Strange Bedfellows

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS Chapter 23

Disclaimer: What follows is a largely fictional account of the author's various experiences as a young college student. The narrative depicts sometimes graphic sexual scenes between consenting men and men, and sometimes men and women. If your parents wouldn't approve, or if your local laws and enforcement agencies deem this type of material illegal, you are advised to do something else with your time. The story is copyrighted by the author, 2006 and 2007, and may not be reposted, reprinted, reproduced without the expressed written permission of the author. Reenactments of some of the scenes are, however, encouraged in the privacy of your own homes. However, the last scene in this chapter is not something you kids should try on your own.

Scott dialed the general number, the one in the yellow pages

"Thank you for calling the Inn on the Park, this is Jeffrey. How may I help you?"

"Uhm...could I please speak with Bradley Manning?"

Jeffrey sounded pretty haughty. "Well, I'm not certain. And whom should I say is calling, should Mr. Manning be available?"

"Scott Turner...umn, Junior, if you would please...Jeffrey...thank you very much."

Only thirty seconds or so of canned music played before the familiar voice squealed. "Ssssssssscoooottttt! I mean, Mr. Turner! How good to hear from you!"

"Hi, Bradley. Hey, I hate to bug you, but is the kitchen serving up your Tomato Bisque today?"

Bradley pointed at the dirty apron of the bus boy and handed him a brilliant white replacement. "Oh, Scott, you can bug me anytime you want; and of course we have it. How much do you need?"

"I'd like about four servings to go, please. And could you toss in a couple handfuls of those great croutons your guys make? I told Maureen I'm making lunch today, and we're dining at her apartment for a change."

The host giggled. "I suppose it's kind of hard to prepare a meal in the dorm, isn't it?"

"Yup. And I'm not bringing her any envelopes of Lipton Cup `o Soup. I'm making grilled cheese sandwiches and bringing the soup along."

Bradley scanned the dreary gray skies outside. "It's a perfect day for that kind of comfort food. We'll hate to miss you in our dining room, of course, but I can't blame the senator for wanting to dine in the comfort of her own place from time to time."

"Thanks, Bradley. I'll be there in about a half hour?"

"I'll scoop it up myself when you arrive so that we know it'll still be good an hot when you get over to her place. See you then, Scott."

Scott flipped the sandwiches he'd overloaded with three kinds of cheese while Maureen tossed a salad. "Once we have our own apartment, I'm going to have you over for lunch or dinner. They'll freak when we host the Senate Majority Leader for a meal. You already know Marty and Craig, but Brett is a real trip that you have to meet too." Ten minutes later, Scott threw his head back, hoping against hope to avoid the melted cheese that was going to drape down onto his chin. It was in vain, but he knew that at the moment he'd jerked his head. He grinned sheepishly and wondered if the hot cheese might leave a mark.

Maureen giggled. "Nice move. So, what have you got planned for the summer?"

Scott slurped a spoonful, and then wiped his mouth. "Not sure, yet. I'll need to be back here a few times for the Regents, and an occasional WSA thing. Might work for Dad in the office, or rather work for Daisy I should say." She winked, knowing Daisy. "But, I'm thinking about getting a job on my own, too."

"How'd you like to work under the dome?"

Scott stopped chewing and stared. "Huh? How's that?" Maureen put down her spoon and folded her hands. "I've finished doing some reorganizing of our support staff, and have readjusted a few positions. Here's what I have in mind Scotty: you can come to work for the party caucus in the Senate full time this summer. When the school year starts, and if your schedule will allow, you can stay on, part time."

Scott's bottom lip said he was mulling it over. "What kind of work is it?"

"Oh all sorts. The crew works to support all the members of the party. It's a lot of researching issues and helping draft legislation. There's writing position papers and press releases that articulate the agenda so it can be clear to the common guy and gal. There's some speech writing, some assistance for the various office staffs in their constituent work, helping folks deal with the maze of bureaucracies that make up their state government. Lots of nitty-gritty governmental stuff. You'd learn a lot, I'm sure."

"And there'd be a part time spot in the fall?"

She sprinkled a little more pepper on her soup and nodded. "There aren't many part-time slots up there, but I'm creating some new ones. I want to make some openings for some of the talent going to school, and this is a good spot for the occasional student with the right talent, interest and ambition." She pointed across the table with her spoon.

He was quiet another minute. "Thanks. That sounds kind of cool. Let me think about it." "Seen my darling niece lately? Seems like ages since I've seen or heard from her."

He was hesitant. Actually, he'd left her several messages, all of them going unanswered. "Uhm...no. Not since Valentine's Day. We went out for dinner, but, ah, haven't been able to make the time to catch up with each other since then."

One eyebrow arched in question. "Everything okay there, Scotty?"

"Uhm, yeah. I think so, anyway."

"Well, I know she's busy. She has her own campaigning going on, you know."

"Really?"

"Well, not so much a campaign, as I understand it. She's in line to become president of her sorority next year, unopposed of course, but the normal courtesies apply. She has to at least ask for the sisters' support, I imagine, and not take anything for granted, so I'd guess she's spending a lot of time courting their definite support when they do their voting in a few weeks."

Scott shrugged. "She didn't say a thing about it to me. Good for her."

"Plus, she's got several orientation meetings coming up, to get ready for her internship with Ted's office this summer. There's another reason to think about the caucus job. You'd both be working full time over there all summer long."

Scott nodded slowly, thinking it over again and Maureen chuckled. "I'm wondering how she's going to get on with Marsha Hawley."

"Who?"

"She's Ted's chief of staff. Pit bull in a skirt. Tough as nails and takes no prisoners when the fight is on." She giggled. "She'll probably scare the shit out of Kelly at first." She wiped her fingers and put down the napkin. "So, how goes it within the hallowed walls of the Board room?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know, Maureen. Pennington keeps giving every signal that his mind is made up; that the tuition has got to rise in order to meet the governor's demands, like it's the only way to maintain what we have, and there are no other options. It's kind of scary and more than a little frustrating. I wish he'd just come out and say it so that we'd have something real to debate or discuss."

Maureen cleared the empty plates while Scott slurped the last few spoonfuls out of his bowl. "Could be he's trying to avoid a real discussion or debate, trying to lead everybody to what he thinks is the only reasonable conclusion."

Scott's face brightened. "But I met this really cool old gal. Remember Abigail Svendsen, from the confirmation hearing?"

Maureen smiled. "I know Abby. Not well, mind you, but she's something of a legend up north. You know that she and your grandma were `partners in crime' once upon a time, right?" Scott nodded. "I knew the two of you would hit it off. Going well, huh?"

He smiled. "Yeah. She reminds me a lot of Gran'. We're both on the budget committee. Had lunch last week with her and her partner, Sharon, after the meeting. Sharon's a real piece of work, too. Interesting lady. They stopped and saw Gran' a couple weeks ago after that first meeting. We're gonna get along great."

Maureen put the dishes in the sink and poured two cups of coffee. "Two like minds, I'd imagine."

"Pretty much." He considered his next question. "Hey, Maureen, what do you say to folks who raise questions about this so-called `Las Vegas Loophole,' or if they gripe about corporate tax breaks that the average guy on the street never sees, let alone hears much about?"

"Aaahhh. Been doing some homework on the state's budget, have you?"

"Well, it's just that we hear there's no money available for the UW, or other stuff for that matter, but it sounds like a lot of big shots are getting away with financial murder under the tax system."

"Scotty, Wisconsin gets ripped nationally for our relatively high taxes as it is." She anticipated his next thought and put up a hand. "I know, I know. We're a high service state, too, providing a lot with public funding that adds to a good quality of life, including our schools and universities. But on corporate tax, you need to remember that behind those things we call corporations are people. Stockholders, executives, middle management and regular, ordinary workers. Their incomes come from those evil profits, and those are taxed once already when the cash dribbles down in the form of paychecks. A lot of folks see a tax on corporate income as sort of double-dipping by the state."

"But I can't have my paycheck deposited in another state that doesn't have an income tax to avoid paying the taxman, can I?"

She smiled. "Good analogy, Scott. You've been doing some serious thinking."

"It just seems a little ass-backwards. You guys put the loopholes in place first, deciding who isn't going to have to pay what, then decide what we can afford to do. Why not the other way around? Decide what we need first, then fight over where to get the cash to get it done. If we can afford to let the big shots slide on the sales tax for their luxury box, then so be it. We debate whether we can afford quality education, but don't argue over whether we can afford to let that revenue source go."

She pursed her lips and nodded a plea of guilty. "Scotty. Here's the political reality we're facing. Ted Hackett is planning to build a political war chest that should crush his next opponent, and to be able to spend some on other campaigns of current and future allies. He needs to get most of that done as soon as possible. In fact, I'm going to a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate shindig for him tomorrow night. Once Congressman Urban announces for the governor's office, a lot of those donors are going to make a sharp right turn, and take their checkbooks with them. Meantime, Ted has pledged to those folks with fat wallets a business-friendly budget, and he means to deliver. He can afford to take the pressure off the UW after he's reelected to his last term. But now is not the time for him to go scaring his patrons with promises to raise general taxes."

"But closing some of those holes in the tax code is only treating them the same way they treat the average guy. It's not really a general tax increase."

"Scotty. If you're paying X this year, and we change the rules so that you're paying Y next year, and if Y is more than X, are you telling me you haven't had a tax increase?"

"So you're gonna defend this smoke and mirror show now? Can't you do something?"

"Not really, Scott. I'm not defending anything. I'm explaining it. I'm being pragmatic. Remember, my influence at this stage in the game is limited. We take the separation of powers pretty seriously. The executive proposes his budget. The legislature enacts it with tax hikes or tax cuts."

Scott frowned. "And it sounds like you're one of those `current and future allies' of the governor's who doesn't want to make waves."

She shook her head. "Even if I were in a position to bite the political hand that sometimes feeds me, I can't say what I'd do right now. It's all going to depend on what Ted Hackett proposes to the Senate and the Assembly for our consideration. The jury is still out on that."

As he stepped out on the sidewalk, the dreary weather matched his mood. He had never really felt disappointed in Maureen McCarthy, and wasn't sure he had the right to judge her as harshly as he was. But he couldn't help it. It felt as though she had lost her backbone.

On his way home, he thought again of Kelly. It had been more than two weeks since they'd even seen each other, on Valentine's Day, and Scott was annoyed, curious, pissed off and confused. Not to mention horny. He hated any one of those. The combination of all of them finally got to him. He speed dialed her number on his cell.

"Kelly, it's me. I'm sure you got my last few emails and my last few voicemails, but don't know why the hell you won't even call me back. All I want to do is get together, have lunch or whatever...and talk. I know you're busy and stuff, but could you please at least respond, if only to say `I'm busy'?" She heard the irritation in his voice.

By the time he got back to his room, there was an email. "If you're free tomorrow at around 12:30, meet me at The Union for a burger. You're right, though, I am busy. Sorry if I've seemed distant the last few weeks. Kelly."

He leaned against the broad archway that framed the entrance to The Union's cafeteria. As had happened many times before, the auburn hair caught his eye first, bobbing among the shoulders of the strapping guys, the fat guys, the tall skinny women and the short squat ones. She was over-dressed for a lunch on campus, but looked like a million bucks.

The hug and kiss were both polite, even familiar, but it was nothing anyone would confuse with passionate.

They made happy `getting caught up' chat through the food line, and Scott insisted on paying. "Hey! I'm the one who insisted on this one. My turn!" Kelly returned her pocketbook to the small designer purse on her shoulder.

After leaving the table for a moment to refill his Coke, Scott breathed deep and sat back down. "Soooo...you pissed at me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, not that we've been close for all that long, but you've never been one to ignore my messages or emails. It's only since our conversation the morning after Valentine's day that you seem to be avoiding me."

