In the past, when Andy Trainor had dared let himself dream of a life with Marilyn, it had always been of his leaving for work and coming back to her. In January of '78, he had a life with Marilyn. It was she, however, who left in the morning and came back to him at night. She was a practice teacher. She didn't draw a paycheck, but she needed to spend all the hours at work that a teacher did, maybe more.

He, on the other hand, was still a student. Indeed, the competition was just slightly easier. They'd have job offers before they got grades for the last semester of their senior year, and some of the students slacked off because of that. Most of the guys with whom he was really competing, though, still worked as hard as ever. They probably thought like he did; maybe they wouldn't need the grades, but they would need the knowledge.

He'd begun the previous semester with two books read -- or skimmed -- over the summer. He had prepared for only one class this time, and that not nearly so far ahead. On the other hand, with Marilyn away so much, he had little to do but study.

They'd both made Dean's List the previous semester. Marilyn got copies of the list, circled their names -- which were together, and sent them to both families. One of her sorority sisters wrote them up for the paper. A married couple both on the Dean's List was fairly rare. Of course most married-student couples were grad students, or so it seemed in their building of married-student housing, and the Dean's List only covered undergraduates.

Marilyn and he went to the party celebrating the new 'actives,' full members of Zeta Gamma Tau. They were the girls who'd been pledges -- slaves to hear Marilyn talk about it -- just recently. Naturally, the party was important to Marilyn; it celebrated the continuation of her sorority chapter, the chapter to which she had given so much effort and attention -- too much effort and attention in his opinion -- over the past three years. Every once in a while at the party, a girl would bring forward her date and introduce him to Marilyn. When that happened, Marilyn would say, "And this is my husband, Andy." That was so nice to hear that he enjoyed the party as much as she did.

Actually, the party marked history for him. Marilyn had invited him to be her date at the party their freshman year. Some of the leaders of Zeta had told him that: "Marilyn has chosen you." It hadn't been true that early, at least not as true as he had wished it to be, but now Marilyn had chosen him permanently. Joyce, Marilyn's Grand Little Sister, introduced them toher little sister, Terri.

Barry had come with Trish and Dave with Robin. That meant that there were two males he knew at the party. He spoke briefly to them, but they were more interested in dealing with the women they'd come with -- so, for that matter, was he. Marilyn left him briefly, however, to talk with Robin.

"Well," she said when she'd returned, "our brief career as matchmakers seems to have panned out. I hadn't heard about Dave."

"Yeah, we talked after class. He wanted Robin's phone number. Should I have told you?" Marilyn was interested in that sort of news, and he should remember that.

"Not necessarily." Which gave him a pass in the pleasing-your-wife class, but not anywhere near an A.

Since he'd driven, he stuck to Cokes. He was actually happier with the excuse. Social drinking was just one more aspect of his culture that he didn't understand. He sometimes needed to get soused, and did so. He enjoyed his mind, however, and could see no reason to tune it down most of the time.

In the apartment, he got into the habit of washing dishes, sweeping and vacuuming the floors, and cleaning the bathroom while Marilyn was at work. That meant studying while Marilyn was there, but studying didn't interfere with her actions. He took less than half the kitchen table, and he could watch her cook when he looked up from his books.

Then she came home with a new assignment. She was going to be teaching the sophomore class starting in a week. She had the books, and she was going to make a lesson plan. She fixed a double pot of chili to take care of his lunches; she'd buy hers from the school cafeteria. Every night they studied across from each other as they'd done before. Every night, after he made love to her, she slept in his arms. She was nervous about the teaching, and this nervousness was the only blemish in his enjoyment of those days.

She came in that Monday while he reading about taking internal resistance into account. She looked frazzled. "And how was the first day actually in front of the class?" he asked. The short question needed a long answer, and she gave him that while she was preparing supper. The kids had tried the 'why do we have to study this stuff?' ploy, and she'd dealt with it. Dealing with it, she'd raised an interesting question. She was a bright girl. Instead of platitudes, she presented issues. She'd dealt with one 'standard English' -- was there really only one? It seemed to him that British English and American formal English were different balls of wax -- and many slangs and dialects. He was more conscious of professional jargon, or professional jargons.

"Well," he said when she'd both run down and sat down, "that's as good an answer as any. Really, each circle has its own branch language, and standard English is the connecting trunk. Regions have their own language; professions have theirs; age groups have theirs. Look at Dad's lame joke about impartial differential equations, and that's analysis. Electrical engineering may be a specialty, but analysis is the whole ball of wax, a trunk of its own."

