Facets of Love Ch. 01

"Talk to me Mary. It's obvious you aren't happy, but I can't help you unless you tell me what's bothering you."

'Robert won't call me and I'm afraid to call him', is what I wanted to say. Instead, I took the coward's way out and said,

"I don't know Mom. Maybe Auburn's not the right school for me. For some reason I don't seem to fit in."

"Have you tried? Have you gone to any parties or on any dates?"

"No. All the parties are infested with drunks, and all the boys my age are too immature."

"How about the upperclassmen?" she asked, trying to sound like she wasn't talking about Robert.

"Same answer. Sure, there are a few Junior and Senior men that seem to have their heads on straight, but they're already taken.

Which probably includes Robert.

"Maybe it's best I finish out the semester and then transfer to a Florida school."

"But you've had your heart set on Auburn since the ninth grade."

"Sorry Mom. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a southern belle."

"I'm sorry too baby. You know I'll support you no matter what you choose. Just do us both a favor. I know boys are asking you out. The next time one does, say yes. The worst that could happen is you don't enjoy yourself. But there's always the chance you'll be surprised and have a good time. Will you do that for me? One date is all I ask."

-

Cassandra was my roommate and the only true friend I had at Auburn. The few times I went out with the girls, it was always at Cassandra's request.

"Dammit girl, I'm tired of you moping around this tiny dorm room like the world hates you. You either get your ass out there or I'm going to strip you naked, tie you to a parking meter on Main Street, and let the entire freshman class have their way with you. And I'm talking about the men and the women."

I got some form of that speech nearly every weekend. She obviously never followed up on her threats but, when we returned from Thanksgiving break and I asked her to set me up with a guy, you'd had thought she'd won the lottery.

"The angel is finally coming down from the heavens to mingle with us common folk," she said. "Don't worry roomie, I've got just the boy for you. If he can't show you a good time, nobody can."

His name was Don. Or was it Tom? Doesn't really matter. Ten minutes after he picked me up, I knew he wasn't the one for me.

He took me to a party held on the shore of a small lake about a half hour out of town. The property belonged to an alumnus who occasionally let his old fraternity use it in exchange for the privilege of watching a bunch of drunken coeds go skinny dipping.

Don/Tom quickly lost interest in me when I:

Refused to drink anything but coke,

Insisted on keeping my clothes on,

And kneed him in the balls when he groped my breasts.

I ran into the adjacent woods, hoping my predatory date wouldn't come after me seeking revenge, and stayed there... watching from a safe distance while the party got progressively wilder and degenerate.

Two hours into my self-imposed exile, it started to rain. Not a gentle summer shower accompanied by a cooling breeze. It was a thunder clapping, lightning flashing, wind blowing branches in my face kind of storm that made me choose between getting electrocuted by God or gang raped by the Alpha Kapa Epsilon fraternity. I was mentally preparing myself to meet my maker when I spied a mostly clothed girl and her bare-chested boyfriend running towards a car with sufficient speed to convince me they weren't completely inebriated.

Running out of the woods and across the gravel parking area like a fire breathing dragon was on my tail, I arrived at their car moments after the lights flashed, indicating he had unlocked the doors. Without asking permission, I clamored into the back seat as the couple climbed into the front.

"Who the hell are you?" the guy said.

"Are you leaving?" I asked.

"Uh... yeah."

"Would you mind giving me a ride?"

The boy looked at his girlfriend.

She gave me a once over. "Are you the girl who kicked Don Thompson in the gonads?"

I nodded, fully expecting to be kicked out of the car.

"I don't know why you did it, but I'm damn sure he deserved it. Where to?"

"Anywhere away from here."

"I'm Stephanie and our chauffeur for the night is Brian."

"Mary," I said, trying desperately not to cry.

It was a two-mile winding drive through the woods from the Alumnus' lake-front cabin to the main road. The storm was still raging overhead, and the rain was pouring over the dirt road making it difficult to see the way ahead. The sun had been down for a couple of hours, so the only illumination came from the car's dim headlights and the occasional flash of lightning. Even with the dangerous driving conditions, we probably would have made it home if not for the bolt of lightning which downed a tree directly in front of us, causing Brian to veer off the road and into a ditch.

