Chapter 2
It was dusk when Kurt Wiley roared his Jaguar through the small town that preceded the Funston College campus by several miles. Viciously, he gunned his motor at a traffic signal and looked to the side. The heads of townspeople did not turn to view the sleek automobile. They continued about their business; shopping, a druggist washing a store window, young people strolling hand in hand. Kurt gunned the motor again. Still, heads did not turn to wonder at the beauty and power of the rich. Kurt was puzzled. Then he looked again and saw that a number of cars, fully as expensive as his own, were parked along the curb of the small town. He grinned a bit cynically as it came to him that wealth was nothing new to this town, that Funston College attracted the rich the rich and inefficient and that the symbols of wealth were as familiar to the town as were the mountains that circled it.
The traffic light changed to green. More subdued, Kurt accelerated and shot the car forward.
Funston College nestled snug within the surrounding mountains as if it were a secret. And it was to a large extent. It existed; everyone of any college experience at all knew of it, yet it managed to remain aloof and evasive of public scrutiny. It was well that it did. Funston was not the ideal of hard-working high school students who dreamed the dream of higher education. Nor was Funston for their parents who sacrificed to pay their way. Funston was for the rich, the lazy, the irresponsible and disinterested. Funston was the stop after expulsion: it was the home for the children of wealthy parents vacationing in Europe, in Reno for a divorce, or busy with a social life that excluded their off-spring. Funston was for fun and only the motions of study. No one failed. No one was ever expelled, except when for some reason or other the fantastic tuition was not paid. Or when a coed got pregnant and a boy accused. And then it was only for convenience, not because of college rules.
Kurt Wiley thought of all these things as he approached the college he was to call alma mater. And he thought of his father, too. He remembered their parting the day before, recalled how the old man's eyes had watered as they shook hands. Kurt remembered his own feeling at that moment, too. He hated to admit them, but he could not help but remember them. He had felt sad. Yes, truly sad. And for a few minutes he wished that he had turned out to be a different kind of son for the hard working, two-fisted millionaire who had once been a penniless bricklayer. But he had not, so to hell with it. He was dedicated to fun and Funs-town was the place to have it, so to hell with everything else, with vows to the old man, with remorse for his last caper, to hell with everything but the moment and what it offered.
Kurt braked his car at the entrance of the campus. A large iron gate faced him. To the right, there was a statue: bronze, and unusually tall. Kurt edged his car close enough to read the inscription on the plaque beneath the statue. He read it, and grinned, then read it again. "Hep Funston 1909 1949 Founder of Funston College Go Ye Forth And Live It Up"
The inscription seemed incredible. So did the figure, for it was of a fairly young man, a wicked, hp-smacking expression on its face, and with the right hand extended in the way of an invitation to enter the gate.
Kurt roared a laugh. Then he gunned the Jaguar's motor and entered the campus.
The parking lot was impressive. So were the cars that filled it. And so were the several coeds Kurt passed on the way to the lot. Tight-shorts clad, breasts halter-held, they were unmarked by academic appearance except for the books they rather casually held tucked under their bare arms. They all smiled as he had driven past them. A few winked. Three had offered a friendly salutation, and one had extended an immediate invitation, which, sadly, turning his face into a look of dejection, Kurt had declined with a shake of his head.
As soon as he braked the car and cut the-ignition switch, Kurt leaned back and sighed. It had been a long trip. He had made it with only a few stops, feeling as he drove that he must hurry and get to Funston before he changed his mind. Or before something or someone prevented his arrival.
Kurt clicked open the door and pushed out of the car. He stretched, then yawned, then stretched and flexed his muscles again. And then he walked out of the car and in the direction of the building that he assumed to be the administration building, that place of I.B.M. machines that would enlist him as a student of Funston.
He had left the parking lot and was well past a hundred yards in the direction of the building when a tall, crew-cut youth of about his own age passed him, hesitated, then swung fully around and detained Kurt.
"Hey, there," the youth called. "You're new here, aren't you?"
Kurt swung around to face the tall boy. "Yes. Just arrived, for that matter."
The boy grinned. It was a good smile, but there was something evil in it; something evil, and a little egotistical. His hair was so blonde that his scalp showed through it. And Kurt noted with a glance that the boy's slacks were the most expensive kind, that his loafers were imported and that his sweater was hand knitted.
