Fall of '69

I shot a glance at Becky, who stared unblinking at the couple.

Roger said, "Ready, set, go," and clicked the stopwatch.

Jimmy wasted no time. His hands immediately went to work on Red's chest.

She groaned appreciatively and laid her head back on his shoulder.

Jimmy kissed her neck, and Roger shouted, "None of that! That's not a massage."

Red pouted, until Jimmy's fingers concentrated on just the nipples that had sprouted beneath her cotton tee-shirt.

When Red began to grind her ass against Jimmy's crotch, Becky stood up. "I've gotta go."

Everyone groaned.

"Come on, Becky. Stay!" Roger stepped between her and the door. "Have another beer. Smoke a bone. Chill out. Have some harmless fun."

She tried to go around him, but he blocked her with his arm.

This wasn't going well. Everything she'd accused fraternities of seemed to be proved true. I got up before Becky kicked Roger in the nuts again. "I'll walk you home."

Roger scowled at me, as I pushed by with my arm around her.

"Rog, I'm doing this for your own protection."

The frat brothers who were at the anti-war rally remembered the kick in the balls, and snickered.

"Shut the fuck up!" was the last thing we heard, as the basement door closed behind us.

I followed her outside, where she turned around, and said, "I'm fine now. Thanks. Go back to your," she paused, and her eyes squinted as if she struggled to find an appropriately nasty adjective, but simply said, "game."

I continued to shadow her. "That's all it is! It' a stupid game."

"Do you think it's okay to have sex in front of a crowd?"

"They weren't having sex."

"Not yet! But what was next? What's on the other cards?"

She had me there. "No one has to do anything they don't want to."

"Oh really? If you weren't there would Roger have let me go?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

Not totally, but I said, "Yes."

"But first he'd try to get me stoned enough to manipulate me into playing."

She had me again. This was a no-win situation, so I just followed quietly behind.

After a block, she asked, "Does it turn you on?"

"What?"

She stopped and whirled around.

I backed up a couple of steps and covered my privates.

That made her smile. "The game! Don't play stupid. Or maybe you're just too drunk to think."

Of course I knew what she meant, and I was playing stupid, because I was too drunk to be coherent, and I didn't want to say anything that would piss her off more. "Yes, the game turns me on! All right?"

She turned back around and started walking. I followed.

In self-defense, I asked, "It didn't turn you on at all?"

Her steps slowed a little, and after a prolonged silence, she said, "Okay, it did -- a little. I'm only human. But, it's sinful behavior. Sex is not for public display. It's private."

"Why can't it be both?"

"Because, the Bible says so."

How could I argue with that? So I didn't.

"Becky, I admire your virtue." In fact, I found it damn sexy. "It makes the kisses we shared that much sweeter." Which was true. I couldn't remember kisses more thrilling.

Out of nowhere, Becky said, "Patty likes you."

Stupidly, I said, "She does?"

"Well, she begged you to play the game. Doesn't that mean she likes you?"

I laughed. "No. It just means Patty likes variety."

"So do you, apparently."

"Hey! When I fall in love for real, I'll be monogamous. Until then, I'm having fun."

"If you were a girl, people would call you a slut."

"Times have changed."

"Oh really? Would you marry a girl like Patty?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She's not my type."

"You're wrong. She's every guy's type. There's nothing special about a woman that screws around. That's why you wouldn't marry her. How could you trust her to be faithful?"

Becky stopped, and poked her finger in my chest. "How could any girl trust you to be faithful? You wouldn't know how. You're too busy having fun to know the meaning of love."

As she started to walk away, I backtracked, "Be honest. Weren't you turned on by watching Jimmy massage Red's tits?"

After a few steps, she said, "Honestly? I felt desire. But sin isn't always ugly. In fact, most of time it's attractive and seductive. People have the choice to do the right thing when they're tempted."

She turned and pointed at her chest. "By the way, these are breasts, not tits. That's just another way you men demean women. Break us down into sex toys and give our body parts vulgar names."

Becky had nice tits, and her pointing at them gave me the chance to openly stare. But it was a compliment that I didn't think she'd appreciate at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut. I just smiled at them.

Realizing her mistake, she huffed and continued walking away.

I followed.

She turned onto the sidewalk to her dorm. "I need to go to my room and get some things for tonight."

The fact she felt the need to explain where she was going gave me the impression my presence meant more to her than just an annoyance. If I weren't with her would she have the nerve to stop?

