Too Young, Too Soon, No Chance

The only thing she had left out was bestiality but he was sure that taboo was bound to come up sooner or later. During their most recent hour together he was certain that the cute little PhD was trying to find out if he had any homosexual tendencies without asking directly. He had been evasive. He'd even thought about just screwing with her for a while. He had just taken his seat on the small sofa in her office.

"Dennis, today, I thought we would explore..."

"I'm sorry. I apologize for interrupting. For the record, do our conversations become some part of my official record since I'm a special admission?"

"Certainly not! We have doctor-patient confidentiality. "

"How much confidentiality? What exactly---precisely---do others see as a result of these sessions?"

She turned pensive, then responded. "Nothing past a simple one word evaluation of your, ah, status. That is, average, below average or above average in terms of assimilating into the university environment. If I thought you had any clinical issues that might present a danger to you or others, I'd immediately refer you to a senior member of the staff with clinical experience in that area. "

"So while there is always the chance that you might discuss some aspect of my personality in a very general sense with peers---that would never occur with non-clinical university staff?"

"No! Never. It simply is not allowed. "

"Okay, I'll accept that. May I ask some more questions today?"

"Why, certainly---sure, Dennis. What's on your mind?"

"Who exactly did you piss off to get this mind numbingly crappy assignment?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "No one; I'm a resident. Working with students like you is part of my training as a psychological resident. No one has made any assumptions that people in your group necessarily have clinical issues, just fairly typical adolescent adjustment issues that may be more acute in view of your...prior experiences. The next phase in my training involves working with young people---students---who may in fact have serious issues...potentially dangerous issues. "

"What exactly do you want to learn about me---and my peers? I am certainly not complaining about the perks---advantages---I have been afforded. On the other hand, being in a fish bowl---under a microscope---becomes a bit tiresome. What do you want to know, Doctor? Let me make it easier for you. Let me tell you what I know---what I believe---and then ask me whatever it is that will help you fill in the gaps. Fair enough?"

She nodded.

"My parents never went to college. They grew up the children of poor immigrants. They are bilingual, hardly illiterate, surprisingly well read and have an eclectic appreciation for the arts. They are poor farmers, yet I cannot recall ever wanting for anything growing up. They're far too proud to accept handouts. They work very hard. The house was always warm and cozy in the winter and there was good food on the table---fresh vegetables, fresh meat, often wild game, lots of fresh, raw milk and eggs still warm from the chicken coop. My father has never hit me and I'll probably call him sir until the day he dies, not because he expects it, but because he has earned that respect in every aspect of his life."

"It's good to hear that you have positive feelings about your parents. It's all too common..."

"Stop! This is my hour today. Please! No more psychobabble---with all due respect. I'm not done. Where was I?"

"I apologize; please go on."

"My parents...right! They believe in God and go to church on Sunday. In spite of their meager means, they are the first ones to reach their hand out to help those they see as less fortunate. My father makes homemade German beer and always has a pint with dinner.... but never a second one. My mother doesn't drink or at least I've never seen her do so. Neither one swears and the harshest words I ever heard from either of them was the first time I said 'fuck' in front of them after hitting my thumb with a hammer. Give my dad a hammer and a saw and some decent lumber and he'll build you a place to live. My mother can make anything on her precious sewing machine and makes the most amazing elderberry jam you have ever tasted.

"If your car won't start---give me a call. I can probably fix it. My dad could probably rebuild it. My mother taught me to cook when I was too short to reach the stove. I'm absolutely certain that neither of my parents have ever lied or ever will---certainly not to me. I grew up with rules and expectations; they were the first to exhibit genuine pride when I did something well---and quick to correct me or express their disappointment when I let them down by not performing up to my potential. And you know what? No matter how badly I screwed up, once it was over---it was over. I never for a second doubted their love---deep, abiding love---for me."

"That's very gratifying...Oops! I'm sorry. Please continue."