Before the boy's grin faded, he walked a step closer to Kurt and extended his hand. "I'm Rodney Madden. What school did you flunk out of?"
"State," Kurt replied, shaking the hand. "And the name?" Madden asked. "Kurt Wiley."
"Wiley?" the boy inquired. "Wiley Construction Company, eh?"
"Right. That's my father."
"Mine's Madden Automotive but I guess you knew that, eh?"
"Not exactly," Kurt said.
"Oh. Well, welcome aboard. I'd show you around but I'm late for a date."
"I'll make it all right," Kurt said. He nodded ahead and added, "That is the Administration Building, isn't it?"
"Right. But don't be in a hurry to register if you're not up to it. Nobody will care. Things are a little casual around here."
"So I've heard," Kurt commented.
Madden gave him a quick look. Kurt sensed that it was a reprimand of some kind.
"Well, see you around, Wiley," Madden said.
"Yeah. Around," Kurt answered.
They looked at each other for a moment, then parted, moving in opposite directions.
The steps to the entrance of the Administration Building were steep. Kurt accomplished them slowly, thinking that at another college they would represent the hard climb upward toward success. But at Funston they were merely steps, to be taken one at a time until the mysteries at the top were discovered.
The first mystery that Kurt discovered inside the building was a remarkably pretty girl in shorts, sitting with her legs crossed in a one-armed chair. She smiled. She uncrossed her legs. Her eyes swept Kurt's hard body.
"Where do I register?" Kurt asked, his own eyes busy traveling her body.
"Down the hall and to the right. You can't miss it. It's the room with double doors."
"Thanks," he said.
"You're new, aren't you?" she asked, purring the words prettily.
"Brand new," he answered.
"How nice. I'm Penny Smith." She inhaled, causing exciting things to happen to her breasts.
"I'm Kurt Wiley."
"Hummmm, that's a nice name. I think I like that." She exhaled, making her blouse peek open so that Kurt could see much of her breasts and the dark crevice between them.
"Glad you approve," he laughed, his eyes steady on the open throat of the blouse.
"If you need any help getting settled, just let me know," Penny Smith said. "Or, for that matter, if you need any help period, I'd be glad to oblige."
Kurt gulped and nodded, then, regret showing in the slowness of his motion, he turned and headed down the long corridor. He felt the girl's eyes on him as he moved. He was sure that they cast heat in his direction for he felt suddenly swamped with perspiration. But he continued walking. He did not look back. He was sure that he would be seeing more of Penny Smith.
Kurt paused outside the double doors that were marked with a sign above them indicating that this was the place for new students to report. He looked to the right and left of the corridor, saw a number of students milling about, a few moving as if anxious to be free of the rooms they had just left. All of the students he saw were attractive, both girls and boys. All seemed familiar with money and the better things of life. And for the first time that Kurt could remember, he felt a lessening of confidence within himself. For the first time in his twenty years he was not different because of his wealth. Instead, he was the same, perhaps even a little less affluent than the rest of the student body at Funston College. It was an odd feeling for Kurt. He wasn't sure just what it meant to him. Then he stopped thinking about it and entered the room.
A high counter fronted the entire room. Beyond it, there was no one that Kurt could see. It made him feel strange. The registration room was the place that bustled with activity at every college, both during semester registration and at all other times. Yet, this room seemed empty of people, a kind of vacant spot as if it had been forgotten.
Kurt walked to the counter and leaned upon it. Then he coughed, not politely, but loudly. When there was no response, he coughed again, this time making his chest heave in a regular spasm. And this one did it. There was a noise from one of the offices at the rear of the room. There was the noise, then there was the girl, frowning, looking disturbed, and approaching him.
Kurt was surprised with the girl who was obviously a coed. She was different than the others he had seen. This girl, dark hair tied in a long pony-tail, and wearing the rather conventional sweater and skirt coeds of other colleges usually wore, approached in a businesslike manner. And she was not what could be called a beautiful girl. For one thing, the glasses that she wore concealed the actual color of her eyes. Kurt guessed that they were gray or green, or perhaps a combination of the two. Her hair was dark, near-black. Her body was good but there was no accentuated sway of her hips or hyper-active bouncing from her breasts which, Kurt was sure, were restrained by a proper fitting bra. It seemed odd. He was sure that this girl owned the only bra on campus.