Kelly's face registered a measure of guilt and a little annoyance. "I guess I just wanted some time to think."

"About us?"

She nodded, "And about the future. Yours, mine." She held up a hand to stop his next words. "And, no, I'm not thinking long term here. I haven't been daydreaming about a house in the burbs, picket fences and little Scotty's running around, so you don't have to worry about anything like that."

"What, then?"

"I was thinking about this summer. Looks like we're both going to be working at the Capitol. Mo' told me about her offer of a job with the caucus, and I'll be in the governor's office. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to be working pretty much in the same place and messing around, too."

Scott rolled his eyes. "That's pretty weak, Kelly. How many folks up there do you think are `doing it' and still getting their jobs done without any interference."

She shrugged a little defensively. "And then, there's next year. I'm going to be president of my house, and there's a lot of social stuff that goes with that, and it would be good if I had somebody I could count on to be there with me."

Scott furrowed his brows. "You want a male wrist corsage for the sorority scene?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Don't be so crass. Having a steady isn't the only thing on my mind. But yeah; having a regular guy on my arm, or beaming down at me over my shoulder for stuff like that is part of what I want."

Scott pushed his half-full plate to the side. "Got it. You were counting on me to be on beck and call for appearance sake, to appease your debutante sisters with their steady beaus. Great. Appearances mean a lot up on `Sorority Row' I suppose."

Kelly threw down her napkin. "Don't go getting all self-righteous and sarcastic with me, Scott Turner. You've always scoffed at the whole Greek thing; looking down your own `everyman's nose' at the fraternities and sororities. Our world is not as plastic and superficial and elitist as you want to think it is. It's important to me, and your attitude toward us is growing tiresome."

Before he could put together a response, she continued. "And who the hell are you to preach about watching out for appearances? How many times have you busted Marty's balls cuz you worried he'd do something that would make you look bad?'" She drew quote marks around that last phrase with her fingertips. "You're not the only college student who's entitled to have a political sensibility."

He put his hands up in defense. "Okay! Okay! Fair enough. I'm just saying I'm not on the market to be your Langdon Street window dressing!"

Kelly stood up. "You just don't get it. I didn't think you would." Before he could put on his coat, she was gone.

A half hour later, Kelly smiled her best smile at the bubbly receptionist. "Hi. I'm Kelly Abbott. I have an appointment with Ms. Hawley."

Marsha Hawley had been Theodore Hackett's Chief of Staff since the second year of his second term. She'd been hired away from the State Bar Association to manage his office. She was, by all accounts, a top shelf, first-rate ball buster. Maureen had told Kelly stories about this slight woman who'd reduced some of the state's highest and mightiest to near tears. Her earliest roots were in Wisconsin, though she'd cut her political teeth in Chicago. By the time she returned to Wisconsin following a nasty divorce, she'd worked a dozen of the shadiest campaigns, even by Chicago's standards, in the city's modern history.

Nancy, the receptionist smiled a dazzling smile. "Of course, Ms. Abbott. We met last time you were here for the final interview. Ms. Hawley, and especially Governor Hackett, are delighted to have you coming on board for the summer. She's in another meeting right now, but should be out to take you and the others on the tour of the office complex before starting your orientation." She motioned to the seats in the reception area. "Make yourself comfortable. It shouldn't be too long."

"Thank you."

Back in Hawley's office, Andy Pennington was sweating. "But Marsha, it's not really feasible. I can't craft a package of cuts in the budget that would gain even a majority on the committee, let alone the full Board. Everybody has their pet projects their aiming to protect."

"Then don't cut. Find the money elsewhere. Let the ones taking advantage of the system cough up the extra cash to keep things going as they are."

Pennington sighed and shook his head. "But, that'd mean a nearly twenty percent hike in tuition, in just one year. The students will go ape shit."

She glared across the desk. "Fuck `em! This is a state of nearly five million people. There are, what...about a hundred and fifty thousand spoiled little rich kids lazing around our campuses, and most of them aren't wasting their educations on something as mundane as actually voting. Politically, they're irrelevant."

Kelly crossed her legs, smiled and nodded `hello' to the other young woman a few chairs over. She had to be Kelly's age, though she looked more like a high school student. She was a very petite, pretty blond wearing what Kelly guessed to be a very expensive business suit. Kelly had heard there were three lucky students who would be interning with Hackett this summer.

The round face of a young man with black hair peeked tentatively through the doorway. Nancy welcomed him with a smile. "Hi. Are you Jayson?" She stood and waved him in when he nodded.

"Uhm...yes ma'am. Jayson Burrington, ma'am. I'm...uhm here for a meeting with Ms. Hawley?" It was more a question than an introduction. He nervously stepped through the doorway. He was short and thickly built. Not fat by any stretch, but very solid. He looked, to Kelly's eyes, like a wrestler. So wide was his neck that it was apparent that the top button of his shirt wasn't fastened, relying instead on the necktie to keep the collar closed.

Nancy waved him closer to the desk and extended a hand. "Hello, Jayson. I'm Nancy Wills. I wasn't here when you interviewed for the internship with Ms. Hawley. Welcome to the governor's office." She came around the desk. "Now that everybody's here, let me introduce you all, since you're going to be working together before long. Jayson, this is Kelly Abbott." We wiped his hand on his sport coat and Kelly reached for it as she stood. She found his obvious nervousness rather endearing. "And this is Tina Mallon." Jayson gave Tina a slight nod as he leaned forward to exchange greetings. Kelly and Tina also exchanged welcomes and hellos, and the three of them sat. Nancy smiled. "Well, Ms. Hawley should be with you all in about another ten or fifteen minutes, so you might as well all get acquainted."

They learned that Jayson preferred to be called Jay, and that he was a junior at the UW, majoring in economics. His uncle had been a member of the Assembly until two years ago, and remained a steady backer of Theodore Hackett. Tina was also a junior, majoring in political science, without any apparent connections to the powers-that-be under the dome. Kelly didn't mention her aunt as they made small talk, waiting to be summoned by the infamous Marsha Hawley.

Ms. Hawley was becoming exasperated. "Look, Pennington, what part of `no' don't you understand? Governor Hackett has set the bar high; I realize that. He has some very important supporters who are expecting great things. When Theodore Hackett makes commitments, he delivers." She planted her forearms on the desk and leaned onto them. "You'd do yourself a favor by remembering that. He's no rookie in this business, but his star is still rising, you know, maybe nationally. You'd be wise to hitch your own wagon to that star. It'll do you a lot of good."

Kelly checked her watch. Jay's fidgeting and occasional nail biting, as cute as it was, actually was making her nervous as well. There was still five minutes before their orientation was scheduled to begin. She stood and returned to Nancy's desk. "Uhm, excuse me, could you tell me where the nearest ladies' room is?"

Nancy stood and stepped back toward the hallway leading to the various offices of the governor's staff, and pointed. "Sure. About half-way down this hallway, on your right."

Kelly thanked her and walked tentatively down the corridor. She felt as if she was intruding on some sort of inner sanctum, which wasn't too far from the truth.

Hawley checked the time, and stood up to signal to Pennington that his was up. She hadn't budged an inch through the thirty minutes of his whining. Andy stood. "You know that our student Regent, Turner, seems pretty hell-bent on scuttling any significant hike in tuition."

Marsha shrugged. "That's your problem, now, isn't it? He's a kid, for Christ's sake!" The syllables were spit out in a sharp and shrill staccato. "If we didn't think you could handle something as simple as that, you wouldn't be the chairman." She led him down the narrow hallway.

When the noisy flushing stopped, Kelly heard voices outside. She paused to check her makeup in the mirror.

Andy shrugged. "Well, I appreciate your vote of support. I just thought you should know that Scott Turner might have it in him to make it your problem down the road. He's a charismatic kid with a lot of support on campus." When Kelly heard the name, she stepped closer to the door. "He's a full-fledged Regent, with the same vote and same platform from which to speak that all the others have. And, he's shrewd. I had hoped he could be contained, but he's a pretty obstinate little bastard."

Marsha stopped and turned, just outside the restroom door. "Look, Andy! No two-bit political wanna-be in college is going to derail Ted Hackett's plans. If young mister Turner is going to be trouble, then stiff-arm the kid. Put him on ice. Shut him out of the process. Do what you have to do. He can make all the noise he wants after the end of May, when all the kids have gone home to Mommy and Daddy. Pull this off, and your future is pretty well set, Andy. Like I said, Ted Hackett keeps his commitments, and the one he's made to you isn't exactly small potatoes." She waved a finger under his chin. "But screw this up, and you're through. And that, my friend, comes straight from the top! The governor appointed that starry-eyed punk. Remind him who is buttering his bread. The governor, or his chief of staff, can snuff out all of your ambitions, and his."

Kelly frowned behind the bathroom door.

Scott was sitting in the WSA office, working on the agenda for next week's meeting. It didn't look like it would be too much heavy lifting, based on the reports from the four committees that were recommending WSA action. There was a knock on the doorframe. Walter was pondering the pages in his hands, and he looked pretty serious.

"C'mon in Walter. Lookin' pretty glum. What's up?"

The clerk sighed. "You're going to love this. Morrison just dropped it off, and wants it added to the agenda. He's just in time, of course."

He squared the few pages on top of the envelope they'd arrived in, then turned to leave. He walked slowly, expecting what was coming next.

"Oh Fuck! Radar!"

Scott was running his fingers through his hair, staring at the pages on his desk. "What an obnoxious asshole! Does he know what this means?"

"I don't know, Scott." He shrugged. "Knowing Bart, I doubt it."

Scott bit on his thumbnail. "Walter, I know I don't get to vote unless there's a tie, but can the president enter into a floor debate from the chair?"

Walter shook his head. "Not from the chair, boss. You'd have to hand the gavel off to Kip, then join the others on the floor and then ask Kip to recognize you."

"Okay, thanks." He shuffled together Morrison's proposal along with the other committee reports and then handed the bundle to the trusty clerk. "We'll take up this bad joke last. Go ahead and post the agenda, and send the full packet to the members."

The clerk nodded and exited the room again.

An hour into the meeting, four of the five measures before the WSA this week had been disposed of. Scott looked down at the podium, then back up at the crowd.

"Finally, we have a recommendation for a resolution from the Committee on System Relations. I'll recognize Senator Morrison to speak to this measure first." He glanced over at Kip, who nodded and stood as he reached to take the gavel. Morrison watched as Scott stepped off the riser at the front of the room, and he took a seat among the other members.

Kip looked at the standing, but silent, Bart. "Senator Morrison? You want to speak to the resolution from your committee?"

"Uhm...yes, Mr. President." Kip liked the sound of that. "But the resolution pretty much speaks for itself. The committee has unanimously recommended that the full Wisconsin Student Association give clear directions to the student member of the UW Board of Regents in the budget proposal they are supposedly working on within the Board. While we have woefully little concrete information, the committee feels it would be irresponsible for us to wait to get any real news on the likely impact of that budget on the students we represent. We have, therefore, proposed a clear directive to our student representative that he must actively and definitively oppose ANY increase in student tuition as a result of the budget they send to the governor. It's pretty cut and dry, ladies and gentlemen. We're telling Mr. Turner that if the Regents' budget contains any increase in tuition whatsoever, he is to clearly and loudly vote `no.'"

Scott rose and Kip looked his way. "Senator Turner."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Scott hated saying that. "I want to thank the committee and Senator Morrison for being proactive in their efforts to dutifully protect the interests of the students we represent. I also appreciate the mood of the committee in wanting to provide me with some clear direction as I continue to fulfill my other responsibilities as a member of the Board of Regents. For the record, I am very sympathetic to the sentiment represented by this resolution. Nevertheless, I urge the members to vote `No!'"

