CHRONICLES OF AN ACADEMIC PREDATOR
Published First at : http://groups.yahoo.com/group/arbourtales/
Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider:
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It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men. In some cases, these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M.
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It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when segregation and discrimination were the norm. African Americans were referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive then as it is now. I have retained the language of the era because it reminds me how far we have come on race relations.
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Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound. A good rule of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number.
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Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words. I need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the story.
CHAPTER 16
July 12, 1962
The construction was pressing along nicely. In fact, the guys had been working so fast they thought they might be able to finish today. I told the contractor I'd give them $20 to go out and have some beers if they did, so they were now working with a frenzy. The phone on my desk rang, making me jump a bit. I answered it formally. "Dr. Crampton."
"JP!" It was my mother. "How are you doing? Your father tells me you have been so busy!" That was the prelude to a lengthy conversation where I delineated all that I'd done to the condo, all the decorating, everything. I saw the secretaries smirking at me and I longed to have my office done, with a door I could actually shut.
"Mother, I have to run. It's a busy day here. I'll call you when I get home." No need to give other people fodder for gossip, listening to me talk to my mother on the phone.
"I'm sorry JP. Of course, of course. But quickly, let me tell you why I called. Your father and I decided to drive up to Chicago this weekend to see you and your new spaces. We planned to get in Friday night, and we'll leave on Sunday." This was totally unexpected.
"That's great Mom! I can't wait to see you both!" I feigned excitement, although I wasn't sure that I wanted them traipsing into my world and upsetting things. I hadn't been gone long enough to miss them yet. "I've got the guest room all set up."
"We don't have to stay with you. We don't want to put you out. Besides, where would Jeff stay?"
"Jeff can sleep in my room. It's only for a few nights. It's no big deal." I didn't tell her that he was sleeping there anyway. We argued about sleeping arrangements until she finally surrendered to the obvious.
"Very well JP, we will see you Friday night. I also assumed that we could bring Jeff home with us on Sunday. He can help your father drive and he won't have to sit on a bus or risk his life on those airplanes." She was obviously still thinking that 707s would be dropping from the skies at any minute. But Jeff would be leaving. That hit me like a bombshell. I'd lose my teddy bear.
"He's been a great help mom, and he's enjoying Chicago. He may not be ready to go back yet." I was thinking with my emotions, not my brain, so I should have expected that I'd get shot down.
"I really think it is best. JP, Sammy has told us some of the things that poor boy has had to put up with. Beatings and broken bones, it saddens me to the core to think what his life was like at home. I want to take him back so I can make sure he comes here and doesn't go back to his parent's house." Her logic was impeccable, and she was right.
"That makes a lot of sense." We hung up, and my mood which had been peaking because all of my projects were coming together, took a very big dive back down.
Just a few minutes after I hung up the phone rang again. What did she forget now? Would this conversation never end? "Dr. Crampton," I answered gruffly.
"Good morning Dr. Crampton. This is Coach Davis. Don't know if you've heard of me but I coach the football team." This guy had a manner just like Bill Hendrickson. "Dad" I sneered to myself. "I like to meet all the new faculty members and introduce myself, that way if you have any of my guys in your class and they cause you any problems, you know where to go." In other words, he wanted to feel me out to see if I was one of those professors who purposely tortured athletes, or one that would work with him.
"Well coach, it's really nice of you to call." I got the message.
"It's no problem at all. I don't know if you have any time this afternoon, but I was wondering if you'd feel up to visiting us at the athletic complex. I could show you around, show you what we're doing down here." In other words, he wanted to try to impress me. I recognized the pattern. He was willing to be my friend to help his athletes, some of whom are probably not too smart, and make sure they passed my class. I was teaching the history intro class, so it made sense.
"I'll be glad to. I appreciate the invitation. Would one o'clock work for you?" I could feel his smile on the other end, thinking he had roped me in.
"That will be just great. We'll see you then."
Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mR9dDdUmdtU "Big John" by Jimmy Dean
The athletic complex is huge, so I had to wander around looking for Davis' office. Walking around looking for him made me uncomfortable because I was never a jock and I felt out of my element. Having huge, handsome guys all over the place didn't help either. Worst of all, it smelled of dirty sweat socks and wet moldy towels.
A large kid blocked my path. "You lookin' for somethin'?" he asked menacingly. I look much younger than my age. He must think I'm a student.
