by Kage Alan
"I don't mean to interrupt this little inner monologue you have going here, but ... fruit?” He glared at me.
"Yes, my little piranha fish.” I grinned weakly. “Even Adam took a bite of the forbidden fruit. Can't Andy?"
"You already did ... twice,” he reminded me. “Why? Are you saying you want to take a bite with me now?” He asked in such an even voice that I couldn't tell what his opinion on the matter was, or how I should answer.
"We've been really good about keeping things in perspective so far and not rushing.” This line of reasoning certainly wasn't going to convince him that I wouldn't mind moving forward. “And we've still remained good friends. Heck, we're better friends for not having done it so far.” No, no, no! “So, yes, I think we should totally move forward."
"Are you sure you're ready?” Alan pressed.
"Let's see. I've been stalked for the past two months, outed in the classified section of the school newspaper, returned from a bathhouse tonight after turning a diverse number of men down, run from the police through the streets of Grand Rapids in a towel and flashed a friend's parents.” I added it all up in my head. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can handle taking things to the next level with the guy I'm head over heels crazy about."
There, I'd said it. If he was going to put this all on me, then I was ready and willing to accept the risks of what it might do to our relationship.
"Let's!” He pulled his shirt off and leaned towards me.
Pound! Pound! Pound!
"Andy Stevenson!” Kim's voice screamed out. Did everybody come back early? I was just about to have my first multi-cultural experience and ... “I know goddamn well you're in there! I called your parents and they said you came back today. I've been calling you for the past two hours and finally realized you took your phone off the hook. Now open this door and let me in!"
"Shhh.” I put my finger over my lips and hoped he'd get my less-than-subtle hint that maybe she'd go away if we were really quiet—Wait a second. “You took the phone off the hook?” I looked at Alan, and he shrugged his shoulders.
"I didn't want anyone interrupting us."
"Oh, I see.” I gave him a small push to the chest. “Just in case I'm the one who wanted to have sex, you wanted to make sure that we wouldn't be interrupted."
"Well...” He looked thoughtful. “...it's an important decision, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any distractions when making up your mind."
"Very thoughtful ... you liar! You had a pretty good idea what would happen tonight."
"Only if we were ready.” He looked slightly offended.
"And you were going to let me think that this was all my idea?” Oh, he was good. He was really good. “I'm on to you."
"I'm sorry,” Kim yelled from outside. “Do you think I can't hear the two of you talking through the goddamn door?"
"Well, shit.” I pouted. “She's still there."
"And I don't think she's going away.” Alan pouted, too.
"If we wait long enough...” I tried to give us a little false hope.
"Now!” She just wasn't about to give us our peace and quiet.
"All right,” I called out to her, stood up and opened the door. Kim pushed right by me carrying a gallon jug of wine.
"It's about fu—” She looked over at Alan sitting on my floor without his shirt. “Starting or finishing?"
"Still in the hopeful stage.” I was only going to be so nice for so long.
"I need a drink. How about the two of you?"
"No, thanks.” I shut the door. “I was doing a pretty good job without alcohol.” I caught a whiff of her breath and a vivid flash of my grandmother ripped through my mind. “Apparently you aren't, though."
"I've had it with people like you!” She took the cap off the bottle and swallowed a mouthful.
"And by ‘people like you’ you mean...?” Alan asked.
"Mennnnnnnnnnn,” Kim breathed out and spoke at the same time. “What is it with you? The only mofos who want to date me are either broke or they've got IQs five degrees below ant shit!” She took another drink, but I wrestled the bottle out of her hands before she could get much. “And the ones I like ... well.” She motioned to me and Alan. “Y'all just want to do each other."
"Did somebody have a bad spring break?” I looked at the bottle. It was the cheap stuff, which meant we were in for a very long night.
"Oh, honey. Aren't you just the observant one? And you're the worst one, too.” She collapsed on my bed. Damn it! Alan and I were supposed to be doing that. “I can't even mention a guy I like around you because your dick be gettin’ all hard and you'll end up with your legs in the air lettin’ him plug your out hole!"
"Why am . always the one getting it up the ass in your fantasies?"
"Be nice,” Alan warned me. He knew she wouldn't leave without first having her say, and starting a bitchfest with her wasn't going to move things along.
"And you.” She turned to Alan but ended up staring at his chest instead of berating him, “Have really small nipples."
"Okay.” I was getting a bit fed up with this. “You've made your points. Men are bad, I'm worse, Alan has...” Actually, he did have small nipples. “Sweetie,” I looked at him, “please put your shirt on.” Back to Kim. “Would you like to tell us what happened or should we just sit here and take more abuse?"
"Don't tempt me.” She glared at us. “I talked my evil sista Alex into hitting some of the dance clubs with me in downtown Chicago where a ton of cute guys on break were looking to party. Mama knew what she wanted, meow meow meow. We made the circuit, and finally found a place on Halsted where I've never seen so many hot men in an enclosed area in my life. If I ever died and wanted to go to hot-man Heaven, I was there.