"I would willingly risk my life for them and I know they would do the same. How do I know? Because when I was eight and stupidly went skating on thin ice on the pond and fell through and got trapped under the ice---it was my daddy who plunged into that icy water with no thought of his own safety---and my mother who stretched her bony little body across that treacherous ice in her house dress to help pull us both to safety. And the first thing they did was hold me in their arms and thank God that I was alive. My father said, 'that's not the smartest thing you've ever done, son.' That's all. And then he hugged me tight, and I felt the warm tears of a man I'd never seen cry a day in his life---and I knew I was the richest, luckiest little boy on this earth.

"I've never been sexually molested, never had sex with a farm animal, a household pet, a sister, cousin---or, frankly, anyone else for that matter. I had great teachers in school; modest people for whom teaching was a calling, not just a job. Admittedly, I'd never been to a city of more than 5,000 people before coming here. The closest town to our farm is ten miles away---population fifty-nine. I've never been to New York City but I'd love to go some day. I like the same music all kids my age like---but my parents taught me about classical music and jazz.

"I would think that if the powers that be here at the university are not sure my secondary education was viable, that the 1407 combined on my SATs would say something about my readiness to be here. Yet here I am, having to tolerate one solicitous, 'oh, you poor, deprived---and possibly depraved---little boy' look of pity after another. So what gives, doctor? What do you want to know? What else can I tell you about Dennis that will help you understand him---and stop looking at him like some pathetic sideshow freak? Help me with this, doctor. Sorry about the rant; it has been building inside me for the last month. Thanks for letting me vent. "

She was silent for a moment. "Dennis, from my perspective—our perspective here at the clinic---this was never supposed to be about putting you under a microscope. It was just supposed to be about giving you another resource...someone you could talk to regularly with some assurance of confidentiality. Someone who would recognize the signs of failure to adapt early and be able to intervene. You have the right to refuse it. "

"Oh, hell, no, doctor! Look. I'll admit this campus---this experience---can be daunting at times but it's nothing I can't manage. On the other hand, I don't have any sense that I can be as candid as I just was with you with the mainstream university folks who seem terribly invested in this little social experiment. How old are you?"

"What? Oh, twenty-eight. Why?"

"Did you go to school here?"

"No, but to a similar university one state over---every bit as intimidating. It's the largest resident campus in the country---more students than this one. "

"Okay, well, good. Look, I sense that we've cleared some air here. I don't really have any friends here yet. It would seem that they don't want us mixing in the general population---or with our own, pathetic, backward kind. So I don't really have anyone to 'let my hair down with' as it were. You finished college not that long ago. Next time, why don't you tell me about it? Tell me what you enjoyed, tell me what you hated. Screw the academics---I don't expect to have any issues on that count. But I do want to fit in, feel like I belong. "

"Girls?" she said with a grin.

"They have those here? I thought I'd seen them but as yet we have not been allowed to speak to them---certainly not touch them. What the hell is that all about?"

"Antiquated beliefs about rural teen sexuality?"

"Ah, yes. We grew up in the country on farms. We've actually seen animals copulating---on a daily basis. We have first hand experience in the reproductive process having assisted in more than one bovine birth---not all of which are automatic and some of which are horribly tragic. We've probably had sex since the age of ten with everyone including our own mothers, according to typical rural legend. Put us in mixed company and who knows, we might not be able to control ourselves...might just mount the first heifer we see. Sorry, that was crude. "

"You have a way with words, Dennis," said the comely psychologist, unable to stifle a giggle at the visual image his words created in her mind. "It'll get better. We here at the clinic are fighting hard against the silly segregation policy. I think we've sent enough comment sheets to the powers that be that they've gotten the word. Don't be surprised if they over react, though. They often seem to. Next thing you know you're liable to find yourself forced to go on regularly scheduled dates with girls or something equally absurd."

"Hell, that would be an improvement. "

There was to be a mixer. It was to include boys and girls. It was also a mixer that was to include special admissions and regular admissions, although Dennis didn't have any way of knowing that fact. It would be at the student union and was certain to be heavily chaperoned.Maybe there would be a comely Jersey heifer there he could mount. Fortunately the 'special' kids weren't required to wear a badge that said: I'm a hick. Just in case, he was sure to wear none of the clothes that had been purchased at the special store; there might be a hidden message woven into the fabric.

