Chapter 10
It was the closest I had ever come to rape. I was completely out of control, and her wild swing with open palm only maddened me further. In another second I would be ripping her clothes off and forcing her legs apart. She hit me again, harder, and I let go of her.
She was staring at me in complete horror. I took a couple of steps backward. My jaw sagged open.
"Hell-I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I don't know what happened to me-"
She was still glaring at me. Then her legs gave way and she folded up on the bed, huddled in my pillow, sobbing like a wild woman.
I went over to her and put my hand lightly on her shoulder. "Carol, for God's sake, it's all right now. I just sort of went off my rocker for a moment. I-"
"Don't touch me," she croaked.
I felt like I was worth about two counterfeit Confederate cents. I stepped back. "Listen to me, Carol. I couldn't help myself, honest. I caught sight of you in the mirror and it sort of drove me nuts. But it's okay now. I'm sorry I went after you like that. Won't you believe I'm sorry?"
She got up and unrolled her wrung-out blouse, not even bothering to ask me to turn my back. I could see she was flushed and angry and a little afraid of me. She slipped into the blouse and buttoned it up. It was still pretty wet and transparent. She tucked the blouse flaps into her shorts. I looked at her and, angry as she was, I had to admit she was the best-looking girl I had ever seen. And pure. I couldn't blame Fred for getting so hipped on her. I was getting pretty hipped on her myself.
"Do you mind if I leave now?" she said.
I looked out the window. The rain had slacked off some, but it was still coming down pretty hard. "Hell, Carol, you can't go out in that."
"I can't stay here and let you paw me, either," she retorted. "Will you get out of my way or do I have to scream for help?"
"At least let me lend you a jacket."
"I don't want anything of yours."
"Don't be silly, Carol." I took one of my old jackets from the closet and handed it to her.
"You'll only be asking for pneumonia if you go out without a jacket. Here, take it."
She ignored it. I dumped it down on the bed. In my most sincere, anguished-sounding voice I said, "Carol, I know you re sore at me. Hell knows I acted like a chump-promising Fred I'd talk to you, and then making a pass at you that way. But honest, that wasn't what I planned to do. I didn't even dream you'd ever be coming up here. The way it happened, it happened all at once, you looking so wet and pretty-"
"If you're trying to apologize, skip it." But I could see she looked less angry.
"Do me at least one favor," I pleaded. "Don't say a word about this to anyone. Not to Fred and not to Chuck either. Will you?"
"It isn't the sort of thing I'd want to spread all over campus, you know."
"Fred would die. Positively die if he knew that his best friend had-had-well, you know."
"All right," she said coldly. "I won't breathe a word. Now can I go?"
"Take my jacket. You don't even have to give the damn thing back. It's an old one anyway. Just throw it away when you get back to your room. But I don't want you to get any wetter out there."
Frowning, she picked up the jacket and put it on. It fit her about as well as a medium size tent. Despite herself, she grinned at the way it enveloped her. "I'll return it tomorrow. Only I'll remember to wear my chastity belt when I come over."
"I'm really not that sort of fellow at all," I protested. "Hell, put yourself in my spot-you're me and there's a beautiful girl all wet and practically naked in your room-"
"I'd be a little better at resisting temptation. Did I hit you very hard?"
"I'll live."
"Too bad. I was trying to break your jaw." She pulled the jacket close around her and slipped her damp books into the pockets. "Good-by, Mr. Burnside. And thanks for a very pleasant half hour's company."
I looked down at my feet. I felt like an absolute worm. She opened the door and I glanced up, and it seemed like she was smiling a little, but when she saw me looking she remembered she was supposed to be angry with me, and her eyes once again took on the icy glare of the outraged virgin. Then she left, slamming the door.
I was so annoyed at myself I kicked my chair over, hurting my toe. I had sure made a bungle of things. Instead of pleading Fred's cause I had simply made a clumsy pass and gotten myself belted.
She wouldn't stay angry forever, I knew. It wasn't altogether my fault-the circumstances had been pretty damn provocative-and anyway any girl, no matter how pure she keeps herself, is secretly flattered by the thought that the sight of her bare shoulders and the upper couple of inches of her mammaries can make a great big male lose his head completely. Still and all, I hadn't exactly acted like a gentleman. If Fred found out he might easily try to kill me-or himself; and if Chuck found out, he would split a gut laughing. It would strike him as tremendously funny that I could get a girl into my room, get her to take her blouse off, and then get nothing out of the encounter but a couple of good socks across the face.
I righted the chair and glowered at myself in the mirror for a moment, rubbing the red places where she had slapped me. I didn't feel much like a man of the world just then. I felt like a ten-year-old who had tried to grab a kiss and failed.
The next morning on campus I ran into Chuck Gordon. "What's the news from your friend Fred?" he asked.