The room door was closed. Without knocking Becky barged in and I followed. She stopped short and I bumped into her.

Her roommate, Cindy, sat naked on the edge of her bed. Craig and some other naked guy stood in front of her. She gripped a cock in each hand. The trio looked in our direction with red eyes and brainless grins.

"You people are animals!" said Becky, and began stuffing things into a duffle bag.

Cindy began stroking the erections, and said, "The human body is beautiful, and should be enjoyed in every way. There's no shame in what's natural."

The guys grunted their assent.

Craig bent down to roll her nipple.

Cindy closed her eyes and moaned from the sensation.

Becky glanced their way, before storming out of the room.

I said, "Nice to see you again," and, after a few seconds pause, followed Becky from the room. It amazed me how such an attractive girl, like Cindy, would put out for such ugly guys. Must be the drugs. Everyone plays their own power game to get what they want. There was no doubt in my mind Cindy was the one in control.

"Did you enjoy that?" asked Becky, when I caught up.

"It was a cheap thrill."

"Cheap is right. Why don't you go back and get in line?"

"No thanks. I don't want what Cindy's selling."

"What do you mean?"

What did I mean? "I don't know. I'd feel obligated or indebted. I don't need druggies thinking they had something on me."

"So, it's all about power and control, not free love? Then your frat game is a power trip, but you boys are in control."

"That's different."

"Yeah, right."

We walked in silence for a block.

Someone yelled, "Look out!"

A glow-in-the-dark Frisbee zipped toward Becky's head. I grabbed it just before impact and threw it back to a silhouette standing in the front yard across the street.

The shadow said, "Close one. Nice save. Thanks man."

I said to Becky, "I saved you from a broken nose or a black eye. You owe me."

We passed under a street lamp, and she looked at me. "What do you want for repayment? A hand job?"

I laughed out loud. Her sarcastic humor always tickled me. "That's okay. I'll take care of it later, myself."

"Really? You do that?"

Thinking I might as well be honest, I said, "Hey, it's been a long, frustrating night. I need some relief."

"Why don't you go back to the game? I'm sure Patty would give you a hand."

"Maybe you've shown me the light. I don't feel like playing games. Sex should be private."

She laughed, and said, "I meant private as in, shared between two married people in love, not alone."

We walked on a few paces, and she asked, "What will you think about when you do it? Cindy? The game? Other women you've known?"

Wow, what a question. "You really want to know?"

Becky stopped and looked at me with genuine interest. "Yeah. I'm curious."

Well, I was drunk enough to tell her the truth. "I'll be thinking about you."

That shut her up. She continued walking at a faster pace.

I watched her for a few seconds, before catching up. "Hey! You asked!"

"I know. I'm sorry I asked. It puts the wrong thoughts in my head."

Now I was curious. "Tell me."

"No."

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

Becky glanced at me. "I already know what you're thinking."

I grabbed her arm. "Slow down."

She gasped at my touch, and stopped. Standing close, she passively stared at the ground between our feet, while I struggled with a coherent apology.

Becky spoke first. "Don, I--," Without warning, she wrapped her free arm around my neck and kissed me.

The force knocked me back a step and the shock slowed my reaction. It was over before I could unravel my senses. "What was that?"

"A goodnight kiss." She turned and ran to the front door of Bill Crossway's house.

"Becky! I'll pick you up tomorrow, at 9:00. I'm taking you on a picnic. Dress for a hike."

The front door closed behind her without a word.

All night, Becky Jeffries' taste was on my lips and her body pressed against mine. I dreamt about her -- felt her, and heard her voice -- only to wake up with a throbbing erection, begging for relief. But I didn't do it. I didn't take matters into my own hands. I was afraid she'd ask me and I'd disappoint her by saying I had. It would make me less in her eyes, and I wanted to be more for her. I could've lied and gotten away with it, except I'd know. Maybe I wasn't as jaded as I thought.

At dawn, I showered, made ham and cheese sandwiches, and began packing my truck for the day. No one would be up for hours. The house was trashed. Empty cups were abandoned all over. There's nothing like the stench of stale beer in the morning to make me want to get outside. The only sounds were snoring bodies, and they occupied every room. Someone I didn't recognize was even asleep on the kitchen table.