There were some damn cute girls at the mixer and in keeping with the university census, more girls than guys or maybe there were more girls on campus who were desperate. There were also some really, really ugly girls. There were stuck up girls, empty headed and shallow girls, fat girls, thin girls, city girls and country girls. Just as he was about to nod off while attempting to chat with three little cutties who were more interested in talking about their own hair than in talking to him, he felt a tap on the shoulder and heard his name.

"Dennis?"

He turned. There was no way in hell he would ever forget those absolutely perfectly shaped boobies. Unfortunately, what he couldn't remember was her name.She sure did clean up nice, though.

"Allison Stevens. We met last summer at the resort up in the mountains. I'm really embarrassed; I can't remember your last name?"

"Steiner. Dennis Steiner. It's nice to see you again, Allison. I had no idea you were..."

"Going to college? At State? Life is full of little surprises, Dennis. Have you already got your eye on someone or would you like to walk...and talk?"

The two fell in beside each other and drifted out to the first floor balcony.

"I really enjoyed the summer up there, Dennis. My parents don't have a lot of money. I have a full scholarship here but I really wanted to make some cash to have some spending money during school."

"I thought the girls in the dining room made the big bucks...tips and all."

"The girls in the dining room didn't want to chip their nails scrubbing out toilets. I'm not much of a group kind of girl, Dennis. I liked working alone. Plus, I got paid by the number of rooms I did, not by the hour. If I got done early, I could ask for more work or just knock off. Tips? Most of the well-heeled guests there are very old school. I always made sure I met them at least once when I cleaned their rooms. I always got a nice tip. Five or ten bucks a day was typical---sometimes more. The housekeeper never gave me any trouble. I always asked the guests to fill out a comment card if they were pleased with my work. The hotel increased my pay twice. Anything else you would like to know about the finer points of being a good chamber maid?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intimate anything or disparage..."

"We got used to being the bottom of the pecking order; we just laughed all the way to the bank. So? Where are you living? It would seem that there is a significant shortage of housing for this freshman class."

"I'm in Anderson Hall." No sense in lying about it; maybe she didn't know it was a 'special' dorm.

"Right behind me, in Bonwitt." She said, flashing him the most amazing, slightly crooked smile he had ever witnessed in his short life. "Nice to know we're both in the 'special group'...hicks and yokels anonymous---where are your bib overalls?"

"Don't even joke about it---I almost wore them to this affair, just to see how the chaperones would react."

"I'd thought about wearing braided pig tails, bringing my milking stool and giving a yodeling demonstration. How long did it take you to figure it out?"

"I saw the code and asked my guidance counselor."

"I actually researched the program and read about it in the library."

"So, you grew up on a farm, Allison?"

"Even worse! My daddy works at a sawmill. Of course it's his sawmill and since sawmills tend to exist where there is a source of timber---we live in the sticks! They aren't even very smart about this stuff. They've drawn little circles on a map---a ten year old map---and if you grew up in one of those little circles, and you attended certain schools, and your parents don't get a W2 form, and they're just not the kind of people to fill out nosey questionnaires...

"Look, Dennis, it's all about demographics. Did they even bother to meet you? Hell, no. They added up a bunch of statistics based on demographics and presto! You're in the special program. Not that I'm complaining. I've got my own room, small classes, a cool stereo, a record collection, someone to type my papers---hell, I'll probably graduate Summa. I've become pretty much immune to the pained, almost tearful, 'oh, you poor little girl' looks and 'there, there' pats on the head. The weekly trip to the shrink is a bit of a pain in the ass, though. I can't decide whether to screw with her, or just go along with it."

"Her?" he responded, speaking the name of his psychologist.

"One and the same. How are you handling her?"

"We had a come to Jesus moment this week; as a result, I think I'm going to enjoy it more than I did before. Once you have a break through, she's pretty cool."

