The Iconoclast, Installment 5
I stopped at the bar for a bourbon and coke. On the plane from Atlanta, I had talked to a couple of the IG guys headed to Colorado Springs to inspect the Division. They were a pretty loud bunch gathered around four or five tables and for a few fleeting seconds I thought about joining the boisterous crowd. I really did like them. Most were Vietnam vets. The team leader was a Greek by the name of Alexsoonas. Great guy. At the other end of the bar about four or five locals kept looking at Alex and his loud crowd. I sensed tension and hoped I was wrong. The guy, a big mother, walked to Alex and told them to quieten down or they would make them. Dang, I could sense this was not going to turn out well. I started to go to my room but then thought Alex and his group were ill equipped to handle this sort of stuff. The big guy got up again and I stepped in front of him, “what the fuck are you doing?” he said.
“Nothing but we don’t want any trouble.”
“I am not talking to you but you can get it too.”
“They are my buddies and just having a little fun.”
Get the fuck out of the way before I clean up the floor with you.”
I paused for a moment, “I don’t want to fight you but if I have too, I’m going to kill you. Get that. I will fucking kill you.” He poked me in the chest. I fixed my eyes on him, “Fellow, I don’t know you and you don’t me but this won’t be a barroom fight. The next few seconds if you make the wrong decision will change your life forever. I will kill you, you can count on it.” He didn’t say anything. He must have sized the situation up because he said, “you are fucking crazy, crazy and he walked back to his buddies and they left.
Usually, my great intentions dissolve when I hit that room by myself. I want some warm flesh. I ran over the possibilities. Should have called somebody earlier. What the hell. I was crazy anyway. Enter Lindy. I decided to go back downstairs and was sitting at the bar, nursing a bourbon and water. A half dozen or so fellow patrons were scattered around. Alex and his crew were long gone. She sat down two stools away. The band was playing loud music and she turned to watch. Obviously, she was no stranger since one of the band members waved and the bartender fixed her drink without asking. She could be a prostitute. I inwardly smiled. Once in somewhat naïve days, I was sitting at a bar somewhere, similar situation when this very attractive woman and I struck up a conversation. After a few minutes of lively repartee, she said, “Are we ready to so something?”
“Like what.” She smiled and I got it. I did asked how much, she said, three hundred. I laughed. She said we could negotiate.
“No thanks,” and she was gone in a millisecond.
Lindy asked for a cigarette.
“Sorry, I don’t smoke.”
“Coldly,” she said, “I didn’t ask for a commentary.”
I laughed. The response must have shocked her because she laughed too. It was infectious; her whole face lit up. She had gorgeous green eyes. I smelled the faint odor of pot. Her pupils were slightly dilated. I was within a hair of bailing. I didn’t do dope and didn’t tolerate those who did. She must have sensed something as she turned and said, “You’re a smart ass, aren’t you?”
“Not really”, I smiled.
“Just passing through.”
“Yeah, you might say that,” I said.
“Traveling salesman, I’ll bet.”
“Well, maybe.”
I looked her over as surreptitiously as possible. She was attractive with blue jeans and a loose fitting blouse. Tall, long legs, maybe a little taller than my five ten. Her hair struck about her shoulders. I was thinking if maybe I should relax my standards. Play it by ear.
“I figured you for military.”
“How did you know?”
“I just know.”
I smiled. She had beautiful teeth.
The band started playing. “Care to dance?” It was a fast number, good beat. The thing I loved about modern dancing was anything goes; steps, moves, yourself, with somebody. “Good exercise,” I whispered, as the band started up a slow number.
I slid my arm around and we glided to the movement. Her breasts pressed against me. “I like the way you dance,” she said.
“Thanks.” I was already mulling over in my mind what to do. Obviously she was a pickup, pretty nice one at that. But I had an ironclad rule about people I didn’t know. Fucking was like life to me. It wasn’t the most important thing in my life but it was close. But, I had developed an intricate set of rules about how to go about it. Never fuck a stranger. When you don’t know what’s inside somebody’s head, never take a chance. I was still thinking when she said, “Are we going to get it on?” I could feel feel the tightness of her bra as she breathed.