"I'm looking for Coach Davis' office." He snickered at that.
"Hey guys, looks like we got a new linebacker." They all laughed. I didn't.
"Actually, I'm Professor Crampton from the history department." They stopped laughing. And looked pretty embarrassed. "And you are?"
The cocky guy looked abashed. "Scott Mallory sir." Totally different demeanor now.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Mallory. I'd be obliged if you'd show me to Coach Davis' office." He nodded and led the way.
Coach Davis was a big man. Everything about him was big. He was tall, and had a growing paunch, the kind football players get when they hit their 40's. His hands were huge as was his smile, and his voice practically boomed in the room.
"Nice to meet you professor. Thanks Mallory," he nodded at the player, dismissing him.
He took me on a brief tour of the complex. There was nothing particularly meaningful about it; he just wanted to pay attention to me, to make me feel important. That way he could manipulate me later. We got back to his office and he kicked his feet up on his desk as we sat down. Even his feet were big.
"Sometimes there's friction between the athletic department and professors. I try to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen." He was finally getting to the point. I took the lead.
"So you were trying to figure out if I'd purposely torture your players because in high school some football players beat me up, is that it?" I saw the smile spread across his face. "Well, I never got beat up in high school, least of all by a football player, so I don't have that problem." He seemed relieved.
"I expect your players to perform in my class just like any other student. But I'm willing to cut them some slack on deadlines if they have to travel, and I'm willing to help them personally, or have my TA work with them if they have problems. I know they work hard and have a lot on their plate, and I respect that." This guy beamed with pleasure.
"But," I said, and I saw the caution replace the smile, "There are a few things I want."
"Name them." He said.
"First, if they give me any shit, or if I catch them bullying other students, I want you to come down on them like an avalanche. You can start with Mallory. The little shit thought I was a student and tried to intimidate me. There's no place for that on campus."
"I'm real sorry if my guys got out of line, and you can rest assured that won't happen again. You have any problems, you call me and they'll be running till they puke, and maybe spend a few games on the bench. I'll handle Mallory."
I nodded. "Do your scouts ever visit my hometown high school? It's Claremont High, in Ohio."
He pulled out a list and browsed through it. "I don't see them on my list." He studied me carefully, getting the point. "Why, is there some talent there I should see?"
"As a matter of fact there is. Their star wide receiver, a kid named Jeff Hayes, was kind enough to drive me to Chicago since my arm is out of action." I motioned to my sling.
"So he's here?" The coach asked.
"Yeah, he's leaving on Sunday."
"Well Dr. Crampton, I appreciate leads on good players. Why don't you have that young man stop by tomorrow morning and I'll put him through some paces with my guys, just to test him out. And I'll make sure that Claremont High is on our scouting circuit."
I stood up. "I'll send him over in the morning. And thank you coach. I'm looking forward to working with you." As I walked out of his office I heard him scream "Mallory!"
Around 4:30 Jeff showed up. The secretaries all stopped to watch him walk by and giggle. I know they all made sure they stuck around until the end of the day when he got here. If he had to wait for me, he'd go over and flirt with them.
"Hey JP. Got here a little early." Laid back as ever.
"So I see. Wanna see my office? They just finished." I escorted him through the door and into my newly transformed space. It was square, and it had windows. Other than that, it looked nothing like it did before. Jeff walked over to the walls and ran his hand over the paneling. "Real wood?" he asked.
I nodded. "Cherry." He moved over to the windows, looking at the new, air-tight windows. The winds wouldn't blow through these panes. I appreciated how tactile he was. He felt the velvet curtains. "Nice."
"Yeah, they're heavy. I figured that when it's cold I can close them up and it will keep the place warmer."
He looked around the room, staring at the hardwood floors. "There's something else different. Can't put my finger on it, but it just seems a lot bigger."
I smiled. "Look up." He turned his attention to the ceiling. The tacky drop ceiling was gone, and instead the Cherry paneling had been installed much closer to the base floor above. That made the ceiling about 11 feet tall. "Wow," was all he could say.
"Anyway, I'm hungry. Let's get going. Where do you want to eat?" I was ready to go home.
