Strange Bedfellows

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS Chapter Four

Discaimer: The following story is a mostly-fictional account of the author's experiences and relationships while a college student. The characters are either composites of people he knew, or those about which he fantasized. Any resemblance to real people, either living dead, is a pure coincidence, and is also a bloody shame. If you are not old enough in your state to read sexually explicit material, then get the hell out of here. This story is copyrighted, 2006, and may not be reproduced or reposted without the expressed, written permission of the author.

I've appreciated the feedback I've gotten to date. If I e-mailed you back and told you I was having great fun with Chapter 6, make that Chapter 7. I had way too much story planned for this installment, and decided to cut it in half. So, please bear with me. Hope you enjoy. As always, your comments are eagerly read at scotty.13411@hotmail.com

She was short, maybe five-foot-four, and had the richest shade of auburn hair Scott had ever seen. That was the first thing you noticed, especially from a distance. But when she looked your way, the dazzling green eyes made you forget about the hair. Scott couldn't name the shade of green. He just thought of it as `sparkling green,' as though he'd coined a name for a new shade that they'd be selling at Sherwin Williams any day now.

If you let your eyes wander the very perky pair of very round, firm breasts made you forget about the eyes. the kind of tits,' Scott imagined, that hold their shape even when she's laying on her back. The kind that just beg to be licked.' But when you were face to face with her, she held your gaze and sent a signal that said `don't let your eyes wander or I'll conclude you're a pig, and I'll let everybody know it.' Scott believed her name was Kelly, and was happy that they'd reached the door to their American Lit. class at the same time. He reached over and opened it for her, politely stepped back and waved her in.

"Thanks very much." She was genuinely grateful, since she'd determined on the first day of class that this guy was one of the best looking hunks in any one of her classes.

"My pleasure."

They'd made eye contact a few times during class, exchanged a few smiles in reaction to something that had just been said, and even offered an occasional `good morning.' They'd never really talked, but had established that kind of quiet familiarity that allowed you to greet each other if your paths crossed somewhere else. Each one was wishing the other would initiate a conversation of substance. Kelly was determined that, at the end of class, she'd exit the room at the same time as Scott...she was pretty sure that was his name...and would kick things off as they walked down the hall.

As Kelly walked to her seat, Scott judged her to have one of most perfectly shaped asses he had ever seen on a woman. She felt certain that she sensed his attention, even though she was walking away from him. At least she hoped.

`Yeah, gotta chat it up with her after class today,' he resolved.

During the discussion of the work of Ayn Rand, Kelly jumped into the fray with a scathing indictment of the author's Objectivist philosophy. This was the third, and final, day of discussing the philosopher/novelist's work, and Kelly had been all over the poor old girl since day one. It seemed that from the moment Rand was identified as a source of strength for conservative political ideologues, Kelly was hell-bent on trying to run the poor old girl though the mud. "Her take on life is selfish, even hedonistic a lot of the time! Rand's heroes are all about `me, me, me.' She's a right-wing kook, and that bleeds its way into everything she ever wrote." There was a passion in her voice and fire in her eyes.

Scott's hand went up. He wanted to test her mettle a bit. "I don't know that I agree. Rand's heroes are also strong individualists, usually pretty visionary, the sort of `I'm not marching to anybody else's tune' kind of guys. That's often an admirable trait." Several heads nodded their agreement. "Besides," he added with a wry grin, "Rand's view of femininity holds that its essence is hero worship—the need a woman has to look up to a man. Maybe she's onto something there."

All the guys in the class and a few of the women laughed. The instructor tried to hide a smirk.

When the laughter subsided, Scott heard her whisper "what an asshole."

"What?!" Scott shot back. Everybody in the class turned their heads.

"Hold on, gang." The teaching assistant intervened.

"But she called me an asshole! I can handle an honest disagreement, but only if the childish name-calling is left outside. Do I get to respond to that?"

The instructor shook his head. "Not on our time. You two can settle it later, and let's keep the discussion at a certain level, shall we?" Kelly just glared at Scott.

Scott just smiled back, politely, `The girl's got spunk. I like that. Bet she's a firecracker in the sack," he speculated.

After class, Kelly was a bit embarrassed. Once she cleared the doorway, she tried in vain to make her escape. Scott was right on her heels. "Hey...let me ask you something!"

Kelly turned on her heels. "Can you do it without being offensive? You know, some of us take this stuff at least a little bit seriously."

"Yeah, and some of us can take it seriously without totally losing a sense of humor. You need to lighten up a bit, Kelly. It is Kelly, isn't it?"

She nodded. He continued, "Is the whole friggin' world so black and white to you?"

"Huh?"

"I've been listening to you rant for the last few classes. It's like the minute you pidgeon-holed Rand into a nice, convenient category...conservative...you've been bending over backwards to find fault. You're an un-thinker."

"A what?"

"One of those who needs to put a label on something in order to judge it. It's a lazy-ass way to decide what's good in the world. Just tell me what it's called, and then I know all I need to know cuz they're all the same, you know.' Well, I size up ideas on their substance, not on what we can call the person who offers them up. `Liberal, good...conservative bad. Conservative, good...liberal, bad.' It's all the same load of shit. Things aren't right or wrong because of who says them. They're right or wrong because they're right or wrong on the merits.

" It's not all plainly black and white, Kelly. There's a whole lotta gray around us. I'm only suggesting that you ought to learn to think for yourself. Oh, and learn to laugh a little bit, even about the serious shit." He turned a sharp left and headed down the stairs.

He had her pegged, and she knew it. Not only that, as she watched him stomp down the stairway, she thought he had a really cute ass.

Scott talked Craig into having dinner earlier than usual, saying he wanted to get to the library early because of his work load. In reality, he wanted to get there early in case Randy did indeed call this evening. He wanted to actually get some work done in case he was interrupted and needed to relocate to meet his TA.

He remembered the fundraiser that was coming up, and thought he'd invite Craig to come along with him. "Hey, you're always asking questions about the local political scene, right...wanting to get a better handle on the landscape...right?"

"Yeah...sure."

"Well, if you're free next Tuesday, Mr. Bostwick, I'd be honored if you'd accompany me to a fundraiser for a state senator up at the Inn on the Park."

"Huh...? What...? Who...? Whatta you got goin' on?"

"It'd give you a chance to meet some of the states' movers and shakers, maybe catch a little capitol gossip here and there, and enjoy some free food and drink."

"But who, dummy...fill me in."

"Okay...here's the deal." Scott leaned in over the table and lowered his voice, as though he was sharing some kind of conspiracy. "The Maureen I know, you know...the lawyer?"

"Uh, yeah..." Craig said, slowly, maybe a little apprehensively.

"Well, she's Senator Maureen McCarthy," emphasis on the title. "She's represented my home district for years and, like I said, an old friend of the family. When we had lunch last week, she comped me a couple tickets and told me to bring a friend along."

