Marilyn Grant felt that rush in '75 was even more artificial from the active's end than the previous year's had seemed when they were rushing her. You spoke to a rushee, got her name, found something about her, and passed her on to one of the sisters who had something in common. Sometimes, she was the one who had something in common.

"Marie was wondering what our response would be about the boyfriend she's kept from high school," said Selena. "This is Marilyn."

"Well, having a boyfriend is no crime. Why did you think we'd object to your's?" Selena should know, by now, that Andy hadn't been her boyfriend in high school.

"Well, I don't really think he's pledging a fraternity." Oh, that explained why Marilyn was the sister to talk to.

"You know, we call each other sisters. That means family. You'll get honest opinions, not always favorable, about your dates. But the decision is yours. My boyfriend isn't Greek, and I got some honest opinions about him. He's still my boyfriend, though, and sisters call him 'Marilyn's Andy.' Some people want validation: 'What's your decision? -- Oh, that's the right decision.' whatever that decision is. You don't get that in a sorority. On the other hand, you don't give that in a sorority either. You don't pat somebody on the back for pulling a boner, but they get to make their own decisions -- boyfriends or majors." She hoped that was the right answer.

Another girl asked her about living outside the house. She was accurate with the facts, if not the impression she tried to make.

"A couple of girls are doing that this year." Not mentioning that they were all seniors, that seniors were the only ones granted that option. "I can't see it myself. You pay a parlor fee, anyway -- that's money for the right to treat the house as your own for social occasions even if you don't eat and sleep here. When you add that to dorm rent, you don't save any money. And, really, you participate in only the most formal activities. My best memories of the past year are of being part of this group of women, memories that I wouldn't have if I'd just been here for parties and meetings."

When Brittany came through the door, she greeted her.

"Long time no see. Thinking of going Zeta?"

"Thinking of it. I didn't know you were here. Is it true about you and Andy?"

"Depends what you heard. He's sort of my boyfriend down here." She worried about that. Those two had gone together. Would Brittany be jealous?

"Isn't he the nicest guy?" Brittany said. Well, that wouldn't be the house consensus, but Brittany didn't sound like she was jealous.

"These few minutes are supposed to be about you getting to know us, and us getting to know you. Since I already know you, why don't you tell me your intended major?" She did, and Marilyn passed her on to Stephanie.

The next day, however, she called Andy. She knew she should tell a little of the background of any rushee she knew.

"Surprise! I thought you were incommunicado this week."

"I practically am. Saw Brittany last night, though. She said that you were the nicest guy."

"Well, at least somebody appreciates me."

"I appreciate you. But you were in her house, weren't you. You were certainly in mine. Would you say hers was furnished more expensively, less expensively, or about the same as mine."

"Huh? About the same, I guess." Andy sounded far from certain. It probably wasn't something he thought about a lot.

"But it was a house, not an apartment?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." That was as much as she could learn from him.

"You are more mysterious every time we talk," he said. Good! Nothing kept a guy, especially a curious guy like Andy, interested more than a little mystery.

"A mystery who loves you."

"And that's the greatest mystery of all. I love you, too." Which was one satisfactory message from a most unsatisfactory phone call.

"I knew Brittany in the United Methodist Youth Fellowship," she reported that night. "Last night, she was dressed more formally than I'd seen her before, but I was dressed more formally than she'd seen me, too. I asked Andy, who had dated her, and Andy doesn't honk from your driveway when you have a date -- he goes up to the door, inside unless you answer the door anxious to go -- about her house. He said, and I quote, that 'I guess' that it was furnished about as expensively as mine. That doesn't mean much, but it is a house not an apartment, and we can be pretty sure it wasn't a shack. After all, you have more to go on than we have for most rushees there."

"But not a hell of a lot more" Penelope said from in back. "If she'd been in my church group, I'd know how much her family was worth."

"Well, that's not the way my church operates. I wore my pearls to church once because I was going somewhere afterwards. And my mother -- not some socialist, my mother the alum state-board member -- said it was too much."

"Anyway," Rebecca said. Then she went on to the next name. Marilyn hadn't met most of them, and she lacked the observational skills -- or prejudices -- that allowed some of the seniors to comment on someone they had only seen across the room while concentrating on someone else. She did speak on some of the others, including Marie.

"Look, she asked me about a high-school boyfriend who wasn't going to join a frat. I minimized the problem, like we all do for all problems." After all, they wanted the girls to want them, even when they didn't want the girls. "But, if you don't want a pledge dating a non-Greek, don't bid on her. She knows that she can stick with him. You can say you don't think that boy suits her, but you can't say that Zates don't date non-Greeks. She knows better." She referred to this much more briefly when she spoke about Sandra, another girl with a boyfriend who was thinking of not pledging.

At the end of the week, the meetings became serious. What bids were they going to make? Some were obvious, and -- because they were obvious -- they would have other bids and were, therefore, the least likely to choose Zeta. The questions became serious about some of the marginal ones.

"Look," Rebecca pointed out, "last year we put out 40 bids and we only got 12 acceptances. We have to put out more bids this year."

"That's all very well for you to say," Patricia responded. "For six months they'll be pledges, you'll hold your nose for the next six months, and you'll go down in history as turning around the number of acceptances. Some of us will have to live with these guys for two years longer. If it's Bonnie or an empty bed, I'd take an empty bed any time."

"Tell the house board that."

They finally agreed on 42 names. Marie and Sandra, the two girls with non-Greek boyfriends were among them. The number of acceptances was a welcome surprise. 16 girls would be their new pledges, including Sandra and Brittany. They hauled a triple bunk up from the basement to the third floor. One of the pledge rooms would hold two full triple bunks.

"I'm a success, thanks to the rush committee," Willa told her and Barbara. "54 occupied beds instead of 52 last year. The house board will give short shrift to any other complaints."

"You know," Marilyn said, "four to a room was crowded last year. I don't know how they're going to handle six. You could give the pledge class four rooms of four apiece and split up one triple. Send them to three of the doubles."

"And get screams from nine women. I had four roommates, if not five, my pledge year. I survived." And that was how it went.

To set an example to the pledges, she was in a blouse and skirt for her next movie date with Andy. This time they went to Bound For Glory. Andy found them a dark parking place off the main roads. There were more of these around Champaign than there ever would be around Evanston. For all that the campus was full of couples looking for the same thing, once you got off campus and out of town all you had to find was some trees among the corn fields.

When they were in the back seat, Andy helped her onto his lap with her right side towards him. They had a deep kiss before he began unbuttoning her blouse. He had a little trouble opening her bra with his left hand. Then the kisses were even better while his hand held her neck so possessively. His other hand stroked her tits or cupped one. He finally broke the kiss to ease her further away on his knees. Then he bent forward to kiss her right tit. When he sucked the nipple, a thrill ran through her. Her left tit was chilly, but she felt hot between her legs.

"Oh, Marilyn."

"Oh, Andy." She'd finally found a response to his habitual comment on any intimacy between them. After another long kiss, she straightened her clothes. They got back into the front seat, and he drove them back. He seemed to be going away from the light pollution at first, but they were on the highway going towards campus soon enough.