Morrison was delighted. He pointed at Scott. "Mr. President, will the Senator yield for a question?"

Scott looked at Kip. "I'll yield after I've had an adequate opportunity to detail my concerns. Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen, every member of the Board needs to be able to weigh every option before the budget committee with some measure of discretion and judgment. It's a process of deliberation and negotiation. I respectfully suggest that for you to determine my vote on the Board's budget requests at this point would be premature, and it would strip me of virtually any impact in the process. If this resolution passes, my final vote becomes a foregone conclusion, and my voice on practically everything becomes worthless to the other members. Would any of you bother to listening to someone if you're certain their mind is already made up?" He glared at Morrison.

Bart persisted. "Mr. President, will the Senator yield?"

"I'll yield for the purpose of answering a question, Mr. President."

Walter subtly nodded at Scott's attention to detail on the purpose of his yielding. `He's done some homework.' He thought with a grin.

"Is Senator Turner telling us that he expects a tuition increase next year, and that he plans to support it?"

Scott inhaled deeply and shook his head. "Mr. President, I hope for no tuition increase next year. But I also hope for world peace, an end to hunger and poverty everywhere and the winning lottery numbers in next week's drawing. But I HOPE for a lot of things. I just can't make any guarantees at this point. The discussions are ongoing and the options are, to my mind, many. Of course, I don't expect to support an increase in our tuition. If, and I say IF there will be one, my mission is, I think, to keep it as modest and painless as possible. But this resolution wouldn't even allow me to even strive toward that goal. This resolution, as well intended as it is, isn't even practical. Student tuition has increased at single-digit rates practically every year for the foreseeable past. To demand a zero dollar increase in tuition is a noble goal, but might actually be impossibility. I'll urge the members again to vote `no' and allow me some room to think and act without a predetermined reaction on the Board's budget request." He took his seat.

Morrison wasn't giving up. "Mr. President."

Kip called on Bart one more time. Scott had spoken his piece, so he walked back up front to reclaim the chair. Kip handed him the gavel and returned to his seat just as Morrison was starting in again.

"Mr. President. With all due respect...and I think I echo the sentiment of the committee offering this resolution. It is a bit disconcerting that a student representative to the Board of Regents..." he paused for effect "...a student who has just been awarded a scholarship that has freed him from any tuition payments through the end of his undergraduate career here--it causes some distress when that member is reluctant to stand up and say `no!' if a tuition increase is on our horizon. I urge the members to give clear and definitive marching orders to that student Regent on this matter. I call the question."

Scott released his lower lip from between his teeth. He'd been biting on it for the past ten or fifteen seconds, and feared he was soon going to draw his own blood. He inhaled, and cleared his throat. "The Committee on System Relations moves and seconds the adoption of this resolution, directing the student representative to the UW System Board of Regents to actively oppose and vote against any increase in student tuition in the coming budget recommendation to the governor. All those in favor?"

Thirty-two voices, including Kip's called out "Aye!"

"Those opposed?"

Silence.

The gavel fell on the podium. "The resolution is adopted. The chair directs the clerk to forward a copy of this resolution to the student member of the Board of Regents."

Thirteen members of Kip's chapter met in the house's living room at noon; twelve members and the president, Mike Branson. The flight from Melbourne, by way of LAX, was supposed to arrive at O'Hare at ten a.m. Then two chauffeured mini-vans were to pick up the Australian brothers and deliver them to the UW. The annual exchange, alternating between continents from year to year, was a tradition going back more than twenty-five years.

Kip was there, but without much enthusiasm. Charles Monmouth had grudgingly agreed to host his son's guest for a few days during the spring break, even though it would mean bringing an outsider into his family's celebration of his favorite son's birthday, and perhaps the celebration of his favorite son's new favorite son. At least, he hoped it would be a son; a grandson that he seriously doubted Kip would ever be able to give him.

The fraternity president's cell phone rang. Mike smiled and motioned to the guys that their guests from Australia were coming down Langdon Street, and he folded his phone. They strolled out on the porch, spilling onto the front sidewalk. Within the minute, two bright yellow mini-vans pulled up aside the curb. The passenger's door of the first vehicle flew open, and a heavy-set guy jumped out and thrust himself into the president. He had hosted Mike the previous year in the visit to Australia.

Mike and Allan, the Melbourne president, quickly compared notes as the twelve other guys emerged from the vehicles. They alternately called out their own members' names and made the introductions. Mike looked over his shoulder. "Kip!" He stepped forward with his best manufactured smile.

"Glenn!" Allen called out. Kip was disappointed that the name's pronunciation didn't evoke very much of that cute Australian accent.

From behind the second van a head popped out. "Coming, Allan. Hold your horses. Just getting my stuff."

Kip's eyes lit up and his smile went from fake to very genuine. The guy was a welcomed sight. Quite a bit shorter than Kip's six-foot-three, he guessed about five-ten. Under his heavy jacket, it was hard to judge the build, but this Glenn guy gave the appearance and moves of someone very fit and trim. He had dark brown hair and a pair of green eyes that seemed to speak before his mouth did.

The bottom of his suitcase hit the pavement on its wheels. Another duffle bag and computer case were slung over his shoulder. He trudged his way over to the crowd. "Glenn, this is our Yank chapter president, Mike." Mike shook his hand and motioned to his friend and fraternity brother. "And, Glenn, this is your roommate and host for the next couple of weeks, Kip Monmouth."

He set down the computer case and duffle bag and stepped over to extend his hand. "Kip is it? Like a kipper?" He chuckled playfully and enthusiastically shook Kip's hand.

Kip was momentarily lost in those very expressive eyes and he grinned shyly. "Well, it's really Christopher. When I was really little, my family decided I was a `chip off the old block' of my grandfather, so they started calling me Chip. When I tried to say it, it came out Kip, and it just kind of stuck. I've been Kip ever since."

Glenn smiled and nodded. "Ain't that cute?"

Kip nodded toward the house. "C'mon, I'll show you to the room and you can get settled. Then we're all having lunch together, and we have an afternoon class to get to by 2:00."

Back in the room after class, they discovered that a rollaway had been delivered to give Glenn something on which to sleep. They unfolded the bed, and Kip assisted in putting the sheets, blanket and pillowcases in place. Glenn had dozens of questions about college life, particularly about Kip's role in the student government. "Whoa, it sounds like you're some kind of big shot around here Kipper." His face said he was teasing. "I supposed I should be honored or something, eh?"

Kip grinned and shrugged. "I hold my own, I guess. Could be more, but could be a lot less, I suppose. It can be tough going at the very top, though, so maybe I'm lucky." He spoke of the WSA President and some of the frustrations he'd had to deal with throughout his brief tenure. He recalled with some amusement the predicament Scott had been placed in at the meeting the previous evening. "We're going to meet the guy tomorrow for lunch. It's a regular meeting we have once a week to compare notes. Actually, I have to admit that, for as much as we don't usually get along, he'd be a good one for you to meet while you're here, if you're interested in politics, that is."

"That I am! I look forward to it." Glenn slid his laptop out of its case and lifted the lid. He punched several buttons and keys and his face lit up. "Escellent! My wireless is going to work from here. Excuse me while I check some messages."

Kip shrugged. "No problem. I'd be doing the same if I was in Melbourne."

Glenn ruffled through the duffle bag and retrieved a couple of small globes. "Hey, Kipper, mind if I take a few shots of the room, and of you if I can? Want to send some pics of my home away from home and my new American mates back to the guys at university at home." He was wiring the little gizmos to his computer.

Kip's eyes narrowed. "What the hell are those, webcams?"

Glenn shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, the newest out there. Really cool, actually."

Kip sat back in his chair. "Quite the techie, are you?"

Glenn shrugged again. "A real geek actually, top to bottom. I love this stuff. Have all the latest thingamajigs, ya' know. Always been a fascination of mine. All things technical just grab me." He sat back on the bed, his hands flat on the mattress. "Seen every James Bond movie a dozen or so times. Just love the cloak and dagger stuff. Not that I'm any threat to anybody, mind you, but I could be if I had the mind. You wouldn't believe what they're doing with cameras these days."

Kip's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really?"

Glenn patted the mattress next to him. "C'mere." He clicked some keys and several images hit the screen. "This is my room back home. Took these with a camera that has a lens about the size of half the nail on your little finger. And the cool part is that, just for fun, I hid it into the face of the desk clock next to my computer." He clicked several other icons. "These shots are the rest of my room from different angles, each from a different little camera propped around in various spots." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "And the fun part? If you were there visiting, you'd never know you were on camera."

Kip's brows arched again. "If you don't mind my asking...why?"

Glenn smiled as his shoulders jumped. "As I think you say...'shits and grins?' Sometimes I web cam with mates from all over the world, and I just like the technical stuff. Computers, cameras, anything electric really. Like I said, I'm pretty much a techno-geek. I guess you'd call me the `go-to guy' among my mates back home for anything computer-related, always getting calls to assist with problems or improvements folks want for their own stuff."

"Ever do any hacking?" Kip was suddenly fascinated.

Glenn waved a hand. "Shit no! Don't get into any illegal stuff or anything like that. But if you really pissed me off, I could be your worst nightmare, I promise you that."

Kip pondered the warning. "I'll try not to piss you off."

Glenn snickered and tapped his knee. "Good thinking Kipper. Now, speaking of piss, I have to take one, and I think I could go for a shower before dinner. It's been a long day from Melbourne to L.A., then to O'Hare, and finally from Chicago to here. Honestly, I'm feeling a little ripe. Want to show me to the facilities?"

Kip turned on the light in his private bathroom and shower, and set his guest up with a towel and washcloth. "I'm going to snooze while you wash off the grime. If I fall sound asleep, just nudge me when they sound the bell for dinner."

Glenn winked at him. "Will do, mate."

Twenty minutes later, Kip was laying back, eyes closed, when he heard the bathroom door open. Glenn walked out with the towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped in front of the door-length mirror on the closet and removed the wrap. As he vigorously toweled his wet hair, Kip's eyes slowly opened. He admired the slim but nicely defined back of his Australian guest. His round ass was smooth and, in Kip's estimation, perfect, with cute dimples marking each cheek. His legs were very muscular, with tight thighs and highly pronounced calves. Glenn stepped to his bedside and retrieved a pair of briefs from his suitcase, and Kip's eyes followed. Glenn sported a thin spray of brown hair across his firm chest and a nice treasure trail wandering down to his bush. He enjoyed a brief show of the Aussie's flaccid member and was impressed. Although the room was growing dark, Kip guessed it about four inches soft, and he couldn't avoid imagining it erect. His own package shifted in reaction to the image.

Scott finished typing his report from the afternoon's chemistry lab, saved it, and then closed the class folder he had on his desktop. Satisfied that the chemistry was taken care of for a few days, he turned his attention to a quick review of the reading notes he'd done for sociology. He needed to stay on top of both classes, since he'd miss two lectures to attend the monthly meeting of the full Board the following day. He wanted to wrap up the academics early and get back to reviewing materials for the session.

He was annoyed, and a little stressed, by an e-mail he'd received from Abby the day before. She'd broken a hip the previous week, and wouldn't be doing any traveling for a month or so. He was a little intrigued, and a little amused, by a phone call he'd received earlier from Andy. The chairman wanted them to meet for breakfast before the meeting. Scott wondered why.

There was a knock on the door. Scott was surprised to find Kelly standing there. She looked uncomfortable, but managed to force a shy smile. "You alone?"