"Oh, hell, you just want to fuck her---she's cute. Tell her you're afraid you're developing an unhealthy interest in other men. Maybe she'll ball you out of pity. Which reminds me, Dennis. Why the hell didn't you fuck me? I mean it's not like I made it that difficult. What was that all about?"

Dennis started to respond and then began to laugh so hard he almost dropped his soda. He'd not only completely misread the girl with the absolutely perfectly formed breasts, he'd never remotely talked to anyone like her. He thought of making a joke, coming back with a flip response. It would turn out to be uniquely fateful that he didn't. He told her the truth.

"I was scared. Scared that I'd do something stupid. Scared that I'd cum before I even...scared the cheap rubber from the gas station would break. Scared that you'd get pregnant and your daddy would come after me with a shotgun, and we'd end up living in a shack with six kids, and you'd get fat and never clean the place and I'd have to spend the rest of my life working at a sawmill and...and I was just scared."

"What was so different? Certainly the other times you..."

"There weren't any other times—hadn't been any other times."

She was looking at him very seriously, staring into his eyes with her own amazing, crystal clear, bright, beautiful big blue eyes. "Yeah...same here. No other times...before or since."

"What?"

"Look, I know it sounds stupid but...I wanted to have sex---get laid---before I got to college. Don't ask why---I don't know...a girl thing, maybe...hormones. I picked you for the honors because you were one of those handsome, confident, cocky pricks who I was sure had many notches on his bedpost. If I was going to do it, I wanted to do it with a boy who at least knew what he was doing---since I sure as hell didn't! Just my luck! For Christ's sake---I'd never been buck naked with a boy before---and sure as hell never jerked him off! Well, Dennis, it appears that in addition to both being members of hicks and yokels, we're also members of virgins anonymous---don't worry, your secret is safe with me. How was it, by the way?"

"How was what?"

"The hand job."

"Since it was the first that I'd ever enjoyed that wasn't self administered it was...fantastic."

"Do you find me physically attractive?"

"Of course, Allison...you have..."

"Yeah, I know---clinically perfect tits."

"And drop dead amazing, crystal clear, big blue eyes and a crooked little smile that is adorable."

"How in the world did you keep from getting laid with that silver tongue?"

"Probably a fair question."

"Do you find me remotely amusing?"

"I haven't stopped laughing since you tapped me on the shoulder. I guess I've never met anyone quite like you...enjoyed such a frank, you now...no bullshit conversation?"

"Refreshing---isn't it?"

"Very."

"Do you want to go somewhere with this, Dennis Steiner? I know there are over five thousand other freshmen girls on this campus, many cuter than me---not that I'm chopped liver---and I'd understand if you wanted to go out and sample the wares, so to speak but, I think we just might have something here. I'm not suggesting we pledge our betrothal and I'm not ready to just jump in the sack with you---although I was when I didn't know you and assumed I'd never see you again but..."

"Yes, Allison Stevens; I'd like that. After all, we 'special' kids need to stick together and..."

She kissed him quickly on the mouth...just a quick slip of the tongue. "We both talk too damn much when we're nervous---don't we? You were a great kisser---wow! And those talented fingers of yours...I was one very impressed little girl."

"You don't hold much back, do you, Allison?"

"Not my style---hope it's not yours. First impression indicates you say what's on your mind—don't change in that regard...it would really disappoint me. You want to go parking?"

"I'd love to, although my car is parked miles from here in a freshman lot."

"We do both have private rooms."

"How much trouble would we be in if we got caught?"

"I read the fine print in the housing agreement. Nowhere does it say that a girl can't be in a boy's room and vice versa. There's nothing in the student code of conduct or handbook precluding it. The RA is long gone by this time on a Friday. As long as we follow university dating guidelines---you know, we don't move from home plate to first base without a definitive agreement, nor do we advance to another base without confirming what is involved and further mutual agreement. Then of course there is the whole STD issue, unwanted pregnancy, the evils of sex and alcohol and the potential for date rape accusations. I'm sorry, Dennis, young romance is just not what it once was."

"I was going to ask, 'your place or mine' but now I'm not so sure...you scared me a little with that diatribe."