The Jimmy Soul Memorial Party

Derek was back from London, and rumor had it he'd be taking over the room next door to Neil's from that weird Carol chick who'd lived there last semester.

Neil hoped so anyway. Fall semester without Derek had been far too tame, and his nerdy and straight-laced neighbor had been a constant reminder of that.. All through the January ritual of another goodbye with his high school buddies and soaking up the last hours of Southern California sunshine and embarking on the long slog back to the frozen Midwest, all he could think of was the wild Friday nights and studybreaks and contraband beers he and Derek and Nancy had shared last year, and what a wonderful improvement Derek would be over living next door to a nerd.

He had nothing against Carol really, but she was the worst sort of plain old bookworm, someone he was sure had spent her senior prom night at home with her nose buried in a book, the kind that made you wonder why bother going to college at all if you're never going to have any fun? At least it meant their end of the floor was nice and quiet when Neil felt like studying, which had been more often than usual last semester with him and Nancy broken up and with Derek gone.

Nancy...that was one advantage to Derek being gone, of course. She couldn't come by to cry on Derek's shoulder about Neil, and Derek couldn't whine to Neil about what a selfish fair-weather friend she was, and Neil didn't have to resist the temptation to just tell Derek to forget her like he'd been trying to do. Of course, maybe Derek had finally come out while he was in London, and then there'd be no more confusion with Nancy as to what he wanted. But then would that mean Nancy would be over all the time, dying to be Derek's fag hag?

On that note, Neil mused as the plane touched down at last, perhaps it wouldn't be so great living next door to Derek. Overhearing straight couples would be bad enough, but gay ones? But then, Derek still might not even be out to himself, Neil reasoned. He'd always been so deep in the closet he had one foot in Narnia, and why should that have changed just because he was overseas? But Neil would worry about that later.

The January air was frigid as ever as he stepped off the plane, and the concourse windows revealed nothing but gray beyond the tarmac, but Neil was cheerful as ever as he anticipated the usual clutch of his friends in the arrivals area, awaiting the bus back to campus. Sure enough, there they all were, clustered around a few rows of seats right by the auto rental stands. Neil smiled and waved hello at the half-dozen or so faces he recognized, but off to one side he spotted two familiar faces that promptly changed his course: Derek and his freshman-year roommate, Kent. They'd always made the oddest couple on campus, having fought like cats and dogs that first year, only to get along swimmingly once they no longer lived together.

They were deep in discussion just like those two always seemed to be when they were together, but Derek jumped up immediately when he saw Neil. "Hey, man!" he exclaimed.

"Fifty-one percent more fun!" Neil quipped as he stuck his hand out far enough to ward off a hug; he wouldn't mind Derek hugging him if he would just come out already, but he didn't want any more ambiguity in the meantime.

Regardless of all that, Derek shook his hand and made no effort at anything more than that. "Good to see you!" he said.

"Hi, Neil," Kent said, looking up from his seat.

"Hey," Neil replied. "So how was London?"

"A blast!" Derek said. "But it would've been fifty-one percent more of a blast if you'd been there to hang around the pubs with me."

"Are one of you children going to tell me what all this fifty-one percent stuff is?" Kent sniffed.

"I told you about it last year!" Derek reminded him. "Neil bought this energy drink someplace in town and the can said it had fifty-one percent more...what was it? Caffeine? Vitamins?"

"I don't remember," Neil said. "But yeah, it's just such a versatile phrase for all kinds of jokes, you know?"

"I don't," Kent said. "Sounds really old-boys-clubbish to me, all these inside jokes. Typical East Coast snobbery if you ask me."

"Neil's from California, Kent," Derek reminded him.

"It's all the same to an old-fashioned Iowan like me," Kent declared.

Derek ignored him. "Hungry, Neil? We've got three more hours to the bus."

"Denny's!" Neil said. "Wonder if our booth is free."

"Your booth?" Kent asked.

"Going to Denny's when we get back is a tradition for us," Derek explained. "We always get the same booth, coincidentally, months apart. And I could definitely use a Grand Slam right about now."

"Can I crash your party?" Kent asked.

"You can if you can keep your Midwestern inferiority complex to yourself," Derek said over his shoulder, as he followed Neil to the baggage claim.

"Just being honest," Kent whined. But he did drop the subject and listen in on Derek's adventures in England.