"Let's go home. I kind of have a surprise for you." I looked at him, ready to ask him what it was, but I decided to let him have his dramatic moment. He'd finished all the painting yesterday. All the furniture had been delivered. Even the phone had been installed, even though I almost screwed that up by getting the install date wrong. I'm not sure what else he could have done.
When I got home, the first thing that I noticed was the smell of food. Not just food, but turkey. That smell always reminded me of Thanksgiving. I walked into the dining room and the table was all set for two.
"I thought you might like a home-cooked meal for a change," he said offhandedly.
"I didn't know you could cook. That smells great. How did you swing all this? I barely have any cooking stuff." He was right. I was surprised.
"I learned to cook from my Ma. And I took some of that money you left for paint and stuff and bought some pots and pans for you. There was enough to pretty much fill up the kitchen." I walked into the kitchen and the smell there was like nectar. I opened the cupboards and they were all filled up with my plates and shit, plus all kinds of cooking utensils that I would have no idea what to do with.
"Wait a minute. You organized the whole kitchen?" He nodded. I walked back to the guest room and all the boxes were gone. I headed to my bedroom and those boxes were gone too. I opened the top drawer of my new dresser and there were my socks, all neatly organized. "You organized the whole house!"
I just walked over to him and hugged him. What a great guy! No one had ever done anything that thoughtful for me before. I mean, people bought me shit, or took me places, but no one had ever done something this personal for me.
"Hey now, you gotta let go or I'll burn dinner. Why don't you take a shower and I'll get things all fixed up." I released him and he headed back to the kitchen.
Dinner was fabulous. I don't mean to be heretical, but it was as good as Vella's Thanksgiving turkey. We stuffed ourselves, not talking too much. Even with his huge appetite, there would be leftovers. That was almost better than the dinner itself.
"So my mother called today. They're driving up this weekend to see the place and my new office. They get here on Friday."
"Good thing I got the place all organized then."
"When they leave on Sunday, they want you to go back with them." I watched his laid back expression fade. It was really flattering to see that he was as upset about leaving as I was about seeing him go.
"That's really a shame. I like it here. A lot." He seemed sad, and I hadn't seen him sad since that night he'd walked up to the Heights.
"I like having you here. I'll really miss you." I'd anticipated that he'd feel sad; I guess I hoped that he would, so I saved my trump card for the end. "So you wanna play football?"
He looked at me funny. "Now? With you?" I laughed.
"No, tomorrow on campus. The coach wants to meet you and put you through some paces." He looked at me, dazed. "You do like to play football, don't you?"
"No way! Scrimmaging on campus?" He jumped up and let out a big whoop. Then he ran over and hugged me, picking me up and spinning us around. I felt like a rag doll. "That is so keen!"
He put me down, grabbed my face between his two strong hands, and planted a big kiss right on my lips. Not a romantic kiss. The kind of smack a friendly grandmother might plant on a kid. I laughed. It was so nice to make Jeff happy.
July 13, 1962
Friday the 13th. I'm not superstitious or anything, but I figure it can't hurt to avoid walking under ladders or breaking mirrors. I sat in my new office, with my new furniture, admiring the results that $1,568 had bought. I had enough space to have a wall of bookshelves, a desk, a couch and 2 side chairs. The couch and chairs were in classic maroon leather, and a thick Persian Carpet completed the look.
Dave Adams came strolling in and whistled. "Wow. Wanna trade offices?" I laughed.
"You write me a check for all this and it's yours." He just rolled his eyes. We sat there chatting and I saw Bob Jensen stick his head in and look around. We both turned and looked at him. "Hmmph," was all he said, and then he vanished. We both laughed. "He's back in his office trying to figure out a way to move you out and move himself in here," Adams observed. "Let him plot all he wants. It will keep him busy and out of everyone else's hair." I responded. I was not going to let Jensen bother me.
Dr. Peterson was perhaps the happiest with the results. It can't have been easy to let a young, new professor that he didn't even know decorate at will. I smiled when I visualized a modern office, with MOMA furniture and spray paint art on the walls.
"You've done a great job in here Dr. Crampton." He looked up at the ceiling, which I decided was the best feature of the whole room. "Too bad I made that deal with you; otherwise I'd be moving in here myself."
"Five years from now it's all yours sir," I said with a smile. I'd need him on my side if I was going to survive those years and end up with tenure. "If you're not busy this Saturday, perhaps you and your wife would like to come over for dinner?"