“You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Life’s too short.”
“Yeah, I know. Pause
“I’m willing to talk about it.” She looked at me incredulously. “Okay, talk?”
I shook my head to myself. Damn, I’ve got a nice one. We sat at a little table at the edge of the dance floor. I ordered her a salty dog and a bourbon and water for me. “Make mine a doubt,” I said. Liquor was a stimulant for me. I don’t drink much but when I want to get the juices flowing, I knew how to do it.
“You’re wondering whether or not I’m safe, right?”
“Well yeah, I guess.”
“I’m safe.”
Then I did something very uncharacteristic of my cool, rational self. I said, “Okay.”
She had a little green MG. One of my favorite cars. I’d never owned one but a buddy had and he discouraged me, “great looking car,” he said “but you need a British mechanic riding in the passenger seat. “Want to drive,” she said.
“Sure, fine.” At first I didn’t even notice but she had her white poodle with her. Anybody with a dog named Smoky can’t be all bad. She directed me through the streets and my mind was racing. “What you like in sex?” she asked kind of absently.
“I like everything.”
She laughed. I reached over and put my hand on her leg. My blood was beginning to boil.
“How about kinky stuff?”
“Like what?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” she said. “I just love it all.”
I smiled at her again. “I’ll do anything as long as it doesn’t cause physical pain,” she said.
Her apartment was a a one room affair. Actually, it was more like three rooms: tiny kitchen, living room, den combo and a little bedroom. The rooms were all no more than closets. But, she had arranged them in such a way that the division was definite and noticeable. I was astonished at her books. What a collection. There was a good chance to look over them because she got a call from her mom in Florida. Any girl past twenty who talks to her mother definitely can be trusted. She had gothic romances up the kazoo, pop psych books like I’m OK, You’re OK, Games People Play. A Guide to Rational Living. Several books about different religions, four or five books by Carl Jung and a whole row of religious books. I counted three different types of Bibles. And a couple of books about the Vietnam war. This, I found strange in a way. This gal was no dummy.
She had a telephone with a long cord and as she talked, moved about the room straitening up things and looking at me, making little kissing sounds. She was a beautiful creature. Not gorgeous, but strangely beautiful. I slid my arm around her waist and the other to her enormous breast. I was along the edges and could feel them spilling out of her bra. She kept winking. She couldn’t get her mother off the phone. She moved around a chair, put her leg up on it, exposing her black panties. She motioned me over and felt for my cock which was mostly ready. I unzipped and she leaned way back and I slid in. Great, not tight but I could fill it up. Her eyes went back in her head almost but she continued to talk to her mom as I thrust a few times. She looked at me kind of wild eyed but rolled her eyes back again and was obviously coming. She stopped. “Mom, I have to go, I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone and went down immediately and kissed and sucked on my cock. “Let’s go to my motel room,” I said.
“Good idea.” In the room, we kiss a little and I started to move her toward the bed. She had big, make those gigantic tits. Momentarily I thought of Germaine Greer's comments. "Men are interested in tits and ass and after centuries, they are still interested in tits and ass." I guess that's true. I unbuttoned a couple of buttons. I confess that I just wanted to see them. Can we talk for a minute she said, without moving my hand from her tit.
“Sure.”
“Have you been to Vietnam?”
“Yes.”
“What was it like?” I leaned back in the chair, thinking, what the fuck is this? “Well, it is war and is about all I know to say.”
Spoiling the moment, nothing like wanting pussy and the object of your affection wants to talk about Vietnam. Fuck I thought. Suddenly, without warning, tears began to trickle down her cheeks, the tears became a flood. Damn. Instinctively, I reached over and put my arms around her. She buried her face in my shoulder and began to sob. I was absolutely immobile. I had this empathy with her suddenly that I could not control nor fathom. A sadness swept over me as she sobbed and sobbed. I held her. Finally it subsided a little. “I am so sorry,” she said and went into the bathroom. I could hear her sobbing. Is she a psycho is one of the things I thought but then there was something here, a story that I didn't know. When she returned, her eyes were puffy. “I must look a sight,” she said. I smiled.
