Shelley's Revenge

******

Late on Thursday afternoon, I went up to Room 336, The Salient office. The door was closed but I tried it and it opened. Inside, Peter, a guy who had joined a year after I did, was lying on the center table, naked from the waist down, with his feet in my direction. Shelley was on her side next to him, also naked from the waist down except for a pair of socks. She had been wearing a pair of blue jeans that day which were on the table next to her. She did acknowledge my entrance by saying, "Hey Paul."

My old friend Jeff Kimmel was sitting in a chair to the right, fully dressed for the moment. He said, "He just had sloppy seconds with her, can you believe that?"

"So who had sloppy firsts?"

Jeff said, "I did, of course." I took a moment to consider that. Well, was glad the poor guy finally got his cherry busted by somebody.

Peter was lounging there as if fucking girls on The Salient's main table was part of his daily routine. Jeff had more to say about it, "She just straddled him, but with me . . ."

I interrupted him, "Jeff, would you please come outside and talk to me for a minute?"

"Sure man, but I've to get back fast, my turn is up again."

Outside we closed the door and went down the hallway. "Jeff, that girl is a complete slut."

"I know that."

"No, I mean it's beyond that, there's something pathological about her."

"I don't know, I wouldn't say that."

"She's screwed me a couple of times already."

He was quite excited by that, "Really, that's amazing, when did that happen?"

"Last week, in here and then on Tuesday over in the Wagner restroom."

"You probably don't know this, but she seems to be working her way through the whole staff here." For the first time, the possibility of an STD occurred to me, but I didn't mention it to Jeff. How far was this girl taking this whole thing, how many guys has she been with already?

He was still gushing about it, "Man, I always hoped something like this would happen with this newspaper, but this kind of tops the whole college experience, know what I mean?"

Telling him that courtships should last more than sixty seconds before penetration might make me look like a Nixonian silent-majority moralist. But then if I had been in his position I might have reacted with glee too.

"I've got to get back," he said. "But come on in and have a look."

Curiosity impelled me to return with him. In the office, Shelley and Peter were sitting on the red couch at the far end of the office. I remembered coupling with my old girlfriends Nora and Michelle on that ugly old wreck in earlier years

She sat there smoking a cigarette. Peter, still lacking pants, said to me, "You want a shot too after Jeff has his again?"

"He already has with her, last week I mean," Jeff said.

"So go again. She's a great gal, isn't she?"

Something inspired me to sarcasm. "Oh, yeah, she's the next Judy Garland," I said. " 'Clang, clang goes the trolley and all that.' "

That didn't go over well with the bottomless, cigarette-puffing Shelley. She seemed to be over-reacting as she said, "Fuck you, asshole. You're such a stuck-up, tight-ass phony little prick."

In later days I figured out a possible reason for her withering hostility towards me. The other guys balling her treated her with a good-natured indifference. My attempts to suggest that we had something beyond sex, no matter how briefly I had said that, bothered her. She had intuited that I was mostly fooling myself and her too. Thus she pinned me with the charge of phoniness.

Peter spoke as if he hadn't heard her, "Back in The Bronx we'd call this 'running a train on her.' "

I said, "I'm from The Bronx and I've never heard that one."

Shelley responded for him, "It's a gang-bang, shithead."

I was feeling fluttery, dizzy, "I think I should go."

"Suit yourself," said Peter.

I had an inspiration, "Actually, maybe I'll stay here and just watch." I couldn't decipher my motivations for wanting that.

Shelley was angry, "Oh no you don't." She addressed my colleagues, "If he stays here, I'm getting the fuck out."

The two of them smiled at me but I knew what they were thinking, you heard what the lady said.

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

Before I could turn away Shelley put her stockinged feet up on the cushion and spread her legs. I looked from her face to her crotch and back again. My own anger welled up and it disgusted me. If there had been some object around that I could use -- the "blunt instrument" of police reports -- then I wanted to break her body with it, followed by the restructuring of her head.

I had to get out of there fast. Down on the first floor I sat in the lounge for a moment to compose myself. I was supposed to see Donna on Saturday evening but I didn't trust myself to act normally for that.

