The Panty Raid

by Pamela Morsi

  Chapter Five

  Compton was abuzz with excitement. The panty raiders were holding a formal cotillion on the night before Thanksgiving recess. Handwritten invitations arrived, personally addressed to every resident of the dormitory.

  The Gentlemen of Silas Baldridge Residence Hall

  request the honor of your presence at a supper dance

  on Tuesday, the twentieth of November

  in the Baldridge Main Living Room

  We will arrive to escort you at 7 o’clock in the evening.

  Dot found herself getting annoyed at all the giddiness. The girls at the dorm were so easily impressed. It was a simple, ordinary party with food, flowers, music and dancing. It wasn’t as if they were splitting the atom!

  She managed to keep these thoughts to herself, partly because she didn’t want to be a damper on the enthusiasm of her friends, but mostly because she had other things to think about.

  The other thing she thought mostly about was named Hank.

  Since the day she’d seen him at the dean’s office, he had been a persistent part of her life. Dot liked that. It also bothered her. If she truly planned to devote her future to a research career, then the right thing to do was to give a guy like Hank the brush-off, before he got stuck on her and she had to break his heart.

  Every night after he walked her home from the library or the quadrangle or the student union, she’d tell herself this was the last time. Tomorrow she’d send him on his way. But the next day, he was right there again and she couldn’t resist him. The days passed into weeks and more and more the entire campus began to see them as a couple.

  Even Dr. Falk had ceased baiting her. Hank had never said one word. When it became clear that they were a couple, the professor backed off. Dot had gone from lightning rod to completely invisible. She wasn’t sure that was really a step in the right direction.

  So it was understandable on Saturday, with a room full of girlfriends all seriously discussing what to wear, that Dot’s mind wandered.

  Trixie, who had a wardrobe large enough to clothe a small country, was sorting out her formal gowns on the bed. Maylene and Eva were trying to help her decide what to wear.

  Dot was sitting there, watching, listening, just not seeing or hearing.

  When she noticed everyone was looking in her direction, she sat up abruptly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I asked if you’d given any thought to what you’re going to wear,” Maylene said. “You are the only one of us who’s actually dating someone from Baldridge.”

  “Oh, no, I haven’t thought about it,” Dot admitted.

  “Are you interested in Trixie’s dress?”

  Her roommate was holding up a lavender taffeta cocktail gown with a sweetheart neckline and a bouffant skirt.

  “Oh, Trixie, you’ll look very pretty in that,” Dot said.

  “I’m not wearing this,” she said. “I’m asking you to. Dot, you’re not paying any attention at all, are you?” she accused.

  She blushed, admitting the truth. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t scold her. She can’t help it,” Eva said. “She’s in love.”

  Dot shook her head firmly. “Don’t be silly,” she told them.

  “We’re not being silly,” Maylene said. “Only observant. You spend every waking moment with the guy. When you’re with him, you’re all dreamy eyed. When you’re not with him, you’re walk around like a zombie.”

  “I’m not dreamy eyed and I’m not a zombie,” Dot defended.

  “Nobody’s criticizing you,” Eva assured her. “Merely observing.”

  “That’s right,” Trixie said. “Of all of us, who’d believe that you’d be the one to find the right guy first.”

  “He’s not ‘the right guy,’ he’s just a guy and I’m really not that interested in guys. I’m going to stop seeing him. I’m going to stop seeing him really soon.”

  Her friends gave one another knowing glances, which was almost as frustrating to Dot as her own lack of follow-through on her intentions. Until she’d decided for certain whether she wanted a family or a career, she needed to stop leading Hank on.

  Sally, a girl from down the hall, stuck her head in the door.

  “Dot, telephone,” she said. “It’s him.”

  She hurried out of the room with a chorus of speculative ooh’s behind her.

  “Hello,” she said, when he picked up the phone. “Hi, sweetheart,” Hank responded. “I’m up to my eyebrows in party favors over here and if I don’t get out of this building, I’ll go stark, raving mad.”

  Dot laughed.

  “Meet me on the corner next to Ketchum Street in five minutes.”

  “Five minutes?” Dot glanced down at her clothing. “I’m wearing dungarees.”

  The denim slacks made popular for women by Rosy the Riveter and other WWII working girls were what all the female students wore in the dorm, but they were absolutely forbidden as appropriate attire for ladies on campus.

  “That’s perfect,” he said. “We’re going on a picnic.”

  In all of Dot’s college days, she had never once even considered sneaking out of the dorm in such casual clothes. She hurried back to her room for reinforcements.

  “Hank wants me to meet him on Ketchum in five minutes, dressed like this,” she announced.

  If she’d been hoping somebody would try to talk her out of it, she was disappointed.

  Maylene grabbed a headscarf and tied it around Dot’s hair. Eva helped her into her car coat. And Trixie stuck a straw hat on her head for good measure. The four young women hurried her down the stairwell.

  “I’ll distract anyone at the office,” Trixie promised. “You two get her out of here without anybody seeing.” As luck would have it, the housemother was nowhere

  in sight. The desk was manned by a student assistant who was easily distracted by Trixie.