"Dude! One of the chicks in my journalism class is from that neck of the woods. We were talking Wisconsin politics the other day. I think she tossed out McCarthy's name, saying that rumor has it the old girl is planning to run for statewide office. What was it...? Attorney General, I think?"

"That's the rumor." Scott was careful not to confirm it, mindful of his obligation to hold Maureens confidences `off the record.' "So, ya wanna go?"

Craig chuckled. "Sooooo...Scotty's Maureen is Senator Maureen," emphasis on the title. "Weeellll. You...Da...Man!"

Scott rolled his eyes and sighed. "I said, do you want to come along? It's a fucking yes or no question, Or should I play it safe and ask someone who might not embarrass me?"

"Gonna cost me anything?" The question was muffled by a mouth full of mac and cheese.

"Nope."

"Gotta wear a tie?"

"Yup."

"Don't have one."

"Gotcha covered, bro."

"You said free food and drink?"

"You got it."

"Okay, I'm there."

"Cool. It'll be fun. You'll like her. Maybe you'll scoop a story."

"Yeah," Craig used his hands to draw out a headline in the air between them.

"INCREASE IN COLLEGE FINANCIAL AID PROPOSED" Then, beneath that, "Bill tied to state senator being served by freshman boy toy. He makes me moist, even at my age, and he always delivers the goods' the senator is quoted as saying. I think every lawmaker should have one.'"

"You're disgusting, ya' know that? In fact, at times I'm certain that you're deeply disturbed." Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin and dropped it on his plate. Grabbing the tray by each side, he looked across the table. "Well, gotta fly, roomie. Too much to do and not enough time." Scott stood up and headed toward the window to deposit his dirty dishes.

"kay, man...later."

Sitting at a table in the library, texts and notebooks sprawled around in front of him, Scott really was trying to get some work done. But, despite his best efforts, there were just too many distractions. His mind wandered around, as it had been doing for a few weeks, and he'd hit the pause button to enjoy the various sexual escapades he'd jumped into since arriving in Madison. First with Marty, then the James Brothers. That was all wild enough. Nearly manic, uninhibited sex in two hot sessions with three very hot guys. `Jeez...I'm lovin' this, but it can't go on forever.' He'd met a lot of firsts in a very short period of time, and was a both excited and a little afraid of where it all might go next.

Then there was the anonymous blow job—well, somewhat anonymous, he hoped—at the book store. `That had to be Randy!' he'd said over and over. At the same time, he wondered if he was being sucked in, so to speak, by some very wishful thinking.

His cell phone's ring tone brought him back to earth.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this Scott Turner?"

"It is."

"Hey, it's Randy Oakes! How's it goin'?"

"Goin' good Randy. I'm at the library trying to look like a scholar. I think I'm pulling it off."

"Atta boy. Hey, I just got home. I gotta take a shower and then call the wife. I really don't want to trudge back to the office tonight, so if you want to go over your paper, would you mind doing it over here?"

At his apartment?' Scott thought. That could be interesting!' A smile slowly spread across his face. "Uh...I dunno." His voice indicated a shrug. "Where's your place?"

"I'm only a couple blocks off campus on the 500 block of West Mifflin Street. It's no palace, but fits the bill okay."

Scott knew where Mifflin Street was. Actually it was close to the dorm than Randy's office was.

Scott picked up a pen. "No problem. What's the address"?

Randy gave him the number, and a few short directions as Scott's pen raced across the inside cover of his poli-sci notebook. "It's the lower apartment, the door's on the right. Gimme about a half hour?"

"That's about what it should take, but the time I wrap up here and hike over. Half hour's good. See ya' then. And, thanks, Randy."

"No problem, bud. See ya' in a bit." The phone went silent.

Scott packed his backpack and looked out the window. It was already very dark out there, but he could see the gold and orange leaves whipping around the mall. The calendar was approaching October, and fall weather had clearly decended on Wisconsin. He pulled the hooded sweatshirt on, grabbed his backpack and headed for the door.

In his head, excitement and apprehension were having one hell of a duel. But, in reality, there were three players in this battle. The academic dude was anxious to reap the benefits of Randy's extra help. The horny dude was anxious to get to Randy's apartment and to push the envelope as far as he could. The sensible and rational dude was telling him that there was something wrong with this; that making a move on a college instructor was a bad plan that could only go wrong. It was like a Looney Toon cartoon, where the protagonist had an angel-Scott on one shoulder and a devil-Scott on the other, both of them whispering in his ears. He kept hearing "Go For It!...Don't Do It!...Go For It!...Don't Do It!..."

The academic dude was perched on his head, but he wasn't taking sides. "You gotta go over there no matter who wins the debate going on below me," he said. "Randy has offered legitimate help that you ought to take, whether you fuck him or not." The academic dude made sense. The struggle made him walk fast, but it didn't make the hike very easy.

Turning the corner and walking up Mifflin Street, Scott recognized the same small white Toyata pickup truck he'd seen just about every day parked behind Bascom Hall. He knew it was the same truck from the bumper stickers on the back fender, and the fact that the side mirror on the driver's side was bent all to hell. The center of the block was dark, so it was hard to read the house numbers from near the street. He walked up the short sidewalk and climbed the porch stairs. Seeing the right number, and light coming through the window in the door to the right, he reached out and rang the doorbell.

"Door's open! C'mon in Scott," Randy's voice called from somewhere inside. Scott tentatively turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. He stepped into a short hallway that ended in an opening to the right about eight feet in. He paused, feeling something like an intruder. He heard Randy talking, and figured he must be on the phone. "I'm back here Scott...in the kitchen...c'mon back."

Scott walked down the hall, squeezing past a mountain bike parked in the hallway, and turned right. The apartment was small. The living room and kitchen were actually one pretty good-sized open space. They were divided only by the arrangement of the furniture, the couch being used as the primary demarcation that separated cooking and eating space from living space. Shelves lined the walls of the living area, books occupying every available inch.

Looking across the living room and into the kitchen, there was Randy, his cell phone to his ear and a bottle of beer in his hand. He was leaning back, ass perched against the kitchen counter, striking the same pose that Scott had seen so many times in the classroom, Randy leaning against the desk at the front of the room. The primary difference was that this time, he was wearing nothing but a bath towel. Randy saw him and smiled, and waved him toward the kitchen, pointing to the table and chairs next to the kitchen window. As Scott put his backpack on the kitchen table, he noted two empty Miller bottles. Randy looked over and whispered, "only be a sec."

Scott nodded, "no problem" he mouthed back. Randy held up his beer and questioned with his eyes, motioning toward the refrigerator. `No thanks, I'm good,' Scott waved him off.

Scott's earlier impression that the guy had a gymnast's build was confirmed in spades. The towel was wrapped tightly around a harrow waste, probably about 30, maybe 31 inches around. A four-pack, approaching a six-pack, was revealed above the towel, rising up to what had to be a 42 or 44 inch chest.

