Chapter 10

It seemed to Kurt Wiley that he was the middle of a nightmare scene. He sat on the couch, a drink in his hand the third he had been given within an hour and in a chair in front of him there was Arthur Fleming, President of Funston College, talking, talking, talking endlessly talking, it seemed. On the couch next to Kurt, sitting so close that her thigh rubbed constantly against his leg, there was Thelma Andrews, still only half-dressed in the bra and shorts attire she had worn throughout the day.

"So you see," said President Fleming, "we recognized your ability and charm and rather set out to recruit you for this little endeavor of ours with the accreditation committee."

Kurt nodded and took more of his drink.

"The work won't be hard," Thelma Andrews said, running her hand along the back of the couch so that her arm rested fully on Kurt's neck. "As a matter-of-fact, I think you'll find it quite pleasant."

"And you'll be doing it all for good old Funston U," said Penny Smith who sat cross-legged on the floor.

"That you'll be doing, Buster," said Rodney Madden, also on the floor and sitting close to Penny.

Again, Kurt nodded. Again he swallowed more of the strong highball. And again he had the impression of being in the center of a confusing nightmare.

"And, darling, it's the most pleasant kind of blackmail," Thelma said, moving her fingers to the back of Kurt's neck and lightly massaging.

"Please, please," cautioned Fleming. "Let's not use that word. That's a very dirty word."

Kurt nodded.

President Fleming laughed a bit nervously, then raised his own glass and downed the remainder of the liquor that had been in it. He turned toward Penny and extended the glass to her.

"Would you, my dear?" he asked.

"Sure, Artie," Penny said. She bounced up, took the glass, then disappeared into the next room where, Kurt learned soon after entering Thelma's house, a full-sized bar stood in a corner.

"Let me see now," Kurt said. "All you want me to do is--" He paused and finished his drink.

"All we want you to do is seduce the lady chairman of the accreditation committee," Thelma said, finishing the sentence for him.

"Just that, eh?" Kurt asked, leaning forward and placing his glass on a cocktail table.

"That's all," said Fleming. "Just that, then remind her that you just might scandalize her if she didn't see fit to approve Funston College you know, accredit us, make us available for some of this grant money that's available."

"But she could always deny the affair," Kurt said.

"Ah, ah don't forget about the cameras we have rigged up," Thelma told him.

"Oh, yes. The cameras. I forgot about that." Kurt's head started to spin again. As a means of seeking quiet for it, he asked, "Just why did you pick me for this? Why me? I'm a brand new undergraduate."

"But a very pretty one," Thelma said, nudging his thigh with hers.

"And popular, too," Rodney Madden said. "Hell, you're one of the really big men on campus already."

"And you're bright," Fleming said, leaning forward in a way that made Kurt notice the flush that had come to the college president's face.

"What if I don't want to do this jazz?" Kurt asked.

"Let's not even consider that," said Fleming. "No, I think we'd better consider it," protested Thelma.

Kurt turned to her. He grinned foolishly.

She nudged him with her thigh again, at the same time running her fingers across his neck, then said, "You see, darling, we know how much it means for you to succeed at Funston. We know what it means to your father, too."

"My father? What's he got to do with this?" Kurt asked, turning a bit angry.

"Quite a bit," Thelma said. "You see, we've been in receipt of some letters from your father. He's very interested in how you're progressing. He's so worried. And lately, I understand he hasn't been too well."

"Dad. He's sick?" Kurt said, the words suddenly demanding.

"He wanted to keep it from you, Kurt," President Fleming said seriously.

"Yes," Thelma agreed. "He's so considerate. He didn't want you to worry about him. He wanted you to have your mind completely free in order to establish a good record at Funston. He has had a heart condition, you know."

"That was a long time ago," Kurt said, suddenly very worried.

"It-it flared up again," Fleming said.

"So you see," continued Thelma Andrews, "if your Daddy should hear from us that you've goofed up again goofed up even at a college like Funston, well, it's hard to say what effect it might have on that nasty old heart of his."

Tense with anger, Kurt said, "And if T don't pull off this little seduction of the accreditation committee chairman my Dad will hear that I've flunked out of this joint too, is that it?"

"Precisely," President Fleming said.

"Exactly," agreed Thelma.

