Chapter 11

Finally, the small town telephone operator made connection with the big city operator and after a few clicks and twirps, and gurgles, Kurt heard his father's voice.

"Dad-Dad, are you all right?" Kurt asked.

"Son is that you, Kurt?" The voice sounded tired, but happy.

"Yes, Dad. It's me."

"By George, it's good to hear from you boy," the old man said. "Hey, what made you call anyway. You in jail, or something."

"No. I'm not in jail, Dad," Kurt said, smiling cynically.

"Well, why in the hell haven't you written," the father demanded to know.

"Well I've I've been busy, Pop."

"Studying, I hope."

"Yeah, studying, Pop."

There was silence. Then a cough. Then the voice again, saying, "You sure about that, eh?"

"I'm sure, Pop." Now it was Kurt's turn to pause and cough.

"You got a cold, Kid?" the old man asked. "No, I'm all right, Pop," Kurt said. "Listen, Pop."

"Yeah."

"Are you all right?"

There was a pause, then Joe Wiley said, "Sure I'm all right. What makes you ask?"

"I haven't heard from you," Kurt answered lamely.

"What the hell, haven't they got a United States Post Office in that goddamn burg," he wanted to know. "I've written you a couple of dozen letters."

"I got them, Pop."

"But haven't answered them, eh?"

"Not yet."

"Don't bother." Joe Wiley's tone sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry, Pop."

"Don't be. It's not important."

"It is, too, damn it," Kurt blurted. "And I'm telling you that I'm sorry." He paused, forced himself to calmness, then said, "Pop, I called to see if you're all right."

"Joe Wiley is always all right, I'll have you know," the old man said.

"I mean have you been sick, Pop?"

"A little," he answered after a fumbling hesitation.

"Your heart?"

"Yeah, the same damn thing."

"How bad are you, Pop?"

A hesitation, a gruff sound, then, "What the hell do you want to know for? Getting ready to take over the business and bank accounts, eh?"

"Sure, if that's what you think," Kurt said cruelly, unable to keep anger from his tone.

"That figures." He hesitated, then, in a softer tone, said, "You're doing pretty well down there at Flunk-out U., eh?"

"Not bad."

"Good. Glad to hear it, Kid. Think you'll pick up enough to get back in State next semester?"

"Maybe."

"Just maybe?"

"Yeah. Listen, Pop. Damn it, listen to me, will you?"

"That's what I'm doing, Kid."

"I mean really listen to me. Okay?"

"Okay. Shoot."

"First, are you all right? What's happened? What do the doctors say?"

"They say for you not to start counting the cash yet, goddamn it."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. That sure as hell upsets my plans for a trip around the world," Kurt blurted out, hating himself for saying it, but unable to restrain the words.

This time there was no sound from Joe Wiley on the other end of the line.

"Dad. Dad, are you there?"

"Same place I was a second ago," Joe Wiley finally said.

"Have you been in the hospital?" Kurt asked.

"For observation. Just a couple of days. I'm supposed to stay home and rest a week or so."

"Are you doing it?"

"What?"

"Resting."

"Hell, no. I went to the office today. If I did every stupid thing these cracked-up medics wanted me to do I'd be laying in the sun in Florida with a broad like you do all the goddamn time."

Kurt gulped. Anger lessened. His father's hostile words had hints of health in them. "So, rest, Pop, if you can," Kurt said softly.

"And how do I rest with a son at Flunk-up

U?"

"Flunk-out. Funston, to be more precise," Kurt said.

"Flunk-up Flunk-out Funston it's all the same to me. Now, kid, you've got to keep to the grindstone, do you hear?"

"I hear."

"You do it!" he commanded. "I'll try."

"Do better than that, goddamn it, you hear?"

"Pop, I've got to go. I I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I am. Just don't give me no excitement that's what the cracked-up doctors say."

"Okay, Pop. No excitement."

"And write me, do you hear?"

"I will."

"I don't believe you."

"I will, Dad."

"What did you say."

"I said that I would."

"What."

"Write."

"Do it, goddamn it," Joe Wiley said, his voice rising excitedly.

"Pop I'm I'm late for a class."

"Since when did that worry you."

"Never. But I've got to go anyway."

"Okay, kid. You take it easy."

"You, too, Pop."

There was an awkward pause as each of them stumbled over another farewell, trying to decide who should be the first to break the connection. Finally, Kurt hollered another goodbye, then quickly slammed the receiver back on its hook. He was perspiring and felt exhausted, yet he was disinclined to leave the shelter of the outdoor telephone booth. Finally, he did, however.

Kurt glanced at his watch, then headed away from the class that was meeting in one of the buildings. He walked quickly, and directly, in the direction of his cottage.