Outside, Roger lay on top of the picnic table. Good thing it stayed warm, otherwise he might have died of hypothermia. When I dropped the cooler onto the truck bed he rolled over and opened one eye. "Where you going?"

"On a hike."

"So early?" He looked at his watch. "It's only 7:30. Wait an hour. Let me change and I'll go with you."

"Nope. This is a date. Three's a crowd."

Groaning, Roger sat up. "You're not going out with Becky the bitch, are you?"

I wanted to hit him, and that scared me. "She's not a bitch."

"Hey Brother. She kicked me in the balls. She's a bitch."

"You deserved it. You were an asshole."

He lay back down. "She's got a nice ass. I want all the details," he said, before closing his eyes.

The truck needed gas. I drove into Lewistown and filled up. That left an hour to kill. I wasn't sure Becky would even be up, much less go anywhere with me, but after the kiss, I knew she felt some affection for me, or maybe it had been a permanent goodbye kiss. The anticipation was torture. I wanted to drive right over to Crossway's house and pound on the door.

Instead, I drove to the grocery store and bought some ice, potato chips, and a variety of sodas. In hindsight, the cans of beer already in the cooler might turn Becky off, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to appear considerate and temperate. The thought crossed my mind I should jettison the beer. But if Becky would not come with me, I wanted the beer to numb my unhappiness.

At 8:30, I drove by the Crossway's. No sign of life. After the third trip around the block, I parked in front of the house and sat for a while.

Around 8:50 the front door opened. Bill Crossway, in a bathrobe, stepped out and walked to my window. "Good morning, Mr. Carter."

The formal tone put me on notice. "Good morning. How's it going?"

"Fine, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm good." Enough small talk. "Is Becky up?"

"Yes, she is." Crossway leaned close, and quietly said, "Becky's a nice girl, Mr. Carter. She's lived a sheltered life. She's been through a lot recently. Last night, I smelled alcohol on her breath. I'm concerned about her vulnerability and falling in with the wrong crowd. What are your intentions?"

Anger bubbled up at his accusatory tone. I fought against a sarcastic remark, and said, "I like Becky. I want to know her better. We're going on a picnic."

"Where?"

"Sand Bridge Park."

"I want her home before dark, and I want you to come to church tomorrow, or she's not going anywhere with you." He stuck his one hand through the window. "All right?"

God, I was pissed, but I shook his hand anyway, and said, "All right."

As I got out, Crossway walked around to the front of my truck and memorized the license plate number.

On the way to his front door, Crossway said, "First Baptist Church on Waverly. The service begins at 10:00. Sunday school starts at 9:00, if you're interested."

I kept my mouth shut, because I had no intention of showing up for either.

When I reached the bottom step of the porch, Becky stepped out, and all my hostility was washed away by her smile.

"Good morning, D.C."

"Good morning, Becky."

She looked fresh and country clean in a straw cowboy hat, jeans, and flannel shirt. Her hair was tied in a ponytail that hung down between her shoulder blades. Growing up on a farm, I guessed she looked like this most of her life, and I liked it.

Crossway watched us walk to my truck, saying, "Remember, be back before dark."

Becky answered, "Okay. See ya later. Have a nice day."

I opened the truck door for Becky. It wasn't something I normally did for a girl, but somehow I thought it was expected of me.

"Wow, DC, I love your truck! Grandpa had a Ford 250, but it was a lot older."

"Thanks. It was my high-school graduation present." I closed her door, walked around and got in, feeling like a spoiled, rich kid.

"I pictured you more as a Mustang convertible."

I was happy she thought about me at all. "Not me." I said, pulling away from the curb, excited to finally have her all to myself. "Can't go four-wheeling in a Mustang."

"Is that what we're doing today?"

"If that's okay."

"Great! I'd love to see some of the countryside. Pennsylvania is beautiful. Where I'm from, everything is flat and nothing but cornfields as far as the eye can see."

"Where's that?"

"Kansas." Becky leaned against the door and smiled at me.

"What?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"Okay. Don't tell me. Put on some music."

Becky looked through the 8-track collection. "Oh my God! I love this album."

'The Sound of Silence' began to play. "You're full of surprises."

"What? I can't like Simon and Garfunkel if I belong to a fraternity?"

She laughed and closed her eyes, enjoying the music for a minute. "Did you sleep well?"

Since she brought it up, I said, "No. I kept dreaming about you."

Shyly, she glanced at me, and then out the window. "I thought guys always fell fast asleep after... an orgasm."

