Chapter 13
THE WINTER PASSED AGAIN into early spring. I was on my way across the campus to the Administration Building where Sandra worked.
One of the last northers of winter was blowing itself out. The afternoon was chill and gray. I was bundled up in a heavy jacket. My fists were thrust in the pockets.
I entered the building, walked down the hall to Sandra's office. When I stepped inside I saw that she was busy with a student. Her cool eyes flicked in my direction but displayed not a fraction of emotion.
"Please have a seat," she told me briskly. "I'll be with you in a moment."
We might have been total strangers.
She was talking to a coed, who gave me a coy glance. I lit a cigarette and ignored her.
Sandra said in her most business-like tones, "Let me check the files for your transcript, Miss Adams."
Sandra left her desk, high-heeled to the files. I stared at the slim ankles and sleek legs above the high heels and felt my guts churn. I had not seen her for two weeks. That was long enough. Our deal was that she was to call me-not I her.
She was on my side of the room, checking the files. She crouched over one of the lower file drawers. Her skirt pulled so tightly over her hips that I could see the outiine of her panties.
Blood raced in my temples. She was deliberately waving it in my face-as she did with all males, I had begun to understand. Her business-like exterior was pure pretense. She used it to emphasize her sexuality.
I waited impatiently until the girl left, closing the office door behind her. I killed my cigarette immediately. Sandra sat behind her desk, staring at me from wide eyes. She stood up when I walked toward her.
"Why haven't you phoned?" I asked.
Her eyes were devouring me.
"I could tell you down to the minute how long it has been since we've been together. I've been going quietly insane-but I couldn't call. Howard's been home every evening. Mark-I'm afraid. I think he suspects I have a lover."
I had walked right up to her. We stood inches apart. I felt her body warmth, smelled her perfume. She had turned pale. Her stare was fixed. Her mouth looked like a wide, bloody slash.
I moved enough to touch her. It was like touching her with a high-voltage wire. She jerked and shuddered.
"Mark-"
Suddenly we were pressed together. Her mouth found mine with desperate haste. Her arms clutched me. Then, as quickly, she stepped back. "Just a minute," she whispered.
She walked to the door, opened it, cautiously looked up and down the hall. Then she closed and locked the door.
She came back to me. Her eyes were feverish. I felt blood hammering in my temples. Again we were close. "Oh, baby," she sobbed.
We kissed again. We were standing in the middle of the room. Her body ground against mine. I guess we both nipped.
I reached down and pulled up her dress. She shook with mingled lust and fear. "Don't-"
But she stood helplessly as I ran my palms over her bare, petal-soft flesh. I palmed her quivering hips and drew her against me. She dug her nails into my shoulders. Her head fell back. Her eyes rolled.
"I want you," she moaned. "I've missed you-" She caught my hand, led me through a door into an inner office.
She told me, swiftly, "We're taking a terrible chance-but I think we'll be safe here. And there's a couch-"
She was standing there holding her skirt up around her waist where I had pushed it. A new kind of excitement seized me-I had never carried my rebellion against convention to the extreme that now seemed imminent. Sandra's lacy nylon panties concealed very little. She shed them in a single impatient motion and stepped out of her shoes. She stuck her undergarments into her purse and lay down on the couch.
I was with her in a matter of moments.
She rained kisses over my face. "Mark, darling-"
Her sentences became disjointed, incoherent, finally dissolved into simple sound.
This was interrupted by a piercing scream.
Hers.
I was momentarily frozen. Her face was close to mine. It had gone deathly white. She was staring past my shoulder with horrified eyes. I twisted around. Her superior stood in the doorway, still holding his office key in his right hand. He gaped at us in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.
He looked so damned ludicrous that I had to laugh.
Sandra scrambled from under me and leaped off the couch. I stood up and quickly arranged my clothing. I became aware of two more witnesses to our indiscretion-two students, a girl and a boy, stood directly behind the registrar. The girl's face had turned pink. The boy was grinning.
My laughter had stopped but its sound still hung-a disembodied but almost tangible presence-in the room. I wanted to disown it but it mocked me.
The registrar, Dr. Herbert Reed, recovered from his first shock. His face had turned cold as granite.
"Please leave," he snapped at the two kids behind him. "I'll discuss your transcripts later."
They left in a hurry. Sandra stood near the couch, her face deathly white, her eyes downcast. I was beginning to boil with unreasoning anger-a normal enough reaction to a profoundly, even desperately embarrassing situation, I suppose, but completely illogical. I wanted to sock Reed right in the kisser. What business did he have pussy-footing here like this? Nothing was, of course, more his business-but the fact that he was entirely in the right, Sandra and I in the wrong, only made me more furious.
Too furious, fortunately, to utter the obscenities I felt like hurling at him.