He studied me carefully. "I'll have to check with my wife."
"That's great. Well I hope you can make it. My parents will be in town and tomorrow is kind of a big holiday for us, so it would be nice to have you there to celebrate with us."
"Holiday?" He asked.
"Bastille Day. My mother is French, so we always have a nice dinner to celebrate." Bastille Day is the French version of July 4th, and it was a big deal to my mother.
"Oh, of course, of course. Well, I'll let you know shortly." Almost right after he left Jeff came bounding in.
"Man, I had the best time. They've got a great program, and I think I did pretty well in the scrimmages. The coach told me to play well this year, and said they'd be sending scouts out to watch us. Wait 'till all the guys on the team hear that!"
"I'm glad you had fun. So how would you feel about hosting a dinner party on Saturday night? Think you can cook again?" I could have it catered, but Jeff did such a great job last night, I figured I'd ask.
"Sure. Why, who's gonna be there?" The dining room table sat 12, but I thought that might be a bit much. "Probably eight, including us."
"No problem." Then thinking with his stomach as usual, he asked me if I wanted to get lunch.
"Sure. Let's get going." I grabbed my briefcase and my keys. Just as I was about to leave Peterson came in and accepted the invite. I gave him the address and the time, then strolled down and invited Dave Adams and his wife as well. I figured that I'd done enough for one week. I was taking the rest of the day off.
July 14, 1962
Shopping again. I can't believe I'm shopping again. My parents got in last night and went nuts over my condo. My mother just smothered Jeff with praise for his craftsmanship. I think even my father was impressed. It was kind of weird sleeping with Jeff in my bed while my parents were in the guest room, although as platonic as our relationship was, I'm not sure why. Anyway, my mother insisted on going shopping while she was in Chicago, and she insisted that Jeff and I accompany her. So after a brief visit to my new office, we left my father to meet with some people about a building (he even works on Saturday) while the three of us went downtown.
I knew my mother and her motives. We weren't there to shop for her, and we weren't there to shop for me. She was determined to get some new stuff for Jeff. I laughed at him when he tried to argue with her, and tried to be obstinate and difficult. He had no idea who he was dealing with. He had met his match. So when we got back to the condo the Cadillac was pretty much full of stuff for Jeff.
Dinner that night was great. My mother acted as the perfect hostess, as usual, and charmed everyone. Jeff had made a Beef Roast, as good as his turkey had been, and I got a cake from the local bakery with the icing done as a Tricolor Flag. Conversation flowed freely, and it was a great opportunity for me and Adams to get to know Peterson a little better. He pulled me aside and thanked me profusely for that, saying that all last year he'd never been able to get Peterson to let his hair down. Some good wine certainly helped.
The biggest surprise of the night came from my father. Peterson was commenting on how nice my new office turned out.
"He really had a challenge with that. They replaced the windows on the classroom level, but not for the faculty offices. They all leak like sieves, but with that office having windows on two sides, it was especially vulnerable."
"Why doesn't the university replace them?" My father asked logically.
"Apparently it's in the building improvement queue, to be repaired only when money becomes available. The provost tells me that means we should have them replaced sometime in 1967, maybe 1966 if we're lucky." We all laughed at that.
"How much does it cost to replace a bunch of windows? You'd think they'd be able to come up with enough for that?" My practical father had no idea how university procurement was handled.
"We had to get a bid when we put in our request. We got your friend O'Hara to have some of his guys put it together." He nodded to me. "They claim it will take $1500, which seems awfully high for ten windows. I have no idea whether it is or not, but it certainly wasn't in our budget." We all nodded in sympathy at the price.
Then my father pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check to Northwestern University for $1500. We all stared at him in amazement. My mother was pleased, but I could tell she was a little annoyed too. Flashing money around like that was tasteless and tacky in her mind. The others could have cared less about that. Peterson and Adams, both of whom would benefit directly from his generosity, were thrilled. I contemplated asking them to specifically not replace Jensen's window, but then decided that while funny to think about, it was just too petty to actually do.
Jeff didn't say much that night, and he was quiet even after all the guests left. I sensed that he'd had enough merriment, and certainly we'd all had enough wine. My mother appropriately decided it was time for bed, and we all conformed to her schedule.