Somehow I didn't think I was going to get any pussy this night. “I knew someone who went to Vietnam and just thinking about him just kind of got to me. She was taking deep breaths as talking about it seemed painful. Silence.
“I haven't talked about it much.”
“What happened?”
“No, let's don't” and her voice faded again and tears started to stream again. We sat in silence for a bit although it seemed like forever. It was one of those awkward times when you don't know what to do. With men, the adrenalin pumping, let's fuck would seem the thing to do. Here I had this beautiful woman and it is what I want to do. The flip side of the coin is that I want to be honorable, not some dickhead like she's probably known who only wants to fuck. I immediately employed Mary Alice in my head. Her presence was real to me. I believed in spirits that somehow in situations like this, she would have me do the right thing. “What made you cry?” Silence.
“My husband.” She paused as if thinking what she should say. She sucked her breath in and said, “We got married just before he shipped out. When he came home from Vietnam, he wasn't the same. Before he was drafted, we had such fun. He knew that Vietnam was coming and wanted to go. We met at Colorado College. It was kind of love at first sight. We were inseparable. My folks didn't want us to marry before he went to Nam but we did it without them knowing. His parents were great and lived back in Georgia. They accepted it though and wanted me to come to Georgia.” She paused again. This is too long. “No, go ahead.” By this time she was crying but different. I wrote him every day. He wrote and occasionally called. We were going to meet on R and R but he didn't make it. She began to sob again uncontrollably. I held her. She cried and cried until there were no tears left, I guessed. She seemed to go to sleep. I tried to stay as still as possible. Her breathing became even. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and whispered, I think I took a power nap. She kissed me, one of those salty kisses that isn't just a kiss, It is a statement, I want to fuck you. She was kissing, sucking, running her hands about my body and I was responding. Her clothes were coming off. I was tugging at them. She sat on the side of the bed, took her top off, then her bra. Her tits fell to almost her waist. I had never seen any that big. My mouth grew dry. I could hardly think. It is hard to describe. Her breasts were enormous. I was transfixed. They were so big that I couldn’t imagine them. I wondered if they were sensitive. I knew a woman once who had really large ones, nothing like this but hers weren’t sensitive at all. Sucking, pinching, rubbing, squeezing, nothing. Lindy lay back and began squeezing her enormous tits. As she did, she began to move her body. She saw my cock and started working it, then in her mouth. It was so passionate, I couldn't lay back. I kissed her pussy, which was wet, I ran my index finger into it gently as I kissed and flicked my tongue gently, running my tongue along the labia, then her clitoris, she moved and began to come, it was gushing and had a taste like I had not experience, the bed was soaked. We fucked, she never stopped or needed time, She got on top and then had another orgasm. “Sorry,” she said. The passion of that moment was indescribable. We had so many mini-experiences, some slightly different, based on what she did. Wow! Great! She leaned over the side of the bed, I entered her, after a few seconds, she got on the bed, sat on me where I could see her round little ass. I put both hands on it. She was gorgeous. I would watch my cock come almost out and she would suck it into her sweet little hairy pussy. All the time, she talked. I love your cock. It is so big, it fills my cunt, the hole. She would come. We had been at it about an hour, it seemed like five minutes. She sucked my cock. She kissed, she went tween my legs, she had orgasm after orgasm. Most were little flutters but she would stop breathing. A couple of times I worried. The fluid was just spurting out. She suddenly turned quiet and then went to my side. She reached down and slid my cock into her and I think she dozed. It was the most intense and incredible time of my life.