I was also struck by fear. Will this Shelley tell lies about me to Peter and Jeff? What will she say to the others on the staff? I had an insight that she might do me some kind of harm if she could, except it would be social instead of physical. I had never had a real enemy before and I was shocked and surprised at how easily I might acquire one.

I then shook off those thoughts and tried to convince myself that I was overreacting. You're too thin-skinned, it was just some nasty words. Except anybody who could act like a nymphomaniac might be capable of other forms of extreme behavior.

I resolved to avoid her if at all possible.

*******

I only called my ex-girlfriend Michelle Hanley at her home if there was something important at the paper that needed to be discussed. That had happened a few times since we had broken-up in November 1975.

I asked her if she was going to be on campus the next day, and if I could meet her on the North Campus. She sounded a bit skeptical and she wanted to know what the topic was going to be.

I said only, "It's about that girl named Shelley."

I instantly detected a change in her voice, "Oh, wow, her." She was obviously interested now, "Sure, I can do it tomorrow."

We worked out a meeting for the Shepherd Hall cafeteria. The next afternoon we were facing each other at a table, having sodas. I was about to say something but Michelle got in first, "So let me guess: she's banged you already."

"Yeah, a couple of times actually, but how the hell did you guess that?"

"Well, she's been banging everybody as you probably know."

"Right, there's Jeff . . ."

"I know all about Jeff, he can't keep his mouth shut. I guess losing your cherry at the age of twenty-two or whatever is a big deal." It didn't occur to us at the time, of course, but for people who are twenty-two, the ages of nineteen and twenty seem like distant history.

Michelle continued, "She's started going through The Campus and The Paper staffs too." That was news to me. "And she's gone from individual trysts to gang-bangs now as I understand it."

"Right, when I walked in on her in the office, she was with Jeff and Peter."

"Peter, Peter, pussy eater, how does your penis grow? Yep, she's going through the stiff staffs, the erect members of all these fine publications. She seems to have started the week before last." That was before she got to me the previous Friday. "So, how did she snag you?"

"I didn't come here to gossip."

She made a scoffing noise, "Oh come on, you want to tell me, I know it."

I briefly described my two encounters with Shelley. I finished with, "It's like, I don't know, it was so sudden."

"Don't feel too bad, ninety-five percent of men couldn't resist the allure of a bare snatch presented to them in that way. So what exactly is your problem here?"

"Well, it's Donna; we have a date tomorrow."

"I see. You feel guilty but you're also afraid she'll find out."

"Exactly, I feel weird about seeing her, about having this secret to hide."

"True, you don't have the best poker face in the world. All right, obviously the main thing is that you've got to stay clear of this Shelley girl unless you really like this sort of thing. Keep in mind that the odds of picking up a dose of the clap or something else from her are going up exponentially."

"I should wear a condom then."

She got that this was something of a joke and she laughed, "I think you're missing the main point."

"I get it, but I've already thought about all that, that I should stay away from her."

"Well you've already succumbed to her twice, so you've got to do more than think about it. Maybe stay away from Finley for a while until this all shakes out. You're not really doing much on the paper now anyway."

"It will shake out how?"

"I don't know, maybe she'll land in a psych ward, maybe she'll just disappear for a while. Maybe this will all go on unchanged for the foreseeable future."

I asked, "And what about Donna?"

Michelle shrugged, "If she comes down here for a visit, definitely keep her away from Finley. In fact, perhaps you should keep her away from this campus entirely for the time being."

"I shudder to think what it would be like if the two of them met, you know, wound up in the same place together."

"Smart boy. Shelley seems totally unpredictable, you don't want experiments involving her." She sipped her soda and smirked at me, "So how was it with her?"

"She fucks with the same passion as most people do when they pee. It sort of was like that with me too. I don't know who I can ask about this. Do you think she's a nymphomaniac?" (The more euphemistic term now is 'hypersexual disorder.')

"I'm not that familiar with psychology. I've heard about some things, like girls who let guys pull trains on them."

"I just found out about that expression."

"Yes, one car after another. Gang-bang is the more common term. So, you've had an experience here you can tell your grandkids about."