Scott opened the door all the way and motioned her in. "Craig's at the library, then goin' to play basketball. C'mon in." He pulled his chair away from the desk for her to sit, and then sat on the edge of his bed. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

"Uhm...I wanted to talk to you; to tell you something I think you need to know." She nervously folded her hands, bending and unbending the crossed fingers as she fidgeted in her chair.

Scott furrowed his brow. "What's up?"

"Is there some guy named Andy on the Board of Regents, Scott?"

"Yeah, Andy Pennington. He's the chairman." His expression darkened further in confusion.

She nodded. "Yeah, I thought he was a honcho or something."

"Why? What's up with Andy?"

She inhaled deeply and paused. "Okay. Here's the deal. I went up to meet with the governor's chief of staff, Ms. Hawley, the other day. Before the meeting, I went in to use the restroom. When I was in there, I overheard the two of them, Mr. Pennington and her, in the hallway. Seems Mr. Pennington is no fan of yours, Scott."

Scott chuckled. "No surprise there. I haven't actually been playing real nice on the budget committee. Abby Svendsen and I have been rattling some cages, not going along with where Mr. Pennington wants to lead us. The last couple of committee meetings have been pretty testy, and I don't think it's moving along as nicely or as quickly as Andy would like."

"Well, you should know that he's really under the gun from the governor, and Ms. Hawley basically kicked his ass before he left yesterday. But the way they talked, whatever it is Andy has planned is a done deal. And, I couldn't tell what, but there's something in it for him. She basically told him that the governor keeps his commitments, and it was obvious that Governor Hackett has promised him something if he does as he's told. She said he's through if he doesn't. He told her that he'd find a way to deal with you and basically promised that they'd get what they want from the Regents."

Scott folded his hands and rested his chin on them. He thought for a minute. "Not that it matters, but there was no indication of what it is the governor promised him?"

She just shook her head. After a moment's silence she cast him an anxious stare. "It...it's just...well...I knew you had a meeting coming up with them, and I didn't want to see you get in over your head. I mean, I know you can handle yourself, but you even have the attention of the governor's chief of staff, and this is one tough-as-nails broad."

He pondered the situation further. "Look, Kelly, I can't tell you everything that's going on over there right now, but it could be bad news for the students. I don't know if I'm in over my head or not, but I appreciate the alert. I guess I just gotta keep tryin' to do the right thing, and maybe start working on individual members to try and find a way around Pennington.

His face softened and gave her a look of appreciation. "And, I'm glad you still thought enough of me to go out of your way to give me the warning."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I know our last get-together wasn't a happy one, but I don't wish you any ill, any harm, you know? I know it sounds pretty cliché but I hope we can still be friends, or at least friendly." She emphasized the last syllable.

She stood and he followed. "You know, Craig's gonna be gone for a few more hours. Sure you don't want to stay for a while?"

She held up a hand, and put the other on the doorknob. "Let's not go there, Scott. I think some time and space is a good thing right now. I just wanted to tell you that you might need to proceed with care. Sounds like this Pennington guy has you in his crosshairs, and I want you be ready to duck, if you have to."

He nodded silently, and she was gone.

Scott sat in a booth at the IHOP at the edge of campus. He was cautiously optimistic that news of the restrictions the WSA had put upon him hadn't yet reached Pennington. He doubted that the attorney bothered to read the campus newspaper "The Daily Cardinal." Even if he did, Scott planned to tell him that he considered the resolution to be `advisory,' and not binding. The truth was, he wasn't sure that he could abide by it when the time came, but resolved himself to deal with that dilemma if and when the time came.

The previous two meetings of the budget committee had not gone well. Scott and Abby had become something of an annoyance to the chairman and, Scott sensed, to at least two of the other members, the farmer, Milford and the bean counter, Comstock. They gave the appearance of at least listening, but no interest in taking up a fight to halt a hike in student costs. Everybody had his or her `turf' that wouldn't be cut, and nobody seemed to be bothered by the notion of a large hike in tuition over each of the next two years. Kelly's visit the previous evening had been a bit unsettling and, with Abby out of commission for a while, he felt very much alone. Even Maureen wasn't going to be any help at this point.

He heard himself ask, `what would Marty do?' At first he chuckled to himself that he'd even be asking the question. But then the notion brought a brief frown. Even Marty had been scarce of late, going back to Rockford nearly every weekend. He was feeling very alone, and even a little desperate.

Andy slid into the booth and smiled politely. "Good morning, Scott. Thanks for agreeing to meet me."

Scott nodded. "No problem, Andy. Haven't been in this place in a while."

They chatted amicably for a few minutes, and then ordered breakfast. Finally, Andy broke the ice. "Scott, I just thought it was time to try to patch things up a bit, and I wanted to make sure you were ready for this morning's meeting."

"What do you mean by `ready'?"

"Well, you've made it pretty clear in our committee discussions that you don't like the direction it seems we're heading. I'm going to brief the Board this morning on our progress, if you can call it that, and wanted to make sure we give the right tone, send the proper message to the full Board."

"Are you telling me to keep my mouth shut?"

"Well, no...not really. It's true that I'll be the one to deliver the committee's report, and there's just no need to rehash all of our deliberations with the group..."

"Don't want to air our dirty laundry? That the committee hasn't exactly been a place of single-minded harmony? Don't' want the full Board to consider mine and Ms. Svendsen's point of view?"

Andy was simmering. He wanted to reach across the table and grab Scott by the neck. "Scott, when the time comes and the full Board receives our recommendation, they need to have a high level of confidence that it's been crafted in a rational, deliberate manner. If that's lacking, it'll only slow down the whole process, open up the entire package to the nit-picking scrutiny of fifteen. There needs to be faith in the process in order for the product to be believed."

"Faith in the process? Jesus, Andy, the fix has been in on this from day one. I don't know what Theodore Hackett is promising you for being his butt-boy on this one, but I hope it's good. If you're just expecting me to get on board on this, I don't think I can do that."

There was a pause as the waitress delivered Andy's pancake and Scott's omelet. Andy was knocked off balance by Scott's tone, and the insinuation of a reward from Ted Hackett for delivering what he wanted, and he wasn't sure where to go next. During the brief silence, it suddenly dawned on Scott what Marty would probably do. "In fact, I'm feeling like I don't have much choice but to brace the students for what's coming. I have obligations to the students that it seems are unique to this one member of the Board. That responsibility shouldn't be unique to just the student member, but it's pretty clear that at least the chairman doesn't give a shit about them or their futures. I'm thinking they should know that. I'm getting asked a lot of questions in the WSA, you know. Maybe it's time I start giving them straight answers."

Andy stopped chewing and stared. After swallowing a mouthful of batter and maple syrup, he took a long drink of water. "What? Go public now, before we're done? What good will that do?"

"You know, my grandmother is a great lady who has taught me a lot. She's a staunch defender of free speech...all free speech...even repulsive shit that she disagrees with. She's always said that one of the best remedies for a truly bad idea is the bright, light sunshine of day. It seems that this bad idea of yours and the governor's needs some air. Maybe a clear and loud reaction from the affected students is the right remedy. I'm thinking that maybe the Board needs to hear from lots of students...maybe thousands of them, statewide."

Andy grinned. "You're going to try to mount a political campaign of popular protest in order to derail this process?" He was incredulous. "Give me a fucking break, Turner! You're gonna mobilize students against something that matters, and you think you'll have an impact?" He chuckled. "Uhm... Earth to Scott!!

He paused while the waitress refilled their coffee mugs, then leaned over and gazed directly into Scott's eyes. "Jesus Christ! Half the people in this country, whatever age, can't name the one or two elected voices among their state's lawmakers who speak and vote for them. How many of those same folks do you think can name one or two members of this Board? Now, whittle that down to the 18 to 25 year old crowd, and it's a tiny fraction of that tiny fraction.

"Take that sliver of your constituency, and one in ten...one in ten of that fraction of a fraction...might, MIGHT be able to tell you a single item that the upstanding men and women under that dome are going to vote on this week." He was pointing east, toward the Capitol. "The other nine out of that ten are, right now, worrying about the votes they registered over the phone last night for the fat guy who covered a thirty-year old pop song on national television in front of three has-beens. And those noble citizens are fretting because maybe their twenty or thirty calls weren't counted correctly, if at all. They'll lose sleep over the impact of their votes for the fat guy on that stupid fuckin' show. But they won't set down the remote long enough to think about the tuition bill that Mommy and Daddy are going to pick up next year anyway.

"They can give you the screen names of a few dozen friends' they've met' on-line, but who they'll never actually meet. They'll sincerely pour their heart out to an anonymous screen, and then lie to the face of the guy or gal they want to bang tomorrow night. You think these melons are a political threat? For real?

"And, Scott, what's going to lead the news tonight? Will it be the gold-digging whore, with grass stains on her back, now dead-by-overdose? Where's the body at this minute? And where's it going to be buried? Maybe it'll be a gripping expose on one of the half-dozen contestants in her burial-corpse custody-paternity-inheritance case. Or will it be the hopeless bimbo in California with her freshly shaved head, who's making a public plunge off of Sanity Mountain after all the `Amber Alerts' surrounding her revolving door rehab gestures? And then, after a commercial break, the networks or the cable shows might mention, almost by accident, the other piddly, trivial shit: kids giving their lives overseas for reasons nobody can agree on. The talking heads might stumble upon something worth at least thinking about if not actually debating: scrutiny over national defense or diplomatic policy. You know, minutiae like that. Student tuition, might...just might! accidentally sneak in behind those other momentous contributions to the national fabric. But, I doubt it, Scott. Pick up "The Journal" tomorrow and look behind the obits. Maybe you'll find it there.

"And then, just for fun, bring it all down to here and now, you and me. Raise all the hell you want between now and mid-May, Scott. What'll it get you? Let's talk impact. On the end result: zero. You don't have the real-world political leverage to make a difference in the halls of power that are going to make this decision. Paint some signs and march `em up State Street and you'll get on the front page of The Journal again for a day. It ain't the Halloween costume pic, but it'd still make the page. Good scrapbook material to show your grandkids when you want to show them how you tried to make a difference and all the grown-ups laughed at you before ignoring you.

"And finally, how about the impact within the world you might be able to affect? Raise hell in public about where we are right now, and you'll be in exile for the next three years among the Regents. Who the hell is going to open their mouth in front of you during our meetings, if they think it might be public the next day? How the fuck could anybody speak honestly with you in the room after something like that? Open your mouth in public right now and you'll be cutting off your own political balls. You'll be irrelevant before today's meeting ends. For the next three years, you'll be a useless piece of furniture, completely unable to make one whit of difference on behalf of your beloved student body."

Andy stood up and dropped a twenty on the table, then reached down and grabbed his coat. "You'd be well-advised to think about it, Scott. You're no dummy; that much is clear. Honestly, were I in your shoes, I'd go to the meeting today, keep my friggin' mouth shut and mull over the options. The real options, that is."

Scott was waiting at what had become their usual table at the McDonald's on campus, still feeling pretty glum. He'd taken Andy's advice yesterday, and sat through a four-hour meeting of the Board and just stewed. He'd decided to `keep his powder dry,' as Big Scott would have said, and think it all over for a while. So dour was his demeanor during the meeting that Mr. Mason and a couple others had asked if he was feeling okay.

He was reading the article in "The Daily Cardinal" that quoted Morrison heavily on his suspicions and fears about tuition hike rumors. Scott had been contacted, and could only repeat the `company line' from within the Board. "It's far too early to speculate about tuition over the next couple of years. It would be unfair to the students and to the Regents to talk about it until the numbers are more solid."

The reporter who had been at his press conference the previous month asked, "And what about the about the WSA resolution directing you to oppose any tuition increase at all on the Board of Regents?"