The pecs were, in Scott's eye, just fucking perfect.' They weren't body builder pecs, the kind that he always thought should be called tits. They were perfectly squared, firm, solid pecs, with quarter-sized nipples that needed the attention of a hot mouth, in Scott's estimation. The chest and stomach were covered by a moderate spraying of brown hair. His arms were forceful, even in repose. Holding the phone in his left hand, the arm curled and betrayed a very impressive bicep. Every time he raised the right hand to his mouth to take a drink, Scott could see every muscle in his forearm doing its job, and the upper arm would expand as he drank, relax when the bottle was lowered. Wouldn't want to fight this man for anything,' Scott commended Randy in his mind. `well, maybe a little playful wrestling could be fun.'

Scott sat down on a kitchen chair, leaning forward and planting his forearms on his knees. He looked around the room. What appeared to be the bathroom door was to the right of the counter/sink area of the back wall. Another door on the side led to what he assumed must be the bedroom. The room was dark, but the light from the kitchen and the illumination from a computer screen in the room allowed him to see what looked like a desk in the back corner and the corner of a bed just inside to the left. He nervously fidgeted with his fingers, picking his nails, cracking his knuckles, trying not to stare at the barely-clad hunk a few feet away. Sitting bent over like that, he could face the floor and, but check out the lower half with his eyes. The calves were as tight and powerful as the arms, but a bit harrier than the forearms. Moving his gaze further up, the damn towel got in the way. It was wrapped tightly around Randy's thighs, but there was a noticeable bulge in the center. It wasn't tenting the way it would if Randy were aroused, but the goodies underneath were obvious. Scott felt the need to occupy himself, so he sat up and turned to retrieve his backpack. He set it on the other kitchen chair, and opened it to retrieve his poli-sci folder and notebook.

Randy spoke into the phone. "Well, it depends what happens in November, and then they don't meet again until January, so I guess we'll see...Huh?...Yeah...well, like I said, it's just too early to tell...okay...what weekend was that again?...oh, yeah, that's right...sorry...just got a lot goin' on right now...Well, hon, Scott's here...yeah, he's the guy in my state gov. section I told you about...got a lot goin' for himself, I think." Scott looked up with an aw shucks' grin and they smiled at each other. "Better go now...give em hell when you have to...love you too, babe. G'night. Sleep tight." He hit `end' on the phone and set it down.

"Sorry about that, and about the casual attire, man. She called just as I was stepping out of the shower.

"No problem," Scott assured him. "Must be hard, being so far away."

"Well, it sure isn't ideal, but we're making it work. We're together practically every weekend, and talk at least once, usually twice a day. And, like I said, it's gonna be short term. Once the dust settles on our respective careers, we'll likely either settle together here or in the Chicago area. Truth is, I'm hoping it'll be here in Madison."

"I can see why. This is a great place."

"Yeah" Randy drained his beer and set the empty on the counter. "Hey! Let me throw some clothes on and we can get busy." Randy stepped into the bedroom, but didn't turn on the light. Nor did he bother to close the door.

Standing just inside the doorway, he faced the bed and dropped the towel. He bent over the bed and retrieved a pair of shorts. Scott had to stare. The profile of his smooth, muscular butt was a sight to behold. Randy turned a bit and stepped into the shorts, giving Scott full view of his perfect ass cheeks. Standing and pulling them up, every muscle in Randy's magnificent v-shaped back teased Scott. Reaching back to the bed, he found a t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. He wiggled his feet into a pair of flip-flops and turned for the door. "There, that's better."

Stepping out of the bedroom, he reached for the refridgerator. "Sure you don't want one?" he invited as he leaned in and grabbed another bottle of beer. The shorts were cut-off sweat pants, and they hugged Randy in a way that left nothing to the imagination. Scott approved.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Let's move in here," Randy advised, pointing toward the couch. "We can use the coffee table so we're both looking at the same stuff at the same time." On his way to the couch, Randy grabbed his book back off the floor, and dug around inside until he found the draft of Scott's paper. "Have a seat."

Scott sat on one end of the couch and Randy near the middle, giving him access to the coffee table. Holding the paper up, he smiled. "Well, what you have here is probably already an A paper, with a little editing for grammar and punctuation, and I've made those marks throughout. But, I'm no English major, so you might want to have somebody with those talents give it a once-over after you've made some revisions and additions."

"My roommate's a journalism major and a helluva writer. He'll do it for me."

"Perfect! Well, then, on the content of the paper." Randy took another long pull off of his beer. "If you can add some additional information about the district and its political complexion, this will be over the top." Referring to the course's professor, Randy advised, "the old man sets the standards, but he has us do the grading on most of the work. Then, he wants us to show him samples of the best and the worst of the batch. Those in the `best' category always grab his attention, and it can make a name for you with an important voice in our poli-sci department. He's very well connected, both in academia and in political and government circles. Gain his favor as a freshman and you'll have a great three years in front of you."

Scott liked the thought of that. "Cool! So what do I have to do?"

Randy set the paper down and started going through it, a page at a time. In order to see them and to make sense of Randy's observations, Scott had to scoot over nearer the center of the couch so that they were sitting side-by-side. Randy pointed to a couple main sections of the work.

"If you could dig a little deeper, identifying specific geographic areas of the district where one party or the other tended to dominate, it would add another level of analysis that would really nail the assignment, and then some. Plus, you'd have a grand master plan for anybody thinking of following McCarthy in that seat, if she really does decide to move up. Shit, you could probably sell this to a candidate in a year or so."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah...this is the kind of stuff that candidates and parties pay good money for."

"So, you think she's gonna do it?"

"Well, my sources tell me it's all but decided. Like I said, the remaining question being kicked around back home is `who's gonna follow Maureen?'"

"Any strong contenders?"

"Depends on who you ask. One side of the conventional wisdom says that Maureen and the powers-that-be at the state level, can anoint a wanna-be, and the speculation is over. The other end says that the locals...the county party big-wigs and community leaders...will nudge someone to the front of the line. If the two are not of one mind, it can get interesting. But when the two forces agree it's a slam dunk. That's how McCarthy got in. She had the blessing at both the local and the state level. Even though her first race was a squeaker, there's never been a question about her re-election. Of course, none of the speculation I've followed can account for who the 'bad guys' might run in the next general election.'

Randy leaned forward and started sorting the pages to put them back in order. When he moved up, his legs spread a bit, and his knee and thigh came into contact with Scott's. Scott didn't flinch; didn't move his leg a bit. He looked down and noticed that he could clearly see the outline of Randy's dick running down the inside of the right thigh of Randy's cut-off shorts.

Randy squared the pages and turned his upper body to hand them back to Scott. But, his leg remained in contact. "So you think you can deliver what I'm asking?"