"You think everybody should know differential equations?" Well, ideally, yes. It was never going to happen, though. Look at those sorority girls who had struggled with simple algebra.

"Everybody should, at least, know the most important vocabulary of math... and of other fields." Well, maybe knowing the vocabulary of electronics was a less general need than knowing the vocabulary of physics. but... "I know what a gerund is. The wife of an EE should know what the reluctance of a circuit is."

"Could I take a pass until I graduate?" She certainly had enough on her plate right now, maybe more than enough. She should have learned some things in high school, others in the hypothetical distribution courses that the University didn't want their lib-arts students to take. This wasn't the time to burden her.

"Sure. Right now, we both have enough to learn." She certainly did, as she dug into her books. When she got up and put her books away, though, he did the same. He lifted her onto the chair for a kiss. She pushed him away to go into the bathroom, but she was waiting for him when he came to bed. She not only accepted his arm around her afterwards, she snuggled back into him so that was the only place he could put the arm.

While she was in the middle of her first real teaching, he got a letter saying he was invited to join Phi Beta Kappa. He didn't think much of fraternities, but this one was different. On the other hand, the letter wasn't very clear about how much it would cost. He knew that nothing was in the budget for that, not one red cent. He should consult Marilyn, but she had enough on her mind. He put it off.

There was another potluck at the church. Marilyn took greens, and came home with some chicken that she'd traded the left over greens for. They had enough chicken for dinner Monday, and he ate the last drumstick -- cold -- for lunch Wednesday.

That Wednesday Marilyn went back to dinner at Zeta. She told him that Beverly had invited her. She left him food, but food wasn't the problem. He wanted her company at meal times. Well, sulking when she was around wouldn't make her any happier to be with him. He would do his sulking in private.

"Beverly has been pinned," she told him when she came back. "We held a candlelight to celebrate. We all gather in a circle facing inward. Peggy -- or whoever is president when we hold it -- lights a candle and passes it around the circle. The girl who has been pinned blows out the candle. And when we got engaged, I let the candle go past once and blew it out at the second pass. That's what we do for engagements."

"Well, I guess that's good news for Beverly. Are you sorry I didn't have a pin to give you? Do I know the guy?"

"Well, we might invite the two of them to dinner. We probably should. A Saturday?" That answered the second question. "When one girl announced her pinning while we were deep in discussion about whether we'd be married last June or next June, I did think that we had much more commitment than the one she was celebrating. I didn't really miss the first candlelight, though. I had a candlelight, and everybody already knew we were a couple."

"Well, you handle the schedule. Give me a little warning, and I'll vacuum the day before. Speaking of sororities and fraternities..." This seemed the time to ask her. "Should I join Phi Beta Kappa?"

"It's not something you choose to join. It's something you're invited to join."

"That's what I mean. I've been invited to join. Should I say yes?"

"Andy! Nobody says no to Phi Bate -- nobody. It shouldn't cost much, and we'll get the money." Well, that was the decision. He'd been sure that she would know what to do.

She was doing so much for him, and he realized that he was falling down on one commitment he'd made for her. She welcomed his lovemaking, and he'd promised her that he would learn a greater variety. Actually, he hadlearned all that various marriage manuals from the library could teach him. What he hadn't done was practice them with her. Truth to tell, she was so sexy when she writhed on the bed under his hand or his mouth that he didn't particularly want variety himself. And, too, she was working hard 5 days a week. Well, that meant that Saturday was the time for variety.

Basically, there were only two relative positions if they were going to have full sex. He had to be facing her and she should be either facing the same direction or facing him. The only differences were where they were and where his legs were in relation to hers. All they did facing the same way was with both of them lying on their left sides. They didn't do it all that often, but it wouldn't qualify as a variation. Probably lying on their right sides wouldn't qualify, either. It had been fun with her over the back of Dad's padded armchair, but nothing in the apartment was of sufficient height. It would also have to be something padded; he didn't want to ram her soft belly against the hard back of a kitchen chair.

The first Saturday after he decided to try variety, though, he couldn't follow through. Marilyn had invited Beverly and her guy, Terry, to dinner that night, and she was too involved in cooking before and talking afterwards for more than a brief, standard session that night.

Terry was a pre-med as well as a fraternity man. He showed the first more than the second as their guest. Rather than dismissing him because he hadn't pledged, he talked about his science courses.

"Yeah, we have to know that stuff as background, and get fairly high GPAs to get into med school. Your sort of guys are real pains -- always busting the curve." Well, he hadn't busted any curves for pre-meds except in calculus. He didn't think pre-meds took physics. His last courses in biology and chemistry had been in high school.

