled, sort of. They were boyfriend and girlfriend.

When the train had arrived at Central Station, Andy got off first with his bags, helped her down, set her bags beside her, and then went back to swing down the bags of two of her friends who had been in the same car. She waited for him, and he put his lighter bag under his left arm. He carried his heavy bag in his left hand, and her large suitcase in his right. She was left with one bag.

"Being met?" he asked.

"I think so."

"I'm taking a cab. Dad'll be still at work. If you don't have a ride, I'll have the cab drop you." But, as she had expected, Mom was there.

"Mom, this is Andy. I've written you about him."

"Mrs. Grant." Andy set down the bag to shake her hand, but then picked it up again. He carried it to where Mom had parked the car and waited for her to open the trunk. When the suitcase was inside the trunk, he turned to her. Mom was asking her questions, not paying much attention to Andy.

"See you," he said during Mom's excited quizzing. He shifted his lighter bag to his right hand and strode off.

"Well," Mom said watching him go, "you have written a little about him, but I don't think you've written everything."

"What's there to say? He's very nice. He's taken me on dates, and we've studied together. He understands about how important Zeta is in my life." Really, if you wanted to summarize Andy, 'he understands' might be it.

"And you like him?" she asked after they were in the car and starting home. "More than Colin?" Colin was ancient history.

"I like him very much. He's much nicer than Colin." Andy was nice, and Colin hadn't been. But she wasn't going to tell Mom the ways Colin hadn't been nice.

"Where does he belong?"

"He's not in a frat."

"Strange date."

"You'd be surprised how many guys on campus don't join fraternities."

"Well..."

"Yeah, a couple of the older sisters think it's inappropriate, but -- as I said -- he's a nice guy. Some things are my choice." And, thus, not their choice and certainly not Mom's. "Anyway, what's happened since Christmas?" And Mom accepted the change of topic.

She saw Andy during church. He was with his father, and he didn't come over after the service. Monday, he called her up.

"Marilyn? We spoke of studying together. Would this afternoon be a good time? I can get control of the dining room here. Or would you rather do it at your place? Or would another time be better?" She'd seen her house; she'd never seen his. Besides Mom was there and Pete was likely to come home and pester her, especially if she had a guest.

"Your place would be fine." Before she could ask for his address he broke in again.

"So when would be a good time for me to come by and pick you up?" Well, he'd said afternoon.

"How about 12:30?"

"Fine. Your place, 12:30." Which meant, since it was nearly 10:30 already, that she had two hours to shower, dress, dig out her books, and eat.

"What's all the bustle?" Mom asked when she came downstairs carrying her books.

"I'm going to study with Andy. I need to eat lunch first."

"I thought you were on your vacation. I left some pancake batter."

"Okay. I'll have pancakes for lunch." And she did, along with a few left-overs and a coke.

She was upstairs brushing her teeth when the bell rang. He was five minutes early.

"Marilyn, Andy's here." When she got downstairs, Andy picked up her books.

"Hello," to her. "Nice to see you again Mrs. Grant," to Mom. They left together. When they'd turned down the sidewalk and the house was no longer in sight, he switched the books to his other hand. He reached towards her, and she took his hand.

"I'm sure your mother is a wonderful person." She wasn't. "But, somehow, I feel uncomfortable talking to her." He wasn't the only one.

"Just be glad you can escape. What's with the shirt?" He was wearing an UCLA sweatshirt.

"Gift from my younger sister, April. I don't wear it on campus." They were silent for the rest of the walk. Andy's house looked as large as hers. Whatever timidity he'd felt about holding her hand in front of her family, he clearly felt none in front of his. She slipped her hand out from his while they were going up the front stairs. The porch hardly deserved the name, it was small enough that he stood on the last step while unlocking the door. Then he ushered her in. A strong-looking Black -- well, light brown -- woman came towards them from the back.

"Mrs. Bryant, this is Marilyn Grant. We're going to be studying in the dining room."

"Miss Grant."