"It's in the bag. I've got plenty of time, and an editor in the room, so I'm going to blow the professor away." Randy patted Scott's thigh a couple times. "Atta boy. Make me proud." He left the hand on Scott's knee for a second.

"I think I'd like that beer now, if you don't mind."

"No problem." Randy smiled, grabbed his book bag off the floor and set it in his lap for a second. "I think I'll join ya" he said as he stood, holding the satchel in front of him, trying to hide the fact that his cock was half hard.

Scott leaned back on the couch and turned a bit to the right, bending his right leg up at the knee, and laying it sideways on the cushion.

"Keep it together here, Scotty. Don't go doing anything stupid." He couldn't tell which cartoon conscience was knocking in his head.

He bent his right arm at the elbow, planting it on the back of the couch, and rested the side of his head in the palm of his hand. Randy sauntered back from the fridge, his cock was obviously waving around under the gray cotton of his shorts. He plopped down on the couch, very close to Scott, and assumed a mirror image of Scott's position. Their knees were pressed together as Randy's weight settled onto the sofa.

"Here ya' go." He handed Scott his beer.

"Thanks!" Scott raised his bottle in a silent toast to his host. Randy replied in kind. Scott took a long draw from the bottle.

"So," Randy began, "where do you see all of this heading?"

"All of what? What do you mean by `all of THIS?'" Scott was more than a little apprehensive. Randy reached down to scratch his shin, and the backs of his fingers were rubbing Scott's leg.

"I was thinking about this outstanding start to your college career. You're taking off like a rocket, and I'm curious about what you hope to make of it all."

"Not sure yet. Just want to succeed at whatever I try, while I try to figure out `what I wanna be when I grow up.'" He mocked a little kid's voice at the end of the summary.

Randy exhaled a bit of a laugh. "I know what you mean." He looked intently at Scott. Both of their arms were resting on the back of the couch; their hands were nearly touching, but not quite.

Silence. Randy leaned to his right and put his beer on the coffee table. Scott took a drink and leaned to his left to do the same. When he settled back on the couch he laid his hand flat on the back of the couch. Randy leaned back and his fingers came down on top of Scott's. Neither one moved.

"I'm also wondering where you see all of THIS heading," Randy sort of whispered, as his fingertips began stroking the top of Scott's hand.

Scott didn't move, and his gaze locked on to Randy's. They both smiled.

"Not sure. I'm one of those `one step at a time' sort of guys." Each one's eyes bore into the other's. "What about you?"

Randy responded by moving his stroking fingers up Scott's hand, across his wrist and onto his forearm. He shifted his weight toward Scott, and placed the other hand on his thigh and began to slowly rub his thumb back and forth. Scott could see the pole in Randy's shorts was about at full mast. Scott was catching up to him, very quickly.

Randy's hand left Scott's arm and reached toward the back of his neck. Scott leaned in a little to allow him the reach he was aiming for. Randy embraced Scott's neck with only his hand and he whispered, "c'mere, and I'll let you know."

Slowly, reluctantly, Scott leaned forward. Randy guided Scott's face toward his own, and their lips lightly touched. Each held their ground for a moment, and Randy moved forward a bit further. He kissed Scott, wishing he would allow his tongue to explore past those lips. Scott broke the contact, but his eyes remained fixed on Randy's. Randy's one hand was rubbing the back of Scott's neck, the other was moving up his thigh, and his rubbing was becoming more and more insistant. It felt good. Scott sighed.

Randy pulled their faces together again, and this time Scott opened his mouth a bit. They kissed slowly, passionately for the better part of a minute. Each man allowed the other to explore his mouth; each sucked softly on the other's tongue. Randy's hand was roaming over Scott's completely hard dick. Scott's left hand began to explore Randy's chest, rubbing over the cotton t-shirt he was wearing, lightly pinching each time his fingers came across either nipple. It felt so fucking good for both men.

Suddenly, Scott broke the contact. "Oh, FUCK!...Randy... No...Stop...I can't...!" He scuttled back to his corner of the couch, putting as much distance as he could between the two. Scott looked at a spot on the floor about ten feet away. He continued, "I am so sorry, man. I shouldn't have let this go this far. I'm such a fuck-up!!"

"What's up? You saying now that you don't want to do this?"

"Want to has nothing to do with this, Randy. God...do I want to!!"

"Then, c'mere." Randy reached over again for Scott's neck, but the offer was dodged.

"Aww, man! This is so wrong on so many levels. I just can't...not now at least. Shit, I don't know. I'm so sorry Randy. I feel like a piece of shit right now."

"Scott, don't feel bad. I started it. But, what's wrong with it? Unless I misread that kiss, we want each other in a bad way. What's the hold-up? We're both consenting adults you know. What? You don't want this?"

"Aww, fuckin'-A. You're one of the hottest guys I've ever met. You're the total package. You're smart, you're articulate, you're funny, you're built like a Greek god, and you have probably the sweetest ass on the fucking planet. By the way, thanks for putting it on display so shamelessly earlier tonight."

"Oh, you caught that, did you?"

"Randy...Ray Charles would've caught that view."

"Soooo..." Randy leered at Scott. "You want somma that?"

"Oh, shit!"

"Scott! I want you to fuck me.

"Dude! It can't happen.

"Why the hell not?

"One: you're married, and apparently quite happily.

"I am, and that's my problem, not yours."

"Two: you are, for all intents and purposes, my teacher. You must be able to see what a mine-field that would be.

"But I want you to fuck me, and I think you want that, too!!" Randy leaned in for another lip-lock and Scott turned his head. "You're as hard and hot as I am, we're both ready to go, so fuck me, man. Take this ass.

Randy, you gotta start thinking with the right head for a minute. Forgetting the marriage thing for a minute, the simple fact that you're my TA will make this a big fucking mistake, for both of us...and I think you know that.

Randy threw himself back on the arm of the couch. His hard on was completely outlined through the grey cotton of his shorts. "I know the rules and all the ethical conventions. I'd just hoped we could work our way around that. We're both big boys, after all, and we're both smart enough to deal with it here, or in Bascom Hall."

"I'd like to think that was possible. But, this shit nagged at me all the way over here. Randy, the plain fact is, we've already gone too far. We take this any further and our student-teacher relationship is shit-canned for good, no matter what our best intentions would be after tonight. You evaluate me, scholastically anyway. I'll have a chance to evaluate you at the end of the term. That shit needs to be clean of personal considerations. We've already compromised it with our tongues and our hands, god dammit! Not that I haven't enjoyed it, but if this keeps up, we'll end up pissing it all away.

Both the devil and the angel on his shoulders, along with the one on his head actually beginning to pay attention. The Scott-devil was getting pissed. His arms were crossed, and he was tapping a foot and rolling his eyes, just like in the classic cartoons.