"That was the problem. I didn't have one."

Becky almost looked disappointed. "Oh?"

"I wanted to, but it just felt wrong."

Staring straight ahead, she quietly said, "I'm flattered you thought of me that way and showed restraint."

Miles of country road passed serenely as we sang along with the music.

While song tracks changed, she asked, "How far is this place?"

"Only 20 miles. Won't take long." Was she bored already?

"It's getting hot."

I was about to tell Becky to open the window, when she took off her hat and began to unbutton her shirt.

Playing it cool, I kept my eyes on the road, while watching her out of the corner of my eye. When the shirt was open to her waist, Becky pulled the shirttail out of her jeans and tied it in a knot at her midriff. Underneath, she wore a navy-blue tank top. Unless my eyes deceived me, her breasts were free under the thin cotton. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Becky broke into my daydream by asking, "This isn't going to be you, is it?"

"What?"

"Richard Cory."

Suddenly, I heard the lyrics again.

"...Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got..." She was staring at me, waiting for an answer.

The tragic song, about the richest man in town who kills himself, always touched an empty place in my soul. I related to the purposelessness of Cory's life. "No."

She continued to stare at the side of my face, apparently not satisfied with a one-word answer.

I was saved from more explanation when we crested a hill. "Check it out."

Just ahead was a car with its rear wheels in the ditch. A lady, cradling a baby in her arms, stood next to the front fender.

"Oh, the poor woman," said Becky, as I pulled off the road and stopped.

"Hi. Are you all right?"

"Yes. We're fine. A stupid deer ran across the road. I swerved to miss it and lost control on the gravel shoulder."

"Maybe I can pull you out."

"Really? That'd be wonderful."

I knelt down and looked under the car. It didn't appear damaged. Mud coated the wheel wells from her spinning the tires. They just couldn't get enough traction to climb out.

"Yeah, no problem. I have a cable and a come-along in the truck."

I got what I needed from behind the seat, crawled under the car, and put the cable through holes in the frame. Satisfied it would hold, I got up and went to hook the come-along to my truck hitch, but it was already done.

Becky smiled, and said, "We did this all the time on the farm."

I was in love. "Great! Get in the car and steer. Give it a little gas, but don't rear-end me."

A few minutes later, the car was out of the ditch, and the woman and child were safely on their way. She offered us twenty dollars, but I declined.

As I stowed the tools behind the seat, Becky said, "That was nice of you."

"I like doing stuff like that. Back in Pittsburgh, me and my friend Doug would drive around during snowstorms and look for stuck cars. We'd pull them out for free. If they offered to pay us, sometimes we took the money, sometimes we didn't."

"And what did you do with the money?"

"Got beer."

There was that look of disapproval. Then she held up a hand, and asked, "Got a Band-Aid?"

Blood dripped down her middle finger.

Gripping her wrist, I gently inspected the small slit. "How'd you do that?"

"I snagged it on the come-along cable."

"Sorry about that. I have a first aid kit."

"It's no big deal. I've had a lot worse. See?" She dropped the shirt from her left shoulder to expose a 2-inch scar. "I tried to go under some barbed wire when I was seven. Farms are dangerous places."

As I retrieved the first aid kit, I asked, "Got any more scars? I'd like to see 'em all."

She laughed with an in-your-dreams tone.

Wiping the wound with an alcohol swab, I said, "It would only be for educational purposes. I'm minoring in anatomy."

Cleaning the wound must've stung, but Becky didn't flinch. She just smiled, as I bandaged her up.

When I was done, I kissed her finger. "All better?"

"Thanks." Her face colored a little, and she met my gaze with something more than gratitude.

'All right. Let's hit the road."

"Wait. Turn around."

"Why?"

"You've got dirt on you."

She roughly brushed my back clean from shoulders to waist, and then she quickly swiped the seat of my pants. "There. All done."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

She grinned and walked to the other side of the truck. "Anytime."

I liked the sound of that.

It was a clear autumn day. The deep blue sky against the red, yellow, and orange leaves on the hills painted a brilliant tapestry.

We passed the time talking about Becky's life on the farm and about my life in the big city. I think we held a mutual admiration from our opposite experiences. I know I enjoyed her stories of harvesting, county fairs, church suppers and the violent storms that marked her youth. Becky seemed equally interested in my urban tales of school, rock concerts, and nightlife.