"I've heard classes are loads easier over there," Neil said as they traversed Airport Road.

"Guess again!" Derek said. "I mean, they don't have set reading schedules like we do, but that also means they expect you to absorb everything, just by 'dipping around', as they say, reading a little bit of every chapter. I will say my grades were a lot better there than they've ever been here, though."

"Like that's hard to do," needled Kent, who sported a 3.92 GPA and was a contender for valedictorian next year.

Derek ignored him. "I always figured the real education would be living on my own over there and getting to know the country. And that was awesome."

"Were the girls awesome?" Neil couldn't resist.

"I only had one fling, if that's what you mean," Derek said as they stepped up to the restaurant. "Mostly they were a little punk for my tastes. But they did like my accent, so there was that."

"Still waiting for the perfect English rose in a long skirt and tights, are you?" Kent asked.

"Exactly," Derek laughed. "And she wasn't there. But hey, no sad goodbyes at the airport that way."

"Oh, that reminds me," Neil said. "Are you living on my floor? I heard you were."

"Greene second?" Derek said. "Yeah, number 8214. I hope that's the big room overlooking the courtyard. I heard some senior graduated early."

"Aw, no, not 8219?" Neil asked.

"I don't think so," Derek said. "But so what?"

"And why did that remind you of that?" Kent asked.

They were pleasantly interrupted by the hostess, who was in fact able to give them Derek and Neil's favorite table, but Neil was only too happy to explain as soon as they were settled. "It reminded me because my next-door neighbor last semester was this gal Carol, she was like what you guys were describing. Really old fashioned and boring and nerdy, and I heard she was going abroad this semester.

"Carol Ritter?" Kent asked. "No, she's a bio major, she can't go abroad this semester. Gotta take genetics."

"Oh, that Carol," Derek said. "Yeah, nice gal. I'll be happy to have her around."

"You don't know her, Derek," Kent declared.

Derek's temper was saved by Neil chiming in with his patented laugh. "You keep track of Derek's friends, do you?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd seen him with Carol, and I never have. I do know the bio department pretty well, after all."

"Yeah, we had Professor LeClair's music history class together last year," Derek said. "She knew a lot about Motown and the Beatles, not as much as I did, but it impressed me all the same. We didn't talk a lot, but she always seemed like a nice gal."

"Professor LeClair?" Kent was incredulous. "Fran teaches biology, Derek. An actual useful major. She wouldn't waste her time on rock and roll!"

"No, her husband," Derek said. "Scott LeClair. He wrote a fantastic Chuck Berry biography, I read it last summer."

"Oh, him," Kent said. "Yeah, I keep forgetting. But look, Derek, don't get any ideas on Carol, all right? She's taken."

"Who said anything about that?" Derek said. "I just said it'd be nice to have her on our floor."

"Glad one of us thinks so," Neil said. "But Kent, she's taken? Who is this guy? I never saw him all last semester. I'm not sure if I saw anyone visit her."

"He goes to Harvard, I think," Kent said. "She told me all about him once. Even I wouldn't measure up to this guy, Derek. Way out of your league."

"I see some of us haven't changed a bit," Derek said to Neil, and they both laughed while Kent held the menu up to hide his frustrations. His lazy, immature ex-roommate would not be horning in on his territory, thank you very much!

Carol never had liked those awkward first hours back in the dorms after break. All the greetings and eager catching up going on all around her were an unavoidable reminder that she still wasn't a social butterfly and never would be. As one of the few students who lived within driving distance of their remote campus, she also tended to run headlong into the loneliness that came with getting back before the bus from the airport brought so many others in.

On the bright side, they did allow for some private time in her room. Privacy had been nonexistent as usual back home, with her three younger brothers and sisters running amok as always and Mom's strict insistence on no locks on the bedroom doors. So Carol's only time for playing was late at night when she was usually too tired to bother.

She made no pretense of waiting any longer than necessary once she was safe in her room with the door locked and the windowshade drawn. Her jeans were wet from shuffling through the snow from the parking lot anyway. She pulled them off eagerly right after her also-soaked shoes and socks, and hung them on her desk chair. After flipping on the radio to Oldies 105 to drown out the telltale noises she was all too sure she would make, Carol slipped her panties off and settled herself under the covers, and finally took her glasses off.