He continued. "And what happens if we go further, but things go sour? We're supposed to deal with each other in class as if nothing happened? Or what if this contined and we had the best sex of your life?

Scott digressed for a moment. "I mean no disrespect to your wife there, by the way. I saw the wedding picture on your desk. She's a babe...you done well there, man." Randy shrugged and nodded, but didn't want to speak right then.

He plowed forward. "Anyway, are you telling me that you'd still look at my work in the right frame of mind if we got naked right now and had hot, wild sez?"

"I could do that," Randy insisted. He was drunk.

"Bullshit!! Nobody could do that, unless they didn't care about fucking up the whole rest of the relationship. In our case, it's different relationship, but it would be toast if we did this. I'm not saying it would be intentional or premeditated or anything like that, but I'm afraid that it would be inevitable. I couldn't live with even the suspicion."

"Look, Randy, we got a good thing going right now. We're connected in a lot of ways. We have the hots for each other, but the student/teacher thing is always gonna stop me from getting physical with you. The semester ends on, what, December 22nd? We take a break over the holidays, and then I come back to Madison and you're no longer my teacher. The marriage thing, as you said, is your problem...sorry, not a problem necessarily, but your issue...and I'm not gonna fuck with that for anything."

"I don't want you to fuck with that...I want you to f..."

"STOP!! I'm telling you that if and when it does happen, it can only be when you're no longer my teacher."

Randy sighed heavily. "Okay, you're probably right. But any time you change your mind..."

"Not likely to happen. Let's concentrate on getting back to where we were, and even trying to be friends. After the semester ends," he wiggled his eyebrows in a sinister gesture, trying to inject some humor, "maybe then I'll have my way with you."

Scott went to stand, and it was obvious that his cock was still pretty hard.

Randy noticed and laughed a little. "Looks like part of you is still considering the possibilities." He reached out to rub the bulge in Scott's pants and got his hand slapped.

"That part of me is a bit slower than the rest, and doesn't always listen very well. But, I do really appreciate all the help. Scott was walking down the short hallway to the front door, with Randy right behind, his semi-hard tenting his shorts. "For now, anyway, lets keep it all down to business, and we can take the rest as it comes when the time is right."

"You're a task-master, Mr. Turner. You're really going to test my self-discipline for the next couple of months."

"Back atcha, Mr. Oakes. Some times I wish I didn't usually think so rationally."

Randy leaned forward. Scott didn't stop him. They kissed, their tongues gently meeting each other half-way..

"G'night, Randy."

"G'night Scott."

Scott was still rock-hard when he hit the sidewalk out front. He walked to the end of the block, thrust his hands into his pockets and grabbed his dick, and squeezed. It felt good, but not good enough. By this time, Randy was in his bedroom, buck naked on his back, stroking his hard cock to the vision of Scott Turner hovering over him.

Scott turned right, telling himself he'd done the right thing. Over and over, he kept telling himself he'd done the right fucking thing. The Scott-devil on his shoulder had long-since been dusted in one of those little explosions at which the artists at Looney Toons were so adept. He felt good about that, but felt like shit at the same time. Ten minutes later, he was in the elevator taking him to the third floor of the dorm. He was nearly a mess, but not quite. Coming off the elevator, he heard some old Billy Joel playing from the James Brother's room. The door was ajar. He knocked.

"Entre..." It was Jesse's voice.

Scott pushed the door and it swung open. Jesse was alone, sitting at his computer, wearing only a pair of navy gym shorts. God, he looked delicious!

"Hey! `Sup, buddy?" Jesse smiled and waved him in, but stayed at the computer, typing and clicking with a vengeance.

"Not much, just getting' back and saw the door open. Thought I'd drop in and see what the James Brothers were getting' themselves into tonight."

Jesse smiled a somewhat naughty smile and looked to his right, catching Scott out of the corner of his eyes.

"Not much doin' here, bud. Frank's out breeding some gal he met in a drafting class, I think anyway. And, I'm here pressing a deadline for my first serious work in this fucking accounting course. It's a ball-buster, man."

Randy had gotten off the bed and went to the top drawer of his dresser. He retrieved an eight-inch dido, and a bottle of lube. He dropped back onto the bed and stuck the rubber cock in his mouth.

Scott was bold. He walked over behind Jesse and reached down. He rubbed his hand over those huge, hard pecs. It was weird. While looking down at Jesse, he imagined he was feeling up Randy. "Maybe you need to take a little break?"

Jesse took his fingers off the keyboard and unleashed a very contented sigh.

For the time-being, Randy left Scott's mind, and all he could see was the incredibly hot body sitting below him.

Jesse laughed under his breath. He stood up and turned around. He reached over and held Scott by the waist, pulling him in. "Dude, you're timing sucks on a couple of fronts."

Randy had been stroking his cock and fingering his hole for several minutes.

He had two fingers buried inside of himself, and was sucking the fingers of the other hand. `Ooooohhh, I so want you to fuck me...;

Scott looked dejected, with a question mark on his face.

"Lemme explain. First, I fuck around with Jesse, or with Jesse and a friend." Before Scott could respond, he added, "...and you're the only other guy we've ever included in our play time." Somehow, Scott felt better about that. "Second... I'm pretty fuckin' sore right now. My bud really put it to me during a `nooner' today, and you know how fuckin' big he is. I was really askin' for it, and he really went to town. I really wish he was here. I'd love to see you get all over his sweet ass. He would too."

"So, this ain't gonna happen," Scott breathed into Jesse's ear.

Randy had the dildo poised right at his tight entrance. He rubbed it up and down, teasing himself. "Fuck me, Scott!! Goddammit, I want you to fuck me Scott!!"

"Not tonight, bud." Jesse looked up and pecked Scott's lips. "But soon? Maybe?"

"Aaawww, I could be persuaded...soon...maybe."

"Hey...lemme ask you something. I saw Marty today down at the library mall. Unless I'm seriously mistaken, he was shootin' some ` I wanna suck your dick' vibes in a very big way. Any chance...?"

"With Marty, there' always a chance of just about anything happening. He's nuts. Yeah, he's hot, but he's nuts." Dramatic pause. "Interested?"

"Hell, yeah. That little fucker's hot!! You doin' him?"

"Jess! Shame on you.!! I don't kiss and tell! But, tell me...what if you and Frank, me and Marty were to all end up in the same place at the same time, just the four of us?"

Jesse leaned up for another polite kiss. Scott reached down and pinched his left nipple. Jesse smiled. "We'd move mountains."

Randy was plunging the big `cock' in and out of his hole with a blind fury. He pinched his right nipple hard, and moaned, then his left, and moaned louder, nearly shouting Scott's name.

"I'll see what I can do." Scott ruffled Jesse's hair. "Get back to work, and say `hi' to Frank for me." One more quick kiss and Scott was out the door.