Scott was glad the questions were coming over the phone so that she couldn't see his face. "I think it makes sense that the students would be opposed to an increase in tuition, and think it's fair for their elected representatives to express that feeling through a resolution." Happily, she hadn't come right out and asked if he agreed with it, or whether he thought he could and would live up to it.

So he was doing a slow boil when their entrance caught his eye. Kip was chatting it up happily with the guy who entered at the same time, and it appeared they were ordering together, too. `Why the hell is he bringing somebody else to our lunch meeting?' he wondered.

They picked up their food and drinks and Kip nodded toward the table. Scott squinted and smirked when he saw the new guy walk headlong into another customer who was headed for the counter. The incoming student moved right to avoid him, and Kip's guest moved to his left, knocking right into her. Scott detected an accent in the apology he overheard. Kip laughed as he put down his tray and nodded toward his guest. "Scott Turner, this is Glenn Bowden." Scott smiled politely as he stood and held out a hand. The greeting was firm.

Scott liked what he saw, was amused by the minor collision, but was confounded by the apparent intrusion. He remained polite. "Good to meet you, Glenn."

His smile was dazzling, but not quite as much as his eyes. "And you too, Scott."

Kip explained. "Glenn's a member of our Melbourne, Australia, chapter. That explains his graceful move coming away from the counter. Put the guy into any kind of traffic and he's a disaster waiting to happen."

Glenn smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid I'm forever moving left while you folks move right. And, blam! I'm always bumping into people when I'm up here." He slid into the booth and grabbed a fry out of the box.

Kip sat down beside his guest. "I'm playing host for this week and next. Should have told you the other night, but I didn't think you'd mind if he tagged along."

The Australian looked hopeful. "Hope it's no trouble, Scott. I've an interest in your political systems. Seems so weird and different to me, and Kipper here tells me you're up to your eyeballs in it already. Wish we'd gotten in earlier, and I could have gone to the meeting your...WSA is it?...had the other night."

Scott nodded. "The WSA it is, Glenn, and it wasn't a pretty sight. I got kind of shafted by my own folks, in a weird way." He looked at Kip. "You tell him about that cluster fuck, or does he need a play-by-play?"

Glenn shook his head. "No, Kip pretty well ran down your situation. Sounds kinda dicey for you, eh?" He bit into a fry.

Scott shot a glance toward Kip. "No thanks to you, Mr. V.P. How the hell could you vote for something as asinine as that?"

Kip shrugged. "How the hell could I not? I'm elected by the students just like you are. You expect me to cast a vote that looks like it's in favor of higher tuition? You thought anybody was going to? I know I'm a lame duck `cuz I'm graduating, but I'm not going to do that."

"Oh, fuck, Kip! It's ridiculous! We might as well start adopting resolutions demanding the repeal of the speed limit around campus, and demanding topless Fridays for the chicks...or calling for an end to gravity. There's never been an absolute zero increase in tuition! And that fucker Morrison knows it. Politics is a lot of the art of what's possible, not some fucking pipe dream that could never occur."

Kip's lips smiled around his straw. "Told you he was a loon, didn't I?"

Scott pursed his lips, and glanced back at the visitor. "Sorry you have to see us spat like this, Glenn." The Australian waved it away. Scott continued. "At least you could've opened your mouth and cautioned the others against tying my hands like that. You might have been able to sway at least a few of them away from such a dumb-ass idea. How the hell can I even pretend to negotiate with the other Regents once they all know my vote on the budget has already been decided?"

Kip swallowed a mouthful and took a sip of his soda. Then he grinned. "You'll think of something." He understood Scott's dilemma, but there was still a large piece of him enjoying the president's discomfort.

Scott shook his head. "Well, your buddy Pennington is going to have a field day with this. I can't discuss in public what we're looking at in the committee, and he's got me by the balls there already. I open my mouth about the screwing he's got planned for us, and I'll be totally neutered as a Regent for the next three years."

Scott looked at Glenn and briefed him on the situation inside the Regents. "We're discussing some likely bad news for the students, but if I spout off in public at this point nobody will ever speak to me again inside that board room."

"Sounds like, how's it you say...it sucks being you right now, mate."

For most of the next hour, the three chatted about college life on their respective campuses. They both teased Glenn about his accent on more than one occasion, prodding him to repeat certain words, and parroting the accent themselves. It seemed he'd gotten used to this treatment already, resigned to the average American's infatuation with the Aussie dialect.

Outside the front doors, Scott and Glenn shook hands. The frat boys had just come from their last class of the day, and Kip was going to point out the finer points of State Street to his guest, and then tour the Capitol. Scott had a class to go to, so they parted ways.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kip sensed a sly grin on his new friend's face, but he didn't acknowledge it. After they'd turned the corner and started up State, Glenn gave way. "So, you and him?"

Kip turned his head. "Huh? Me and him, what?"

"You know. You two, uhm," he made two fists and hit them together, "bumping uglies? You know..."

Kip stopped cold. "Bumpin' uglies? You mean goin' at it?!" His mouth dropped opened and his stomach turned. "Me? What makes you think...?"

Glenn swatted his arm. "Relax, Kipper. My gaydar's infallible. You're playing pretty much for my team, even if you're still struggling with it. That's cool." Kip blinked in disbelief. "But the sexual tension between you two was absolutely delicious. I enjoyed that almost as much as I did the burger." Kip had filled Glenn in on much of the history he and Scott shared before they even entered McDonalds for lunch. "I do believe that if you two didn't share the lingering personal disdain, which is also pretty clear, then you two would be rooting pretty regular." He giggled, "And no, rooting' doesn't mean the same thing down under as it does here. Find yourself rooting' at a football game and you're likely to get yourself and your partner arrested." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Though it might be worth it if you're with the right person." He giggled again and resumed his stroll.

After Glenn had taken a few steps, moved left, and walked directly into another pedestrian, Kip laughed and his feet finally started moving again. He had to catch up. "Even if you were right...and I'm not saying you are...about me...but, Turner? He's got a steady girlfriend, for Christ sake. I know her, and I hear from some of her sorority sisters that they tear up the sheets pretty good whenever they can."

Glenn nodded. "Gonna have to trust me, Kipper. It's never failed, this sixth sense of mine. I have a feel that your Mr. Turner is...uhm, quite open minded, shall we say. I do believe he's playing the field on both sides of the fence. He seemed a bit taken by that gal sitting to our left, if you didn't notice. My intuition tells me his appetites run far and wide, though he's very, very guarded about them." He leaned in and whispered. "Though I wouldn't mind finding the chance to get him to drop his guard before I leave, if ya' know what I mean."

"You?"

"What's the expression...as a three-dollar bill? Knew it at an early age. Don't run around screaming with a rainbow flag over my head, but I know what I like, and I go for it when the mood strikes."

Kip's head was swimming, and he was still trying to catch his breath from the first ton of bricks that Glenn had delivered, but he was enormously curious and suddenly a bit excited about this intriguing foreigner. "So, what's your so-called sixth sense tell you about me?"

Glenn shrugged. "You have, I believe, conflicting feelings about who you are and who you think you `should' be. You know what you like, I think, but you try to deny it much of the time. I've only known you for, what, a day now? But there are walls around you. My guess is that they rise and fall; that sometimes you're in charge of that rising and falling, and other times you feel that you're not, and that rattles your cage."

Kip was trying to absorb Glenn's thumbnail sketch of him.

"Plus," he nudged Kip with an elbow and winked. "I caught you checking out my arse last night when I came out of the shower."

Kip shook his head and blushed.

They were half way up State Street by now, and about four blocks from the fraternity house. Glenn halted his step and turned toward his host. "Tell you what, Kipper." He nodded toward the dome. "That's gonna be there tomorrow, right?"

It sounded like `roit?' to Kip, and made him grin. He shrugged. "Yeah."

"And, this time of day, the house is mostly empty, huh?"

Another affirmative shrug, with a nod thrown in for encouragement.

"What say you an' me go back to your room and we'll explore all we want to about each other? You've asked a ton of questions about life `down under.' Let's go live a little for the afternoon, and I'll show you that a good part of that life is pretty much the way it is here." He winked. "But who knows? Maybe we can show each other a thing or two." Kip inhaled his scent and his cock jumped in his khaki's. "We can come back to see your beautiful Capitol tomorrow."

It was fast, ambitious `first date' sex. Once Kip was comfortable that the other rooms on his floor were practically all empty, they quietly closed his door. In less than a minute, they'd torn each others clothing off, and Glenn was laying on top of his American brother, grinding their cocks together as their mouths and tongues waged a playful battle. Glenn's mouth abruptly left Kip's, and before Kip opened his eyes, he felt the wet warmth of Glenn's sucking lips and tongue engulf his member. He gasped, and ran his fingers through to dark brown locks. After feasting for a time on Kip's nuts, Glenn shoved his legs back, exposing the nicely shaved crotch and crack.

"Lovely bum, mate."

Kip grinned. "Glad you like it. Help yourself."

Glenn's face moved forward and buried itself between his cheeks, immediately assaulting the cute little pucker with his tongue. Kip's head rolled right and left on the bed, and his hands found the back of Glenn's head, urging him onward. He wanted to shout, but managed to remain aware that they might be overheard, so he just whispered a hissing, "Yyyyyyyyeeeeeessssssss!" From his position, kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, Glenn was able to reach his duffle bag and root around inside until he found what he was looking for. He stood, carrying Kip's feet upward with him, and resting them on his shoulders. He waved the condom.

"Hate to be pushy, Kipper, but I do believe I know what you need right now." Between pinched fingers, he tore the wrapper open.

Kip nodded rapidly. "Be pushy! Be pushy, dammit!"

Kip hadn't done much more than stoke Glenn's meat a few times while they rolled around on the bed, but he guessed him to be about seven hard inches, and pretty thick. On his thin frame, it was an impressive looking weapon. Glenn found the bottle of Wet in his duffle, and drizzled a light stream directly onto Kip's upturned hole. He lubed up his tool, took aim, and quickly poked through. Kip winced and gasped, and Glenn held the position, gently stroking Kip's thighs. When the expression on Kip's face showed calm, he slowly pushed forward until his trimmed pubes rested against Kip's nuts.

"How we doin', Kipper?"

Kip just smiled and nodded.

Glenn pushed Kip's knees back until they rested on his chest, and began a slow rhythm of stabbing into his American brother. Their eyes locked in a lusty gaze, and the subtle smile on Kip's face told him he was enjoying the ride as much as Glenn was. Glenn picked up the pace, bringing short, soft grunts from beneath him ever time he crossed Kip's nut. Kip gritted his teeth and reached over his raised thigh to find his cock. He began stroking it furiously with short shots of his wrist and quickly started to whimper. "Cumming! Cuuummmmmming!" Jets of semen burst forward, hitting Kip in the chin, the neck and the chest. Glenn felt the momentum building too, and wanted to join his new buddy in the glory of the orgasm. He withdrew from Kip and stripped off the rubber. Wanting desperately to hasten the explosion, he furiously stroked, flexing his ass and leg muscles to encourage the coming wave. His body jerked straight and stiff, and he began to fire his seed all over Kip's cock, balls and his sweaty abs. After several pulses of his rigid torso and a mighty gasp he collapsed forward with an elbow landing on either side of Kip's chest. He rolled sideways and breathed deep again, then wiped the sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead.

Kip giggled. "Not a bad start, huh?"

Glenn reached over and patted his thigh. "I think I'm gonna like it here in the states."

Scott couldn't remember the last time he'd gone for a run at night, when it was dark. In July, to run at after 8:00 p.m. it would be dusk. In March, it was pitch black. And it was cold; unusually cold, for March. The inside walls of his nostrils stuck together from the cold with every inhale. Still, he was sweating. That's because he was running hard. That was because he was pissed at the world. Again.