As he long-strided across the campus, Kurt Wiley tried not to remember the previous evening, tried to blank out the figures of Arthur Fleming, Penny Smith, Rodney Madden, Thelma Andrews and even himself. He tried to make a blank of the last twenty-four hours; tried to make the future twenty-four also a blank that he would not think about, only face as he needed to. But he could not blank out all that awaited, the arrival of the accreditation committee, the role that he was to play in the blackmail scheme. He could not help but think about it. And get sick over it. And wonder how he had become so deeply involved in insanity. And that's exactly what it was, he decided. Insanity. Pure insanity that a president of a college should scheme to have his school accredited: Insanity that he should be assisted by a faculty member and young people of the student body. Insanity. Fantastic. But true. Terribly, terribly true. And what if he did not go through with it? he asked himself. What then? He felt somber as he thought of his father, what excitement could cause him, and the threats that had been made by Arthur Fleming and Thelma Andrews.

Very soon, Kurt was at the door of his cottage. He pushed the unlocked door open, then stepped inside. He was glad for the seclusion of his own quarters, for here he could stay, remote from everyone, hidden, away from all the world until he went into it in a few hours as the villain of a plot, as a blackmailer and the seducer of an accreditation committee chairwoman.

He pushed the door shut behind him. He leaned against it for a moment. Then he pushed forward, heading for the kitchenette where he would make the drink he so badly needed.

Kurt had walked half way across the room before he saw Laura Standard curled up in the corner of a big chair. At first he thought she was asleep. But then he saw the bright eyes and the movement of the curves of her body as she uncurled and he knew that she was awake. Awake and real. Very real, indeed.

"Hi," she said, swinging her legs to the floor but remaining seated in the chair.

"Oh. Hi," he said, sounding foolish and knowing it.

"I I wanted to see you, Kurt," Laura said. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

"It's-it's important to me," she said. "Very important."

"Sure," he said. Then he quickly added, "Go ahead, sit down, get comfortable."

"I am sitting," she laughed. "I I was afraid I'd miss you. So So, I just came in and waited."

"Glad you did," he said. "Hey, how about a drink?"

"No thanks," she said.

"Oh."

"But you go ahead and have one if you want," she told him.

"Oh, no that's all right. I didn't want one," he said.

She smiled. Then she said, "Why don't you sit down, Kurt?"

"Oh, yeah. Guess I will. Thanks for asking me."

Laura laughed. In a moment, Kurt laughed too. But for him it was short-lived. He knew what awaited him. He could not avoid it. And he shouldn't even delay it by being with Laura now. That would only make it harder, he decided. But he could not keep the joy of her presence from making his heart skip beats and do joyous somersaults.

Laura maneuvered herself in the chair and settled as if she were preparing for a long talk. She crossed her legs and Kurt noticed that there was a flash of bare flesh for a second before she smoothed her skirt over her knees.

Finally, Laura said, "Kurt I just had to talk to you."

He nodded, but did not speak.

"So many things have been happening," Laura continued. "I've been terribly confused. About everything. And I I wanted to apologize for the way I acted when when...,"

Her sentence died unfinished. She lowered her eyes, even turned her head a bit as if embarrassment still swamped her.

Kurt remembered the way he had taken her on the beach, the way he had fought her in order to know her sex. He remembered her anger and his own. He remembered every second of it, remembered, too, that there had been little satisfaction because the act had been without love. He wanted to look away, too. But he did not. He looked at Laura and waited for her to continue.

"You see, Kurt," Laura said, "we haven't known each other very long or anything and sometimes there are things about people that just show up strangely. But all that doesn't matter what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for the way that I acted. I-I never gave you a chance-none at all, and I'm sorry."

A warm glow swept over Kurt and he said, "You know, just a little while ago I was thinking about the same thing how sometimes we don't give other people a chance. I was talking to my Dad on the phone and--"

He stopped abruptly.

"Go on, Kurt," Laura encouraged.

"No, it's not important not really."

The good feeling left Kurt almost as quickly as it had taken him, for he thought or what he waited to do as a part of the Funston College plot against the accreditation committee. He knew that he was rotten knew that he had not, and probably never would, change.

Laura pushed up from the chair. Kurt glanced at his watch.

"Do you have to go somewhere?" she asked. "No. Not yet."

Her eyes lowered to the floor and Kurt knew that her expression was now one of disappointment. He looked at all of Laura's body. She was dressed in a blouse that was quite open at the throat. The outline of her upper breasts showed a bit as she breathed. And because the blouse was solidly tucked into a light, short skirt, her waist looked smaller than ever. Kurt thought how she seemed both soft and strong, one to whom love should be made slowly and articulately even while her strength responded to it.

"Maybe I should go now," Laura said, her voice showing the disappointment that her expression had announced.

"Stay for a little bit," Kurt said. He hadn't intended to ask that, he knew that it was wrong for him now to have anything to do with Laura Standard. Still, the words had come spontaneously.

She raised her eyes and looked at him. Then she took a step closer to him.

When she was immediately in front of him and the eyes were looking into his own, conveying many things Kurt was sure that he would never see in Laura, he again thought of Laura's untouchability. He wondered what had made her change. Then he knew that it didn't matter, that it had come too late for he was already involved in too much and therefore could be no part of Laura.