Randy rammed the dildo up inside farther than it had ever gone. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he sprayed one shot after another onto his face, his hair, the wall, the pillow, the sheets and his chest and stomach.

Scott returned to an empty room. Craig was upstairs. He undressed down to his boxers and slid under the sheets. It didn't' take long before the shorts were around his knees. He moved the comforter and the sheets with one hand while he licked the other and went to work. "Damn you, Randy Oakes!" he said with a smile. Within a couple of minutes, he'd shot a good-sized load on his chest and stomach. He found a towel in the dark and cleaned himself, then crawled back under to covers and fell into a deep sleep.

Scott and Craig walked into the Inn on the Park at about 7:30. Scott had been unsure on the etiquette of tipping the valet service. `Do you tip them on the way in and on the way out?' That seemed a bit outrageous, so Scott left his wallet in his pocket, promising himself he'd remember to hit the guy up when he left. He got a kick out of the thought of his beat up old Ford Pinto being eased into a spot between the rides of the high and mighty.

Both guys looked good. Scott had donned a midnight-blue suit, a white shirt that he'd had laundered and starched, and a gold tie. Craig had his own black slacks and white shirt, and he was wearing a maroon tie of Scott's and Brett's charcoal-gray sport coat. It fit him well.

The event was in a large meeting room, called a "ballroom," on the second floor. On their way to the grand stairway leading to the upper level, they walked past the entrance to the restaurant.

"Ooohh, Mr. Turner!!" squealed a familiar voice. Scott stopped, and Craig followed suit.

"Bradley!"

"How nice to see you again. Are you here for the senator's event? Everybody whose anybody is there, or will be...and, who's your handsome friend??

"Bradley , this is my roommate, Craig Bostwick. Craig, this is Bradley Manning, the `host with the most,' the best restaurentuer in all of Madison."

"Ooooohh, nooooww..." Bradley manufactured a protest as he took Craig's right hand in both of his. "So very nice to meet you, Mr. Bostwick! Any friend of Scott's is always very welcome here."

Craig felt immediately uneasy, but smiled anyway. "Uh...nice to meet you Bradley. Scott's said nice things about you." He lied. Scott had never mentioned him. Still Bradley looked at Scott and smiled a mushy smile.

Scott kept control of the conversation. "Craig's going to be a Pulitzer Prize winner some day. Meantime, he's interning as a restaurant critic for the Capitol Times. Times are tough, you know, so the ownership class is hiring us peons for minimum wage, and they're pulling it off! Oh-oh, I probably shouldn't have let that cat out of the bag, should I?" He looked plaintively at his thoroughly confused roommate.

"Well," Bradley assured them while patting Craig's hand, "your little secret is safe with me. I don't give a shit about the critics or reviews. We have a regular clientele locked in from the hotel. Bradley leaned in a bit closer and whispered, "Those assholes at `The Top' floor are another story."

There was a second establishment on the top floor of the hotel, the Top of the Park. Allegedly fine dining, though Scott had never been there. He thought his folks had visited the place a time or two, but wasn't sure.

Bradley continued to whisper, and he now had ahold of Craig's right arm with one hand, waving the other in the air. "You'd think those monsters up there had invented food. Pretentious, haughty arrogant bastards they are. Craig...Scott...any time you want to do a review that will really serve the good people of the area, you just let me know. I'll set you up."

"Thank you, Bradley, I'll remember that," Craig said, finally reclaiming his hand and arm from the gregarious host.

"You too, Scott. I mean it. When you want to dine at `The Top' you just call Bradley. It's a good meal, but they need some critical exposure if they're ever going to get off their fat asses and put out the cuisine that they should be creating. I can take care of everything, incuding the tab...except, of course, the tip, if they earn one that is."

"Oh, of course. You've got a deal, Bradley my good man! Maureen was right, you're the best." Scott patted his shoulder.

"Oh, you're too kind!" Bradley tried to blush, but couldn't.

"Well, we need to get upstairs. I'm sure Maureen is wondering if I'm coming or not."

"Okay then, look forward to seeing you again...and you too, Mr. Bostwick."

"Great, see ya' then." Craig was thoroughly dumbfounded. As the two started to climb the stairs, side by side, he looked to his right. "What the bloody fuck was that all about?"

Scott was already laughing. "Just tryin' to get you hooked up, bro. Unless you're holding out on your roomie, you ain't had no sex since we got here. Rumor has it Bradley gives great head, and I was pretty sure you're just his type." Scott handed Craig his ticket as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Fuck you every which way," snatching the ticket from Scott's hand.

"But I had no idea I'd be locking each of us into a free meal at The Top."

"Well, there is that."

As they reached the door to the hall, a state trooper asked them to see their invitation. Each one held up a ticket. "Hope this'll do, sir." Scott offered politely. He looked at the ticket suspiciously. "We're guests of Senator McCarthy. Those are her initials above the black marker."

He looked at Craig's just as closely. "Very well, that'll do." He handed them back.

"The governor must be here, or maybe some big shot from Washington. There's no way security would be in place for just another state senator," Scott surmised. Craig just shrugged and nodded.

It wasn't a sit-down dinner thing. It war a bar and hors d'oeuvre thing. Both guys were glad that they wouldn't have to sit and make small talk with strangers during a meal. They could mingle, eat, drink and leave if and when they wanted. Scott peered around the large room looking for Maureen, but saw the bar first.

"C'mon, bud, I hear cocktails calling." Craig wasn't going to argue. He was going to follow Scott's lead all night. He was seeing faces he thought he recognized, but couldn't put a name to any of them.

Craig tapped his arm. "You mean they're gonna serve us here? I have a fake i.d., you don't, and you're the one with connections here."

"Not sure. Didn't discuss it with Maureen. But since guys our age are probably rare here, I'm thinking they don't check. Guess it's the political end of `don't ask, don't tell.' Let's find out."

The bartender was busy, but beautiful. "They can't just have one working this crowd, can they?" Craig asked. "That's just wrong. It's un-American!"

Shortly, a sixty-something year-old gentleman with his hair dyed red and slicked back stepped in front of them. "What can I getcha fellas?"

Scott gulped back a guffaw at the dye job and ordered a gin and tonic. Craig smiled and said, "make it two, Red."

"D'I know ya? How'dya know my name?"

"Lucky guess."

Red served up the drinks and the guys both turned and surveyed the crowd. Scott pointed out some of the notables he recognized. "That's Senator Musgrave, current minority leader, due to retire at the end of this term. There's the Lt. Governor. Word is he and the gov' are on the outs, and he's gearing for a run for the U.S. Senate, so the old man is open for a new running mate in a couple years. The bozo over there is the mayor of my hometown. A complete klutz who keeps getting re-elected `cuz nobody else is crazy enough to want the job. The guy over there is the head honcho of the teacher's union who...