"Dad was right about me, you know. Even if he ignored me at the time."

"Huh?" He was referring to something, but -- even if she'd been present -- she had his dad had been present together too often for that to be much of a marker.

"I did like sitting next to you, even in church. We don't always have to be doing this, much as I enjoy doing this. I like being with you."

"Yeah. That was fun." And, as much fun as sitting together had been, the declaration to their old community that they were a couple had been even more satisfying. Probably that was where Brittany had heard -- maybe she'd even seen.

"Well, want to do that again? I could pick you up Sunday morning."

"I don't know. I tried out the campus ministry twice. Can't say I was

impressed."

"Well, we have a car now. Much as Dad would hate having provided the means, we could go church shopping." That sounded interesting. And Sunday mornings weren't busy times around the house. She'd have to be back for Sunday dinner, though. Still, she could wear to chapter meetings what she wore to church with no problem. Still, his comments on his father weren't encouraging. The man had wanted her for an ally, and she'd enjoyed the alliance.

"Why would he hate that."

"Man has a bitter prejudice against church shopping. You attend your local church. Still, it wasn't mentioned in the bet. This is my car now. He only pays insurance." She suddenly saw that the totally-reasonable Jim Trainor that she'd known was the controlling parent against whom Andy was rebelling -- if rebelling in a quiet, Andy, sort of way. If he'd had her parents for a week, he would see the advantages his father gave. Still, she was not a neutral observer; she was on Andy's side, right or wrong. Anyway, they could try. That's what church shopping meant, after all, trying things out.

"Want to?" Which was asking him a silly question. If he didn't want to, he wouldn't have asked. But another chance to see Andy every week was a bonus.

"Want me to pick you up at 10:15 Sunday?" he asked her.

"Sure."

That would give them 45 minutes to find the place. By the time they were at that place in the conversation, they were parked outside the house. He walked her to the porch. She turned while he was on the lower step, and they had one last kiss. When she shut the door behind her, he turned and walked back to the car. The first floor of the house was nearly empty, and she went up to her new room immediately.

"Nice date?" asked Barbara.

"Very."

"Andy?" asked Willa. She nodded.

"When am I going to meet this guy?" asked Barbara.

"Whenever."

"He, as Marilyn said in a chapter meeting, comes to the door before a date. But, then, they walk."

"No longer. He still comes to the door. He's a gentleman. But, this year, he's a gentleman with a car."

"He has a car, Marilyn? How nice."

"Yeah. Sometimes that clump of trees down the street got cold, or wet, or crowded." Willa laughed. Barbara looked puzzled. "We'll have to show it to you sometime. It's the only privacy that pedestrians can get for a little good-night kiss."

"Don't let her fool you, Barbara. Her Andy is always willing to give her a good-night kiss on the front porch or even inside."

"You'd think," Barbara said, "she meant something further along in making out than a simple kiss."

"Ha! You don't know Andy," Willa said. Marilyn was trying to treat this teasing to a dignified silence, but this was too much.

"You're the one who doesn't know Andy, Willa." She stripped and put on her nightie, robe, and slippers to go down the hall for her night-time preparations.

"She takes it with good grace," she heard Willa explain as she went down the hall. "I've been exaggerating, but her Andy is the ultimate boy scout -- dean's list."

They were both in their beds when she got back. She slipped into hers, and was soon asleep.

Andy, in his suit, picked her up before church. They got there way early. The sermon didn't impress her, and the hymns, to an electric organ, dragged. Still, being a couple was fun. On campus, they were a couple, but people knew her or -- less often -- knew Andy. The couple was Marilyn and her Andy. Back in Evanston, it had been 'Oh those two whom we knew separately are now a couple.' When they walked into a rural church, the congregation saw a new couple long before they recognized Andy or Marilyn. They agreed to try another church the next week.

On the way back, they compared schedules. Andy was taking American Lit, too -- Literature of the United States, to be formal. They figured that Wednesday afternoon, right after her class in American Lit, coincidentally, was a good time to study together. She'd try for the study room in her house then.

Just when they were starting to look like an all-work-and-no-play couple, Andy took her to the first university dance. They sat out a few fast dances together, but every time one of them danced, they danced together. Andy found them a nice, dark spot afterwards.

In the back seat, they shared a deep kiss. With her blouse and bra open, she say on his lap sideways. He stroked her tits while they had another deep kiss. While he sucked her right tit, his hand caressed her knee through her panty hose. She briefly wondered how far she should let him go up her skirt before she stopped him, but this was Andy. He didn't go above the knee.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said when they broke. "I love you."

"I love you, too." They had another long kiss after that declaration. Then, she put her clothes back together, and he drove her back. The kiss on the porch steps was as gentle and romantic as the kiss after church had been. And, late as they had been that night, they were a couple in another church the next morning. The singing there was better -- at least faster -- but the preaching was as dull.

The pledge period wasn't as great a strain on the actives as it was on the pledges, but somebody had to supervise all those activities. The pledge committee couldn't do it all. Marilyn was chosen to teach the pledges the Zeta songs. She was given a pitch pipe. First, she sang a solo, then she led the 16 in a choral rendition until they sounded like some of them knew it. Then she called on each pledge to sing a solo. Some, she noted the names, could produce something reasonable with nothing but the first note. Some couldn't get the second note right having been given the first. Two couldn't even duplicate the first note when the pitch pipe had given it to them.

She decided to delegate. She split the best singers into two groups, and assigned each group to learn one song in the next three days. Each single decent singer was assigned one of the hopeless ones and told to get her to match a single note in that time.

Studying again with Andy was as pleasant as it had been the previous semester. He picked her up after class and drove her to the house. Nobody else claimed the study room Wednesday afternoon. They put in a solid ninety minutes on the books. Then he put a chair where it blocked the door. He kissed her and lifted her onto the chair. He kneaded her butt while Burying his face between her tits. She kissed his ears and the top of his head. When they broke off, he moved the chair back to the table.

Thursday night, she got the entire group of pledges to produce a decent version of three songs. The solos from the worst singers were as hopeless as before. She figured that all of them had had some sort of training -- music classes, church, sing-alongs. If they hadn't learned then, she wasn't going to produce any great miracles this semester. She did assign the last two songs to her separate groups of good singers.

Sunday, Andy took her to First Methodist, Urbana. They both felt it had been the best of the three they'd sampled.

"Let's keep shopping, though," Andy said. That was fair. He looked up the churches, found the routes to the more rural ones, and checked on the hours. Besides, being a new couple was still fun.

"Sure.... If you enjoy sitting with me, you have another opportunity." He wriggled his eyebrows at her, which meant taking his eyes off the road in a frightening fashion. Well, the car kept going straight, and she shouldn't nag. "You could take me to the home football games."

"So I could. The first one is in six days. Do you want to go?"

"I feel like I'm begging for a date."

"When the reality is that you have a dense boyfriend."