I had heard that passion and grief were so intertwined that they were sometimes indistinguishable. I now knew that to be true. In fact, I had taken this graduate course on Human Sexuality where it was a presented fact. In one of the anecdotal aspects of the course, I remember reading that a woman lost her husband of many years. Not knowing how to go on. They had been so attached at the hip. She was contemplating suicide. A neighbor comes to visit. In her grief she fucks him. Without understanding and obviously very little guilt, they have sex regularly. She gets over the husband’s death and attributes it to being involved with the neighbor. Amazing. I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up she was gone.
My meeting with the parachute reps was good. I liked one chute in particular. In tests it showed the low jumps having greater success as the canopy deployed quicker and less billowing. OK, we’d like to test them. It was about five when I got back to the Mariott. All day long I had thought of Lindy. I liked her and to say she was one good piece of ass is a given.
“Captain,” I turned to face a tall skinny black man about my age or a little older. “Yes, you Captain, you are the one I’m talking too. I figure you owe me a thou.” At first it didn’t register with me. I must have looked bewildered, “Come on Captain, you didn’t think you were getting that good pussy last night for free, did you?” Then I saw Lindy, she was sobbing, a black eye and bruised cheek were very evident. Suddenly, it hit me; this was a pimp and Lindy a whore. Damn, if it hadn’t been a moment, I might have laughed. I really didn’t know what to do. I was not about to give this fucker a grand. Had I been totally duped? What to do. I had to buy some time. “I don’t have that kind of money on me.”
“Where mother fucker, you better get it.”
“Let me go inside and I’ll see if I can get it advanced.”
“No fuckin “if” mother fucker, the money. I wait right here.” I glanced at Lindy. My mind was racing, I could drop this guy I think but then it could get messy. I didn’t know what to do about her. Strangely, how I felt for her. “Give me 30 minutes,” I said. “I don’t want any trouble.” I try to appear scared and helpless. No telling how long this asshole’s been shaking down soldiers. “15 minutes mother fucker or I’m coming after you.” I dialed Al’s private number. Joanie answered the first ring. “Joanie. it’s Pete.” She got to calling me Pete as she said, Captain sounded a little out there. “Captain,” Al said, “what’s up?”
“Al, I’m in a little of a jam.”
“Some woman, right?”
“Well, kind of.” I laid the story out quickly.
“OK, give me fifteen minutes.”
“One other thing, Al, the girl, I am concerned.”
“No time for a bleeding heart, Captain”
“Well, there’s something else.” I told him about her husband killed in the Nam. “Captain, sounds like this little number done played you.”
“Probably. But,” Al probably sensed the resignation in my voice.
“Captain, I’m your RTO, you want to rescue a damsel in distressed, let’s do it. You stay inside the lobby and we’ll deliver her to you.” Joanie once told me that Al would do anything in the world I needed. He says he owes you his life, Pete. So, you got a carte blanche.” I didn’t know how true that was. I did know however, that there was a bond among Vietnam vets. We had been in the abyss and it never left it. You could talk about it till you were blue in the face but unless you had been there, you didn’t know. In what seemed like no time, Lindy walked inside the door. She was white as a sheet as my Mom would say. The bewildered look on her face was a combination scared and relief. “Why did you lie to me? Long pause. “What did you want me to say? ‘I am a whore.’ ”
“I could have accepted it.”
“No, you couldn’t.” She was right, I probably couldn’t.
“Was everything a lie?” By this time, she was sobbing. I waited for what seemed like an eternity. “Was it?” She shook her head.
“What about your husband?”
“It was true. I’m so ashamed.”
“How did you get tired up with that asshole?” Long pause.
“After Butch was killed, I didn’t care what happened to me. I wanted to die anyway. I couldn’t go home. His folks were so into feeling their own loss. I just didn’t know what to do. Mike befriended me. I didn’t have much experience in life or the street life. I lost my job at Household Finance. I was lost. I should have known. Mike and I went to Hawaii. He was a gentle guy.” Her voice was so low, I could hardly hear her. I didn’t want too anyway. “Who were those people,” she said. I guessed she meant Al’s Associates. I momentarily felt some remorse, was it fair for me to call on Al. Damn; I didn’t know what else to do. Well, I did but this seemed the best option. Al had kept me far away from his life but he knew that I was no dummy and constantly said, “Don’t fuck yourself up, Captain. I won’t let you.” I never quite understood what he meant but I did too.