"Scotty!!" Maureen shouted from about fifteen feet away, waving him over to join her. He hadn't seen her when they approached the bar, but was glad that he had caught her eye. She was standing in a group of four others, some of the faces looking familiar.

"We're being summoned. You're gonna like her. She's one classy dame."

Craig shrugged and followed his roommate. Half-way there, he leaned over and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "she is pretty good looking, for an old gal. You sure you haven't banged her?"

That got him an elbow in the ribs. "You are deeply disturbed. I should've invited Marty. Here, hold this," handing Craig his drink.

They both opened their arms and met in a warm embrace. Cheeks were politely but genuinely kissed. "Oh...I'm so glad you could make it!" Maureen meant it. "And, who's this?"

"Senator McCarthy, I'd like you to meet my roommate, Craig Bostwick. He's a flat-lander and aspiring journalist. Mostly a real shit-head, but sometimes a pretty good guy. Craig...Maureen McCarthy." Craig handed back the drink and extended his hand.

She took Craig's hand and threw a sharp glance at Scott. "I've told you more than once, can the title crap" She turned her attention back to his roommate. "Craig, very nice to meet you, and it's Maureen, just and only Maureen."

"Got it, Maureen. Scott's just kissing your ass when he throws the title around."

She laughed. "I like him, Scotty."

"I didn't have a choice. The `U' just threw us together, but he'll do...for now."

"Illinois, huh? Scott told me Rockford?" Craig nodded. " Is Scott giving you enough grief about the Bears, the Bulls and the Cubbies?"

"Only three or four times a day, every day. As tedious as he is, it's funny listening to him try and defend the Brewers. Actually sena...Maureen... I've been a closet Packer fan for a long time, but if you repeat that, I'll deny it and call you a liar in public."

Maureen laughed. "Scotty, you got lucky on this one. He's got looks and brains."

"I can't wait for the UW-Illinois game. I'm hoping he'll have a stroke as he struggles to make up his feeble mind on who to root for."

The senator looked past Craig and called out, "Ted...Oh, Ted...Come here a minute, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

The tall gentleman excused himself from the conversation he was having and strolled over. "I owe you one, Maureen, I'd been looking for a way to escape those two vipers for the past ten minutes. Damned lobbyists! The never quit."

"Theodore Hackett," I'd like you to meet Scott Turner, Jr. Hackett extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Turner."

"It's an honor to meet you, governor. I've long been an admirer of yours."

"Thank you, son."

"And this is Scott's roommate, Craig Bostwick."

"How do you do, Mr. Bostwick."

"Governor. Nice to meet you."

"Scott's father is a very old, dear friend of mine from back home. Scott and Craig are both freshmen at the UW."

"Then, I'll assume that's water you guys are sipping on." They looked at each other, neither one sure just what to say.

Maureen was smug. "Of course it is. Besides, Ted, this evening, for all intents and purposes, I'm working `in loco parentis.' Scotty's parents have given me full reign to act on their behalf."

The governor smiled. "You're a lucky guy, Scott. So, do you both have majors chosen yet?"

"Yes sir. I'm pretty sure, anyway. I'm planning a double major in political science and history."

"Oh, lord! Another aspiring politician, huh?"

"Not sure, yet, sir. I don't know all that many, but the ones I do know are generally decent sorts." He patted Maureen's shoulder.

"I'm planning on journalism, sir." Craig piped in.

"Good God! A politician and a reporter. You two must have some interesting conversations, and some doozy arguments. You fight a lot?"

"Not yet, governor. Other than Craig's Illinois heritage, which gives us lots of room to battle it out."

"Illinois? Really."

"Yes sir, Rockford."

"Rockford!? I have family down in Rockford., That's my mother's home town.

Do you happen to know any Burts?"

Craig grinned. "I went out with Heather Burt for the past two years, until we sent our separate ways for college. Decided a long-distance romance wasn't fair to either one of us."

"Heather...Heather...I'm pretty sure my cousin has a daughter, Heather, who'd be about your age. What's her dad's name?"

Craig and the governor began chatting it up like they were old friends. Maureen noticed that Scott's glass was empty. "C'mon, I'll buy you another glass of water." They walked to the bar.

"Craig seems like an awfully nice guy," Maureen noted as they walked. "Red" walked over.

"Another gin and tonic, sport?"

"Make it two, Red. Thanks." While they waited, Maureen waved at a couple of people, thanked a few more for coming, and turned back to Scott.

"So, you're growing some roots on campus finally?"

"Yeah...it's goin' good. I'm really starting to feel at home."

"I hope you're finding time for yourself. Any activities outside of the classroom? Make that, any that you can tell me about." She winked at him.

"Naah...not really."

"You should think about it. Find a campus organization and dive in. Any thoughts about student government? The Student Association might be a good place for you to get a taste of politics, and you'd serve the university well. That group has so long been headed by meatheads."

Scott screwed up his face and shrugged. "Aaahh, I don't know, Maureen. You know I o.d.'d on that stuff in high school, doing the `Mr. Student Leader' thing. It was fun and all, and I learned a lot..."

"And you made your parents, and me, proud. You were good at it. You have natural leadership ability, you know, but back home you were a big fish in a small pond. Madison would be a good place to really test your mettle."

Red set the drinks on the bar. "There ya' are, chief." Scott nodded his appreciation.

"Ya' think so? Maybe..." Scott felt a hand on his ass. He instinctively jumped. Quickly it was removed and placed on his shoulder. Maureen smiled at the hand's owner, but apparently hadn't seen the initial contact.

"So, senator, looks like you'll let just about anybody into one of these things." Randy Oakes had obviously been there a while, enjoying the open bar.

"Hello, Randy! So nice of you to come! I haven't seen you in ages! You two know each other?"

Scott tried hard to hide his discomfort. He smiled. "Hey, Randy. How's it goin'?"

"Senator, Mr. Turner here is the brightest star in our state government course."

"You didn't tell me that you knew Senator McCarthy personally, Randy."

Maureen explained. "Randy's dad is the long-time chair of the county party.

By the way, I haven't Marshall in months. How's he doing these days, Randy?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Same old, same old. Still `The Mighty Oakes.'"

Maureen nodded her understanding. "Scott, Marshall Oakes is probably more responsible for my being here in Madison than any other single person. He convinced me to give up the bench to run for the senate in the first place."

Maureen's attention was grabbed by someone at the door, waving her over. "Would you two excuse me for a bit?...someone I need to see at the door." She patted Scott's arm. "We'll talk again before you go, I'm sure. Have a nice time. You too, Randy." She was gone.

Scott didn't know what to say. Randy wasn't exactly smashed, but his eyes were glassy and there was a slight slur to his speech. "Been here a while?"

"Oh, a little over an hour, I'd guess." He ordered another scotch and soda.

"How `bout you?"

"Just got here a little bit ago."

"So, you and Ms. McCarthy are old friends I take it."