Kurt looked at Rodney Madden, waiting for a remark from him too, but none was forthcoming. Madden, many drinks under his belt, had rolled to his side and was sound asleep.

"And just remember, Kurt, that you'll really be helping a lot of future students at Funston. Grants make more scholarships available, you know."

Kurt thought of Laura Standard. He wondered what she was doing. He wondered if he would ever see her again, ever be able to speak to her again. And as he thought of her, he realized that he had been wrong in hating her for her rejection of his physical love. There was something wrong. They should have worked it out together. Now and now it was too late.

"So, is the little business portion of our meeting over?" Thelma asked, touching at Kurt's neck again.

"Is it, Kurt?" Fleming asked seriously.

Kurt looked at him. Then he turned and looked at Thelma. Then he looked at the sleeping Rodney Madden. And then Kurt started to laugh. He laughed, roared, practically yelled a laugh of near-insanity as he considered the preposterousness of the situation.

"Does that laugh mean that you've joined our little plot?" Fleming asked.

"Yes, I've joined it," Kurt said, continuing to laugh. "I've joined it all right. Who knows, maybe I've always been a part of it."

"Good," Thelma said brightly. "Now we can have some entertainment."

"That's the word I've been waiting to hear," said Penny as she entered the room carrying several new drinks on a tray.

"Let's have some music," suggested President Fleming.

"By all means," agreed Thelma.

She pushed up from the couch, then reached her hand out for Kurt, saying, "Come on, stud let's make with the music, eh?"

He pushed to his feet. Then he allowed Thelma to lead him to a far corner of the room where an expensive hi fi rested. She stooped and picked up a stack of records. Her breasts nearly ran free of their halter. Kurt stared. Then Thelma placed the records on the spindle, turned the switch, and music soon floated through the room.

She turned toward Kurt. "Dance, baby?"

"Why not?" he said. "I can't get much more corrupted, can I?"

"Oh, yes you can," she said. "By me, darling. Teacher Thelma can corrupt like nothing you've ever seen before."

"Huh," he laughed rather drunkenly. "You just ended a sentence with a preposition imagine a teacher doing that."

"This teacher does a lot of things and I get a little careless and a little dirtier as the night wears on."

Kurt laughed.

"Come on, dance, damn it," she demanded.

Kurt opened his arms. Thelma hugged within their circle. She moved one hand up to the back of his neck and gripped him there. Then she moved her cheek close to his as she lurched her body forward, catching at the front of him, snuggling to him, burrowing for all her might against his hard body.

Kurt danced very slowly. He felt the indentations Thelma's breasts made against his chest. He felt her thighs knocking against his.

He felt her warm breath. And her hand caressing at his neck. He felt her thighs occasionally snuggle tighter against him. He felt all of this great sensuality and thought of Laura Standard, how he had once danced with her, how they, too, had clung together. But there was a difference, a very genuine difference, Kurt decided. With Laura, there had been the beginning buds of love. With Thelma, there was only sex. And he wondered why he had been so long learning the difference between the two. He wondered why he had let the two become confused, so confused that his entire young life had been misdirected, had been channeled toward pleasure alone and not the other things of life that counted.

The record ended. Thelma did not relax her hold upon him. Instead, she dropped her hand from his neck, let it dangle close to the press their bodies made at the waist, and lifted her parted lips toward his.

Kurt kissed her without thinking. But her shooting tongue made him come alert as it twisted within his mouth, making an imitation, he thought, of a woman writhing in passion beneath a man. Her tongue was the woman: His was the man. They spun together, first one dominant, then the other; first one as the aggressor, then the other taking his turn.

It was a very long kiss. A very sticky one. A very promising adventure of tongues and lips and clicking teeth. But finally they broke the kiss and their embrace. Broke it for a second while new music began. Then they moved to dance again, but Thelma halted them before they became entwined.

"My, God, we've just got to see this," she declared, turning from him and looking across the room.

Kurt weaved away from her a bit, then turned and looked in the direction that Thelma had indicated. The scene he witnessed was also from some mad nightmare.

The President of Funston College was naked. So was Penny Smith. They were both on the floor, only a few feet from the body of sleeping, Rodney Madden. And the president and the coed were involved in a long embrace, one that plastered their bare bodies against each other with the vitality of lions. Lips were glued together. Naked breasts were squashed against Fleming's chest. Legs were wrapped in an insane tangle. And hands roamed all over, touched at places that seemed beyond touchability. Penny's hands were locked on Fleming's bare buttocks. His were on Penny's buttocks, for awhile, then they moved, one between them to clasp at her breast, the other to massage at the small of her back. And Penny's hand moved again too.