  “You’ve got to help me, I’m desperate,” she said, dramatically. “I’m writing a bread-and-butter letter and I can’t remember if I’m supposed to address it to my girlfriend who invited me or her mother, who’s the lady of the house. Could we check the Emily Post?”

  “Sure,” the assistant said.

  As the girl turned to get the huge reference books from the shelf behind her, Dot hurried past with Maylene and Eva on either side.

  Once outside the door, they shooed her like a bird.

  “Hurry, have fun.”

  Dot set off at a loping run but stopped herself at the sidewalk. Nothing would draw attention like running. Slowed to a normal pace, she thought about what she was doing. She was excited, and a little nervous, but she failed to summon up any feelings of guilt, an amazing feat for a good girl like herself. She was breaking a rule, not something she could ever remember doing. But it was a ridiculous rule, made up by someone who obviously hadn’t thought it through. It deserved to be broken and she decided that only by refusing to abide by it was she giving it the deference it deserved.

  Just before she reached Ketchum, a green ’49 Chevy pulled up to the curb. Hank was driving. Dot opened the door and slid onto the seat.

  “Right on time,” he said.

  “And nobody saw me.”

  “It’s their loss,” he assured her.

  Hank drove out to the edge of town, crossed the wide river bridge and turned off onto a narrow road that curved around a high bluff. The narrow lane dead-ended into a patch of worn grass, obviously frequented by numerous cars.

  Hank parked the Chevy and they got out. Dot was entranced by the view across the water of the little college town. The sky was clear blue with only a hint of clouds on the horizon. The trees were adorned in their brightest autumn colors—red, orange, yellow and gold. She could see a half-dozen church steeples rising from the distant landscape. The twelve-story Crenshaw Hotel, Main Street’s tallest structure, and the cluster of limestone and red brick buildings that made up the university campus. It all seemed as idyllic as a painting.

  “This is be
autiful,” she said.

  “You should see it at night,” he responded.

  “Oh, yes, it must really be something.”

  There was a moment of hesitation and Dot glanced his way. Hank was grinning ear to ear.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I’m having a joke at your expense.”

  “A joke?”

  “This place is known on campus as Petting Peak,” he said. “If you come up here after dark, it’s a crowded parking lot. And all the cars have the windows steamed up.”

  Dot felt herself blushing. She’d, of course, heard of Petting Peak. It was said that just driving past the place was enough to ruin a girl’s reputation.

  “Don’t worry,” Hank told her. “We’ll be out of here long before the sun goes down. For us, it’s just a picnic spot.”

  From the trunk of the Chevy he got out a tablecloth- covered basket and a plaid blanket.

  “There’s a nice place up this way,” he said, indicating a narrow footpath that went up among the trees. “It’s not too rough going and you impress me as a girl who’s not afraid of a challenging climb.”

  Dot put her hands on her hips. “Lead on,” she told him.

  The trail they went up wasn’t tricky or dangerous, but it was plenty steep and Dot was pretty sure that it would have been inaccessible to young ladies in heels. But with Keds on her feet and the freedom of dungarees, she had no problem at all.

  They reached the top to find that the view was even better and, without the shade of the trees, it was pleasantly warm. A lazy south wind blew an occasional breeze that barely stirred the air.

  Together they laid out the blanket and settled down on it.

  Dot removed her hat and her headscarf.

  “No further need for disguise?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I want to feel this breeze on my hair,” she admitted.

  He nodded. “Take the ponytail down; then you’ll really feel it.”

  Dot pulled the rubber band out of her hair and combed the loose locks with her fingers. It did feel great. She glanced over at Hank. His smile had disappeared, and his expression was very serious.

  “What?” she asked.

  The solemnity remained in his eyes, but he managed to pair it with a mischievous grin.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, “that the last time I got a good look at that beautiful hair, I was immediately doused with cold water.”

  Dot laughed and shook her head. “Unless you’ve got a bucket with a long enough rope for me to dip it down in the river, I think that you’re very safe up here.”

  He reached over and caught a strand of the long brunette length and twirled it gently around his finger.

  “I’m not sure either of us is safe up here,” he said.

  Dot might have asked him what he meant by that, but his faint touch and the huskiness of his words somehow had her trembling.

  She became peculiarly aware of how alone they were and how closely they were seated on the small square of woven fabric. He continued to twist her hair, slowly inching her nearer.

  He began leaning forward, urging her toward him. Dot knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. She ached for him to kiss her. She’d been waiting since the day they’d met for him to kiss her. But was it fair? She didn’t know what she wanted yet; she wasn’t sure if romance could be included in her life.

  In the last instant before their lips met, the final second before she would taste him, the ultimate last chance before it couldn’t be stopped, she could feel his breath on her skin, their faces only inches apart, she hesitated.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said.

  “Tell me later,” he answered, and pulled her into his arms. Hank’s mouth came down on hers and all thoughts of qualifiers and explanations vanished.