I tried to imagine that, "They'll ask me, 'grandpa, what was in like in the '70s?' "

Michelle responded, "Just say 'Frampton Comes Alive' and that will explain everything."

I wanted to tell her how much I had come to dislike and even fear Shelley, how I felt that I had been treated unfairly. But Michelle was an ex; I realized I had burdened enough on her already and now it was nearly time to go.

She must have had a similar thought, "Anyway, I'm going to the South Campus today. Stay away from there except for classes; just attend and leave."

My anxiety forced me to ask another question, "How about that time she met me on the path?"

"Paul, I don't know. Sneak around, be careful, check before going around a corner. And keep your dick in your pants from now on."

"Look, the other guys seem to be taking it in stride, so why am I bothered by her?"

"Maybe -- I'm really serious here -- that is to your credit, that it does affect your emotions."

As she got up to leave I said, "Michelle, you're really cool for an ex-girlfriend."

She replied, "I already know that," and we both laughed.

*******

I started spending lunchtimes in the Shepherd cafeteria up north rather than the one in Finley down south. That week I was appalled when Shelley suddenly appeared at Shepherd.

She came right up to me and said, "I knew I'd find you hiding out somewhere up here."

I wanted to challenge her but I was somewhat inhibited by being in a public place. Most people would restrain themselves while being among strangers, but I wasn't dealing with a normal person then. I sensed that she might enjoy making a scene with the right provocation. The room was large and not that crowded; there were only a smattering of people near us.

I tried to defend myself, "If you don't want to see me why did you come looking for me?" I also wanted to ask her: what's the deal with screwing so many guys?

I didn't say that last part but she seemed to read my mind. Before I could speak again she continued with, "I'll fuck whoever I want and it's none of your business."

"I'm cool with that, I've never said anything against it."

"But you judge me, you get all sniffy about it." Fortunately, she was still keeping her voice at a moderate level.

I was getting annoyed now, "Oh, come on."

"I know about you, I know you have a girlfriend, this chick from Manhattan College named Donna."

"Who the hell told you that?"

"Peter did."

I thought, that fucking jerk doesn't have a shred of common sense. Shelley went on, "I'd like to see her, see what kind of woman would go for a loser like you." That was exactly what I had started to fear recently. Then she said, "I gave you free pussy, no-strings-attached balling, but that's not good enough for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then I'll tell you. You think you're so cool; you think you can have a main girlfriend and someone on the side too. Just because I balled you think you're some kind of skinny-ass stud and I'm supposed to swoon all over you. You think you can have me for the price of a few drinks at some bar on MacDougal Street."

Actually, I had her for a lot less than that. As as she herself had just suggested, I had never been with her to any bar but I thought I knew the one she was referring to. "You mean the one on Sullivan Street, actually."

That didn't seem to register with her, "It's not really about drinks, it's that you're in denial. You want to be some kind of smooth lover-boy, but you're just a male slut like every other guy. You'd all mate with a piece of liver if that was the only thing available."

I think I smiled at her reference to Portnoy's Complaint. I also was getting a glimmer about what was really bothering her. For a second I wanted her to sit down and tell me all about it. Then it occurred to me that therapists charged significant fees to listen to people like this.

I said, "All right, let's have a deal. You leave me alone and I won't bother you in any way, okay?"

For the first time she smiled at me, "Typical of you, you think you can negotiate your way out of anything. Well, it's too late for that. You graduate in a few weeks, but I'll have something special for you before that."

It was chilling to hear that. First of all, there was the fear of the unknown. I also guessed that she was capable of whatever it was that she was planning. I thought about scoffing at her but I didn't have the nerve for that.

Something about this encounter reminded me of The Godfather,, specifically the scene where the movie producer Jack Woltz had sneered at Tom Hagen. I knew that Shelley could do something equivalent to dropping a severed horse's head in my bed, something surprising and nasty and which might have permanent consequences. I considered it further and there seemed to be one possibility: I feared it might involve Donna.

I know I sounded a bit desperate as I said, "Shelley what the hell do you want? I said I'm willing to discuss it with you." I was almost suggesting that I'd accept being blackmailed, but I wanted to hear her price. I probably wouldn't get it from her anyway.