Scott nodded and explained the family history. "Hey, Randy, I gotta go find my roommate. He came along, and this is his drink. I'll see you around."

"Hope so." Randy smiled.

Craig and the governor had been joined by another man and woman, and they were all talking Badgers football when he walked up. "This one's yours, bud."

Craig introduced Scott to the governor's press secretary and the chair of the UW Board of Regents. They all chatted a bit more, and then Scott suggested the two go and get some food. "Will you folks excuse us, we need to hit the chow line." Hands were shaken all the way around. "Very nice meeting you. Governor, take care."

"Hope to see you again, Scott. Craig, when the time comes call the office and schedule a time with my secretary. Use the number I gave you, though, or you might not get through."

"Thank you, sir! I will." The walked toward the buffet table. "Dude!! This is so fucking cool. The gov's gonna give me an interview for an assignment in my journalism class. I'm gonna jump all over that. Everybody in class is gonna just die! And...his press secretary said they always hire one or two interns every year. Said I should touch base with him and send a resume after our sophomore year. This is so fucking cool."

They each picked up a small plate and began surveying the goods.

"Down boy! Your voice, too. Chill a bit on the `fucking' will ya'?" Scott whispered a scold out of the side of his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry man. Hey thanks. I'm glad you talked me into coming. This is just too good. Who's the dude you were chatting it up with with the senator?" Craig was spearing meatballs and dropping them on his plate

Scott began to follow suit. "That's my state gov. TA, Randy Oakes. I knew he was from the district, but didn't know his old man is the county chair for the party. Turns out he's a big Maureen supporter."

"Cool."

"Yeah, but he needs to ease up on the sauce a little bit. He's been knocking them back pretty good, and is on his way to getting sloshed if he doesn't cool it."

Maureen joined them. "God, I hate these damned things." she said with some exaggeration. "Sucking up to anybody and everybody. I'm glad you boys could come. I need someone to talk to and not end up feeling like I owe them something."

Craig chuckled. "I owe you, senator. I really appreciate this. I got a choice interview out of the deal with the governor, and his press secretary's business card is in my wallet. I may shoot for an internship over there in another year or so."

"Good for you, Craig. Jim's a good guy. Always finds a way to make Ted look good, and that is sometimes quite a trick." She rolled her eyes.

"So, you know Randy Oakes very well, Maureen." Scott was more than a little curious.

"Yeah...his dad's been a huge source of support over the years. Randy's been volunteering on my campaigns since he was about ten years old."

"He always drink so much.?"

Maureen sighed. "He's a lot like his dad in that respect, too. Marshall could always be counted on to close the bar. He's alright, I think."

Maureen's eyes suddenly lit up as she looked over Scott's shoulder. "Hey! you made it!!" She bolted from her chair and hugged someone. "Oh, so good to see you, dear." Scott looked over, but only saw the arms come around Maureen's shoulders. He went back to his meatballs and shrimp. "Come here, darling. There's somebody I really want you to meet." Scott began to rise for an introduction.

Scott, I'd like you to meet my niece, Kelly. Kelly Abbott, this is...

"Asshole." Scott grinned and extended his hand.

Kelly's mouth fell open and she just stared.

"What?!" Maureen was stunned.

Scott's eyes never left Kelly's and his smile slowly grew. "I'm an asshole, Maureen. Just ask Ms. Abbott. She'll tell you." Scott laughed out loud, thoroughly enjoying Kelly's discomfort. "Kelly Abbot, I'd like you to meet my roommate, Dipshit McLoser."

Craig waved. "Hey."

Scott gave Maureen a short review of the morning's disagreement in class, and afterwards. The senator's eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Kelly Abbott!" Maureen admonished. "You called another an asshole in class?"

"Aunt Mo'..." Kelly pleaded "it's not like I shouted `you're an asshole' across the room in front of the whole class." She smiled a little. "I muttered it under my breath and Scott has really good hearing."

Scott looked over at Maureen "And, which member of the State Senate called me a little shit not too long ago?"

"They're all right you know. You're a shit and an asshole. Good call, ladies." Craig popped another meatball in his mouth. "Geez, these are good."

To say Kelly was a bit sheepish was a gross understatement. "Besides, I thought a bit about our `talk' after class today, and you make a good point.

I hope you'll accept my apology, Scott. Could we, like, start over from scratch?"

"Clean slate. Forgotten. So I'm not an asshole?"

"I don't know yet. Let me get to know you better and I'll get back to you on that one."

Maureen excused herself one more time. "Need to keep the contributors happy. I'll be back."

The three of them got acquainted over another drink and a second helping of finger food. Kelly grew up in Brookfield. She was a junior, active in her sorority, and would be interning in the governor's office after the school year ended. Her declared major was business, but Maureen's career had fostered an interest in government. Her mom was the late Mr. McCarthy's sister. She had died of cancer when Kelly was very young, and Maureen had stepped in to fill the female void at crucial points in her life.

"My dad was sooo ill-prepared to raise kids on his own, and Aunt Mo' was always like mom for me, my brother and my sister. She's just the greatest."

Craig's glass was empty. "Got time for one more before heading out roomie?"

Scott shrugged and nodded. "Can I get you something, Kelly?"

"I'd love a glass of wine...white, please. Thanks"

Craig gathered up the empty plates and deposited them in a bus tub on his way to the bar.

"So, Scott, I'd like to make up for my bad behavior this morning."

"Clean slate...remember? I don't know what you're talking about." He tipped his glass and munched on an ice cube with a grin on his face. `Those are the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen,' he marveled to himself.

"Still, let me buy you lunch." She ran her schedule through her head. "How about... Friday? We could meet at the Union. If the weather holds out, we can have a burger on the terrace."

"Sounds good to me."

"Great."

Craig returned with the drinks, and they all sat and watched the crowd. Kelly pointed out a few more of the big shots, sharing Maureen's estimation of many of them. They shared several laughs at the expense of Madison's high and mighty.

Maureen returned to the table. Standing in between their chairs she put one hand on Scott's shoulder and the other on Kelly's "I guess I've done enough ass kissing for one night," she lamented. "You boys made quite an impression on the governor. And, the man remembers names like nobody I've ever known."

"Oooohhh, already sucking up to the governor, are we?" Kelly taunted.

"Easy for you to say, you're already locked into a job in his office," Scott answered. "So Maureen, as these things go, is this a good crowd? Has the night been all you've hoped for."

"Oh, I don't know. My campaign treasury is certainly healthier. But you feel a little sleazy. People are here representing groups and organizations that I don't have the time of day for, and they know it. It's kind of funny."

Craig piped in, "I suppose that's the whole `politics makes strange bedfellows,' thing going on, huh?"

"Boy, you got that right, kiddo."

Scott noticed Randy Oakes glaring at them from across the room. He just nodded and headed for the door.