"May I help you?" the girl asked when she stopped in front of Kurt.
"Yes." He judged her height to be about five feet six inches for her head was on a level with his chest, and making a quick subtraction from his own six foot height he arrived at the five and a half figure.
"Well?" the girl inquired, raising her eyebrows that Kurt observed were as dark as her hair.
"Oh, yes. Well, I'm new," Kurt explained. "Obviously."
"And I want to register."
"Register?" she asked.
"Yeah. You know, sign all those papers; insurance forms, schedule of classes the jazz that goes with matriculating."
"Oh, you want to attend classes here, is that it?"
"Yeah if you've got any."
"Oh, we have classes," the girl said. "What kind do you want?"
Kurt cocked his head to one side. "You mean there's much of a choice?"
"Not much," she said. "Are you going to work for a degree?"
"Well, I'd kind of like to, if it's all right," he said, drooling the words sarcastically. "But first I'd like to strengthen my credits so I can get back in State."
"Oh, you're a flunk-out?"
"Yeah. That's me." The girl did not smile and Kurt wished that he had not let temptation get the better of him.
"I think maybe you ought to see a student advisor."
"Sounds interesting. But first, what's your name?"
She looked into his eyes, then glanced away. Kurt thought he saw the hint of a blush, too. And this, he guessed, was as unusual around Funston College as was the girl's conservative appearance.
"Come on, I won't bite," Kurt said, smiling at her.
"My name is Laura Standard," she replied, raising her head and tilting her chin a bit defiantly.
"That's a very pretty name," Kurt said. "Do you work in the office here?"
"Yes. Part time. I'm-I'm on a scholarship."
"A scholarship!" Kurt exclaimed. "I didn't know Funston gave scholarships. And who in the world would take one?"
"I did," Laura answered, tilting the chin again, this time as if it were a defense against something.
Kurt looked at her and shook his head. He was about to inquire further, for the girl interested him, partly because she was so incongruous to the place, and partly because she was a girl and attractive, even if not beautiful, but just as he readied to speak a feminine voice called from the office at the end of the room.
"Laura, will you come here, please?" the voice said.
. Laura's eyes rounded, then she turned and hurried to the office. For a few moments, there was the buzz of conversation. Then it was quiet. And then Laura returned to Kurt, looking, he thought, a bit embarrassed.
"Miss Andrews will see you," Laura said. "We don't have regular advisors, but some of the faculty members kind of double in that capacity."
"And Miss Andrews is a faculty member?" Kurt asked.
"Yes." The girl paused, then said, "She's in the end office."
Kurt nodded, looked for an opening in the counter, found none, then said, "What do I do, pole vault over?"
Laura half-smiled. "No, this way, please."
Laura Standard walked to the end of the counter, then clicked a catch and opened a section of the counter. Kurt walked through it. Laura nodded toward the office he was to attend. He nodded, then walked to the rear of the room.
The office door was partially open. Kurt debated tapping, then decided against it and pushed open the door.
The woman, who appeared to be about thirty-six years old, smiled at Kurt as soon as he appeared inside the office. Kurt smiled back. He felt like a boy a naughty boy presenting himself for punishment. But the woman seemed hardly the type to deliver it. She was fabulously built with large breasts, a narrow waist, and flaring hips. Clean, bare, lean legs were crossed at the thigh. The position revealed was also clean and bare and looked very supple. She wore a dress that Kurt decided was silk, for it fit her snugly and revealed every curve and crevice of her exceptional body. Her breasts were fully rounded at the bodice. The nipples were hard and dotted their middles. But more than even her body, there was a wild, wanton look in her eyes and mouth that made Kurt think of every sexual experience he had ever had all those, and the many he hoped to experience in the future. The teacher was one of the most sexually enchanting women Kurt had ever encountered.
"Hello," she said pleasantly. "I'm Thelma Andrews." She did not stand up or offer her hand, but she kind of grew, as if by means of the quick intake of breath she accomplished, an intake that made her seem rather gasping and sexually aware of the closeness of a male.
"How-do-you-do," Kurt replied, nodding, trying not to view the bare flesh of her breasts that was revealed to him.
"Come. Sit down. Let's talk," Thelma said, nodding to a chair at the immediate right of her desk. She pushed her own swivel chair further away from the desk and waited expectantly.