We climbed into bed for our last night together. I was losing my teddy bear, and that made me sad. Jeff was on his back so I lay next to him and put my head on his chest. "You OK?" I asked him. He didn't answer. I tried to avoid prying into his feelings, just like he did with me. The silence was uncomfortable.
"Not really. I like it here and I don't want to go. I know I have to, but I don't want to." I hugged him tighter. What a great guy.
"My life at home with my parents has sometimes been a living hell, sometimes just OK. I never could relax, be comfortable, because I always had to worry whether a fist was about to come flying at me."
"Well Jeff, if it was up to me you'd stay here. But you have a great year ahead of you, your senior year, and you need to be there. Besides, you're not going back to your house. You're going home with my parents. That's where you live now, and I promise that no one, with the possible exception of Sammy, will try to punch you."
He snaughed. "If he does I'll kick his ass." We lay there quietly, and after a few minutes I heard his gentle snoring, and like it had done every night since we'd been here, it sang me to sleep.
It must have been the middle of the night when I woke up, confused and disoriented. I was lying on my side and Jeff was spooned up behind me, but something was different. I felt his hands rubbing across my chest, tweaking one of my nipples. I moaned and instinctively moved back into him. What the fuck was going on? Just as I was beginning to try to figure it out, I felt his mouth and his warm breath on my neck. He nuzzled his nose under my ear and whispered urgently "Come on baby. Let me show you how much I love you. Come on." Was he dreaming, or was he awake? I felt his hand move around to my back and then move down, underneath the band of my boxers, to my ass. He was stroking my cheeks when I felt his finger trace the length of my crack. That was it; all rational thought vanished from my mind. I moaned loudly and pushed my ass back toward his finger. "That's it baby. Show me how much you want it," he murmured, his words, his sultry voice dripping with lust, driving me almost as crazy as his hand. He found my hole and tried to probe in, but I wasn't lubed up and it was hard.
Somewhere in the back of my mind a spark of sanity burst through. I gently detached myself from him, despite his protest. "Oh baby, don't go. I'm sorry. Don't leave me." I looked down on him as I got up; he had rolled over on his back, with his hard cock poking straight out of his boxers. I stared at it, admiring its perfect beauty. It was long and thin, with a slight curve upward. I forced myself away and headed to the bathroom.
I remembered blowing Andre, how I'd given into lust, and how badly I'd felt afterwards. How I'd prayed for a time machine so I could go back and undo it, and how I swore I'd never do that again. And here I was with Jeff, another great guy, a guy that I'd dreamed about fucking but never thought it would be possible, and he wanted it. Did he know it was me and he was just pretending to be asleep? Or did he think I was some chick and he was just having a dream? I determined that I would be strong and just go back and go to sleep, but the battle had re-emerged in my brain. Last time it was Gettysburg, this time it was Iwo Jima. He was storming my beaches and there was no way I could hold him off. I grabbed the jar of Vaseline and fully lubed my ass. I told myself that it was just in case, but that was a lie. If he tried again, he'd get me.
The forces of reason made a flanking assault. Would I risk his friendship for a quick lay? What if he got so upset he moved back home with his parents? What if that was the thing that ruined his future? The hormones fought back. With Andre I had initiated things. With Jeff I was just a passive participant. He was trying to fuck me. I could pretend to be the one who was asleep. I headed back to bed, only to find him lying on his back just like he was when I left him.
This was my chance to just go to sleep, to do nothing. I knew that if I just lay down he'd leave me alone. But I didn't want that. I kicked off my boxers and got in bed stark naked. I felt him move next to me, felt his hand against my bare ass, felt him move back behind me, felt his hand move around me. His mouth returned, sending tingles up and down my spine. "You're back baby. I missed you so much. Let me show you how much." His hand moved back to my ass, his finger began to probe, only this time it was lubed and it went right in. "Ahhhh. You feel so good baby. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you wrapped around me." His finger in my ass had set me free. All I could do was moan and thrust my ass back into his hand.
He pulled his hand away and moved up behind me. I felt his hard cock push against my cheeks and find my hole. He moved his hand down to guide it in, and I felt him slowly and gently enter me. There was no way he could be asleep. I sure as hell wasn't.