It had been a shitty couple of weeks. He felt as if Maureen had led him to this Regents appointment, and then abandoned him. Kelly had basically told him to go to hell. Pennington had the deck stacked squarely against him, and his own student government had put him in a position that made it impossible to even try to play a hand from that stacked deck.

His mom and dad were at a legal conference in Miami, and Evelyn hated talking on the phone. Craig was out covering a concert. Even Marty had been mostly absent lately. Their class schedules were so different, his part time job with Buildings and Grounds kept him out weeknights, and most weekends he was back in Rockford. They'd met in the cafeteria a couple of times for a quick bite to eat, but Scott hadn't been in much of a talking mood. Now he was, and there was nobody around.

He gritted his teeth and sprinted the last two blocks back to the dorm, dodging traffic as he crossed two city streets. His momentum after clearing the curb continued, and he came to a hard stop against the dorm's front door. Inside the lobby, he flopped down on one of the benches, closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. His soaked sweatshirt clung to his panting chest. Beads of perspiration gathered at the temple just beneath his stocking cap and crawled their way down both cheeks. He coughed the last bit of chill out of his lungs, and then leaned over to spit the thick phlegm into wastebasket next to the bench. He closed his eyes again and leaned back.

He cursed himself for the pity he was feeling for Scott Turner, Jr. He knew his Gran' would smack him upside the head and he heard `Big Scott' saying, "you want to run with the big dogs, then you gotta learn to lift your leg." He heard the footsteps and happy voices of the other inhabitants of his dorm on their way out for a Saturday night in Madison. He felt the bench cushion sink on one side of him under the weight of another student's butt, but he remained in statuesque repose against the wall.

Suddenly, almost involuntarily, his nose and face scrunched up and his head jerked do the right as his shoulder raised. The slimy finger of a `wet willy' in his right ear had produced the desired effect. Even before his brain recognized the chuckle to his right, it had registered that there was only one person he knew who would do something so childish. He looked right at the grinning mug of Marty Anderson.

"I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were in Rockford."

"Nope. Jill and Ash' went to Indiana with her folks to some family reunion thing, and I picked up an extra shift last night to work the basketball game. I can use the overtime."

Scott slid the cap off of his head and rubbed the sweat-soaked scalp, patting the hair down on all sides. He leaned back against the wall again and sighed.

Marty swatted his thigh with the back of his hand. "Besides, we haven't had much time, and you were basically a sour clam the other night at dinner; face all glum and not sayin' a thing. I spent most of the day at the library, but been trying to call you for the past couple of hours. What's up, Bud?"

Scott shook his head. "Life sucks. That's all." He got up and started toward the elevator. "Gonna go up, take a shower, go back to the room, have a drink or ten and hit the sack."

Marty patted his ass just as Scott pushed the button. "Bullshit! Dr. Marty's got just the thing for what ails ya.'" Scott snorted a small chuckle and shook his head. "No, professor, get your head out of the gutter. We're goin' out to a party."

The bell rang and the doors slid apart. "I don't know, Marty. Not much in the mood..."

"Shut up." The doors closed as Scott leaned against the back wall. Marty pushed the buttons for both his and Scott's floors. "That's why you need to come with me. We're gonna fix that mood." The elevator lurched slowly upward. "Uhm...Sorry to hear about you and Kel.'"

Scott's eyes shifted left and met Marty's. "You heard?"

His friend looked at the floor. "Spent most of the day at the library, but took a break and wandered up to the Sub Shoppe. She was there with some of her girlfriends, and we snuck off to a corner table for a few minutes."

"What'd she have to say?"

Marty shrugged. "Just that the two of you see it all headed in different directions and you were coolin' it."

Scott nodded. "She wants a convenient accessory for the Langdon Street crowd during her senior year. I don't want anybody else laying claim to my life or my time. `Nuf of that shit goin' on already."

Marty squeezed his arm. "Well, Scotty, I'm layin' claim to your life and your time for the next who-knows-how-many hours, and you an' me are goin' out."

Scott shook his head.

"I said, shut up! I'm not hearin' `no' from you tonight. My buddy Brandon's havin' a party over at his apartment, and we're goin'!"

"Brandon from B and G? From that romp in the basement?"

Marty grinned. "One in the same. He's really a good shit, ya' know, and it sounds like it'll be a good time. And you, my friend, are in the need of a serious attitude adjustment." The elevator halted and the doors slowly opened. Marty put his hand on Scott's back and urged him through. "Now, you're gonna get out of here and hit the shower. You're kinda ripe, ya' know. Then you're gonna bring your sweet ass up to my room for some warm-ups before we head out of here and see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight. No negative talk. No `poor me' sob stories. No gloomy whining. I don't want to hear it. Not tonight, anyway." He pushed Scott through the doors. "I'll give ya' twenty minutes, and then I'm coming to get you. And if I have to come back down here to drag you out of that room, it ain't gonna be pretty. It's been a while since I've been naked in public; so don't test me on this one. I'm on a mission."

Scott chuckled as the doors closed. From behind them he heard a muffled, "Hey, professor! Do ya' trust me?"

There was no music playing from behind the James Brothers' door as he passed. They must have been out for the night.

Once again, Marty was right. Under the hot water in the shower, he realized that. He needed a night out. A carefree `what the fuck?' kind of night was just what Dr. Marty had in mind, and he was right. For the rest of the evening, Kelly, Maureen, Pennington, Kip, the WSA, the Board, Morrison, even his own family members were going to be put on the shelf. Ninety minutes later, a couple of cocktails, a joint and a couple of lines, plus Marty's entertaining antics up in his room had made all the difference. He was well on his way to what Marty had said would be a "serious attitude adjustment." Tonight he was gonna bust loose with his best bud and put all the world's worries behind him. He wasn't sure what he'd find once they got to Brandon's, but he didn't really care by the time they left Marty's room.

They walked in giggling over a comment Marty had made on the way up the front sidewalk, although both would have been hard-pressed to recall what it was.

It was all guys. About twenty-five of them, maybe thirty, scattered throughout the good-sized apartment. A few even stood on the balcony outside the front hallway, smoking. Scott wasn't entirely surprised by the fact that it was all men, and he was washed with a mix of apprehension and excitement. They ranged in age, he guessed, up to their early thirties, but most were college-aged men who were out this night for a good time. The music was a little loud, but the mood of the room was carefree and just what he needed. Marty had been right, once again.

Marty greeted Brandon with a hug. Scott offered his hand and was quickly pulled into a welcoming embrace of his own. "Scott!" Brandon nearly shouted. "I told Marty to bring you along. Glad you could make it. You guys gonna hang here for a while?"

Marty looked around the room. "Who knows? We're gonna just go with the flow tonight." He patted Scott's back. "My bud and me are on a mission to just put the rest of the world behind us for the next twelve hours or so and see what happens."

Scott felt the ass of a tall guy, about 6' 2" and probably in his mid-twenties, rub up against his own. Due to the blonde stud's height, it wasn't quite a cheek-on-cheek meeting, but it was close. When Scott shifted his own weight forward, the firm butt cheeks followed. Marty noticed the guy's maneuver, and the alarm on Scott's face. He giggled, and then put his arm across Scott's back, placing a barrier between his apprehensive buddy and the not so coy come on.

Brandon reached up and swatted the tall blonde's shoulder. "Peter! Behave! They just got here!" The guy moved forward a step, pretending to stay in the conversation he was having with two others. Brandon waved a hand at Scott and Marty. "Fucking med students! They see naked guys all day but don't have the sense to go for the goodies behind the closed doors of their offices or examining rooms. Ethics or something like that, I guess. Come on, Marty. Let's get you guys a couple a beers." Marty nudged Scott's shoulder, and then he followed their host through the stairwell out back to where the keg was on ice.

Scott overheard them as they stepped away. "I want you to meet my special guy tonight. He'll be here in a bit. Hot! All Asian and exotic and all that shit." Their voices traveled off among the heads and shoulders in the kitchen.

He turned just as the tall blonde with the nice ass behind him made the same move. He flashed a smile. "Hi. I'm Scott."

The guy's enormous grasp firmly encased his own handshake. Scott was impressed. "Hey, Scott, I'm Peter."

"So, Brandon says you're a med student?"

Peter took a drink and nodded, never breaking the connection of their eyes. His were a deep blue, and Scott drank them in. The short-cut blonde hair framing his Nordic facial features did them justice. More than that, actually; they were a hot combination. Blonde, blue, tall, fit, all Scandinavian and obviously horny. The tube down his left leg announced that fact, not that it was necessary. His body language said the same in volumes. He swallowed and nodded again. "Third year. Doing my rotations at UW Hospitals now. A lot of ER stuff for the time being. Another year of the shell-game routine through this and that specialty, and then, who knows?" There was an awkward `just meeting someone' silence for a moment. "And, what's your story, Scott?"

He felt flustered, and was working mightily to keep his eyes focused above the guy's neck. It wasn't easy. "I'm a freshman, majoring in Poli-Sci along with a few thousand others, and still don't know what I wanna be when I grow up." Without a drink in his hand yet, the only safe thing to do with his hands was to thrust them into his pockets. There wasn't much room.

Marty's shoulder hit his. "What you wanna be when you grow up? Who the fuck says you have to grow up?"

Scott liberated his hand right from his jeans and took the plastic cup. "Thanks, bud. Marty, this is Peter. Peter, my best friend, Marty."

Peter smiled. "Best friend, huh? So, you guys...you're like a couple, or what?"

It wasn't like Scott hadn't thought about it, but the question still threw him for a loop. Marty got him off the hook. "Best friends. There for each through thick and thin. Me and Brandon work together for the University, and I dragged this sad sack out of the dorm tonight `cuz he needed a kick in the ass and in the attitude."

Peter nodded as he eyed Marty up and down.

Brandon interrupted. "Hey, Marty, I want you to meet my new bud."

Scott's face lit up. "Hey, Vang!" Scott thought Vang had looked good in his waiter's uniform. In his tight jeans and skin-tight black tee, he looked absolutely smoking hot.

The Laotian grinned widely. "I thought that was you I saw from the back of the kitchen, but wasn't positive. How are you Scott?" He put a hand on the back of Brandon's shoulder. "I've had the pleasure of serving Mr. Turner at the restaurant, but I don't think I know your other friend."

Brandon handled the introduction to Marty, as Peter sensed the momentum shifting away from him and returned to his previous conversation. The four chatted amicably for another fifteen minutes about classes, jobs and other mundane shit. Scott shared that he was pretty sure he'd be staying in Madison for the summer to take Maureen up on her offer of a job in the Senate, but that nothing was definite yet. It would depend in large part, he said, on the housing situation. The dorms had to be empty the day after final exams ended near the end of May. Brandon and Vang took the other two empty glasses and went to the back for refills as Brandon said "Meet us back out on the porch out front and we'll fire one up." Scott and Marty both smiled, then navigated their way through the guys in the living room. Peter was off to the side, one hand about head-high on the wall, and leaning down to listen intently to a short good-looking guy. It seemed to Scott that the med student was seriously out on the prowl.

Back out on the balcony, Brandon handed over the refills and then pulled a fat doobie from his shirt pocket. Marty produced a lighter, and the four of them smoked, laughed, and rocked lightly to the music playing inside the apartment. After the joint had been snuffed out and all had a very good buzz going, Marty announced it was time to kick it up a notch. He produced a small glass vial with a little silver spoon attached to the lid by a short, thin chain. Marty scooped out small spoonfuls and cupped his hand around them as each guy, in turn, leaned over and sniffed. Vang was obviously in a playful mood, and shook his slender hips while he ground his groin into Brandon's backside. "I could bend you over the railing and do you right here. That shit always makes me so horny!" He grabbed Brandon's arm. "Let's go back in. I'm getting cold out here and might want to dance with one of the hot studs in there." Brandon just grinned as Vang led the way back inside.