The weather was warm. Andy was agreeable to sitting with the Zate pack. They could bitch all they wanted about a non-Greek boyfriend, but when they sat with their boyfriends, it was with the fraternity -- not with the Zates. Lisa and Diane asked her for rides back, and Andy agreed. He let them out at the house. Then they rode further for a short session of kissing. It was still bright day, though, and they didn't go very far.

Still, that was farther than they went the next day after church. Somehow, the Sunday noon goodbye kisses were only on the porch and chaste enough that Mom wouldn't have objected to seeing them -- Hell! Dad might not have objected. In the first place, it was shortly after noon. In the second place, they had just come from church. Despite how she'd behaved one time in Evanston, she didn't think that making out was a proper after-church activity. And, as far as she could tell, Andy preferred to keep their making out to private places in the dark.

Indeed, their intimacies were advancing, or standing still, on parallel tracks. Every evening date, movie or dance, Andy's hand was going further up her skirt. He wasn't pushing it -- she never felt the need to resist when she was with Andy -- but he was slowly getting bolder and she was getting more excited every time.

After the study dates, they would make out. Except for his hands on her butt, though, it would all be above her waist. Mostly, with her standing on a chair that blocked the door, he would kiss all over her tits and suck on her nipples. When the weather turned cold before the next football game, she had an idea. Actually, considering that the pledges were expected to attend every game and the bus service to the stadium went all over campus after they got on, she had two ideas.

She decided to take a blanket to wrap around her and Andy. She felt a little sorry for the six pledges crammed into one room, and she -- after asking Andy's permission -- invited 3 of them along. She suggested that they bring a blanket, too. Brittany was one of the three.

"Andy," she said. "I recognize the car, but I didn't know it was yours. I thought it was your family's."

"It was," he said. "Dad gave it to me."

"For making dean's list," Marilyn added. The bet was more complicated than that, but Andy had won the bet and made dean's list with the same grades.

"Boy," said Robin, "I wish my Dad would give me a car for making dean's list."

"Honey," said Janet, "I'll give you a Rolls Royce if you make dean's list."

"As if you could afford a Rolls Royce."

"As if you could make dean's list." All three laughed at that.

"I'll bet," Brittany said, "I was in this car before you were, Marilyn."

"Yeah," Andy said, "but this is your first time in the back seat." The three of them were sitting on two blankets in the back seat while she shared the front seat with Andy.

When they got to the stadium, she had the pledges sit together. She and Andy sat directly behind them. She had planned out the blanket. She was wearing jeans, a university sweat shirt, and her parka. She told Andy to wrap the blanket over his shoulders like a Superman cape and then sit down. That dragged the blanket on the ground, so he took a lot of folds around his shoulders and tried again. She stood in front of him, he opened the blanket and lifted her onto his lap. She crossed her arms and grabbed the blanket. By simply pulling, she wrapped it around them. She was warm soon enough, and got one hand free long enough to unzip her parka. He was nuzzling her ear before the teams were on the field. When his hand stroked her front, it easily parted her parka. He cupped her left tit through the sweatshirt, and found that she wasn't wearing a bra. Soon, both hands were at the bottom of the sweatshirt and slipping inside. His hands were like ice, and she shivered.

"Sorry," he whispered in her ear. He pulled his hands down.

"No don't." He clenched his hands into fists, then wiped them against one another. When he put them against her skin again, she found that these actions hadn't made them much warmer. Still, she wanted them, cold or not, on her tits. the chill wasn't the only thing that made her nipples stand out. They spent the rest of the game like that -- watching and cheering the action with their heads outside the blanket, making out like mad with their bodies and hands inside the blanket.

"Get the blanket," he said when Illinois made a touchdown. The crowd rose to its feet, as did Andy. She had a better view than most, since he was holding her by her armpits and lifting her head higher than his own. When the excitement was over, he sat down again and lowered her into his lap. When the game was over, he held the blanket around them while she pulled her sweatshirt down around her hips and zipped up the parka.

When everyone had returned to the house, the pledges went straight inside at a glare from her before she turned to him.

"You're the sexiest woman," he said. Then they shared a kiss that was hot, but not hot enough to keep her from getting chilly. She swung her hips exaggeratedly as she walked through the door. Sandra met her before she could get her blanket back to her room.

"Marilyn, could I talk with you?" Did she think she should have been one of those given a ride to the game? Well, there was only one answer to the question she'd asked.

"Sure. Come up to the room with me while I put this back." She held up the blanket. Luckily, her roommates were gone. "Go ahead," she said as she put the blanket back on the bed and hung her parka in her closet. But Sandra didn't say anything until she sat down beside her.

"I've broken up with Clark. He dumped me." Clark had obviously been her boyfriend -- the non-Greek she'd spoken about at Rush?

"How long had you been going with him?"

"Steady for nearly a year." Yeah, that was the guy she'd asked about because he wasn't pledging. "We'd had a relationship longer than that. He told me that I was giving too much attention to the sorority."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Although she wasn't as sorry as she would have been if Sandra had chosen the boy over the house.

"Did your guy ever say that?" Sandra asked.

"No. Andy was always supportive, or -- at least -- accepting. Really, though, you shouldn't judge other guys on the basis of Andy."

"I'm lost."

"I'm sure you are in some ways." Breaking up was hard, and she wasn't going to pretend that it wasn't. "In one way, though, you're in the right place. If your high school was anything like mine, a girl who'd broken up with her guy would be socially lost. Well, you aren't. You're a Zate pledge. Rebecca is planning the next party with a frat. She'll book you with someone. Sure, maybe he'll not meet your standards, but there will be another party or dance or something next week, and Rebecca will have you paired with someone else for that.

"I don't want that."

"Maybe you don't want it, but you need it. You'll meet lots of boys, and socially -- not in class. We work you like a team of mules, but we do some things for you, too. The last thing you need right now is some new steady. What you need is a large circle of acquaintances of the opposite sex. And that is what Rebecca will provide."

Sandra said something affirmative without really promising anything. That was fine. She thanked Marilyn as she left. Once she was out of the room, Marilyn skinned off her sweatshirt and put on a bra before either roommate came back. Neither Willa nor Barbara would have let that pass without a comment.

The church that Sunday had but 30 members in the congregation, all but 5 clearly older than her parents. She could tell the minister, on the other hand, was older than she was only because all ministers were.

"Sorry," Andy said driving back.

"I don't know why. We did what we said we would. We sampled. Now, if you took me back, I'd expect an apology."

"You're sweet. I don't expect anything better, really, from the rest of the churches on my list -- some of them have local preachers. Do you want to go back to First Urbana?"

"Why don't we?" And so they did. The next Sunday, people were polite. When they went back the Sunday afterwards, the greeting was warm.

"Andy and Marilyn Trainor, isn't it?"

"Half right," said Andy with a laugh.

"He's Andy Trainor. I'm Marilyn Grant. We're not married."

"Not even engaged," Andy said.

"We're just two college students who thought a regular church would better fit our needs than the campus ministry," she added.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked Andy as they were driving back.

"Why should I mind? To be paired with you is an honor." Which didn't quite say that he wanted to be married to her, but -- at least -- implied that the idea didn't horrify him. Really, while she enjoyed toying with the idea in her mind, she wasn't quite convinced she wanted it, herself, at least not yet.