"Well, we need to really know some of the stuff," he explained, "and we don't know which parts until we take later courses."

Marilyn was scheduled to teachRomeo and Juliet. She'd shown no interest in his offer to read all the plays when he was out of school, but he certainly should read one she was teaching. She got a copy out of the library to do prep, and he read it when she was out of the house.

"Lo, what light through yonder doorway breaks," he greeted her when she got home on Friday. "It is the east and Marilyn is the sun." That got him a fine kiss. Originality was all very well, but the reward for stealing from a good writer was a hotter kiss than his own words had earned him in months.

He could usually tell when Marilyn was getting to the end of her study time. She shifted in her seat, went back to reading, exercised her neck, and went back to reading. When she first began to be restless that Saturday, he checked his watch. It was past 9:00; she wouldn't go on much longer. He took his bathroom time, shaved with a blade, and came out in his bathrobe. He sat back down at his place at table and got his books into a stack. Soon enough, she quit and got her papers back to the living room where she kept them. She went into the bathroom herself.

"Come back here, will you?" he called when he heard her come out. He was sitting in the chair but far back from the table. She was wearing her nightgown. When he held out his arms, she sat on his lap willingly enough. They kissed, and he began making out with her. He held her close with his left arm while he reached under the hem of her nightgown to stroke her vulva with his right hand. It took a while, but she cooperated.

"Oh," she said. Then she writhed on his lap. He held her tightly enough that she was in no danger of falling off.

"Oh, darling," he said.

"You?"

"Here. Stand up a minute." When she did, he slid forward in the chair until his ass was near the edge. He opened his robe and then swept her nightgown up. It was still covering her top and front, but she was bare to the waist in back. "Can you straddle me and back up?" When she did, his cock was pointing up at her labia. "Slowly, love, slowly." Like this, he had the use of two hands. He reached around her to spread her labia with his left hand; he pointed his cock directly at her with his right. He pulled her back a bit with his left arm. Then she was right there. Her labia enclosed the tip of his cock. "Back up two inches, can you. It's pointing too far forward like this." As she backed, he entered her more fully. His shaft hadn't penetrated her, yet, but his head was happily feeling her warmth.

"Yes," she said, settling down on him slowly. She rested all her weight on his legs, even lifting her feet straight out in front. Only about half his length was in her, but that part felt warm and hugged. He got his hands under her nightgown. His left hand went to her breasts while his right hand found her clitoris.

"Oh, my love," he said. He stroked her clitoris while swaying slightly side to side. That only moved his cock a fraction of a millimeter inside her, but the sensations were exquisite. He licked the top of her ear as she stiffened. As she gripped his cock with her internal muscles, she shook on his lap. He had to use both arms to hold her steady. Meanwhile, the sensations around his cock were intense. His hips nearly lifted off the chair thrusting at her, but he went in and out only because of her motions. Finally, his body nearly straightened as he erupted. His heels touched the floor, his thighs the edge of the chair seat, and his shoulders the top of the chair back. Nothing else was supported at all. He clutched her to him. When he collapsed back, he came out. He was gasping, and her breath wasn't much softer.

"Let me," she said much later. She got off his lap, none too steadily. She clutched the front of the nightgown to her crotch as she went out the door and towards the bedroom. He used a paper napkin to clean himself off a little, but he went into the bathroom to do a more thorough job before he joined her in bed.

"I love you," he said as he snuggled next to her. She still had the nightgown on.

"You, too, But that wasn't your most successful experiment. I still have some of you on this nightie."

"Well, I wash the clothes. I won't object to another in the dirty-clothes bag." Actually, he objected to nightgowns in principal, but she wore them on cool nights. For that matter, the inside temperature that evening had been low enough that she wouldn't have agreed to spend that much time in his lap if she'd been naked.

"Well, I don't have all that many. Mom helped me pick out two for my trousseau, but they wouldn't keep me warm. They're supposed to make you hot, instead."

"Well, this one does that. At least the contents do."

"You're sweet -- the sweetest sex maniac in the entire county." So he cuddled her, content with the feel of her breast through the cloth of the nightgown.

Before the interviewers came to town, Marilyn told him to get a haircut from a barbershop. He hadn't socialized much with the students in his classes, but they talked about their interview experience before and after class. Some of them complained about trying to get interviews with some companies which didn't have time for them. He didn't have that problem, but he was disappointed that Bell Labs didn't come to campus. A lot of the companies were exclusively interested in power, of course. He wasn't interested in them, and he doubted that they would be interested in him. He spoke to most of the ones who worked with transistors who weren't located in the deep south. Marilyn had told him that she wasn't interested in teaching there.