“You don’t need to concern yourself. Are they going to do something? I shook my head. “So, what do you want to do now. Mike is out of the picture, you won’t have to worry about him again.” She turned white again. “I don’t know what to do.” If I did what I wanted too, I’d take her up to my room and fuck her. She had one gorgeous body and the rack on her was to die for. In my head, I was slapping myself. Pussy was not the only thing in the world. Well, yes it was. For once in your life be honorable.
Miss McGhee stuck her head in the door. “Dr. Peterson, can you see a student?” Mary Sue quickly followed.
“Hi Dr. Peterson.”
“Hi Mary Sue, what brings you around this morning?”
“Something great has happened to me. That’s why I came to see you.”
I smiled. She had the whitest teeth, the most evenly spaced teeth I’d ever seen. She unfolded a story about being chosen by a foundation to receive a full scholarship, didn’t apply, don’t know really how they chose her. She’s be able to stay in school. “Oh, I can’t believe it, Dr. Peterson. And, wow, get this, I’m getting a stipend every month for for spending money and clothes. Dr. Rokoff is somehow in charge. He’s such a kind man. I’m to call him if I need anything.”
“Mary Sue, I’d say you’ve got it made. She smiled the youthful enthusiasm which made teaching worthwhile. So naïve, yet willing to take risks, walk on water. Fickle kids, I smiled to myself. One minute they want this, the next, it’s something else. Briefly, I thought of my own youthful discretions. All I could think about was pussy as I remembered. And, then there was Vietnam. What the hell. Kids don’t know what they want. But, I’m forty years old and don’t know what I want so what’s the big deal.
“Dr. Peterson, there’s something I can’t understand. Why did they choose me? I know there’s more deserving people who should get help than me. My grades are average. I can’t understand it. I have to believe you had something to do with it.”
“I don’t think so. Mary Sue, accept it. Be grateful. You deserve it.” Under my breathe, I thought, “Good job, Al.”
I stood looking across the Quad at the far distant campus buildings lost in thought. I was still a little shook by the encounter with Weinstein. We fucked all night. She was pretty inexperienced but I smiled, the worst I’ve ever had was great. What is worst? Damn if I know. It kind of just happened. Caught me totally by surprise. After our unbelievable encounter in my office, I was at a loss and in a sense, worried that I might do something here that I could not undo. Even though we had been bitter enemies, at least from her perspective, I would not hurt her or anybody for that matter, just simply not in my nature. When I opened my apartment door to see her standing there, I really was at a loss. We must have slept some but I'm not sure. It was a blur but a wonderful blur. It was as though she had all this pent up emotion and it came pouring out in one sexual encounter. Her orgasms were punctuated with kisses and fondling. A couple of times I wondered what to do or how to stop. She was like a different person. Here she had not had a single meaningful, not to mention civil, conversation, with me for almost two years and here we had fucked all night. Damn, I sighed as the silence was broken by the telephone ringing. I almost didn't answer, the voice on the other end was recognizable, Joanie, "Bernie?"
"Yes, my love."
"We have a problem.”
"What's up?" I tamped down the tone. "
“Al is fucking up."
"What do you mean?"
"He's all involved with this whore, says he is in love, not trying to hide it and it is raising his profile and I fear the shit is going to hit the fan. He's neglecting the business."
"Fuck," I said. “Joanie, you know I’m not into Al's business. His stuff has always been his. I think that I've benefitted from knowing but I've never asked nor expected anything. Al has to do what he has to do.” Long Pause.
“Bernie, I don't think you understand.” I was hearing her voice but all I could think of was her leaning over the counter and me entering from behind. It was such good pussy. She must have felt my thoughts as she was one iNtuitive woman. "Bernie, they will kill him.” She had my attention. "What should we do?"