And they did study. First History, where Andy was way better prepared than she was. He ended up telling her what the book said about the Fair Deal. When they got to English, it was more balanced. Andy had still done more preparation, but she had much more of the context. He ended up raising specific questions, and she would -- sometimes reading the book while he waited -- answer them. Finally, she closed her book.

"My brain went numb ten minutes ago. I don't know anything." She glanced at her watch. It was nearly 4:30.

"Cool. Come here." And she walked around the table while he pushed back his chair. He crossed his legs and helped her up into his lap. He kissed the back of her ears and her neck while cupping her tits. "Yeah," he said. The feelings were pleasant, and she sank into them.

Some indefinite time later, there was a noisy throat clearing from in back of them.

"Mrs. Bryant," Andy said. "Would you please shut the door? I thought I had shut it." He dropped his hands slowly down her front to her stomach, but Mrs. Bryant must have seen.

"Is Miss Grant staying for dinner?"

"Good question. Can you?" The latter question was murmured to her.

"I couldn't possibly," she said.

"Alas, no," Andy said, although Mrs. Bryant must have heard her.

"It's 5:45." On this news, Andy lifted her off his lap. When she was standing, he rose and grabbed all four books.

"She has to set the table, and I have to walk you home." He put his books on a chair against the wall, and gestured her ahead of him towards the door.

"What did she see?" she asked when they were outside.

"Very little. My back was to that door, and I'm wider than you are. What did she guess? Probably a fair amount. She's a married woman with kids -- Hell! a grandkid. I doubt that there is anything she hasn't done. What will she tell? Absolutely nothing to Dad. What she gossips at home about the doings of the Trainors, I have no idea. She's probably not used to providing much gossip; we're an incredibly dull family."

"I don't think you're all that dull." He'd certainly provided her with a lot of excitement while she was on his lap.

"That's nice to hear. I'm not certain that your sisters share that opinion, though." Well, no, they didn't get the opportunity to have the excitement he'd just provided her. "Well, shall we do this again?" he continued. "Does Wednesday suit? Want to start with lunch? She might clear her throat like some artillery barrage, but Mrs. Bryant is a good cook."

"Is she there Wednesday, too?"

"Every day. She was part-time before the divorce, but Dad hired her full-time afterwards." The house wasn't all that large. She'd guess the same size as her family's. Keeping it clean, even with two males as messy as Pete not picking up for themselves, didn't look like a full-time job. Even if you included cooking. Mom did most of the cooking, when they didn't go out or she wasn't teaching Marilyn to be a housewife. She did some of the cleaning, too. Even so, Dee didn't look overworked in her two mornings a week. Of course, if Pete left his room in too great of a mess, Dee ignored it.

"Sounds attractive." And it did, not so much the food as the company.

"Wednesday then?"

"Yeah. Thanks." She caught up his hand and they walked like that until they passed the Carlsons' tree and came into the sight line of her front windows. They dropped their grip almost simultaneously. This wasn't a date; it was just studying together. She doubted that she could persuade Mom of that. She knew that she couldn't persuade herself. Well, if she was more interested in Andy than in the studying, still she should keep up her half of the studying to be fair to Andy. She hadn't shone at all this afternoon.

So she studied harder that night and Tuesday. She got up in time for breakfast, Wednesday. She was as well prepared as Andy that day. She went back to school truly on top of her subjects. She'd even studied Psychology as break week turned into Holy Week.

Again, Andy and she rode the train together. The conversation was sporadic, but she felt comfortable in his presence. They got to talking about her History paper.

"I figured to do one on a couple of novels the book mentions. "Literary Progressivism," I might call it. I've already read The Gentleman from Indiana and The Titan. I've started, but not got very far in, The Octopus."

"Fine. But remember that you're writing history not literary criticism. The prof will be more impressed with three citations of somebody else's short reviews than of your page-by-page analysis of the entire original book."

"You're probably right. But they do bring the issues to life."

"Yeah. You have to think, and then pretend to be merely a sponge. On the other hand, you'll spend the rest of your life having read those novels. That isn't something which the next girl who picks up your paper and copies your citations will have."

"How do you know about house files?"