She got an A on her midterm exam in American Lit. So, it turned out on their next movie date, had Andy.

"We're on a roll," she said. "Studying together is obviously good for us."

"Well, it's good for me. You're the English major. I'm not sure I contribute anything." Well, he contributed questions and motivation. But she liked his giving her credit, even if it might be unearned -- after all, he was the one on the dean's list.

"I'm not sure I should be touching my teacher," he said in the back seat that night. They'd each removed their parkas.

"Well, I'm sure I should be sitting on my teacher's lap." And she got into the position they'd found best. She was sitting sideways on his legs with her back to the door. Despite his verbal doubts, he had her blouse undone and his hand up her skirt quite soon. One hand just touched her left tit while he kissed her right one. Slowly, erotically, his other hand stroked up the inside of her thigh. Even through the pantyhose, that excited her. Finally, those stroking fingers touched her mound.

"Oh, Marilyn." He stroked down to her knee, the feeling getting less exciting as he progressed. When he stroked upward again, his fingers were on the back of her thigh and only his thumb on the inside. This time, when his thumb touched her mound, he moved his fingers so they were on the lips. "Oh, Marilyn." He raised his mouth from her tit. "Kiss me."

She put her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. He pulled her into it with his arm around her shoulders. When his tongue didn't enter her mouth, she sought it with her own. All this time, he was stroking her outer lips through panties and pantyhose. Her arousal spiraled upward. She gasped into his mouth when it peaked.

"Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling!" He kept grasping her with his one arm while he brought his other from between her legs to hold her chin. He moved his head and hers to scatter kisses over her face. "You are so lovely, so sexy, so sweet." When he finally stopped the kissing, he hugged her with both arms.

"You must be getting cold," he said when she shivered.

"A bit." She was still topless and a little chilly. That hadn't been what caused the shiver, though. "Don't move." She put on her bra and blouse before snuggling back into his arms. He hugged her for another minute. Then he handed her her parka. She put it on without zipping it up. Now his hug, under the parka, was nice and warm. He kissed her face, and, afterwards, she kissed his.

"Do you have to get back?"

"Not really. I'm scheduled to torture the pledges at 2:00."

"I'll get you back before then." And, he got her back a little before one. She changed into her night clothes but put on socks and tennies before waking the pledges. They gathered in the study room downstairs. She started grilling them on the history of Zeta Gamma Tau.

"Marilyn, can't I go first," Hailey whined. "I know this stuff, knew it when Merrilie tested us an hour ago. I need to get some sleep."

"No! The question isn't whether Hailey knows it. The question is whether the pledge class knows it. If you don't like being quizzed at two o'clock," She didn't say, but Hailey was probably bright enough to figure out, that they would be quizzed at four and at six, as well. "Then you should find a time more to your liking to help your sisters learn the history." And she went on with the quiz until nearly 3:00.

"Marilyn," Rebecca asked her the next day, "you do go to the frats when we have a house date with them, don't you?"

"Sometimes." It seemed a little phony when she'd told Andy she was his girlfriend. She'd skipped two for this reason.

"Well, it would make it easier if you did next Saturday. The Delta vice president, asked for you in particular."

"Well, if you want..."

"Believe me, I want this. If you're his date, then I get a decent date for every pledge."

"You guys trade like that?"

"Not always explicitly, but there are some women for whom they'll pay, and there are some women you have to pay for. Favors, of course, nothing so crass as cash." Well, if some house officer wanted her, he probably wanted more than a dance. She'd be careful to wear her most thickly padded bra.

George, the vice president, wasn't that bad. He wanted the first two dances, some in the middle, and the last dance. They talked a little outside the dance rooms. He didn't grab, and, after he'd driven her and two sisters home, the good-night kiss was all mouth and no hands. The Delta house, on the other hand, wasn't all that pleasant. The parts open to the guests were crowded and smoke-filled. She felt, when she got home, that her clothing, her hair, her very skin, was saturated with the smell of burnt tobacco. She grabbed her robe and shampoo before heading to the shower room. She hung up her clothes on a hook and got under the shower. She'd lathered her hair once -- glad that the pixie cut was easy to clean up -- before she heard Jessica's comment.

"Somebody's pretending to have more on the top story than God gave her. Well, some of us have it, and some of us pretend to have it." Jessica was one of the few D cups in the house, and was fond of mentioning that. She must have noticed the padding in the bra. The bra was that last thing she'd hung up. Still, Rebecca had received a request for Marilyn's participation in the dance. She kept her mouth shut, just barely. Maybe the rant would pass away, and Jessica sounded like she'd had more of the Delta punch than was good for her.

"Boys seem to want a lot of boob," Jessica went on.

"Yeah, they do," Marilyn said. "Then they grow up into men who have more appreciation for a shapely tit." After all, her tits right now were the same shape as the exterior of the bra had been, if a slightly smaller size. Jessica's nipples when out of her bra were four inches lower than they were when in it.

"Marilyn? I didn't know you were there." Yeah? Drunk or not, Jessica knew that the hanging clothes belonged to someone taking a shower.

She put her "date" with George out of her mind, but apparently he didn't. Tuesday, more than a week later, she got a phone call. The sister who handed her the phone shook her head for some reason.

"Hello."

"Hello, Marilyn. This is George from Delta house. How are you?" Well, a voice from the past. Zeta needed to keep good inter-house relations, which meant that she should be polite.

"Yes, George. I remember you."

"Look, there's a dance Saturday, a week and a half from now. Would you like to go with me?"

"I'm sorry, George. I have a boyfriend. I go with the house on general social events, but I don't go with anyone else on individual dates." A boyfriend, it occurred to her, who hadn't asked her to that dance, yet.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm sorry that I had to refuse. Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye." And, so, the reason he hadn't groped her was that he wanted something more than that night. Well, she was taken, but she needn't be taken for granted.

"There's a dance a week from Saturday," she told Andy after studying Lit the next afternoon. "I already got an invitation. I turned it down, but I'm going to accept the next one I receive." He was moving one chair from the table to a place where it would block the door.

"Marilyn, would you give me the honor of accompanying me to the dance a week from Saturday."

"Well, I said I'd take the next invitation, so I accept."

"Do I wait too late to ask you?" He lifted her up on the chair, and she began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Sometimes." He unhooked her bra with both hands and, then, pushed the center up with his nose. He kissed her right between the tits, rolling his head back and forth to press against one tit and then the other. They didn't speak for another half hour as he kissed and sucked on her tits and clutched her butt. She stroked his back, occasionally kissing an ear or even the top of his head. Then she tidied her clothes, and he lifted her down. She could get up and down from a chair by herself, but these lifting stunts were something they both enjoyed.

At the dance, she and Andy were sitting at a table enjoying Cokes when George came over.

"Hello, Marilyn. Mind if I sit down?" He sat without waiting for her answer. He turned to Andy. "I'm George Walker, a senior and vice president of Delta Sigma Phi."