Kurt claimed the chair. He started to sit on its edge, but because the action put him in such close proximity to Thelma Andrews body, he decided against it and lounged back. This position wasn't much better. It made him seem reclined as if to receive her. Kurt wondered at his concern for such things. He had hardly been shy during his young life, nor had he been inclined to turn back from closeness to any attractive woman. And Thelma Andrews was attractive, he decided. In a most ui .usual way. In the way that made his temples pound and his mind buzz. He tried to decide if it was the wild mouth, the sensual eyes, or the long flowing black hair that excited him to think of strange sexual situations. He couldn't tell. Or, he reasoned, perhaps it was a combination of all these things that cast the lady professor in the image of a wild and sexual female.
"You're from State, aren't you?" Thelma Andrews asked sweetly.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Your file arrived this morning. As a matter-of-fact, I was glancing through it when you appeared outside my office." She paused, then said, "Isn't that a coincidence?"
"Yes, it is. Well, I guess you know, Miss Andrews that my record isn't much. I'm at Funston to get enough work behind me so I can get back in State."
"Oh, you've just arrived and already you're talking about leaving," Thelma cooed. "What a shame."
"Yes. Well--"
"But I do know how it is with you, Kurt," she said. "And believe me, all of us here at Funston College will cooperate to the best of our abilities. And we have considerable ability, I might add."
Kurt nodded. He felt uneasy. There was a tone to the conversation that made him think that he and his advisor were talking about things other than academic issues. There was an undertone to their words that provided any interpretation he cared to make. And with Thelma Andrews, sixteen years his senior and only inches away, the undertones that Kurt read, and chose to read, were those of a sexual nature.
"I've been doing a little work on your program," Thelma said. She said it enthusiastically as if she were the cutest thing in the world. At the moment, Kurt thought that she was indeed that, probably much more.
"And I've outlined just the program I think you should take," Thelma continued.
"Thanks," Kurt said.
Thelma smiled, then leaned back in her chair, squeaking its swivel and boosting her body upward in a little arch that made the view of her hint at a woman on her back and waiting to be loved.
Kurt looked at the position and imagined exciting scenes. He did not speak.
"Don't you want to hear the classes I've outlined for you?" asked Thelma, a bit peevishly as if all her work was going unappreciated.
"Ah, oh, sure," Kurt stammered.
"Well, I've listed you for my two classes 'Being Natural' and 'Banish Inhibitions'. And you have to take biology and English, of course."
"Being Natural Inhibitions?" Kurt questioned, cocking his head.
"Yes. They're special classes at Funston. Quite experimental yet. They come under the heading of humanities and we expect that they'll be approved for full credit by the Northeastern Accreditation Board. They're due to approve us soon all of Funston. We've had a little difficulty in that area, as you probably know, but it's getting straightened out."
Kurt raised his hands indifferently and said, "The courses sound all right to me. When do I start?"
"Oh, there's no hurry," Thelma chattered at him. "The first of next week will be all right. Besides, there's a beach party tomorrow night that you'll want to get ready for you know, rest, get your strength back after your trip here all that kind of thing."
"Oh, sure."
"And the party will be an excellent chance for you to meet all the faculty and the student body. It'll be just gobs of fun really it will."
"I bet," Kurt said.
"And before I forget, you've been assigned one of the cottages all to yourself. The doubles and triples are all taken. Hope you don't mind."
"Oh, no. That's fine with me." He paused, then said, "Can I get settled there now?"
"Certainly. I'd show you to the place myself but I have a well, a luncheon date." She pushed forward in her chair then called past him.
"Laura-Laura, I want you, sweetie," Thelma Andrews called out.
In a moment the girl with glasses appeared at the doorway.
"Will you show Kurt to his cottage?" Thelma asked.
The girl did not speak. Her cheeks pinkened a bit, but she nodded agreeably.
Kurt stood up. So did Thelma Andrews. She did it in a special way that encouraged contact from her right breast with Kurt's left arm. It was a clever, intentional maneuver, one of the best Kurt had ever seen. And he knew that it was meant as a promise for future contacts, those that would be intimate and perhaps place him in the role of lover to a woman many years his senior. He wondered just how interesting that might be He wondered, then turned and followed the girl, Laura Standard, out of the office.