That, however, wasn't it. She responded, "You still don't get it. I don't want anything from you, I'm going to do something to you." Her eyes looked crazier than ever. I would rather deal with a Manson girl like Susan Atkins or Leslie Van Houton instead of this creepy chick.

Then she whirled around and mooned me. She only lifted her skirt for a second, but in that flash, I noted that, as usual, she wasn't wearing panties. I could see her dark pubic hair sticking out below her buttocks. In my peripheral vision, I saw a guy further down on my side of the table do a double-take.

Then she dropped her skirt and hissed, "You dishonest little mother-fucker," before walking away. I glanced left at the other guy and I shrugged. Just another weird lover's spat, that's probably what he thought. But I felt the pain of being, in my view, unfairly judged and despised for something I hadn't actually done.

Under my uneasiness, I was aware of something else: lust. Shelley had seen something in me and a lot of other guys here in our urban bastion of liberal academia. I thought, there probably is, under our various pretensions, some kind of male biological imperative. How about that Ottoman Empire sultan who supposedly fathered eight-hundred children with his wives and concubines?

Ottoman harems were beyond my capacity to truly imagine. But something more realistic occurred to me. What would I have done if a minute ago she had offered to take me somewhere like a rest room or the tunnel under Convent Avenue? Knowing what I knew about her, would I still have gone?

I struggled between rationalizations and being honest with myself. I compromised with a probability, a percentage. Yeah, there was a better-than-average chance I would have gone with her and fucked her wherever she had chosen for our third tryst. Maybe it would have been a "hate fuck;" maybe her contempt for me would have increased. I remembered her hairy snatch and what it felt like to be inside it. I felt contempt for myself, but I also regretted, on some level, that I had managed to alienate her and lose access to that damp cunt just under her denim skirt.

Just keep Donna away from her. That couldn't be too difficult, right?

****

In the three weeks just before graduation. Shelley suddenly dropped whatever demented project she was conducting on the South Campus. She was still seen at times going to classes but she mostly disappeared from the Finley Student Center.

There was gloom one day when I was in The Salient office with Jeff and Peter. Jeff was particularly down because he had suddenly, in his senior year, been given access to almost unlimited no-strings-attached sex, and then just as suddenly it had been taken away from him.

He said, "Man, it really sucks how she just disappeared."

I said to him, "You're not fooling yourself that she was a girlfriend, are you?"

That was the wrong thing to say and I instantly regretted it. "That's not really the point," he replied.

I had heard colleagues at the paper, including Jeff, say that they were looking for a "girl" or "girls" but not necessarily a "girlfriend." I thought I understood the distinction but I was in no position to judge them now.

He continued, "She gave me ass, gave me a lot of it." He never mentioned it, but our friendship has been strained because I had had several girlfriends during a period when he had none at all. Shelley perhaps had taken him on as a charity case and given him pity fucks while she developed a distaste for me. I should fix him up with somebody, but I don't have a single candidate in mind.

Peter had his own opinion, "I do miss her too; she was the cheapest poontang I ever had. I mean cheap as in completely free."

He continued reminiscing "The best chick before her was this Sandy Hausman from my old neighborhood. I got laid after buying her two slices of pizza and two Bud Lights. It was tough doing it in a VW Beetle though; I had to lower the top to have any room to maneuver."

I knew he had such a vehicle but I was often skeptical of what he said, "Where did you even find a place to park and do that with the top down?"

"It was up in Pelham Bay Park; it was nighttime, about 11:00 PM. It was right next to that Rice Stadium. There's hardly any working lights in that place."

I was more sympathetic towards Jeff and I thought of something like, don't worry about that Shelley person, you'll find a nice girl who is right for you. That seemed like a dumb thing to say and I didn't quite believe it. I wished I had asked Michelle to set him up with one of her friends but that level of our relationship had ended a long time ago.

I guess I was lucky in that my girlfriend Donna had her own apartment. Yet there were times she liked being with me in the back of her car or my dad's car anyway. "It makes me feel, I don't know, bold, frisky," she had said. She had developed a few interesting role-plays involving cars.