"Out of nowhere comes this stallion on three legs. He had the most beautiful eyes, with curly dark lashes, pecs that bulged through a tight shirt and a pecker I couldn't wait to see bulging."
This was getting a bit sordid, and I wasn't sure I wanted my Alan subjected to stories about heterosexual sex. They might corrupt him.
"I walked right up and told him how I like it, where I like it and suggested we find some place private so he could put it there."
"Gay?” I asked her.
"If he was a bank robber,” Kim announced with some amount of bitterness, “he'd tie up the safe and blow the guard!” Her nostrils flared. “Yeah, he was gay."
"Then it must have been a short conversation.” Alan looked as if he was hoping this would be, too.
"Not exactly.” She made a grab for the bottle, but I wouldn't give it to her.
"Was he bi?” Alan wondered out loud. At least I wasn't the only one who was confused now.
"No. He thought I was gay, too.” She smiled, but it was one of those ironic smiles, the kind that's totally devoid of any warmth or humor and could collapse into something else at any moment.
"Kim.” I tried to put it together, only it wasn't working. “If he was gay and he thought you were a lesbian, I still don't understand why he'd be hitting on you. What did he expect you to do, strap something on?” Alan and I chuckled.
"I haven't finished the story yet, honey."
It suddenly stopped being funny when she said that.
"He didn't think I was a lesbian. This motherfucker thought I was in drag! Can you believe that shit?” She threw her hands up into the air. “I've been called every name in the book, but I've never been called a man. Do I look like a man?” She brought her hands down and cupped her breasts. “Do these puppies look like a pair of fat-man boobs?"
"If it helps, you aren't doing anything for me so, no, I don't think you look like a man."
Alan reached over and smacked me on the arm.
"You and your sister probably wandered into a gay bar and didn't realize it. And, okay, maybe it's not flattering to you to be equated with a drag queen, but I'll bet you made any actual drag queens there that night jealous as hell."
"I think he probably thought you were too
stylish and fabulous to be a woman,” Alan chimed in, and Kim's face lit up. “Most college women are so used to trying to make themselves look good that they never do anything beyond what they think works for them. Someone who keeps up with the times, experiments with fashion and carries herself with attitude is bound to be mistaken as a drag queen in a gay male environment. It's actually a compliment!” He smiled.
"So, kneeing him in the nuts and knocking out two of his teeth was wrong of me?” Kim asked us in perfect sincerity.
"The police are looking for you, too, huh?” I muttered when I recovered.
"Did my bitch sister call you?"
"No.” I quickly related the events of my evening to her, and I think she'd forgotten her own woes by the time I finished. It's always easier to do that when someone's had a worse night than yourself, especially when that person also accidentally screwed up another friend's life worse than it already was in the process. “I've got part of an idea worked out to take Tristan down a couple of notches, but I need to think the rest of it through. I'm also going to need some help making it happen."
"I'm in.” Kim raised her hand. “The Lord of the Loins is going down, and I want to hang his cock over my fireplace."
"We're not going to castrate him.” I think she was getting a bit ahead of herself, and I didn't like the way it sounded. “But we may get you some therapy. I just want to make sure that he won't be able to do anything to anybody else like he's done to me and, I suspect, a number of others. It has to be direct, but nonviolent. It has to be just enough to get the point across to everybody about him, but nothing he can't eventually recover from. I want to get him back, but I don't want it to be labeled as revenge."
"This already sounds more complicated than it has to be.” Alan was disgusted, but more with Tristan than with me ... I hoped. “Keep things simple and direct. Chop his dick off, give it to Miss Kim and be done with it."
"You're not helping.” He and I were going to have a long talk about this later.
"Whatever.” Kim yawned. “Do you mind if I grab one of your pillows and pass out on the floor?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I do,” I objected.
"Why?” she demanded.
"Kim..."
"Oh.” She looked back over at Alan—without his shirt, since he hadn't bothered to put it on like I'd nicely asked. “I see. I was interrupting something. Apparently, my drama doesn't matter.” There was no way I was going to fall for this, therefore I didn't even bother giving her an answer. “Okay, fine. I can take a hint.” She struggled to stand up and finally managed to do it without losing her balance. “Y'all don't worry about me. The worst that can happen is my black ass falls down the stairs trying to make it up to my floor, but that's okay. I've got insurance. I'll just wallow through life and become a nun."
"You don't get none, so you might as well be one.” I tried to sound as cheerful as possible, and Alan smacked me again. “Oh, come on. Don't even tell me you're falling for this load of horse shit. She can't even walk a straight line when she's sober!"
"It's just,” Kim turned and told Alan, “I don't want to be alone tonight, not when I'm feeling so vulnerable."
I should have known she'd stoop to this level. Swell. She knew she couldn't get to me, so she was trying her sob story out on him.
"I'll just be going now."
I watched as she made it as far as the door before giving it one last try.
"Can I stay and watch?"
"Out!" Alan and I both yelled.
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20
It was amazing how quickly time passed while I was busy writing my final project and also plotting Tristan's comeuppance. He tried to ask me what happened that night at the bathhouse, but part of the strategy between myself, Kim, Ryan and Alan, who joined in posing as Kim's—let's leave it at “stud,” because I can never quite get the same flow of adjectives she uses—was that I'd never be alone. If and when Tristan approached, and he did, something would quickly come up that required my immediate attention elsewhere.