"You are the only one he'll listen too."
"I'll call him. How serious is it really?"
"God damn it Bernie, I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't serious."
"Calm down, I know it. I have a couple of things to do and will catch a train out to King's Park."
Unlike many of my colleagues, my dedication to teaching didn’t come from my toes, I just drifted into it. I wanted to make the Army a career, but Vietnam shot all that to hell, along with Mary Alice’s death. It seemed for a while my life had gone to hell in a hand basket, but miraculously I survived. I went to a small Southern college on a football scholarship. I never made a big splash and ended up being the manager of the team. Through a fluke, I drifted into Army ROTC. All the students had to take the first two years, and I hated it. Those were the days of white socks, but in ROTC you had to wear little thin black ones. I refused to conform and was continually getting demerits for my white socks. That should have told me something as my Dad said. But toward the end of my sophomore year, somebody told me the Army would pay me if I went into advanced ROTC. My pockets were so empty I would do anything for money. And, what the hell, everybody had to deal with the draft. Most anybody could get out of it if they really wanted, except maybe the poor who had no pull. I was somewhat clueless and always viewed it as some kind of option. Vietnam was heating up and in a weird sort of way, it seemed to be the event of my time and I wanted to experience it.
The whole time in college, I worked three jobs: janitor at a printing company, loading and unloading trucks at Roadway Express, and delivering newspapers. My folks were struggling and couldn’t help. And, I want to be honest here, I was fucking along the way too. I still smile at this. Across the hall from me was this guy that had briefly played on the football team. He got his ass kicked regularly and took it. I was baffled and felt sorry for him. One day, I was passing out jocks or something and the guy who was always hassling Rod, made it a point to walk over to his locker and simply abuse the guy. The guy was a tackle from Ashtabula, Ohio. A Yankee. I don’t know why I did it but said, “Why don’t you leave the guy alone.”
“What the fuck is it to you Peterson?” Then he made the mistake of shoving me. I hit him so quickly that it caught him off guard, my next blow was beside his head with a shoe, cleats pounding. He went down and two or three guys were holding me back. I got fired from my manager job and that bully spent an evening at the Emergency Room. The Dean called me in and read the riot act. Our coach that I liked seem to genuinely hate to see me go even as he was telling me to pack up my belongings. Sergeant Barton at the ROTC building joked, “Peterson, don’t guess we better piss you off.” I was a little mystified myself as I was, at least in my own estimation, a laid back guy. What the hell. Rod soon quit the football team. We palled around some but I was busy working. Then he invited me for a weekend at their lake house. Sure. Nice folks, a younger sister, still in High School. I could tell she liked me or maybe they were smelling pussy on me. His mother made over me. She was an attractive woman and I will admit that like most women I thought immediately about fucking her. Know how often I thought about it? About 100% of the time. How successful, mostly never, but the chance with her came about as we were getting ready to go to dinner. The beach house idea had been scratched and here we were at their house. I was sitting on the bed in my assigned room when Rod’s Mom came in. She said something like I need to check for something in the drawers. She leaned over and I got a bird’s eye view of her tits. She stayed there and I saw her glancing at me from the mirror. I was embarrassed. She sensed it and said, “Did you like what you saw.” I almost had a stroke. She said, laughing, “Perfectly normal.” Then she stepped in from of me, reached behind her and stripped out her bra and said, “Now, you can have a good look.” They were gorgeous, large with these gigantic Areolas. She took my hand and moved it to them. I felt them, so soft and my dick was suddenly rock hard. She could tell and stroked it in my pants. I didn’t know what to do. She again sensed it and said, “Naturally, the secret is just for us.” I moved my hand to the other tit, she kept stroking my cock. She smiled and said, maybe later tonight. With that she took my hand and moved it to her crouch, which was wet with a mount of hair that made me so want her. “Tonight maybe.”` And, just like that was gone. It must have been a little after midnight when she came in. She slid in the bed and immediately began to stroke my cock. It didn’t immediately fire up. She whispered over and over, “relax.” To be perfectly honest of that night, I don’t know much that happened. I do know that I got off a couple of times and she kept whispering to me, “take it easy, take your time.” And, she seemed to enjoy directing me. I felt like I had never had any before. It was weird. At some point, she got out of bed and left. I was more than mystified. I left the next day back to school. It was not to be my last encounter with the family, however.