"Man, oh, man, this is going to be something," Thelma breathed to Kurt without taking her eyes off the couple across the room.

Suddenly, it seemed that Fleming could stand no more of the play. He pushed away from Penny, then pushed against her until she was on her back. He scrambled to her side. He bent to lavish kisses at her throat and breasts, a lot of them there, playing them tongue-sloppy upon her until he tired of that area and deemed to move lower. Then lower still. And finally, very low, so low that he became lost within the softness of thighs, the arch and demand that they made, and the twisting of Penny's toes which seemed to beat a rhythm of that which she wanted.

Soon, amid a cry from her, Penny's hand reached out. It worked as a signal for Fleming. He whipped his body around until his feet stretched beyond Penny's head. Then, she sighed so that it could be heard clear across the room. And then the sound was gone, was replaced by the muffled noises that came from her as she bent to the pleasure of her president.

Kurt thought it amazing that they so quickly achieved an identical pace, each upon the other. Penny's head was a bounding flash of blonde curls and, astonishingly, that rhythm moved in perfect time to the clasp and unclasp her thighs made upon Fleming's eager-beaver, constantly working orality.

Kurt wanted to look away. He could not. The scene hypnotized him, not because of the sexuality, but because of the incongruity of the participants, because of what it stood for, because it was a part of plot and intrigue and deceit and the castration of higher education. And because it now involved him, too, involved him as much as any of the others.

Thelma's arm slipped around Kurt's waist. He felt the hot thump of her breast against his forearm. It burrowed. Her eyes were still on Fleming and Penny, but her body was upon him, ready for that approaching moment when they would free themselves as audience and become the actors in a sexual scene of their own.

"Man, oh, man, oh, man," Thelma breathed softly. "Are we ever going to be ready after this one."

Kurt did not answer.

"Well, aren't we?" she said, burrowing her breast hotter and harder against him, pressing with her hand where it hooked at his belt.

He still did not speak. But he nodded.

There was a stirring beyond where Penny and Fleming worked together. It was Madden, suddenly coming to life. The handsome young man shook his head, looked around, then centered his drunken gaze upon Penny and Fleming. Rodney Madden grinned.

"Oh, oh," Thelma whispered. "This is going to be something Rodney I've seen before."

Madden pushed to his feet. He staggered, straightened, started to fall, caught himself, and finally stood steady above the moving bodies of the coed and the president.

At first Kurt thought Madden was undressing and making ready to join the orgy. But after he slipped his belt out of the pant loops, Madden made no move to further undress. And then he doubled the belt, allowing the buckle-end to hang loosely like the head of a serpent in slumber.

Kurt flinched when Madden brought the belt buckle down hard in a double strike against the sides of Fleming and Penny. He expected to see the couple bolt from their action and take cover. But they did not. Instead, they groaned a delighted call and increased their efforts upon each other. Madden struck the belt against them both again, first Penny, then Fleming. Both of their bodies were gouged and bleeding, but it spurred them on to greater action.

Kurt felt Thelma's fingernails bite into his side as Madden began a series of blows upon the naked couple. Blood oozed, spurted, dribbled, and made a crisscross network of lines upon their tangled bodies. And as he struck them, Madden's face grew wet and glazed looking as if he were approaching his finale which was also to belong to the thrashing couple. Again and again he struck them, each time making them increase the speed of their action as if they were galley slaves pulling on oars upon command of a cracking whip. And suddenly and dynamically it was all in a final stage: the whip upon their bodies, Madden's glowing satisfaction at the damage he had caused, and the working, bounding, half-buried heads of Penny and Fleming.

The three of them cried out at exactly the same time. Then they cried again as each made a final strain upon the other. And then the three of them collapsed in a heap upon the floor, three tangled bodies, Madden, a student, Penny, a coed, and Fleming, the President of Funston College.

"Oh, honey, let's get going," sighed Thelma Andrews. "I can't wait another second."

She tugged hard upon Kurt's belt, urging him toward the foyer.

He hesitated. Then he turned and followed her.