After the obligatory bout of screaming and cursing, the three of us were eerily quiet while we considered our predicament. We were stuck in a rain-soaked ditch, the road ahead was blocked, and a hundred drunken fraternity boys would eventually drive down the same road, trying to get back to their chapter house. Brian called his father's auto club and was told they couldn't get to him until the following morning.

"Any ideas?" Brian asked.

-

Robert Ryan Jones

I was smack dab in the middle of a REM cycle when my phone rang. Thanks to my "do not disturb" setting, the only people who could call me between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. were my brothers, the college maintenance department and, in a moment of weakness, I had also added Mary Spencer to my short list of authorized after-hours callers.

"Yeah," I grunted over the phone. I didn't bother to check caller ID. I knew it was the college, wanting me to repair a broken window or take care of some other damage caused by the storm.

"Robert? You may not remember me, but you gave me your card the day -"

"Mary? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sort of. Maybe not. When you said you'd give me a ride. Anytime. Anyplace. Were you serious?"

"Where are you?"

"In a car. In a ditch. With two other people. Other than that, I'm not exactly sure."

It took me several minutes to calm her down and, even then, she had to pass the phone off to a guy named Brian so I could get directions.

"I'm not sure," Brian said when I asked for their location. "We were at a party on the lake, and it started to rain, so we -"

"Did you drive to the party?" I asked the apparently clueless guy.

"Well yeah."

"How did you get there?"

"I followed my GPS."

"Okay. Give me the address."

He complied.

"How far from the lake are you?" I asked.

"About a mile."

"Sit tight. I'll be there in less than an hour. And Brian, if anything bad happens to Mary, I'll be coming after your ass."

Not sure why I said that last part. It's like something a dad would say to protect his daughter, certainly not what a college student says about a girl he'd only met once. But the words were gone, I couldn't pull them back... and I meant them.

I had to stop at the college maintenance facility to pick up a few tools, so it was a bit over an hour before I got to Mary. Or at least until I got to a good-sized pine tree that lay across the road, making it impossible to pass. A mass of branches obscured my view, so I didn't know if Mary was close or there was more than one tree down and she was further down the road. I pulled back from the tree, put the truck in park, and left it running with the lights on while I got out to investigate.

"Robert? Is that you?" Just hearing Mary's voice made the trip worthwhile.

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"I will be when I get in your truck."

My eighteen-inch chainsaw made quick work of the tree and, once there was a clear path between us, a crying, sopping wet, eighteen-year-old beauty was soon hugging my neck.

"There's a towel and blanket in my truck," I told her. "Get out of those wet clothes and wrap yourself in the blanket while I take care of your friends."

She either didn't hear me or was too scared to let me go, so I picked her up in my arms, put her in my truck and closed the door.

A thirty-foot nylon towing strap got Brian's BMW out of the ditch and a few well-placed blows with a rubber mallet moved his damaged bumper far enough away from his left front tire that it was safe to drive.

"Take it easy going back to town," I told the obviously shaken fraternity boy. "I'll follow you to the main road but you're on your own after that."

With the exception of Mary repeatedly telling me how "sorry she was for calling me out on such a horrible night", our ride back to town was mostly quiet. She curled up inside the blanket and leaned against the passenger side door with her legs and feet tucked underneath her. A pile of wet clothes lay on the floorboard in front of her. I couldn't tell if she had taken my advice and completely stripped or had kept her wet undergarments on for the sake of modesty.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked when we reached the city limits.

"Back to your dorm, unless there's someplace else you'd like to go."

"Would it be okay if we went to your place?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"No, not really. Don't get me wrong. I'm not asking to spend the night, well, I am, sort of, but not in your bed, or anything like that. It's just that I don't want the girls in my dorm to see me like this, but I also don't want to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning and... crap, I don't know what I want. What do you think I should do?"

"Come home with me, take a long hot shower, put on one of my t-shirts, and sleep in my bed."

We drove a few more blocks in silence as she considered my proposal.

"I've never slept with a man before. Not that I'd mind you being my first..."