"Kurt?" she asked, looking up at him, her eyes wide and curious. "Yes."

"Can't we start over pretend that we didn't have bad experiences behind us. Pretend that we were fresh and new. Kind of start over. Can't we, Kurt?"

"Start over," he said, again thinking that it was too late for him.

"Yes. Like--"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like pretend that we were starting over right from that point when you and I were in this room before when you--"

"Yes," he said quickly, hoping that she would end the sentence the way he wanted.

"When you, you kissed me," she said very softly, very much like a little girl.

"You-You want me to kiss you?" he asked.

She raised her hand to his chest. Her eyes rounded. Her lips parted slightly.

"Do you want me to do that, Laura?" he asked.

"If you want to."

"I do."

She smiled faintly.

"Yes, I do, Laura," he said, the words coming quickly now. "I do maybe just this once because I'm not what you think I am or rather I'm as rotten as you know I am. Still once to start over again. Yes--"

Laura moved a little closer and Kurt stopped his flow of words. The fragrance Laura cast was very light but still intoxicating for Kurt. He brought his hands to her shoulders. For a moment, he just held her before him, feeling heat come to his fingers while he tried to determine if it was created by her, or by himself, or perhaps a combination of both of them.

A slight tremble raked Laura, and as Kurt felt it transferred to his fingers he had the thought that she was going to break away and run from him again. But she did not. Instead, she brought her body forward and crushed against him as her face raised high and she parted her lips more passionately.

Their kiss was soft at the beginning. It was caressing, too, for each of them took a lot of time whisking against the other's lips, at the undersides and across the full outline of them. But as their bodies strained for greater closeness, their kiss hardened too. Their tongues became stiff as they took turns shooting deeply within each other's mouth, as they met in combat then caressed to heal the love-wounds they had caused.

When they finally pulled their mouths apart, it was not a true parting. It was a means of greater closeness. Kurt strained Laura to him. He could feel the sharpness and heat of her breast ends as they worked against his chest, as she thrust them against him, then cuddled in a motion that found her undulating her shoulders and pressing tighter and tighter and tighter. Kurt's hands moved from her back to her buttocks. He pinched and kneaded and very soon Laura joined his rhythm and her hips circled as she continued to press against him. And then Laura's hands moved, too. One loosened its hold on Kurt's neck so that the fingers could play lightly there. The other dropped to the side, then moved between their bodies to make that grasp that would soon bare them and join them.

They strained together and kissed as long as they could endure it, then they broke apart. Their expressions were wild as they faced each other; wild with desire and love and the urgency of their need. Quickly, they undressed. Their eyes trained on each other, then reacted to the glory of nakedness. Laura's grew wide and more excited looking: Kurt's caressed over all of Laura's body, touching at her naked breasts and nipples, at her flat belly, good thighs, curvaceous legs; even the red-painted toenails.

When they embraced again, both of them moaned the excitement they felt for the other's naked body. And again Kurt's hands worked; one at Laura's breasts, the other at her buttocks. Laura's hands were active, too, pinching, trailing a caress, then finally between their bodies again where she made hard, working movements that threatened an end before they had begun.

Kurt saved them from this tragedy. He pushed Laura away from him, then stooped, lifted her and carried her to the couch. Gently, he merged her naked body with the leather of the couch. Then he kneeled at her side. They kissed again. Then Laura's hand reached out and insisted upon a new hold. Kurt raised a bit. He allowed Laura to make the grasp, then discovered that it had been made only to guide him. She pulled, gently urging him higher and to her.

Kurt straightened, then pushed to the couch. He hesitated, but there was no delay in Laura. She pulled and jerked, insisting upon his quick joining with her. He arched deeply, then lowered, pushing hard as Laura's hand placed him, then released him.

"Darling, darling, darling," he muttered.

Their bodies hit hard against each other. Staying joined, Kurt crashed all of his strength to Laura. She received him and exerted fantastically, straining in a high arch, then lowering, then snapping upward again. And again. And again and again and again.

Kurt's head spun when he felt the first signs of drain upon him. But he aided it, slamming hard to his love in an effort that hurried him even as it called forth Laura's own release.

At the end, there was no stopping them. They raced as if their lives depended upon it. Kurt's hands slipped under Laura and gripped her buttocks. Her hands lowered to his hips and duplicated his touch and kneading and jerking drive. And then, like a sudden opening in the earth and sky, release was upon them. They pounded, cried out, bit hard at each other's shoulder, drove still harder and squeezed the last ounce of their love to its final giving.

Kurt's head reeled, so great was the jumble of his emotions, so sincere the realization of his love for Laura Standard. But as they rolled apart to rest, the scorn of his conscience came upon him and made him sad, for he knew that this new found love and sincerity would soon be gone. He had an evil mission to be fulfilled, one that when completed would leave him as he was; useless, irresponsible, pleasure-bent and without hope of ever winning a girl like Laura.

Kurt glanced once at Laura's resting body. Then he turned away, duplicating by gesture the end of their love the end that he would soon know.