"I keep my ears open. Your sisters aren't all that good at keeping secrets. What I want to know is how well they do in advanced courses. Y'know teachers ain't all idiots. When they tell you that this course is a prerequisite for that one, they sometimes are just trying to cut down enrollment, but sometimes the requirement is real. I had to struggle in Calc, after all, and I had studied during the course that was supposed to prepare me for it. What do people do who memorize the answers to the test the night before?"

"Well, for one thing, they don't take Calculus." And they didn't react in horror to a C on a test. And they did go to class, for the most part. She suspected that the house files would raise your grade one point, at most. The professors knew that they existed. And, as Andy suggested, when you're taking the second or third course in a sequence, class participation would require a little actual knowledge of the first one.

Back in town, Andy carried her larger bag along with his two. She'd packed her books in the smaller bag expecting that. He didn't know she was carrying the heavier suitcase. He left her at her house with the suitcases on the porch.

"Movie Tuesday?" he asked. "Subject to weather and all."

"Why thanks." And she lifted her face for his kiss before she went in. The things which could have gone wrong Tuesday didn't. They held hands all the way back from the movie. At the clump of trees, they stopped.

"Are you really my girlfriend?" he asked. Well, what did that mean?

"Of course." They walked into the clump of trees together. With Colin, she'd done everything else but, and she really liked Andy more. Still, she'd had more privacy then, and she and Colin had progressed slowly. What did Andy think came with being his girlfriend?

"Marilyn, you are sweet," he said. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her deeply and ran one hand up and down her back. He broke the kiss to rain kisses all over her face. "So sweet." When he set her down, she turned around and backed against him. He cupped her tits. Later, he lifted her from in back and kissed the back and sides of her neck while holding her up. She couldn't help him at all. "So sweet," he repeated finally. He led her out to the sidewalk. Once again, he kissed her good night while standing two steps below the porch. Their faces were almost at a level.

In her room later, she realized that 'girlfriend' hadn't meant intensifying their making out to Andy. He just wanted to be told their relationship. And, if they ever got privacy, how far was she willing to go? Actually, although she cared for Andy very much, she was only willing to go one more step. She didn't fool herself, though, that when she'd taken that step, she would be awfully resistant to taking the next. This was Andy. When he wanted to unbutton her blouse and unsnap her bra, she wouldn't resist. 'Where,' of course, was a different issue. But Andy had never pushed her for exhibitionism. He seemed, if anything, more modest than she was about making out in front of her sisters and their dates.

When they reached their trees on the next movie date, what he wanted surprised her. She turned willingly enough when he pressed her shoulder with his hand. Instead of stroking her tits, though, he had more directions.

"Put your upper arms straight down to your sides and raise your hands about shoulder height." When she had, he picked her up by her elbows. "Now stretch your legs out towards that tree trunk." She did, and he moved forward until her feet were braced against the trunk. That pretty much held her up. He had her raised to a level where he could kiss the back of her left ear and that side of her neck. His hands cupped her tits, and she felt too much to pay attention to the time. After a while, though, pleasant as the sensations from her neck and tits were, her legs started to ache from the unusual position. Just then, he reached for her right hand and brought it across her body to his mouth. He kissed each finger, putting the later ones in his mouth to suck on them. Then he kissed and licked her palm. Thrills ran through her.

"Andy." She wasn't sure she could hold herself up.

"Okay." He grabbed her armpits. "Relax." When she did, he let her down gradually. When she had solid footing, he bent over and kissed the top of her head. "You're sweet."

"So are you, but you're silly, too." They slowly walked the few remaining yards to the house hand in hand.

The rest of the year went like that. Study dates Friday night unless there was either an all-school dance or a social function which involved the whole sorority, movie dates Tuesday night unless the weather intervened or there were Friday conflicts two weeks in a row. They made out at the end of every date, but Andy didn't push her for the next step. He did get less self-conscious about being seen by her sisters, though. Two weeks before finals, they scheduled two study dates. They wouldn't see each other until finals were over. When he didn't call her on the night of the last day of exams, she called him the next afternoon.