As she ran her fingers through her embarrassingly large bush, and contented herself with knowing there was no chance of anyone else seeing it anytime soon anyway, Carol closed her eyes and set the scene. There she was, a well-coiffed professor at a boys' school, all of the handsome young men arrayed before her in their coats and ties. Also dressed to the nines herself in a crisp blouse and an elegant pleated skirt, she set down her marker as the bell rang and asked, "Okay, whose turn is it for the shower?"

She giggled in anticipation as nearly every hand in the room shot up, and several of them pleaded out loud for her to choose them. But of course her eyes landed on the one young man in the front row who kept his hands folded on the table, looking down. "Steven?" she asked gently. "You haven't had a turn yet, have you?"

"N-no, ma'am," Steven told her. "But if it's someone else's turn..."

"Well, you certainly don't have to, you know," she said, ignoring the numerous other guys who were howling out loud for her to choose them. "But if it's only that you're shy, well, you know, I used to be shy, too."

"Did you, really?" Steven finally made eye contact in her imagination, while back in reality Carol's finger finally made contact with her clit. She wasn't sure if she was more turned on by the prospect of welcoming Steven to manhood, or by the idea of someone being surprised she had once been shy. She was, of course, resigned to always being a blushing flower in real life, but a gal could dream!

"Yes, really," Carol told him in her imagination. Then she said to the other guys, "Okay, class dismissed! It's Steven's turn!" They weren't happy, but they left, and Carol took Steven's hand and got him to his feet. "Now, we can take it slowly as you like, Steven, but it's been a long day and I'm set for a nice, hot shower. Are you?"

"S...surely, ma'am!" Steven stammered.

"Steven, you're going to see me naked in a moment. Call me Carol." She smiled and took him in her arms, and back in the real world, Carol wiggled back and forth against her pillow so the satin of her bra teased her hard nipples deliciously. A poor substitute for a big warm guy to press them against, but it would do.

It did, in any event, get her rubbing harder as she imagined herself ushering Steven into her teacher's quarters behind the classroom. A king-sized bed complete with an ornate canopy, lush decorations everywhere one looked, and at the far end of the room a marble shower behind a floor-to-ceiling window.

"It's true, then!" Steven whispered, looking around the lush, feminine surroundings.

"Of course it's true!" Carol told him, as she shrugged her blazer off and tossed it on the bed. "Help me off with my clothes?"

As she imagined Steven unbuttoning her blouse slowly and marveling at her breasts, Carol slowed her rubbing. She didn't want to come before she even got him to the shower, after all. Besides, having always known she was no great beauty and still bearing the scars of years of taunting from the boys at school about how utterly ugly she was, Carol never tired of imagining a man being dazzled at her body as he slowly brought it into view. Steven was a lovely specimen himself, of course, chiseled and broad-chested with a brilliant smile, but Carol focused a fair bit on her own appearance as well. In the teacher's lair, her frizzy brown hair turned to elegant chestnut curls framing her perfectly symmetrical face. Waiting beneath her blouse were two pert breasts with dainty nipples that would stand neatly at attention for Steven, nothing like the dumpy big boobs and fat nipples she'd had to learn to live with in the real world.

And of course, Steven knew how to caress and tease them just right, drawing a lusty moan from Carol both in her imagination and back in her room. The one man she had been with in real life had been too drunk to express any sort of opinion as he'd torn her clothes off, but that only made Steven's look of awe and lust all the sweeter. The slower, lighter touch was wonderfully frustrating as she felt her heart bursting with the pleasant embarrassment of Steven undoing her bra and unzipping her skirt. Carol held her breath and rubbed a little bit harder as she envisioned Steven finally pulling her panties down and finding himself at eye-level with her beautiful sparse triangle, nothing like the furry beaver in which both her hands were now pleasantly buried, and which her one and only ex had barely been able to look at, much less touch.

He looked up. "Can I..."

"That's what you're here for, Steven!"

She started rubbing faster again as she imagined his fingers gently exploring her vagina. Over the din of the Supremes on the radio, Carol imagined herself moaning loud enough to be heard next door, music or not. She imagined Steven naked as well by now, hard as a rock for her, and she imagined herself rubbing him energetically instead of herself, and his own passionate responses. Then she saw them embracing in the shower as the hot water splashed about them, kissing passionately, pressing him hard up against the glass, taking him inside her, humping him with utter abandon.