The image of the two slender guys humping and groaning and moaning made Scott's dick twitch. Truth was, he was feeling absolutely no pain by this point, and the buzz he had going had left him horny as well. He suddenly wanted to drag Marty back to the dorm and tear off his clothes, then show his buddy his true appreciation for taking him out for this `attitude adjustment.' Marty caught his leer and he winked, and then slid the tip of his tongue across the width of an evil grin. They heard a car door slam on the street out front, but only Marty bothered to look out over Scott's shoulder. He recognized the figure walking up the front walk, and fought off the urge to giggle. He looked back at Scotty and said in a low tone, "Easy, Scotty. We're just getting' warmed up." He looked at Scott's empty cup. "But it looks like you could use a refill. I'm buying this round." He snatched the plastic from Scott's hand. "Be right back."

Scott shivered a bit, and dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he slowly inhaled the cold winter air. The apartment blocked most of the light breeze, and the fresh air felt and tasted pretty good. He closed his eyes and grinned sublimely as he soaked up the effects of the evening's indulgence and the music coming from inside the house. When he opened them back up, he thought he recognized the small white truck parked across the street below. Just then, Marty's voice called out. "Scotty! Look what the cat dragged in!"

Scott turned to see his friend step out onto the porch with Randy Oakes in tow. "Ran into him back out by the keg." Randy grinned and nodded somewhat shyly toward Scott. It appeared this was not the first party of the night for Randy, although Scott was getting accustomed to seeing his former TA in an impaired state. Not that he was in any position to make any sort of judgments about such things at the moment.

Scott smiled. "Hey, Randy! What're you doin' out and about on a Saturday? Aren't you usually down in Evanston or with the wife up here every weekend?" Marty produced another joint and put the lighter to its end, took a hit and handed it to the newcomer.

Randy pulled his left hand out of his pocket and held it face-high, fingers extended. The ring was gone. "Not anymore, Scott. I'm dumping the whore." He took the little cigarette from Marty and inhaled deeply.

Scott and Marty both registered surprise. "What?" they sang out in unison.

Randy scowled as he exhaled, and looked at the floor for a moment. He handed it over to Scott. "A few weeks back. I get a gal in our department to cover a couple of classes for me so I can go down there and surprise the bitch on Valentine's Day. I get down there mid-afternoon, let myself into the apartment and get everything set in the bedroom. Candles, chocolate covered strawberries, roses, champagne, the whole nine yards. Then I get naked and crawl into bed just before I figure she'll be coming home, and I wait." Scott and Marty both smiled at the image of a naked Randy Oakes lying back in bed in a candle-lit room, and they nodded along with the narrative, but both were also anticipating the outcome. "So the apartment door opens. Now, the bedroom door is closed so she doesn't know I'm there, right? All of a sudden, there's the giggling and laughing of her voice, but of another guy's too. By the time I put my clothes back on and get to the bedroom door, the giggling has turned into groaning and gasping. I open the door and the living room is strewn with various articles of clothing, a half-empty bottle of wine is on the coffee table, her Department Chair is propped back on the couch and she's got his dick in her mouth, fingering herself inside her panties as she bobs up and down polishing his knob!" The joint had made its way back to him, and he paused the story while he took another deep hit.

"Holy shit." Scott moaned. "Man, I'm sorry Randy!"

"What a fucking drag!" Marty echoed. "What do you do when something like that happens, dude?"

He shrugged, and then a wry grin emerged. "Well, it's finally become pretty funny in my mind. Ya' see, her back's to me, right? And his head's thrown back on the top of the couch and his eyes are closed, so I just stood there for a good chunk of a full minute. Without really thinking about it, I started to wiggle the ring off my finger." He giggled. "Then, the dude opens his eyes and his mouth just drops open, like he can't speak or nothin'! Finally he pushes her off his cock, and she says `What the fuck? I want that big boy!' and she starts going back down on him. He pushes her back again by the shoulders and just points. By this time, I'm almost to the front door. Before she could say anything, I just tossed the ring at them and walked out. I was out of the building before she could've gotten dressed, so I don't even know if she tried to catch up or stop me from leaving. I bolted to the truck as soon as I cleared the front door."

"So, it's over, for real?"

"Well, there's been about a hundred teary voicemails I'm ignoring. I let her know in a final email that I'd be deleting anything else she sends me. I boxed up all the shit of hers we had here in Madison and shipped it to her, charging the card in her name with the cost." He giggled at that. "I let her know I'd be coming down to pick up all my stuff from the Evanston place some time during spring break. I got a lawyer my dad knows back home to get things rolling on a divorce." He glanced at Scott. "Sorry, I didn't hire `Big Scott,' but I didn't think divorce was really his thing."

Scott waved off the unnecessary apology. "He hates them, but his administrative assistant, Daisy, hates them even more. Doesn't want to have a hand in ending a marriage `that the Good Lawd A'mighty has given his Holy Blessing to.' His impersonation of her voice and dialect were impeccable, though the other two didn't fully appreciate that fact.

There was a pause in the conversation. Finally, Randy spoke up. "Soooo...Scott. I'm basically unmarried, and I'm not your TA anymore." Everybody sensed where this was gonna go, and they were already mostly of one mind. Randy thumbed over his shoulder into the apartment. "If I know Brandon, and judging by a lot of the groping already goin' on in there, this little shindig is going to devolve into an all-out orgy within the hour. Now, as much fun as that might be, I'm not sure that a grad student who's got some students in there, and who's gonna be looking for work in the area pretty soon, or a college student with political concerns of his own, need to be seen in the middle of a teeming flesh pot. What do you say we bring this back to my place and have a party of more manageable size?"

Twenty minutes later, Randy Oakes was on his bed, flat on his back. Marty Anderson's ass cheeks muffled his moans as Marty straddled the gymnast's face and slowly raised and lowered his twitching pucker up and down on the probing tongue. Marty had hold of Randy's feet; bringing his legs back as far as they would go. In between the raised limbs, Scott Turner, Jr. slowly slid his condom-clad cock back and forth in and out of Randy's eager chute. Scott leaned forward, taking the weight of Randy's legs onto his shoulders. This freed up Marty's hands to stroke the back of Scott's head while his friend leaned down and swallowed his swaying, erect manhood. Each man was lost in highly charged sexual bliss. Scott was enjoying the welcoming hole he'd fantasized about, but avoided for months. As a bonus, his best buddy's steely pole felt good as it slid over his lips and tongue. Marty was reveling in the sensations being washed over his entire midsection, front and back. His view obscured by Marty's butt, Randy could only picture in his mind the determined face of the young man he'd wanted to bend him over for so long. His mind's eye was incredibly accurate, as Scott plunged harder and harder with every stroke.

Marty's body stiffened. He thrust his hips and grunted through clenched teeth. Warm, sweet and salty goo spurted forward into Scott's throat. To Marty's delight, Scott didn't lift his head, but only held it stationary and suckled on him, allowing Marty to fuck his mouth while he came. Soon, his dick was too sensitive to withstand the friction against Scott's lips and tongue, and Marty withdrew, sitting back on his haunches just above Randy's head. When Scott's torso rose up to finish the job at hand, a stripe of Marty's seed was on his chin. Marty reached over and his fingers grasped the back of Scott's head. He brought their faces together, first licking the jiz off his chin, and then brought their mouths together in a passionate, tongue-lashing kiss. Scott moaned into his friends mouth as he pounded the last four or five strokes into Randy's ass and filled the condom deep inside with his semen. He gasped several deep breaths as he sat back. Randy gripped his dripping tool and stroked furiously. He gritted his teeth. Scott's middle finger probed inside, replacing his cock in massaging the button inside. Randy's eyes rolled back when he hit the spot, and very quickly, his own white lava fired across his hard-broad chest. He whimpered a few times as his body convulsed through the orgasm and he sprayed his batter across his chest and stomach.

After a nap of several hours, Scott found his way into the bathroom, located a towel and started the shower. Before dozing off, they'd enjoyed another rambunctious fucking, this time with Marty hammering the robust and well-built Randy from behind as the TA gobbled hungrily on Scott's meat. When Scott hit the lever to change the water flow to the showerhead, Randy and Marty were still snoozing, or so he thought. After stepping under the hot stream, the curtain slid back across the horizontal pole, and a sleepy, smiling Marty stepped over the side of the tub and joined his friend. They lazily and playfully soaped each other from forehead to feet, front and back. Shortly, the curtain opened again. It was a tight fit, but somehow, Randy negotiated his broad shoulders between the other two, and went to his knees. Alternately, and occasionally at the same time, he orally serviced the two friends under the hot stream while their hands slowly roamed above him and their lips and tongues wandered here and there. After each guy had fed Randy his `breakfast of champions,' and he'd relieved his own aching tool onto the bottom of the tub, they all toweled off and located various articles of clothing strewn about the living room, kitchen and bedroom. A couple of aspirin and cup of coffee later, Scott and Marty thanked their host, hinted at the possibility of a replay some day down the road, and exited the apartment.

The sun was just coming up, and it promised to be a pretty mild March day. They walked several minutes in silence. Halfway back to the dorm, Scott tossed an arm over his buddy's shoulder. "Thanks, bud."

"What?"

"Don't gimme that, ya' shithead! You knew I was in a snit, in a funk. I'da just gone back to the room, put a buzz on with a few stiff drinks and hit the sack, wallowing around in my own self-pity. I needed to just put the shit behind me and cut loose, if only for a night." He giggled. "We'll have to find a chance now and then to have the apartment to ourselves and invite him over to our place some time, especially now that he's probably going to be in town for sure."

Marty just shrugged. "Yeah."

There was a hammering on the door. Both Scott and Craig sprang upright in their respective beds at the same time, four eyes open wide, two mouths agape. Craig grabbed a shoe and cocked his arm, ready to throw it at the intruder.

"Open up, dumb shits!" It was Brett, and he was in a near panic.

Scott leaned forward on the bed and just barely reached the doorknob. He tugged it open, and a breathless Brett raced in.

"Dudes! We gotta get a move on! This is frickin' perfect. Brett's done it again, my boys." He giggled and clapped his hands together before plopping down on the foot of Scott's bed. "Get your asses up, men! Marty's in the shower and should be here in a minute, then we gotta haul ass."

Craig yawned as he swung his legs around and put his feet on the floor. "What the fuck is the emergency?"

Brett was still very animated. "It's fuckin' perfect, Craig-o. You guys remember Wilbur, Angie's uncle?"

Scott stood up and scratched his ass, then picked up the coffee pot and walked to the sink. He coughed. "You mean the limo driver? The one who took me and Kelly out for my birthday?"

"He's the man. So, check it out. His older brother owns a few properties here in Madison. The poor old guy bought the farm last week, and Wilbur inherits one of the houses. It's got two apartments, one upper and one lower. Here's the kicker. The guy doesn't really want to be a landlord, and is looking to lease it fast. He and the missus are leaving on a long springtime cruise tomorrow, and he wants to settle quickly on a new set of tenants. Says the ones upstairs in the place now are deadbeats and he wouldn't renew their lease for anything. They're moving out at the end of the school year, and Wilbur wants to have it filled for the summer and next year. Willing to lease it cheap for the summer months, and give us a great deal for the next school year."

"Where is this place?" Craig pulled a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser while Scott started the coffee and walked to his closet.