"I'm Andy Trainor. I'm an Electrical-Engineering major. We are sophomores. Marilyn's majoring in English." And, by implication, George was an intruding stranger talking to a couple. The two kept talking in a perfect civility, but they were definitely fighting over her in a concealed way. She found this to be great fun this time -- as opposed to how embarrassing it was when Dad had participated. As long as no punches were thrown, who wouldn't want to be the girl the guys fought over? When the next tune started, George asked her to dance. As it was a fast one, she accepted.

"I don't understand what you see in that nerd," he said walking her back to the table.

"You're not supposed to," she replied. She danced with Andy the rest of the night. This was more tiring than their usual style, which involved sitting out many of the fast dances with a drink and conversation.

"Who was that guy?" Andy asked as they got into the back seat that night. George had told Andy as much about himself as he'd told her.

"You're jealous."

"No, I'm not. It's just..."

"Pffft."

"Okay. Maybe I'm a little jealous." And, just maybe, he was a lot jealous. "You danced with him."

"You dance with other girls, too."

"Only when you tell me to." Actually, she didn't tell him to -- merely suggested it. "And only for fast dances." Fast dances, which just let your partner get a closer look at your gyrations than others did, were less intimate than slow dances, which involved touching. "And, somehow, you never suggest your prettiest sisters." Was that really true? Well, those could get their own dance partners.

"Well, that was a fast dance, too." During this argument, she'd been unzipping her parka, unbuttoning the back of her dress, and unsnapping her bra. "Are you too mad to continue this?"

"I'm feeling possessive, not mad." And, when she rose from the seat, he lifted her onto his lap and hugged her quite possessively. After his hand worked its way under her parka, he kissed her while scratching up and down her back on both sides of her spine. As that hand reached around her back to cup her left tit, his other one started caressing her legs. Soon, he was stroking her outer lips through panties and pantyhose. Her arousal, maybe intensified by Andy's jealousy, maybe begun when the two boys were sort of fighting over her, rose rapidly. She gasped into his mouth when she peaked.

"Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling." Andy had taken his mouth away from hers to say that. Then he kissed down her torso shoving the parka aside with his face. He lifted her bra up with his hand. When his kisses got to her left tit, he began stroking her outer lips again. Her arousal spiraled upwards again, helped along when his lips reached her nipple though the dress. He kept sucking on that nipple as she peaked.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said into her cleavage. His hand inside the dress top moved to her right to push her against the back of the front seat. Andy's lips searched down her right tit towards her nipple. He began to stroke again.

"No," she said. She pushed his arm out from under her skirt. Then she pushed herself straight on his lap. He sat up immediately. Instead of resisting, he held her against his chest.

"Did I hurt you?" Not hurt, exactly.

"I just didn't want to do any more of that."

"Is hugging okay?" he asked.

"Hugging is fine."

"You're a dear, sweet woman. I don't want to hurt you. If I do, please tell me." He hadn't hurt her, had never since she'd teased him into it back in Evanston, and she'd enjoyed driving him crazy then. Well, he could drive her crazy, too. And if he'd gone on much longer, he would have.

"Andy, when I asked you to stop, you did. That's all I ask." Well, maybe she also wanted some of that stroking, but he'd given it to her. And, really, it felt much better when she didn't have to ask for it. "You're a dear, sweet guy." She initiated this kiss, but his tongue did the exploring.

When, much later, he drew back, his hand went around her back again to hold her side. Then, he relaxed the grip of the other hand. He turned it upwards, and -- quite slowly -- moved it to cup her left tit. All the while, he was looking her straight in the eye. When his hand supported her tit, she nodded. That seemed to be the permission he required. His eyes went down, but they sat that way for another while. When she stirred, he relaxed. She got back into her clothes and zipped up the parka. They returned to the front seat, and he drove her back to the house. The kiss on the front stairs was as gentle as it always was.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

For the next three movie dates, he stroked her to two peaks each night. When she'd reached her second, he removed his hand from between her legs and held her. Maybe she wanted three peaks on a night, maybe she wanted to feel how the fourth or fifth peak would feel. But he didn't push, and she couldn't find a way of expressing that.

The last university dance of the semester was worse. The weather had warmed, and while they were dancing a storm brewed outside. They found themselves in a downpour, with the last of the snow turning to freezing pools of water on the lawns and sidewalks.

"Marilyn," Barbara said. "My date's in no shape to drive me back. do you think you and Andy could take me?"

"I'll ask," she said.

"Do you want that?" was Andy's response when she did.

"Please."

"Then sure. Anyone else?" He was right, if they gave one ride, they should give more. She got two pledges, Ella and Karen.

"Look," Andy said when they were all assembled. "I've got an umbrella in the car. Not the greatest place for it, but so it goes. No reason for more than me to get wet. I'll get the car as close as I can and come back with the umbrella. It'll shield two, and I'll ferry one of you per trip to the car." That's how they did it. She was in the front seat, while the other three were crowded into the back. When they got to the house, Andy took three trips to get the sisters to the front porch. When he came back, he went to the driver's side and got in.

"Look," he said, "those are your sisters, right? Not your mother?" She looked at him. "If we drove off, they wouldn't make noises?"

"Drive off." When he did, she explained. "If you don't want them to gossip, you don't understand a house of fifty women. If you mean that they might impose some sort of discipline, then they won't." As a matter of fact, his going off to park with her would raise less gossip than his not doing so. Parking spots out of sight were easy to find in this downpour. Andy had the heat up high, but he closed the defogging vents.

"I really think that this isn't a night for the back seat." He was right. She opened her parka. They hugged and kissed, with his hand cupping and stroking her tits through dress and bra for the first time in half a year. They relaxed back after a while.

"Frustrating," he said.

"Worse, hell week is coming up."

"You have to suffer that more than once?"

"No, but I have to inflict it. That will keep me almost as busy."

"And, then, the cramming before finals is on us. Look, want to go north together?"

"Don't you go visit your mom this time of year?" That's what he'd done the previous year.

"Not this year. I'm over 18, and there was a blow-up last year -- worse than the usual. So, I sent off the presents, and... Thing is, after finals, I tend to tie one on." She could remember something about this from the end of the previous year.

"I still can't imagine you drunk." She'd seen him drink, but not to the point of losing the slightest control.

"Good! it's not a picture of me I want you imagining. That's why I do it in private. Thing is, if I tie one on, I go up late. If we go together, can you start late?"

"Sure." It would be worth it for his company.

"How about movies? Study? Church?"

"Same time Wednesday. I really think we should skip next Tuesday, much as I'll miss you. Hell week starts too early Sunday."

They left it at that, and he opened the anti-foggers and drove her home. He walked her to her door under the umbrella, and they kissed good-bye on the porch.

She missed Andy over the next weeks. She didn't enjoy hell week as much as some of the other actives did, but she, they, and even the pledges, got through it.

Then, right after the pledges got their badges, she got a little sister, Beverly. She had been one of the brighter pledges, and she'd done less complaining than most during the pledge period. They sat together during house meals for two days before she introduced Beverly to Natalie and Caitlin. They all knew each other, of course, but now they were a family. As Beverly was taking English 101, Marilyn sketched out what she knew the faculty thought was the central parts of the course before introducing her to the house files.