Since persistence was part of his nature, I knew he'd try calling me. The four of us had a code worked out so that I'd know if it was one of them trying to reach me, otherwise, everybody else got the answering machine. Once he got a clue that calling wasn't going to work, he'd stop by, only I was rarely in or I always had company and couldn't tear myself away from studying to talk with him. I also stopped hanging out in the library.
Now, most people would have given up after being snubbed in public, let alone in private, but not this assclown. Of course, it definitely didn't help that I would casually look over at him in class and wink, all with Alan's blessing, of course. I never left him out of what I was planning for a second!
The more this went on, the more Tristan was bound and determined to get me just for the sake of getting me, and I was determined to let him build up enough speed before running headfirst into the brick wall I was busy building. Ego would be his undoing, and I needed to get into the practice of ... well, masturbating it.
I also started making appointments with Professor Gevaultski on a regular basis. She was quite shocked to see me, and absolutely astounded that I was bringing very serious questions to her about plot, subplots, characters, language and pacing. It wasn't long before she invited me to call her Cathleen again, and even reminded me that I should, that it was an important part of college to get to know one's professors well enough for networking purposes.
It was writing we were supposed to be doing and it was writing we did. Kim, Ryan and I worked on our stories, sometimes together, sometimes in solitude, but always using each other as sounding boards to test how the material was coming along. Poor Alan had never been around writers much before, and he didn't really understand why we nearly popped a woody over a perfect sentence or carried on like Jimmy Bakker did during his prostitute confession when we hit a particularly grueling paragraph. He took it in stride and just accepted it as one of those idiosyncrasies he'd have to come to think he loved about me.
Ryan had decided that his final project would be about a summer camp experience. There were the rumors, the talking behind each other's backs, the who did what and where, when and with whom and those were just the counselors. Kim suggested that a story like his was a perfect opportunity to really dig into the lust and sex underlining places like that, especially camps like the ones she'd attended. There were the teasing looks, the peepholes in the shower room walls, the skinny-dipping in the lake after the kids were put down for the night, the glory holes, the total wild abandonment of virginity...
Indignant, Ryan informed her that this wasn't Camp Getahoochie or Getaweewee, which we knew went right over her head when she demanded to know which part of the state those were located in.
Kim, on the other hand, was taking a slightly different approach to the real-life scenario Cathleen expected from us. In her story, a small electrically charged meteor impacts the earth and renders all technology useless. In the midst of this new age of society reverting back to wearing animal skins, hunting each other with clubs and living in clans, a tough-as-nails, cynical ex-nurse with a martial arts background from a suburb of Chicago rises up against the oppressive male rulers, enslaves them and then uses them at her will. Our heroine's name: Diva Labahn.
Aside from establishing the particulars, the first installment deals with Diva's rise to power, the choices she makes on a nightly basis as to whom she should teach the ways of love to, several fights where she kicks everybody's ass and, finally, her conquering the former state of Illinois. Kim felt she was being modest in believing that this could be a long-running series with strong film potential because of all the hot young movie stars Diva could sleep with. It would make Basic Instinct look like a Disney film.
Ryan and I had our doubts about Diva, but Alan thought it was the coolest. It turned out that I had a boyfriend who really loved sci-fi and other stories with strong female characters or, as he put it, a bitch with an attitude. As lo
ng as there were readers like him around, suspension-of-disbelief be damned
Aside from that little strange revelation, my relationship with him continued to grow. While Tristan went straight for the hardcore stuff, we found a world of ecstasy in just holding hands, cuddling or verbal banter, which Alan usually won because I let him. A romance like ours doesn't happen very often, certainly not on those daytime talk shows or those late-night ones either. God knows what would happen if Morton Downey Jr. ever got a hold of us.
On another front, the housing situation didn't look too good for the next school year. I received another one of those lovely colored memos telling me that all of the single rooms like mine were being converted to hold an additional person due to increased enrollment. I thought about asking Alan to share a room with me, but then wondered if that would complicate things. After all, I had a difficult enough time cleaning up after him when he stayed with me and that was only part-time. I could just imagine the mess on a more permanent basis, and I wasn't going to school to be his maid.
Well, he expressed a great deal of dismay that I hadn't asked him, which meant verbal banter ensued—that I let him win—and he informed me that we were going to try living together anyway. He was, indeed, under the misconception that I was here on earth to serve him.
It was a big step, and I still thought it might be rushing things a bit, but I trusted him and admired his confidence. I suspected that was a good thing because it was settled no matter if I had anything to say about it or not. Now all I had to do was get through the rest of the semester.
* * * *
The day of my presentation arrived. I'd been extremely nervous the night before, but Alan told me he had something to relax me and help me sleep. It was Chinese tea. Yes, I was disappointed, but it worked, though it did make me pee—frequently. I woke up the next morning and told him I was nervous again, but that tea wouldn't work. He suggested I not push my luck.