When I went into the Army, I figured I’d hate it but fit me. My first assignment was Fort Bragg, North Carolina, with the All American 82nd Airborne Division. I loved it. Running five miles a day, leaping out of airplanes and playing soldier. I loved leading men. In those days, I didn’t think much about Vietnam that it was in my future, it was hardly a blip on my radar screen. There’s a mystique about being a paratrooper that is, like Vietnam, hard to understand unless you’ve been there. It is a special fraternity that gets in a plane, goes to a destination, and prepares to jump into the cold and dark with 80 pounds strapped between your legs waiting for the green light. If there has ever been a perfect warrior, the 82d is it and I was part of it. HooAhhhh! If I sang it once, I sang it a thousand times, “I don’t know but I have heard, I’m gonna jump from a big iron bird.”
There were about two hundred of us seated in the big auditorium. It was a theater type, seats completely across and ascending to the top. It probably held a thousand people and I wondered how many hours of collective sleep occurred here. They should put a big sign over the door. Master bedroom, quiet. I usually made it a point to skip as many of these as possible. There were always meetings. I hated all of ‘em,. They usually went on endlessly. People constantly on ego trips talking incessantly about nothing. Bigliosi was insistent that I come to this particular faculty meeting. Three days before it began, he dropped by to tell me of its importance. I liked Bigliosi. Basically, he was weak, but a hell of a good teacher and researcher. I knew from many of his students he was a good mentor figure. He was one of those guys who belonged in the classroom. Even heading a department was not his forte. His expertise was in the city welfare system and he was often called upon to consult with the city. He had damn good ideas and yet his lack of personal strength allowed incompetents who knew much less to become the decision makers. Politicians with little savvy chose strength of personality over strength of mind. And the people suffered because of their weak-minded ineptness.
Big, as most people called him, depended on others to rescue him from the strong personalities. It wasn’t that he was less than courageous, but even the simplest administrative or management skills defied him. He was the proverbial absent minded professor. In the classroom, he became a reservoir of facts, opinions, studies, news. But, outside, he was stammering, unsure, a marshmallow.
Big, liked to say he believed in participatory management. But it was like a lot of other things which tried to dress poor management in acceptable language. For Bigliosi, participatory management really meant no management. I really didn’t give a shit to be honest, more opportunity for me to do my own thing, whatever that was. There wasn’t a hell of a lot to manage, but a few juggled schedules and signing off on few graduate student proposals.
It had all started off innocent enough. Linda stood in my door, half smiling, half sneering. At first I tried to ignore her but it was futile.
“I couldn’t believe you today, Peterson. No fight.” What a bitch.
“Let me ask you something. Why in God’s name do you stay here? You know damn well you’ll never get tenure, not even renewed. Your chances are nonexistent.” SILENCE
“Some of us like punishment, I guess.”
“Come on, Peterson, don’t give me any of your bullshit. You came here under a cloud. The FAC detests you, figures you’re nothing more than a Banks stoolie.” SILENCE
In a sense I didn’t know what to say or even if I wanted to respond. “Goddamn, Linda, come on, get off my ass, will you?”
“You don’t belong, Peterson. Fish out of water, a goy, a WASP in Israel. You are one of the admin’s boys but you won’t last.”Badgering bitch. What if I had to face this every morning? I was determined not to fight with her.
“Come on, Peterson. Why didn’t you have anything to say today? I know you have objections. You don’t like the exclusiveness here. Who are you trying to kid?”
I had never seen her like this. Always before she gave me hell, but never maliciously. Must be on the rag.