"Mary, I've dreamed of sleeping with you ever since the day we met. But it's not going to happen tonight. You get the bed; I get the couch. Your body needs eight hours of shut eye and a hearty breakfast before your mind makes any important decisions."

-

Unlike most students on campus, I didn't live in a dorm, frat house, or apartment. I lived in a trailer. It was tucked into a small copse of trees on the south side of town, adjacent to several acres of farmland belonging to the university's agricultural college. What it lacked in amenities it made up for in privacy (my nearest neighbor was a half-mile away) and price (rent free in exchange for maintaining their farm machinery).

I parked in front of my not-so-impressive abode and, not wanting Mary to put her wet shoes back on or walk barefoot on my gravel driveway, I scampered around to the passenger door and picked her up in my arms. Her arms immediately went around my neck letting me feel the softness of her unrestrained breasts as she hugged her body close to mine. My hand accidentally slid down to her butt as we maneuvered through the front door. The temptation to leave it there was damn near irresistible.

There wasn't much to my trailer. The single exterior door opened to a combination living room / kitchen area. Carrying her a few steps deeper into my lair, I pointed out the bathroom and shower before ending up in the bedroom. I couldn't figure out how to return her to her feet without losing the blanket, so I laid her down on my bed and went back outside to retrieve her wet clothes.

Skirt, blouse, bra and panties.

Yep, she was definitely naked under the blanket and now, she's naked in my shower.

Taking a chance, I slipped back into my bedroom, got myself some dry clothes and then placed some shorts, sweats and shirts on the bed for Mary to choose from. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I put our combined pile of wet clothes into the washing machine and started the cycle as soon as I heard the shower shut off.

"Do you have a hair dryer?"

It was a simple question. One I would normally be able to answer without a moment's hesitation, if the person asking was wearing something more than an old T-shirt that didn't quite cover the bottom of her naked ass cheeks. And her cleavage wasn't overflowing the plunging V-neck. And her erect nipples weren't clearly visible through the thin white material.

"Uh, no, I don't know, maybe. There might be one in my truck."

"Why would you keep a hair dryer in your truck?"

"It's not for me. I use it to dry epoxy when I replace windows."

"But it's still a hair dryer, right?"

She giggled when I went outside to fetch the requested beauty aid and laughed out loud when I returned with a pink hair dryer splattered with blotches of dried paint and caulk.

While Mary dried her hair in the front room, I took a quick shower and then searched my extremely limited closet for something appropriate to wear. I usually slept in boxer shorts, but not wanting to risk giving Mary the wrong impression about my intentions for the evening, and not owning a pair of silk pajamas or a robe, I put on the redneck equivalent. Sweatpants and a Garth Brooks T-shirt.

I might have stopped and stared for a second or two (or maybe a good bit longer) when I first stepped out of the bedroom. Mary had mermaid hair. Beautiful blonde locks, long and thick enough to cover her breasts if she let them flow over her chest. Her hair was so long, she seemed to be struggling to control it, the brush, and the hair dryer.

"Anything I can do to help?" I asked.

"It is kind of a three handed job." She gestured for me to sit next to her. "If you don't mind holding the hair dryer, I'll take care of the rest.

"Point it where I'm brushing. Not too close or you'll burn my scalp. But not too far away or we'll be here all night."

Which was fine with me. Staying on the couch with Mary all night. Watching her chest rise and fall with every breath she took. Taking an occasional glance down at her crossed legs and imagining what lay just inches above. Sitting so close I could feel the warmth of her body and smell the scent of her womanhood. Feeling my heart pound in my chest, knowing full well where the extra blood was going.

And yet, we never touched. We finished our simple task, said our good nights, and settled in for the evening. Me on the couch. She in my bed.

Strangely, I was okay with that. Not touching. Not that night. There would be other nights.

-

Mary Spencer

It should have been the worst night of my life. I was sexually assaulted, nearly electrocuted in a thunderstorm, and stranded by the side of the road after a car crash. But then the man of my dreams came to my rescue. I mean that in the literal sense. Robert was the prime player in my nocturnal musings ever since we met. It was like I slept with him the entire first semester, only to wake up in an empty bed each morning.