"Why?" I said cautiously.
"Just curious," he said. "I've made a date with his heart-throb for tomorrow night."
"I know. He told me. He's scared green. Why the hell do you have to go around despoiling virgins, Chuck?"
"It's my hobby. Anyway, if I don't do it someone else will-sooner or later."
"Do you think you'll make her tomorrow night?"
"Quien sabe? Personally, I doubt it," he said. "I get the impression that it's going to take a prolonged campaign to get that girl where I want her. But I can be patient. It isn't as though I'll be going without in the meanwhile."
I wanted to tell him that Carol knew how to use her hands in the defense of her honor, but I figured he might as well find that out for himself. "I still wish you'd leave her alone, Chuck."
"Why? You interested?"
To some extent I was. But I didn't tell him that. "Lambert's all hipped on her. He wants to marry her. But he won't if you get to her first."
"He won't anyway," Chuck said. "She thinks he's a nothing. I'll just be saving him the trouble of mooning over her for the next three years." Changing the subject quickly, he said, "How are other things working out for you? I hear you slept over at Paula Garson's."
"News travels fast, eh?"
"I was there the next night, and she told me." He grinned. "Paula's bringing a girl Saturday night to fill one of the vacant slots. Soph named Bea Mannheim. Paula swears she's cherry."
"Really?"
"The initiation ought to be some fun. See you around, kid." He socked me on the arm and vanished in the general direction of the Daily office.
I spent the next half hour wondering just how and why a virgin girl would be requesting admission, to the club. No doubt she was ugly as sin, I figured. But that wasn't too likely, though. Every candidate had to get approved in advance by two seniors of the opposite sex, and if this Mannheim looked like a dog she'd be thumbed down.
I went over to the library to get some books. Marge was there. I gave her the high-sign, and she returned it as I sat down.
"Coming Saturday?" I whispered.
"You bet. How's it been?"
"Not bad. I've only visited one of the members, though. Too much else to do."
"I've really been busy," Marge said, grinning. "The first night it was Felks and Hammer. Then Byris and Gordon on Monday, Carter on Tuesday, Dill Wednesday, Mason and Haberman last night-"
"A full schedule, huh?"
"It gets a little strenuous. But fun, anyway."
I was tempted to invite her over to my apartment for a little quiet smooching this afternoon, but I decided against it, even though she had plenty of time before her date with Burchard in the evening. I just wasn't in the mood. Hell of a thing that when sex is so easily available it takes a little of the zing out of it.
I holed up in my room and got caught up with my studies. All this sex was starting to wear me down a little, but I figured it was as good a way to get worn out as any there was. Saturday came around, finally. Marge phoned up in the middle afternoon, and I agreed to meet her for dinner-dutch treat, she insisted-and then we would go down to the clubhouse together for the weekly orgy.
The restaurant was crowded, the service was slow, and it wasn't until nearly eight o'clock that we reached the clubhouse. I gave the special ring that I had been taught, someone rang back, and we went inside.
Everyone else was there, in various states of nudity. Chuck came up to me wearing only a top hat and whispered, "You're missing all the fun. They started initiating that new girl twenty minutes ago."
We scooted upstairs and dumped our clothes-we were old hands at this now-and hurried down. The initiation was taking place in the library, and everyone was clustered round watching eagerly. Don Hammer himself was conducting the initiation. He was a lucky guy, too, because that entitled him to the privilege of being the first to make love to the Mannheim girl.
She was sitting in the middle of the floor, stark naked. There was something pathetic about her.
She was a very pale girl of maybe eighteen and a half, on the slim side, with small pointed breasts and narrow hips. Her face was pretty. She had the glassy-eyed look of someone who had fortified his or her courage with a good deal of alcohol, and she seemed dazed by the idea of being naked in front of this whole multitude let alone being fondled in such a lascivious way by a strange and nude male. Undoubtedly she was a virgin.
I sidled up to Paula Garson, who as sponsor was watching intently, and whispered, "I hear she's green. What's the story?"
"She's in one of my classes. She was moaning that there wasn't any excitement in her life, and I figured I'd let her know how to get some. First time ever that a girl who was a virgin applied."
I felt a little disgusted. Hammer was trying out every trick in the book, but she was resisting without too much trouble, since she was so inexperienced anyway that Hammer's caresses didn't have much effect. Burchard was timing it and he said quietly, "Three minutes left."
The three minutes passed quickly. And then came the event that everyone was waiting for. Burchard said, "The candidate will now submit to her initiator and two of the witnesses, and will then be welcomed to membership."
She smiled hesitantly. Hammer knelt over her, then embraced her. She moaned as he went to her, and I knew it must have hurt. It was the most sadistic damn thing I had ever seen. But I guess she was asking for it.