Dad sent a letter about Marilyn's chances of teaching in the Chicago area.

I suppose Andy will be able to find out much more about the chances of EE jobs than I will.
On teaching, the Chicago Public Schools have a residency policy. While it is only enforced intermittently, I doubt that Marilyn would want to apply for a new job while violating it. You could, of course, work for CPS while living in Rogers Park, and many do. Evanston itself, of course, and several other suburbs allow their teachers to live in Evanston.
The addresses and phone numbers of some of these school districts are enclosed, as well as that of CPS.

Dad, who liked Marilyn if not as much as Andy did, wanted them to live in Evanston. He told Marilyn, "The old man is a conniver. 'I don't want to influence you at all, but here are the addresses of the school boards you could work for when living where I want you to live.'"

"Well, is he all that bad?" She asked. "Whether we want to live there or not, it's nice to be wanted." She always saw Dad's good side. She was awfully charitable towards Dad. Well, he shouldn't complain; she was charitable towards Andy, too.

"The question is whether you want to live in Evanston."

"Well, it has its advantages. We know the area. I know and like the school. We have friends there, and family." Which seemed to mean that she did want to live there. "If you don't want to deal with my family, you have only to say so. I'll arrange to deal with them mostly when you're not around." That wasn't necessary. He'd survived school-yard bullies. He could survive her mother. They no longer could say that Marilyn couldn't go out with him, and that had been his worry about them. "And, after all, your dad has visitation rights with the girls. You don't." That was a minor point, though it would make things easier.

"Only visitation rights with April, technically. Molly can make her own decisions. She'll come along with The Moppet, though."

"And April is the one you like best. Of course, there might be other factors which outweigh that." Yeah! They were counting their chickens before they hatched. Still, the Chicago area had more electronics firms than, say, Montana had.

"Well, I said that the decision of location is yours. I'd try to persuade you, though, if I got an offer from Bell Labs."

"Well, let's keep this list your dad sent where we can get to it easily."

"Yeah. We don't know what my chances are." After that, though, he saw every Chicago-area firm that looked at all possible. As it turned out, he got a fair number of offers. The best offer which would keep him in the Chicago area came from YKL Signal. They had been founded by three EEs, Youngberg, Kraus, and Lockhart. They were all still active, and Roger Kraus still headed engineering. The headquarters were in Des Plaines; they did all their engineering there, although they had two other manufacturing plants. They offered to fly him up to visit the plant.

"Fly me? To Des Plaines?" The interview guy laughed.

"Well, I interview all over the country. How would you get to Des Plaines from here?"

"I'd take a train to Chicago. Probably I could catch another train there, although I've never traveled to Des Plaines."

"You're right, there is a train. The plant, though, is closer to O'Hare than it is to the loop."

"Isn't it a virtue in an engineer to use the cheapest way that works satisfactorily?" So, he took two trains and a taxi to the plant. They paid for the ticket and a hotel room. The hotel was right next to O'Hare. He missed two days of classes and a night with Marilyn, but the place was impressive. They subcontracted for both consumer goods and defense supplies.

They made him an offer, and he talked with Marilyn before accepting it. She was suddenly less interested in Evanston.

"You're sure, that you're not simply taking this job because I mentioned living in Evanston?" Well far from only because of that. But he had concentrated on the Chicago area, and it was too late to change that.

"Quite sure," he told her. "They want me, which is more than the starting pay. Since they really want me, they want the skill set I have now. That means that they'll use me as an engineer immediately, not put me to some other task until they need another engineer. Besides, the founders are still running the shop, and they started as engineers. One is still running the engineering department. That means that engineers count as much as accountants or salesmen."

Prep week and finals seemed a little like a let-down. Accepting YKL's offer changed his future more finally than any 'final' exam did. Marilyn wasn't really taking tests this semester. Her only class was practice teaching, and that was a continual test, but no one day was more of a test than the next. He took his exams, and then it was time for graduation. Both Dad and Marilyn's parents came up to see them graduate. Marilyn served them all one of her wonderful meals afterwards.

Then it was time to move back to Evanston. Dad offered them the use of his old room until they could locate a place of their own. That was, as Marilyn pointed out, generous of the old man. Still, he felt they were only practicing at being a family until they could get a family apartment and pay for it on their own.