Then, she dug down to finish her own studying. She finished her paper for Developmental Psychology and typed clean drafts of the others. She dug into the house files for her own courses, finding that knowing the subject matter helped immeasurably in sorting through some quite-different final exams for the same course.

Finals, themselves, were times of strain but far from times of despair. Then came a dead time, waiting for Andy to call. She went Christmas shopping for Pete's gift. He'd probably appreciate something from the University community. She decided on a U of I warm-up suit. She only realized how much she'd been waiting for Andy's call when it came.

"Can you go Saturday?" he asked.

"Sure. Noon train?"

"That's what I meant." He picked her up early, though. She guarded his luggage along with hers while he went to park the car and walked back. While they weren't anywhere-near alone, they didn't see anyone they knew at the station.

"One advantage of the Saturday train," Andy said, "is that Dad can pick us up. "

"Yeah. I didn't even tell them when I'm coming." Without the giddy company of their friends, they sat beside one another and merely held hands. They did talk, though. He didn't remember any major glitches on his exams. She hadn't seen anything that threw her for a loop, either.

"Of course," he said, "that's no guarantee. But, at least, I left no blanks and made no wild guesses."

"And how was English?"

"I had the advantage of a brilliant tutor during the year. I just might end up acing the course. An acceptable grade, anyway, if not. You?"

"If this exam is all right, I'll get an A."

"But you, of course, need the A. You're a major." Andy felt that some courses needed to be passed high, and others needed to be passed. A D in Phys-Ed was only unacceptable because that meant that you were too near having to repeat it. Which reminded her.

"And how do you think you did in swimming?"

"Well, I might pull a B. And, more important for the summer, I think I learned to swim decently. Of course, it isn't the Lake. And archery?" That had been her Phys-Ed course.

"I did okay. I'll get a C, a B if he grades on effort instead of ability. "

"That's always a hope, although I gripe when they do it in science courses. The same loophole would get me a B in drawing. You know, drafting is another discipline, but they could give fine-arts distribution credit for drafting."

"Why is it different?" And what was drafting?

"Drawing is free-hand, what an artist does on his sketch pad. Drafting uses straight edges. It's what an engineer does on his tilted drafting table. Except that the engineers don't really do that; there are draftsmen, which is another job category. Still, you have to be able to do some of it. I'll take Drafting next semester, keeping sharp whatever skills cross over." So he hadn't been taking drawing for the nudes, after all -- first-year drawing students didn't to see the nudes, but she'd always thought that this had been his hope.

His father greeted them in the station. As before, he took Andy's luggage, and Andy took hers. His new car was another black Buick -- later model, but it looked much more like Andy's car than most of the cars on the road. Andy got in back, after handing her into the front seat.

"Well, Miss Grant," his dad asked, "and how was your semester?"

"Fine thanks." And then, since he seemed interested, she told him what she'd told Andy about classes. "And," she concluded, "I have a Little Sister." That seemed capable of misunderstanding.

"That's something in the sorority. It's one of the new members to whom I'm a sort of mentor. She's Beverly. I've a Big Sister, too, have had one for a year. Natalie. Since she's my big sister, she's Beverly's Grand Big Sister. Her Big Sister, Caitlin, is my Grand Big Sister. She's a history major."

"Good major. I majored in history."

"And Andy's claim that the Civil War was won in the west impressed her."

"She didn't tell him to consider the seas and the coastline?"

"No," said Andy. "She didn't. She did say, though, that I hadn't convinced her."

"The Army of Northern Virginia was a tragic hero. Maybe Lee would have been better characterized by that phrase. It kept the capital of the Confederacy safe while there was any Confederacy to need a capital. The naval blockade was dull as dishwater, chasing tiny blockade runners, catching some, missing others. But that squeezed the Confederacy as much as anything else did. And they captured ports slowly but surely. Before Richmond fell, the last significant Confederate port had been occupied. So, my son, the western theater of operations was hardly the be-all and end-all of the Civil War." If Andy's mind was sharp, she saw what it had been whetted against.

"But, Miss Grant," Mr. Trainor continued, "have you enjoyed the mentoring?"

"Very much, although it was only for a brief time. I'm looking forward to continuing."

"Well, you are good at it. I know from my own family. Maybe you might consider counseling instead of straight teaching." He glanced over at her and must have seen something of her thoughts in her expression. "Maybe not. And, after all, an education degree is the requirement for a counselor if I'm not mistaken."

"They are such wastes." She remembered the guidance counselors at her high school. She'd never do that.

"Well, teachers are counselors, too. After all, you don't need the title, just one great talent, and one that fits in with your career plans." They were getting close, and Andy leaned forward to give the final directions to her house. When the car stopped, Andy got out and lifted her luggage out of the trunk. She opened the door, and he put it in the entrance hall.

"We'll be in touch," he said. From habit, she climbed two steps on the main staircase and turned to him. The kiss was long and deep.

"Marilyn!" Mom said from the top.

"I'm back," she responded as Andy left the house.

"So I see. Was that Andy?"

"Yes. We took the train together and his dad drove me home."

"You could have called. Have you eaten?"

"On the train." She picked up her heavier suitcase and carried it up the stairs with her.

"That couldn't have been enough. There are left-overs in the refrigerator.... Really, dear, Andy shouldn't have come in. You shouldn't have invited him."

"He wasn't going to leave my bag on the front porch." Andy had carried her luggage another eight feet horizontally, keeping his dad waiting and standing with his hands full while she found the key to unlock the door to do so. She was expected to carry her own bags up the stairs, now. Well, she was home.

Monday, she took the L to the Loop to finish her Christmas shopping. Evanston didn't give you the selection that the Loop did, and Champaign certainly hadn't. On the other hand, the stores were jam-packed so close to Christmas.

Andy was a real problem. What he needed was clothes -- his weren't ragged, but they were repetitive. On the other hand, Christmas was a nasty time to nag and Christmas gifts were a nasty way to nag. She'd received some nagging gifts herself, and she hated having to pretend to be grateful. Besides, she didn't know his shirt or pants size. He had enough ties, now. It's just that his dress shirts were all stark white and all looked the same. What he wanted was books -- and here, too, she didn't know enough. What books did he already have?

She settled on a tie clasp. He would look spiffier in it, and his wearing it whenever he wore a tie -- Andy would always wear something like that or never wear it -- would just look to the other girls like a compliment to the giver.

If they got married, not that she was decided that they should, but just if they did, she would find out his clothing sizes and buy his clothes. He'd accept that as her domestic service to him. And they wouldn't fight about style at all. Andy had no opinions about style.

She bought herself a present, too. Though she'd bet that Andy would enjoy it more than the tie clasp. A garter belt was a little hard to find in the last days of '75, but you could find anything in the Loop if you knew where to look. She bought some nylons, too. And, it being the Christmas season, Mom would never ask what she'd bought. It's just that she enjoyed Andy's hand so much she thought it might be more enjoyable with less between it and herself.