He said icily, "Mrs. Clinton, I want to speak to you privately. You wait in the outer office, young man."
I stood my ground and glared at him. Sandra raised her eyes, shot me a miserable glance.
"Do as he says, Mark," she choked out.
Her voice, the crushed expression in her eyes, helped to bring me to my senses. I could see I'd only make matters worse for her by stirring up a big rhubarb with her boss at this point. I walked out of the office, slammed the door loudly behind me. In the outer office I lit a cigarette and puffed on it furiously. Suddenly I was living a nightmare.
I stepped to the door and put my ear against it. I could hear Reed's voice.
"... have no alternative but to discharge you at once, Mrs. Clinton. I must confess I'm in a state of shock. You're a respectable woman, married to a man with a responsible position with this college. How could you allow yourself to become intimate with a student? Didn't you realize what a campus scandal like this could do to your husband? Howard is a friend of mine, a fine man whom I respect. I shudder to think what this-this ugly mess-will do to his career. For his sake I'd keep it quiet if I could, but those two students who were with me-they'll spread it all over the campus."
I heard Sandra sob. My stomach started to turn and suddenly I had the premonition that I was going to throw up. I had never intended to cause Sandra or her husband this kind of trouble. I had never thought much about the risk she was taking-I myself had so little at stake. And I had, of course, never seriously believed we would be caught. Now that we had been-I could scarcely understand how I could have taken the crazy chance of making love in a virtually public place.
But Sandra had been so sure we would be safe-no, strike that. She had not been sure at all. And I was suddenly a prize heel in my own eyes for trying to shift any blame on her, even in my own thoughts.
She had not asked me to come here. I was the one who had broken our arrangement-I should have waited for her to telephone.
Reed finished tongue-lashing Sandra. He came into the outer office, asked my name and wrote it on a piece of paper.
"I'm going to speak to the dean about this matter," he told me coldly.
He didn't have to draw me a picture. I could see I was in serious hot water this time. I remembered Alice's warnings-they had been prophetic. I had the feeling that my college career was about to come to an abrupt close.
I made a belated effort at gallantry.-"Look, Dr. Reed-what happened in there wasn't Sandra's fault. I'm to blame for the whole thing-"
Reed was giving me a cold, fishy look. My voice trailed off as I realized how fatuous my words sounded.
I wanted to say something to Sandra-to try to make her feel better-but she rushed past me, her face stony. I followed her out of the office but she walked away from me quickly and I decided that the kindest thing I could do at that point would be to stay away from her. I had caused her enough trouble.
I left the campus, went to a beer joint where Sandy Cleary and I sometimes hung out. I was in no mood to be alone. I sat in the booth drinking beer and eventually I was glad to see Sandy come in.
I didn't tell him what was bugging me. I consumed beer morosely while he talked. I was in a black mood. I thought, to hell with this whole lousy scene. Where was there any sense in any' of it? Next I knew painful guilt.
I wondered remorsefully if I could do something to make things easier for Sandra. Would she immediately confess her infidelity to Howard-or would she wait until he heard about it from someone else? The scandal was bound to sweep the campus like wildfire. By tonight everyone would know.
Sandy and I left the beer joint at sundown. Sandy walked away from me in the twilight, heading for the auditorium where he was rehearsing that night with the dramatics class. I thrust my fists in my jacket pockets and started across the campus in the direction of my apartment.
I was halfway across the campus when a figure came striding toward me. The man was hatless. His overcoat was flapping around his knees. I recognized Professor Howard Clinton.
What happened next was not pleasant. I still remember it as a waking nightmare. Professor Clinton spotted me and came charging toward me like a madman. I had no desire to fight him. But neither could I run away. I stopped and stood still, feeling like a clown.
He came closer. His eyes were wild, his face gray. He stopped in front of me, shaking with fury. It was obvious that Sandra had told him. He made a choking, incoherent sound and swung wildly at me. His fist smashed into my cheekbone with more force than I had expected. I sprawled on the concrete walk. Half-dazed I climbed back to my feet.
"Listen-I don't want to fight with you-"
But he hit me again and again. I couldn't bring myself to hit back. I tried to protect myself but too many of his wild blows landed.
I went down again, the breath knocked out of me. Dimly I realized that a crowd had gathered around us.
Professor Clinton stood over me. He was looking down at me with that wild expression. His sparse, reddish hair stood in odd little tufts. He looked disheveled and distraught. Suddenly he turned and walked away, pushing his way blindly through the crowd.
I felt sore and bruised all over. I gradually got my breath back and dragged myself to my feet. Curious faces ringed me. This topped my day, I thought. The gossips were going to have a field day.
I reached my apartment, took off my clothes, washed the blood and dirt from my face, mixed myself a strong drink and lay down. I felt like hell.
After a while I turned over and went to sleep.