Just like I did the morning after the disastrous frat party. Except, this time I was in his bed, and he was in the next room, making breakfast, if my nose could be trusted.

I got up quickly, peed, used his toothpaste and my finger to freshen my breath and then rifled his closet to find something to wear. Something a little less revealing than the T-shirt I slept in, yet sufficiently skimpy to get his attention. His white dress shirt was perfect. The long tail would keep me from flashing my ass if I had to bend over to pick up a spoon and leaving the top three buttons undone would highlight two of my best attributes.

But, more importantly, this was my chance to ask Robert why never called me. I'd thought about it all night (all semester?).

Did he not see my note, the note with my telephone number, the note I'd slipped into the breast pocket of the shirt I was now wearing. Or had he seen the note a decided not to call.

And why would he? Robert is a sexy, good-looking man, chomping at the bit to get out of college and start his life. I am a mousey, inexperienced girl who never had a serious boyfriend. He needed a woman. I didn't qualify.

But I had to know. If I didn't ask, I'd forever wonder why.

"Good morning gorgeous, I hope you slept well," Robert said as I made my grand entrance. "I've got bacon, eggs, coffee, and juice. Sorry it's kind of slim pickings, I wasn't expecting company for breakfast."

"I'm not much of a coffee drinker, but the rest sounds wonderful. And yes, I slept like a baby."

"Scrambled or fried?"

"Whatever is easier for you."

"Scrambled it is."

Before he could start on the eggs, I put my arms around his neck and pulled him down to my level for a kiss. "That's for last night. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And thank you for brightening my morning. You make that old shirt look like a prom dress."

"If I'm not mistaken, this is the same shirt you wore the night we met."

"I'm sure it is. A dinner with you and Doctor Spencer would certainly qualify for my best duds and, sorry to say, that is my one and only dress shirt."

"Well, you certainly impressed me that night. And also my Mom. It seems like every time we talk, she asks if you've tried to contact me."

"Yeah, about that." A bit of the sparkle left his eyes. "I found the note. The one you put in my shirt pocket."

"That's okay. I didn't really expect you to call," I lied. "It was just a spontaneous thing and I'm sure you had plenty of other things to do and people to do them with."

"Actually, I didn't. And there is nothing I want to do more than spend time with you."

"So, why didn't you call?"

"Because your mother's letter trumped your note."

"Mom sent you a letter?"

"No, she handed it to me after I fixed her car. Just before you kissed me on the cheek. It's up on the wall. Read it and tell me what I should have done."

Robert pointed to a bulletin board covered with reminders, bills, and other assorted scraps of paper. My note was pinned to the corkboard along with an envelope containing a letter from Mom.

-

Robert,

Thank you for all you did for Mary and me today. I know we decided that tonight's dinner would be your payment and I stand by that agreement. As you most likely observed this evening, my daughter is a young and impressionable girl. And, while you were the perfect gentlemen today, you are still much older and worldly than she. Please accept the enclosed cash as an incentive to not become socially involved with Mary. It is my desire that she enjoy her college years with her peers.

To ensure there is no misunderstanding between us; do not try to contact my daughter. If she attempts to contact you, I insist that you politely decline.

Dr. Martha Spencer

-

There was five hundred dollars in cash in the envelope.

I re-read the letter three times. Not believing Mom would do such a thing but, at the same time, knowing full well that she did. It's what she did for a living.

Dr. Martha Spencer, Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. People paid her big bucks to fix their marriages and, if she said it once, she said it a thousand times, "the best route to a happy marriage is marrying the right guy." In her professional opinion, Robert was the wrong man for me.

I didn't realize I was crying until the man Mom paid to ignore me took me in his arms and held me against his chest.

"Would you have called me?" I asked after regaining partial control of my emotions. "If Mom hadn't bribed you, would you have called?"

"Yes. I would have asked you out the very next day."

"I would have said yes. To the first date, and the second, and the hundredth. If not for Mom's meddling, my first semester of college wouldn't have been a living hell. And if I was dating you, I wouldn't have been molested at the fraternity party last night or soaked to the bone or ended up in a ditch."