"Oooohhhh!" She couldn't quite stay quiet as she came, but she didn't care. With the winter blast outside and the quiet out in the hall and the lights of the radio casting a pleasant glow across her room, Carol sat up and took off her sweater and bra, and curled up under the covers for a nap.

She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when the muffled conversations in the hallway woke her up. But a look at the clock confirmed that the dining hall would be opening soon. She retrieved her underwear and sweater from the floor and put them on. Finding her jeans were still damp, she put on a pair of tights and her favorite skirt, and slipped on her loafers for the walk to dinner.

The bus must have just arrived, Carol saw when she opened her door, as several people were just arriving. These included her rather immature next-door neighbor, Neil, who gave her a cordial grin when he saw her. "Hi, Neil," she said as she pulled her door shut behind her, keeping her distance as always -- she'd heard far too many stories of how Neil treated every woman who showed any interest in him. Then, to her surprise, she noticed a familiar face behind him. "Oh, Doo Wop!" she said, smiling through a wave of nervousness when she realized who it was. "Back from London?"

"Yes, and I'm living here," Derek said, pointing at the second door down across the hall.

"Oh, that's great!" Carol said. "Now I can finally see that CD collection of yours, huh?"

"Anytime you want," Derek said, "Once I get them out of storage."

"Great!" Carol said. "See you around?"

"Sure." And he turned his attention to unlocking his new room as Carol was off to dinner.

"Doo Wop?" Neil said as soon as she was gone.

"One of the other guys in that music class we had together started calling me that, because I knew so much about fifties R&B," Derek explained. "She was really impressed with that, I remember. I'm not sure why."

"I'm not sure why you like that stuff either," Neil said. "Mister Saccharine Love Songs. But you do know all about them."

"Hey, it impresses women, as you see," Derek said.

So he still wasn't out to himself, Neil thought. Unless he wasn't really gay? But that didn't make any sense.

"So, are you and Nancy going to be like this for the semester?" Neil asked half an hour later over dinner, holding up two fingers pressed together.

"I don't see why," Derek said. "We were barely speaking to each other end of last year. You know she was convinced I had a crush on her."

"Did you?" Neil asked. "Look, we're not getting back together, so you can totally tell me now."

"Well..." Derek looked humiliated, but he nodded. "Yeah. But don't worry, I'm over it. I've seen her for the selfish bitch she is. Sorry."

"Don't be," Neil said. "Okay for you to say that, you were never with her. But she has been asking about you, you know, every time I see her it's 'How's Derek doing? I can't wait to hear about London!'" He mimicked her Southern accent just about perfectly, but then Derek reasoned he'd had plenty of practice hearing it.

"She could have e-mailed me," Derek said. "I even wrote to her over the summer and gave her my address and phone number, and never heard a word. That's why I didn't try again."

"Hmmm, she never mentioned that," Neil said.

"Doesn't surprise me," Derek said. "Have you been spending much time with her?" He recalled all too well how Neil had kept his distance last spring after the breakup, and how Nancy had whined about it incessantly with him and a few other friends.

Neil sighed. "Man, I've tried not to. But she's big on being friends again. I've been pushing her away as nice as I can, but she won't take a hint."

"Just like she pushed me away when she wasn't crying on my shoulder then," Derek said.

Neither of them saw Victor, the captain of the winter track team, until he'd clapped Derek on the back. "Doo Wop!"

"Hey, Victor," Derek said.

"How's London?"

"Beautiful," Derek said. "Rainy, but beautiful. When's practice start?"

"Wednesday," Victor said. "But you know the rules. No one's officially a member of the team until the ritual's done. Last weekend in January."

"What is it this time?" Neil asked. "Not the naked mile again, I hope!"

"It's been done," Victor said. "And it can't be switching locker rooms with the women again either. I don't want to get suspended. No, we've got a much better idea. A party at Jason and Barry's place."

"That sounds cool," Derek said. Jason and Barry, a pair of seniors on the team, had a swanky off-campus apartment and a taste for cocktails instead of beer.

"Glad you think so, Derek, because we named the party with you and your taste for old time rock and roll in mind. It's called the Jimmy Soul Memorial Party."