I turned to the girl on my left-Claire Reynolds, the redheaded sophomore who had been initiated the week before. She was wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes and nothing else. She seemed a little uncomfortable about what was going on.
I said to her, "You don't want to watch this any more, do you?"
"Not very much."
"Let's go get some drinks, then."
She preceded me into the kitchen, wiggling her rear at me. I followed. She was a girl about five feet five, well built and marred only by a nose that was slightly too big. She was a natural redhead, and, I was amused to discover on close inspection, she had a light sprinkling of freckles practically everywhere on her body, including her breasts. For some reason there were none on her rear end. I fondled her buttocks playfully while she mixed the drinks, and said, "How come no freckles here?"
"I used to have them there," she said. She giggled. "They wore off from constant handling."
We sipped at our highballs. "How did you get into this outfit?" I asked.
"Sally Marshall sponsored me. But I was sort of introducted to this kind of thing by Chuck Gordon, last spring." She laughed-a sharp, unfunny laugh. "Until last spring I was a very, very pure girl. Then Chuck took me out and filled me full of bourbon, and next thing I knew I was in the back of his car with my clothes off. That was my first time. It hurt, too. But I learned to like it."
She seemed to have some mild regrets about the whole thing. But her regrets disappeared as the drink went down her throat. I found myself powerfully attracted to her. Only I didn't want it to happen down here, in the middle of the noise and clatter. I led her upstairs, into one of the vacant bedrooms, and we settled down on the bed for a while. It was slow warming her up. But after maybe twenty minutes she started to pant and gasp and whispered, "Oh hurry! Please. Quick!"
I went to her, and it was like touching her body with a live wire. She started to jerk and have the craziest convulsions, but she kept her eyes open all through it. And then suddenly it was finished, over as though the switch had been thrown. She went limp and smiled at me.
"You're the eighth one," she said. "No, the ninth."
"You keep count?"
"Yes. Chuck was the first, and then there was one boy during the summer, and then Chuck again. Then at the initiation last week there was Hal Sharp and Roy Burchard and Ned Carter. Then Jack Beale on Monday, Ted Felks Tuesday, Ned Carter again Wednesday, Byris Thursday, and now you. You were third best. Chuck was the best, and Felks second. You and Burchard are about tied. The boy during the summer wasn't any good at all."
I got the idea from the way this girl made love and from the way she made conversation that she was very mixed up indeed. I suggested that we go back downstairs and mingle a little with the others, and she agreed, so we washed up and rejoined the crew below.
I caught a glimpse of the new girl, Bea Mannheim. Her initiation was over, and she was partially dressed-wearing panties, at least. She looked very pale and she was guzzling a drink. It had obviously been an ordeal for her.
Don Hammer called out, "Attention, everybody! Quiet down! We're going to show some movies now."
Chuck and Burchard rigged up the screen, while Felks put the film in the projector. The rest of us crouched down on the floor to watch. The lights were turned off, and a few giggles went up. I found myself sitting next to Paula Gar-son, and she drew my head back so I was comfortably supported against her great breasts. Considerate of her, certainly.
I figured we were going to see some professional pornographic shots from the club's library. Instead what appeared on the screen was a view of Ellis Dill making love to Sally Marshall, while appreciative onlookers gathered round. Dill let out a surprised yelp. I realized unhappily that the films of last week's initiation were being shown.
Whoever had been taking those films was really devilish. The purpose of the showing was to make the initiates look ridiculous, and in that they succeeded. After finishing with Dill they moved on to me, showing me in succession with Janet, Helene, and Sarah. Don Hammer narrated, making blisteringly witty comments. I wanted to crawl under the couch. There's nothing so completely ego-crushing as having to watch films of yourself doing things that should be private, while the audience roars with delight.
Finally the spotlight turned off me-I was permanently blushing by that time-and the initiations of Claire Reynolds and Marge were shown in part, and then that of Charley Mason. Then the lights went up.
"I could have done without that," I said sourly to Chuck.
"Relax. Everyone goes through it the week after they're initiated. It helps to make you a good sport about everything."
"And I'd love to make some cracks about Hammer-"
"You'll get your chance for that, maybe. You went upstairs with the Reynolds, didn't you? How was it?"
"Interesting."
"She's a weird one, isn't she? Freckles on her belly, yet! But she's unusual."
"Yeah," I said. "Listen, you haven't told me about last night-you and Carol-"
Chuck made an offhand gesture. "I took her to the movies. Then I took her to the Den and she wouldn't drink anything stronger than coke."
"I take it you didn't score."
"You take it correctly," Chuck said without sign of dismay. "But I'm not worried. The longer and harder the chase, the more delightful is the payoff. I'll make her yet. You can bank on that."