This left the problem of getting the tie clasp to him. Well, his dad had said he owed her. Where did Andy say he worked? She looked Albany Bank up in the Chicago phone book on Tuesday.

"Albany Bank."

"May I speak to Mr. Jim Trainor, please?"

"Albany Bank. Mr. Trainor's office."

"May I speak to him, please? This is Marilyn Grant." A pause then...

"Yes, Miss Grant. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you at work for personal business, but I have a problem. I want to give Andy a Christmas gift but not hand it to him." He'd be quite embarrassed if he didn't have one to hand back right then. "Do you think I could give it to you some time and you could slip it under your tree?"

"Well, yes. And you remind me that I haven't planned out our Christmas yet. We always exchange gifts, but for years he's been in California for the actual day. Anyway, will you be home around 6:00 tonight. I can hide the gift in the car trunk and sneak it in the house while he's away."

"That would be very kind of you."

"Not at all. Thank you for calling."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He came by about 5:50. She was waiting downstairs to answer the door. No reason to upset Mom with a man as old as Dad calling for her.

"Well," he said when he saw the package. "That won't be any trouble to smuggle in. I'd pictured something larger. But, after all, precious things come in small packages. I mean that less personally than the last dozen times you've heard it."

"I don't think I've ever had it addressed to me."

"Well, he has his good points, too."

"If you mean Andy, he has many good points."

"On that we're agreed. I wonder how many points on your list would also be on mine." She nearly blushed. "Well, I won't ask you for your list if you don't ask me for mine. Thanks." He stepped out the door.

"Thank you. Goodbye." But he was already striding towards his car.

"Who was that?" Mom asked.

"Andy's dad. He's doing me a favor."

"You could have invited him in."

"Like Dad, he's a businessman on his way home right now. I don't think a longer visit would make him happier. Would you want Dad to be social for a half hour and get home a half hour later?"

"You just don't want me bringing up the Sundays he supported your rebellion."

"I didn't rebel, Mother. I chose where I would sit. Rather than support me, he requested my company with his family. The word is 'request.' Why don't you look it up in the dictionary?"

"I don't want to go over old disagreements." So, why did she bring one up? And, really, that wasn't a disagreement. That was something perfectly reasonable that she had done and that Mom had bitched about.

"So, Marilyn, what happened at the house this semester?" Well, she might have been blatant in changing the subject, but Mom was right about that question. Of all the people she knew up here, only she could appreciate this news.

"I have a Little Sister. Her name is Beverly Guerin."

"Where does she live?"

"Saint Charles."

"Do you like her?"

"Oh, yes."

Christmas Eve, they -- even Pete -- went to church. Andy was there, and gave her a package that had been gift-wrapped at the store.

"Why, thank you," she said. She took it home and put it under the tree. Christmas morning, Pete played Santa. He teased her by ignoring her package from Andy. When the loot piled at Pete's place got too attractive for him to go on, Dad took over as Santa and brought the gift to her first thing. It was a lovely, fuzzy scarf of dark green. It looked warm.

"You should have bought something for him," Mom said.

"I did. A tie clasp." She went back to opening the presents from the people there. She was careful to wear the scarf to church the next day. Andy was wearing the tie clasp, too. It looked good, if she did say so herself, even on one of his old trio of ties.

Christmas season went on. When it finished, she went back to campus. Mom made such a fuss that she didn't ride down with Andy on Saturday, but rather by herself on Sunday. It was a new semester, a new year, but Mom didn't seem any more reasonable about Andy. They weren't taking any of the same classes -- they'd checked on the way up. So, they couldn't have study dates.

"Look, Marilyn, I wanted to ask you..." Donna greeted her on her way to breakfast Monday.

"I got A in Lit of the US and in Developmental Psychology. All the rest were B s, even Phys Ed."

"Why that's marvelous, but it wasn't what I was going to ask. Hailey had problems in College Math, and I wondered if Andy could help her."

"You could ask." Although she'd be a little jealous of somebody else studying with Andy. "He'll be my date at the dance to celebrate the new actives."

"He will? What a surprise!" Then Donna remembered she was asking a favor. "Really? I'll ask him then. Thanks, Marilyn. And congratulations on your grades."

"Andy, by the way, made a B in Phys Ed and another in Drawing. The Lit he studied with me was an A. So were all the rest of his courses."

"Another dean's list. He is a bright guy." Which was a real compliment from Donna.

The party in January '76 was less important to her than the one in January '75 had been, of course. It was, nevertheless, important to her -- to the entire house. The same rules applied. Andy wore a suit, with a tie she hadn't seen and the new tie clasp. Again, he looked like he was treating the event seriously. He had just hung up his parka when she introduced him to Beverly.

"Andy, this is Beverly. She's my Little Sister!" He looked from Beverly's 5' 7" to her 5' 1" (both counting heels) and back.

"If you say so."

"Literalist!" She slung her elbow at him, not a damaging punch when you're facing the target. He ignored her blow and her label.

"Hello, Beverly. You're very important in Marilyn's life. She's been talking about you. I'm Andy Trainor."

"I'm Beverly Guerin. I've heard about you, too."

"I deny it all." Beverly laughed. They let her go to enjoy what was, after all, her party. When the first dance began, Andy led her out into one of the rooms where people were dancing. She was less enthusiastic in her writhing than several of her sisters, but Andy only had eyes for her. For the next tune, they headed into the dining room for some of the punch.

When the tune wound down and a slow one started, Donna found them.

"Look, let me dance with your boyfriend," she asked.

"Sure, Donna." She backed away.

"Donna," Andy said, "might I have the pleasure of this dance?"

"The pleasure is mine, Andy." And, since she was about to ask a favor, it probably was. Even so, Marilyn resented missing one of the slow dances of the night. She took her punch and Andy's and went to sit on the stairs.

"Where's Andy?" Willa asked. Her date looked like he didn't want her being distracted. She looked aware of it, and she seemed not to care what he wanted.

"He's dancing with Donna. She has a favor to ask him."

"Look out. She's one woman who'd really want to steal Andy. Wasn't he dean's list last year?"

"Spring semester and fall semester this year. He thinks of an A as what you aim for in a serious course."

"Hell! Don't we all aim for an A, at least at the beginning? His difference isn't that he aims there. His difference is that he makes them."

"And, as he keeps pointing out to me, the longer you make A s, the solider your foundation for the next course."

"What is he?" the boyfriend asked, "Some kind of dweeb?"

"He's a guy," she said, "who came to school with a weird goal. He wanted to learn something."

"I don't study all the time, and I've learned something in school. It's not all in the classroom, you know."

"But not learned enough," Willa said. "The conversation wasn't about you. If you make it about you, you'll make it about your faults."

"I think I'll get another beer." Which might be his first thought in minutes.

"Sorry," she told Willa. "I seem to have caused a rift with your date."

"Well, if I'd wanted to have another date with him, I'd not have had the rift. Gary had a house event tonight, and couldn't come. I picked late, and, consequently, picked from the bottom of the barrel."

"You could come without a date."