  His lips were warm and welcoming. There was tenderness but also passion, power. She had kissed before, but never like this. He moved his mouth on hers, tugging ever so gently, as if he would pull her soul into his own. It was more than just a gesture of affection or even desire. There was an instant of wholeness of finding home and recognizing it as exactly that. Dot gave herself up to it.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him closer. He moaned against her lips and she felt the vibration of it in his chest. Momentarily she felt exuberant, in control. That was followed, almost immediately, by a sense of being swept into a tide of longing.

  Dot wasn’t sure who called a halt, but as they separated, the loss was too much for her. She nestled her face in the crook of his neck. He tightened his grip around her as if he never wanted to let her go.

  “I knew it would be like this,” he whispered. “Somehow I just knew that you had to be the one.”

  He began to feather little kisses along her temple and down to her jaw. Dot’s heart was pounding, her senses finely alert and her brain inexplicably foggy. She raised her head, offering access to the length of her throat. Hank explored the territory eagerly.

  The feel of his mouth so distracted her she didn’t realize that she was leaning until her back touched the blanket. He was above her, his expression lazy but with the hint of a satisfied smile.

  “Dot,” he told her, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  A like declaration sprang to her own lips, but inexplicably the image of Dr. Falk, in his superior, judgmental voice, flashed through her brain, silencing her words and sobering her inclinations.

  “Wait!”

  “It’s okay,” Hank assured her. “I’m not going to push you. I know when to stop.”

  “No, it’s not that,” she said. “Well, yes, it is that, but it’s more.”

  Hank ceased placing kisses on her eyebrows and regarded her more seriously.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Let me get up.”

  He released her and moved away. Dot sat up, primly straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair. She pulled it back tightly and reattached the rubber band. She glanced over at Hank. He was eyeing her curiously. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “Did I speak too soon?”

  Dot nodded.

  “I can’t have a boyfriend,” she said.

  Hank’s brow furrowed momentarily and then he laughed. “Of course you can,” he said. “I’m sure that’s within the rules and regulations, even at Compton Hall.”

  “No, I don’t mean I can’t can’t. I mean I can’t shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? You’re not worried about your grades— you’re tops in all your classes.”

  “It’s not grades.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s my future.”

  “What about it?”

  “I...I have to think about it,” Dot said. “I haven’t decided about it.”

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “We’ve still got seven months before graduation. A lot of us haven’t got our plans worked out yet.”

  “It’s more than plans,” she said. “For me... well, it’s different.”

  “How so?”

  She didn’t know quite where to begin. She turned the question back to him.

  “Tell me what you want for your future, Hank?”

  He was thoughtful for a moment.

  “I’d like to get a good job,” he said. “By good, I mean something that I’d enjoy doing and that would have some purpose to it. I don’t have to make tons of money, but I want enough to get by and build up some savings for a rainy day. Someday I’d like to own a house with a yard and have a couple of kids to grow up there. I want to be healthy, live to old age and have good friends. But more than any of that, or all of it, I want the right woman to share a life. I want a wife who’s smart and funny and serious and impetuous and...well, it sounds like I want you, doesn’t it?”

  She didn’t pick up on his suggestion or comment on his declaration.

  “I guess I want what everyone wants,” he continued.

  Dot nodded. “I don’t know about everybody,” she said. “But that
’s what I want, too. Unfortunately, I can’t have it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s not how the world works,” she said. “You know that a woman can’t have a career and a family.”

  Hank thought about that and nodded. “Sure she can—she must,” he said. “If she doesn’t marry, how will she afford to live? It’s hard enough for a woman to even get offered a job, let alone one that pays more than pin money. She’ll need a husband to pay the bills whether she chooses to work or not.”

  “But any chance of being taken seriously at work disappears if she has Mrs. in front of her name,” Dot countered. “Any company will treat a married woman as a temporary employee, because they know that any day she might get...in the family way. If she does, they’ll have to replace her, because you can’t have a woman who’s going to have a baby working in public. And after her baby is born, she’ll have to stay home to take care of it.”

  “Children eventually go to school,” he said.

  Dot nodded.

  “One child goes to school in just six years, but there’s no way to predict how many you’ll have,” she pointed out. “It could be two, it could be twelve. Either way, you’re not in the clear until well into your forties. And nobody hires middle-aged matrons. That’s like a comedy skit.”

  Hank could only shrug in agreement.

  “That’s what I went in to talk to Dr. Glidden about,” she explained. “I mean, initially I went there to complain about Dr. Falk and not getting appointments with job recruiters. But she made me see that Dr. Falk is not some strange, offbeat aberration that I need to get past in my classwork. He’s the norm out in the world I want to work in. His attitudes are their attitudes.”

  “He’s a creep,” Hank said adamantly.

  Dot appreciated his sentiment.

  “Dr. Glidden explained to me that a woman can’t be like a man. She can’t do whatever she wants. She can have a career or a family, but there is just no plan, no mechanism in society for her to have both.”

  There was not any way that Hank could disagree with that and he didn’t try. Instead, he asked the question that Dot had been asking herself.