"Oh fuck baby, you feel so good." He began to move in and out, slowly and deliberately. He wrapped his arms around me, fully pinning me against him. His body felt like one huge, powerful muscle, its sole purpose to fuck the shit out of me. I felt his hands trace my nipples and then start moving lower, across my abdomen, until he reached my straining cock. I was afraid now, because if he was dreaming and thought I was some chick, then finding a dick would certainly turn that dream into a nightmare. It didn't seem to faze him. He gently stroked my dick in time to his thrusts. "You like this don't you baby. I feel good inside you don't I. You like my big dick inside you?" His voice got a little tougher, and he picked up his pace. He wasn't the gentle lover anymore, now he was going to fuck me. Good.
He started slamming into me, slamming hard. "I'm gonna fill you up, flood you with cum. I'm gonna shoot so hard you're gonna taste it. You ready baby? You ready for me to blast you full?" That was it. I thrust back into him and felt my orgasm start to boil up. Behind me there was a muffled moan and the huge muscle that was Jeff completely spasmed into me. I shot my load past my nightstand so that it landed on the window. He came and came, it seemed that his orgasm never ended, and I was right there with him, spurt for spurt. Finally, exhausted, he collapsed onto his back, his hand gently stroking my back.
I got up, not sure what to think, but finding that I didn't care. That was amazing sex. I'd never had anyone talk to me like that, and it brought a whole new sensory experience into my sexual equation. I went to the bathroom and got a towel, cleaning myself off and the window. I even reached over and dabbed some of the excess cum off of Jeff. Then I tossed the towel down and crawled back into bed. Would he curl up behind me, or ignore me? Had I ruined our friendship? I felt him move up and wrap his arms around me, kissing me softly on the neck, and then doze back to sleep. God only knows what morning will bring.
July 15, 1962
The next morning brought nothing, so to speak. I got up and took a shower, and just as I was getting out Jeff came in. I'd given up trying to be modest around him, so I just dried off while he brushed his teeth.
"Mornin'" he said casually. I returned his greeting.
"Hope my tossin' and turnin' didn't bother you too much," he said calmly.
"Nope," I said, "you were just fine."
"Good," he said, and took my place in the shower.
My parents wanted to leave early, so pretty much as soon as Jeff finished in the shower, they were off. I walked them down to the garage, hugged my mother in the appropriate way, and did the same to my father. For Jeff I had a big bear hug, which he returned enthusiastically. When he broke the hug, there were tears in his eyes. I handed him a small package wrapped in bright blue paper to match his eyes.
"You didn't have to get me a present. I wanna open it up and see what it is." He started to tear the paper but I stopped him. "No, open it on the road. It will give you something to think about other than imminent death. My father is driving." My father gave me a mock dirty look and my mother giggled. And with that, they got in the car and left.
I'd thought long and hard about what to get him. I had to do something to pay him back for all his help. So while my mother was shopping with him, I sidled on over to Men's Accessories and bought a new wallet for him. I put $500 in it, along with a note:
Dear Jeff,
I am giving this to you as you're leaving so you won't be able to argue with me about taking it. I can't begin to pay you back for all the help you've given me, and if you add to that your friendship and company, I find that I am even deeper in your debt. Maybe this will be enough to tide you over for the year so you won't have to work and you can focus on your studies and on football.
I'm very sad that you're leaving. I really wish you didn't have to. But I want you to know that wherever I am, you will always be welcome in my house.
Love,
JP.
Yeah I know it was a stupid note. Part formal, part emotional. I did my best.
My mind shifted back to the thing that was really at the forefront of my mind. What happened last night? What the fuck was that all about? I got my ass reamed, terrific sex with a guy I really liked, and then in the morning it was like nothing happened. Maybe the problem is that I'm hanging around these teenage guys. Sam, Jeff, and Stefan are all just 16 or 17. They're probably not fags like me, well, except for Stefan. They're probably just horny and messing around like Billy and I used to do. So for them it's just a hormonal release. I'm not entirely sure I was right, but I needed to come to closure on the subject so it didn't drive me crazy, so I adopted that hypothesis as truth.
I walked into my awesome condo, home now, and collapsed on my couch. Finally, after a trying couple of months, I was free of Claremont, free of all the people who seemed anxious to complicate my life, and back in control of my own destiny. I smiled to myself, self-satisfied, until I realized that I was subconsciously waiting for Jeff to come strolling in at any minute. Then I discovered that the solitude I craved only brought loneliness.