"Andy?"

"Marilyn? I'm sorry. I'm fuzzy headed." Andy, fuzzy headed?

"Something happen?"

"Tied one on. Always do after exams." She'd never seen him drunk. She'd seen him drink, at house affairs, but it never seemed to have any effect.

"Sounds like this is a bad time to call."

"Really, it is."

"Call me when it's a better time, will you?"

When he called her the next day, they agreed on both taking the same train north on Saturday. Again, the station was full of her friends and sisters. The sisters piled on together and got two pairs of facing seats. She, Andy, and six of her sisters took them.

"So, Andy," Lisa asked, "aren't you afraid of being surrounded by Zates?"

"Not at all. I understand that National has signed the Geneva Convention."

"But that's only if you're captured."

"Don't look now, but one of your number captured me long ago." At "one of your number," he squeezed her shoulder.

"So," Selena asked, "why don't we see a ring?" She wished Selena wouldn't make that joke. A ring was crossing a bridge -- maybe four bridges -- before they got to them.

"Well, she's hooked me, but she hasn't decided to put me in the creel yet. She's thinking of throwing me back."

"I don't know," she put in. "I think he looks like a keeper."

"And now we know what kind of fish I am," Andy said. "Though I didn't know she was English. I'm a kipper." They groaned. She groaned, too. The subject changed after that. They got to complaining about courses and worrying about grades. 'Trish came along the aisle of the car.

"You guys look like you're having fun. I'm all alone. Can I squeeze in?" She pressed against Andy to make room. He moved over but then pulled her against him. She could feel the whole length of his leg pressed against hers. She cuddled into his side.

"Generous of Marilyn how much room she's giving 'Trish, isn't it?" Selena asked.

"She moved away from her. I don't think Marilyn likes 'Trish."

"She might just like Andy more," 'Trish put in.

"You think?" That came from several throats at the same time.

"Just giving you a little room," Andy said. "If she really liked me, she'd ride in my lap." At this, she got up and moved towards his lap. He lifted her up, and she rode the rest of the distance sitting on him. His arm was across her waist, holding her on but also just touching the bottoms of her tits. When the conductor came by to look at tickets, 'Trish had to go and get hers. The conductor went away shaking his head over the crazy kids riding crowded together in a half-empty car.

Once again, Andy went off the train first, put his bags down, swung her bags down, and then helped her down. Then he helped several sisters with their bags. They were both carrying more in their luggage this time, and he put her smaller bag under his arm while he used his hands for both of his. When his father met them still on the platform, he took Andy's suitcases, and Andy followed carrying both of hers.

"And can we drop you at home, Miss Grant?" his father asked.

"I think I'm being met." Mom, Dad, and Pete were waiting in the proper place. She made introductions all around, then they walked to the car. After Andy put her bags in the trunk, he took back one of his from his father.

"And who is this Andy guy?" Dad asked when they were on their way. She was in the back seat with Pete. Mom was riding shotgun. She took a deep breath.

"He's my boyfriend. He was in MYF last year."

"I don't like the way he was handling your suitcase. That's your private property, some of it -- I'll bet -- quite private."

"For God's sake, Dad! It's a packed suitcase. It's not like he was fingering my underwear. If I'd taken a train farther, a redcap would have handled it. Andy's a gentleman. He wouldn't consider having me struggle along with something heavy when he could carry it."

"I don't know him."

"Fine. He's not your boyfriend. I do know him, and I get to make the selection."

"You're still my daughter." Then, as if the words had invoked other thoughts, "How do you think you did in classes?"

"Grades aren't in yet, but I think I did all right. Homework and midterms were all B s and A s."

"And how," Mom asked, "was Zeta?"

"Loads of fun. How well we did -- as opposed to how much I enjoyed it -- I can't really tell. I don't, after all, have another year to compare with it." They went on catching up.

She was home, and she had no more class work. This was supposed to be a vacation. Still, she wasn't totally happy about being home. She'd been a college woman; now her parents -- especially Dad -- treated her like a little girl.