"Yeah. that would have been more pleasant for me. But it would have told Gary that I can't have a social life without him. Why does his house events always take precedence over mine? You don't have that problem." And, to demonstrate that, Andy soon got back to her. They sat together on the stairs through a couple of fast dances. When a slow dance started, they each drained their glass of punch and left the stairs.

"Well, did you say yes?" she asked after they had started dancing.

"I said maybe. Did you want me to say yes?"

"Sorta. They're my sisters, but they're nothing to you. You don't have to. Would it mess up your own study time?" He was supposed to decide.

"I don't think so. The reason I delayed was that you, obviously, can't say no. I have a perfect right to say no. So, if it would bother you to have me spend time with other women, I could say no." That was nice of him.

"Other women? Plural? She only told me about Hailey."

"Well, I did say no to that. I'm not going into a closed room -- let alone that closed room -- with one woman. She says that there are two others who got C s last semester. She seems to think that this is satisfactory." Andy clearly didn't think a C was satisfactory in a Math course. He was happy enough with one in Phys Ed, though.

The earlier statement about the room was more significant. His memory of the study room was all of being with her, much of it involved their making out. She'd spent time there without him, of course. He seemed determined not to do anything to make her jealous, which gave her a pang of conscience about George. It wasn't enough of a pang, however, that she would definitely decide never to try to make him jealous again.

"Well, they were pledges then. We ran their asses ragged. If they passed under those conditions, they should do well enough this semester." She'd not go into the matter of the room.

"Anyway, if I tell her yes, she'll get the three of them into a small tutorial. You're the teacher; I'm not. I'll have to figure how to handle it." That was more a nod to her than any serious worries about teaching. She could tell that he was already planning how he'd deal with his students. And, of course, he might not get students: who the other sisters were and whether they wanted to spend extra time on College Algebra was something she didn't know.

"Anyway," he said. They danced in silence. She could feel his little finger against her butt. He held her closer, and she could feel something else against her belly. "Anyway," he repeated when the dance was over, "want to go back to church tomorrow?" She didn't know, they'd rather dropped out without an explanation and people would ask why. "I went back last week and explained about exams and break times, I reminded them that if I didn't go, there was no way for you to get there."

"You're sweet." People were genuinely interested and thought that they were expressing a caring attitude, and they were. On the other hand, the interrogations could be daunting. He'd run that gauntlet, and she'd face very little. "Yeah. 10:30?"

"I'll be here."

As it turned out, Hailey and Nancy were eager to get help from Andy. So was Barbara. She hadn't known that Barbara was taking College Algebra, and -- since she was repeating it -- Barbara hadn't been eager to share the news.

Anyway, Andy was in the house every Wednesday afternoon from 2:30 to 4:30. At first, she avoided the area. The third week of the tutorial, though, she waited outside the study room until his three students came out. Andy was gathering his stuff together when she walked in and closed the door.

"Well, it's nice to see you," he said. She moved a chair where the door would bump into it if someone tried to open it. He smiled and carried his books to the nearest corner of the table. He kept walking until he was quite close. Then he picked her up and stood her on the chair. He squeezed her ass cheeks through the jeans and nuzzled her tits though the blouse. When he looked up, she kissed him from a little above. Their tongues wrestled, Then he lifted her down. He put the chair back where it had been and gathered his books. When they walked out, Barbara, Nancy, and Hailey were all in the parlor where they could see the study-room door.

They didn't say anything as Andy left, but Barbara made a comment that night after they were in bed.

"Well, it didn't take long for Andy to break his first rule."

"What's that?"

"He was insistent that he wouldn't be in the room with only one woman. Then he was alone in there, with the door shut, with one woman for an awfully long time."

"I think he meant that he wouldn't be in the room with only one of you. I think he didn't want to make me jealous."

"You think?" said Willa. "He has a car. Why do you guys need to make out in the house, anyway?"

"We don't need to. Maybe we like to. And what makes you think we were making out, anyway?"

"Oh, just a wild guess," said Barbara. "After all, there are any number of other reasons you'd close the door -- like..." She started laughing. Willa joined in. Finally Marilyn saw the humor of it and laughed with them. She and Andy liked their privacy -- it seemed Andy even more than she -- but however they could escape the eyes of her sisters, there was no way to escape their dirty imaginations.

A few days later, there was a candlelight ceremony after dinner. This ceremony wasn't held in the chapter-meeting room, but in the hall. Iris lit a candle and passed it to her left. That sister passed it on, while everybody watched. When it got to Willa, she blew it out. Willa had been pinned! Everybody gathered 'round and hugged her.

"That's wonderful," Marilyn said when she got her hug in. "Gary finally figured out what's important in his life."

"Yeah," Willa said. "That guy might have been a bore, but that date was a kind of success."

She had expected to wear the garter belt and nylons immediately. And, in a way, she was resentful she had to. It was Andy's place to push them to the next step. Her place was to say yes or no to his demands. But Andy didn't make demands. She'd moved them to having her tits bare. Really, though, this wasn't something Andy could easily do. He could try to pull her pantyhose down, but he couldn't make her wear something more accessible. And, pulling her pantyhose down in the back seat of a car wasn't what she considered Andy's style.

But, at first, the evenings were much too cold. His hand against her thighs through the pantyhose were unpleasantly cool. She didn't want to feel it against her bare skin. It turned warmer after one of the university dances, and she didn't want to wear pantyhose to a dance and nylons to a movie. Then, the next movie was during her period -- definitely the wrong time. The next date after that, she wore the nylons. Sitting on his leg in the back seat after the movie, she felt his hand stroke up her nylon.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said when his fingers encountered her naked flesh. He stroked the skin between panties and stockings for a minute. Then he lifted her from the side and from her butt. He shifted her so that her butt was resting on his other leg. She had more space to lie back, and he eased her until she was lying against the door. Then he bent to suck on her left tit. His finger went under the edge of her panties on the outside of her left leg. He drew it, not very rapidly, inside the panties under her leg towards her center.

"Oh, Marilyn," he repeated when he touched her outer lip. He stroked inward and upward until he touched her clit. He didn't say anything then, but she felt him grin against her tit. She felt her arousal increase as his finger stroked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth along that lip. He licked and sucked her nipple. She was nearly there and he was approaching her clit. Then, without touching it, he went back. She wriggled in frustration. When the next stroke forward touched her clit, she peaked.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said. He hugged her, held her tight as she wriggled. When she relaxed, his finger started moving again. This time, her arousal seemed to come faster. He was sucking her nipple and stroking her clit when she peaked again. As soon as she relaxed, he withdrew his hand from under her skirt. He hugged her, wrapping both arms around her.

"Marilyn, sweet Marilyn, you are so darling, so sexy." Just why his bringing her off was evidence that she was sexy, she couldn't tell. All the same, this was nice to hear. He hugged her and rocked her in his arms, his words disappearing into soft, wordless murmurs.

When he drove her back to the house, the kiss on the front porch was even longer than usual.

"Love you," he said. Before she could answer, he was kissing her again. When he finally let go, he turned and walked away. She hadn't had a chance to tell him she loved him, but -- as she climbed the stairs inside -- she decided that she really did.