"That's one of the cool parts. It's down on East Johnson, right across the street from James Madison Park. I drove by it yesterday, and it looks perfect from the outside anyway. Three bedrooms upstairs. Balcony out front overlooking the park and a beautiful view of the lake. He told the tenants he was going to be coming over to show the place to us in, like, a half hour, so we gotta move on this. If we sign a lease before we leave to head south, and put down some money today, we can lock into a sweetheart deal for the coming year, boys. And we get a landlord who already likes me and who'll stay the hell out of our way."

Scott pulled on a sweatshirt. "But you guys aren't going to be here this summer, are you?"

Brett shrugged. "I haven't decided for sure yet, but the summer rent is really cheap and the school-year cost he's offering will make it about the same as it would be to pay a lot more from next August through May, anyway. Financially, it'll be a wash. And, if nothing else, it'll give me and Craig and Marty a place to crash if we do want to come up for a weekend or something during the summer." He patted Scott on the back. "And you, my friend, will have a spacious off-campus apartment all to yourself while you start making a real name for yourself this summer. You can have orgies and shit with the Capitol nymphs."

Marty's knock sounded on the door. Brett yanked it open. "Mornin' boys. Brett filled you all in?"

Scott nodded. "Sounds like a sweet deal, huh?"

Marty just shrugged. "Whatever. Hey, Brett, how much we gotta put down today? I'm on a pretty tight budget, and this excursion to New Orleans is going to take a bite out of it. I hadn't exactly planned to shell out a few more hundred right now."

Brett waved him off. "Don't know yet, in dollars and cents. Let's just go see the place and we can hash out the trivial details, like money, later."

It was a cool place. Three good-sized bedrooms; large enough so that two could room together and they'd have an extra office/guestroom if they wanted. Both the living room out front and the kitchen in the rear were also pretty roomy, and the front porch overlooking street and the park and the lake beyond was a bonus. All four were impressed, and the terms were really good.

Wilbur gave the guys a standard lease. They agreed that they'd talk it over and get back to him in a few hours, hopefully with a signed lease and the first month's rent, before hitting the road for New Orleans. Wilbur agreed to hold off on the security deposit, equal to another month's rent, until the school year resumed after Labor Day. It was a sweet deal.

Marty looked forlorn as he slid into the booth back at the cafeteria. "I'm sorry guys. I just hadn't planned on coughing up this kind of cash right now. I mean, it's not a fortune or anything, I just don't have it. Until Mom settles on the financial stuff with the shit head, I'm sure as hell not going to ask her for anything. We should have that crap settled in another month or so, but now's not the time for me to go and try to draw anything from that well."

Craig didn't look much happier. "I can scrape together some of it, but don't think I can cover the full amount. I'll have another paycheck waiting when we get back from the trip, but not right now."

Brett looked crushed. He'd already called his dad and arranged for him to deposit some extra cash in his checking account.

Scott had been thinking. He looked at Marty and smiled. "I got ya' covered guys." They both shot him a curious glance. "Look! The scholarship kicked in for the second semester. I got a full refund on housing, and no tuition to pay. I'll have a full-time job this summer, and will probably stay on there part-time after school starts. After that, the scholarship only pays dorm housing rates, but that's going to cover most of the cost of my rent. Brett's right. This is a deal too good to walk away from."

Marty inhaled deeply. "Scotty. I don't know. I don't want you to..."

Scott cut him off. "Hey! Are you saying if the situation were reversed you wouldn't do the same thing for me? Same for you, Craig. Fuck that noise."

Brett's smile returned, although Marty's concern was still obvious. "Well...I know, Scott. But this is...I mean money is different."

"Bullshit! If you're looking at a great deal and you can make it happen, you're an idiot to walk away from it. Mr. and Mrs. Turner didn't raise any idiots." He looked back at Brett. "Fill in the blanks on the lease and do the math. I'll run back to my room and grab the checkbook. I'll write a check to cover my share, Marty's share, and whatever Craig can't cover right now." He looked over at Craig. "You pay me back when you can." Then he pointed at Marty. "You, too. Whenever you can." He got up and jogged toward the cafeteria door.

Two hours later, they had delivered the lease and down payments, loaded up the car, and were headed to New Orleans.

About the time the guys were passing Springfield, Illinois, the automated doors to the UW Hospital's emergency room slid open in both directions. Kip Monmouth, looking pale, sweating, walking slowly and weakly with the support of his Australian `brother' approached the desk.

The registration nurse peered over her glasses when she felt the cold rush of air and heard the doors close. "You have an emergency?" If her hair had been pulled any tighter, her ears would've touched at the back of her head.

Kip nodded his head and swallowed hard. "I...uh...do. I have a real emergency."

She the glasses up the bridge of her nose and eyed him up and down. He did look pretty miserable. "Of what nature? Overdose of some sort?"

"No...not really, anyway. It's of a rather delicate nature. If you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss it out here, but need to see a doctor right away."

Glenn mouthed, `It's his bum.' He leaned forward and whispered. "He has an...issue...with, or rather in, his bum."

"His bum?" she said loudly enough to make both young men raise their hands in protest. "What are you British or something?"

"Australian, ma'am, but my mate here truly needs to see one of your doc's. Sooner the better, if you could, please?"

"May I see your student i.d.?" Kip winced as he retrieved his wallet and found the needed plastic card. She handed Kip a clipboard of forms, and pointed to a row of chairs against the wall. "Please have a seat and fill these out." She paused and sized them both up. "Fill them out from top...to bottom." She smirked.

She scanned another clipboard and then the computer screen, and then picked up the phone. "Mr. Andreassen? Reception please. Peter Andreassen, please call reception."

Kip stood near the row of seats and, his hand shaking a bit, filled out the forms as rapidly as he could, as if completing the task would take away his agony. He glanced back at the anxiety-ridden face of his fraternity brother, and muttered under his breath. "When you said you were into all things technical, I thought you were talking about computers and electronics and stuff like that.

"Well, battery operated devices might be lo-tech, but I'd gotten bored with the plain old rubber ones. Thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"I don't fucking believe this. This is not happening to me. I can't believe you did this to me."

Glenn's face showed sympathy. "Kip, mate! I told you not to push back too hard, that I'd find the right spot. You were like, dazed and glazed over in the face, and just got greedy I think. I was nudging forward and you moaned and forced yourself back. Before I knew what happened, the handle of the flippin' thing just disappeared. Try to remember that we were having a hell of a time until you lost touch with my directions."

Kip whispered. "The fuckin' thing's still running. I'm gonna wet my pants pretty soon." He handed Glenn the clipboard. "Take this back to the goon behind the desk, will ya'?" The nurse was on the phone as she accepted the data from him. "That's right," she spoke into the receiver as she scanned the information. "Apparently another rectal emergency, sir."

Another young woman, this one perky and full of life burst through the doors next to the reception desk. "Mr. Monmouth? Christopher Monmouth?"

"Yes! That's me!"

Fifteen minutes later, Peter Andreassen picked up the phone in the examining room and ordered an immediate x-ray. All of the training and practice he'd been given in keeping a straight face during delicate medical dilemmas was being put to the test. His patient had a vibrator stuck up his ass, too far for his playmate to retrieve on his own, and too far to expel naturally without excruciating agony. "The sphincter muscle is an amazing thing, and the rectum is quite sensitive, as you are aware." he told the two.

Kip was facedown on a gurney, being wheeled into the operating room after the image of his lower half had been examined. Peter was now in surgical garb, waiting in the OR. He put a reassuring hand on Kip's shoulder. "Christopher..."

"It's Kip!"

Peter removed his hand. "Okay, Kip it is. Kip, the object has passed far into your rectum, past the sphincter muscle, and entered the lowest portion of your colon. It's called the Sigmoid colon because of its S-shape. It appears that the top few inches of the, uhm, device, is a pliable rubber material or something?"

Glenn nodded, extended his index finger and pivoted it around, making a twirling motion in the air.

Peter's eyebrows rose. "Well, the rubber tip bent sideways, and it was swept into the Sigmoid, causing the handle to enter you too. That made it impossible for Glenn to recover it on his own. He must have tried to retrieve it, but only pushed it further in. The good news is there doesn't appear to be any internal damage. From what we can see, the bowel hasn't been perforated, and there's no indication of any serious tissue damage throughout. We're going to administer a general anesthesia to the area. Then, I'm going to use an anal speculum to...uhm...open you up quite a bit. Once I have adequate access to your insides, I'm going to take what's called a Ring forceps to get hold of the...object...and retrieve it. With a little luck, you'll be pretty sore for a while, but you ought to be out of here after a couple hours of observation. We want to monitor you to ensure that there were no small perforations that can't be detected in the images we have. If there are, we'll be able to judge by watching your vital signs closely for a while. You should be out of here in a few hours."

Kip's eyes were clenched shut through the entire narrative of what was coming. Through gritted teeth, he spit, "Just get that God Damned thing out of me. Cut me open if you have to, but just get the fucker out!"

Peter finally smiled, as Kip couldn't see him. He looked to his left. "Anesthetic."

Two hours later, Peter came back into Kip's room where he found his patient laying face down. Glenn stood up and Peter unhooked the chart at the foot of Kip's bed and browsed it. He checked his pulse and temperature one more time. "Forgive me, Kip, but I need to check the affected area once more." He spread the muscular thighs, and grabbed hold of the buttocks, pushing them apart, then peered closely. "Well, you're obviously in excellent physical shape, Kip. You're going to be swollen and tender for a time, but I'd say, all in all, you're a pretty lucky guy." He took the prescription pad on the desk, and scribbled. "I'm going to give you a mild laxative to take for the next week or so. It should make your life easier a few times a day until all feels normal again." He patted Kip on the back. "And, you, my friend, are good to go."

Glenn and Kip sighed their relief in tandem.

As Kip was finishing getting dressed, Peter held up a paper bag. "Here's the offending object, guys." He handed it back to Glenn. "I'll recommend, for the future, that you either get one with a longer handle, or tie a good, strong string around it next time." He winked and smiled. "Take it easy, guys." Part of him wanted to give them each his card, with his private cell phone number on it. `Fucking ethics' he thought as he watched two very shapely asses, albeit one of them out of commission for a while, drift through the exit's doors.

Kip gently slid into the driver's seat and Glenn quietly entered on the other side. He dropped his forehead onto the wheel. "Un...fucking...believable!" He started the car and slowly pulled out of the parking space. "You told me that would drive me nuts, but I had no freaking idea what you had in mind."

Glenn was alarmed and defensive. "Kip! Kip! This sure as fuck wasn't what I had in mind. You were lovin' it there for a good while. You were beggin' me for it, mate! You might not remember, but you were all over this little baby." He held up the paper bag.

Kip shrugged a hesitant admission that his frat brother was probably right.

"Still," Glenn sighed. "I feel I need to make it up to you somehow."

Kip stared ahead and nodded. "Oh, you're going to, my Australian friend. I might have been asking for it, but it was your idea, and you were in charge. You do owe me one. Fuck, at least one. I have a couple excellent ideas that I think you're going to be perfect for."

Author's Note: Many thanks to lavish on others for the assistance with this chapter, though it would never be adequate.

To Peter for his constant encouragement and his insights into a few corners of the medical world. For the record, he assures me that what was depicted actually happened while he was on duty. To Glenn, for his frequent feedback on this effort, and for allowing me to borrow his name and for the advice on the persona of Kip's Australian visitor. You two guys have been great throughout!!

As always, Kory and Ted assisted in cleaning up the posted version so I don't look like a borderline illiterate. Anyone noticing the general improvement in the presentation of the final product here have the two of them to thank.

Your comments are always encouraged and welcomed at scotty.13411@hotmail.com

Be well!!