“Miss Weinstein, I’ve decided that I don’t give a shit, how’s that?”
“Not so enlightening, Peterson. That’s your problem and it’s the trouble with you being here. You are a cancerous sore. You and Banks and most gentiles.”
The bitch. The truth was out at least. It wasn’t the poor they wanted to keep out, it was anybody who wasn’t like them. Fucking bigots. SILENCE
I think we’ve talked enough,” I said.
“No way, Peterson. I’ll decide that.” Goddamn bitch, where does she get off deciding when we’re through? I grimaced.
“What’d the hell’s with you. I’m through talking.”
I started to get up, wearily, lazily. She took a couple of steps and pushed me back in the chair. Instead of making me angry, it was kind of humorous and I laughed. “What in the hell is going on?”
“Peterson, you’re not leaving this room until I hear what you really think.”
I looked at her and shook my head. “Okay, Linda, goddamn it, have it your way. If Collier accepts some students who aren’t qualified, then the school has an obligation to the students to help them get prepared.”
“What about the others who are prepared and qualified?”
“The hell with the others. That argument isn’t relevant. It’s a fallacy that developing programs to take care of student inadequacies takes away from others. If we have kids here who can’t read, come from inferior educational opportunities, why can’t we put in some noncredit courses to teach‘em to read? What’s the big crime? Don’t we have some responsibility to our society at large?”
“If we let something like you’re talking about take place, Peterson, Collier would be stampeded with blacks and Puerto Ricans.”
I was really getting pissed because I knew this was fucking futile.
“Weinstein, poor kids can’t help it if they weren’t born to affluence or as Jews. It’s all accidents of birth anyway. They didn’t ask for it. If you look at the latest reading scores, they’ll tell you something which doesn’t have shit to do with whether a person is Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist. Top scoring schools are in affluent neighborhoods of quiet streets and professional families. Hell, it makes no difference if they’re black or white. If they have coins, they’re motivated and prepared. The bottom scorers are in the slums where criminals and heroin junkies abound. If you had to lead that kind of life as a kid, would you give a crap for reading?”
She just glared at, me. For some reason, I felt pity rather than anger at Linda. Suddenly, I thought, I’m so tired of this bullshit. Linda needs a good fuck. “I’ll be frank with you. Where the fuck do you come off telling me anything? You don’t have shit to do with me. I don’t give a fuck where I get renewed or not and the sooner you and the rest of the goddamn self-serving mother fuckers understand it, the better off we’ll all be.” I was getting pissed. “Let’s just get on with the job. Part of the whole educational process is willingness to take a look at the other side.” I was wound up now. “And one final thing. From what I’ve heard, you’re a helluva good teacher and why do you spend your time on worthless shit like resolutions. Rothblum doesn’t give a damn for you, he’s just using you. Wise up, Linda, goddamn it, wise up.”
I said it with a lot of emotion, but wasn’t feeling it nearly as much as it sounded. What occurred then took place so quickly that I hardly knew what happened. She rushed at me as I started to get up and started pummeling me about the face and shoulders. I threw up my hands and blocked most of the blows. She was half screaming, half crying, “Goddamn you, goddamn you, you self-confident bastard, I hate you, I hate you.” Her eyes were like a wounded animal.
“Linda, what’d the hell’s the matter with you?” I grabbed and held her.
“Let me go, let me go, you bastard.”
“Not until you calm down. Damn, what’s gotten into you? Relax, calm down.”
She struggled, but there was nothing she could do. We were about the same height, but I was a good solid, strong 180 pounds. I played tennis every day in the summer and racquetball or squash throughout the winter. The Army was still in me. If I wasn’t doing some racket sport, I was jogging.
Her struggling subsided and she began to softly sob. She buried her head into my shoulder, and I got the strange feeling that what she had been ranting and raving about had nothing to do with where she was emotionally. I felt this very warm and empathetic feeling toward her. So strange that in the heat of the moment, emotions could be so raw and on the surface. I tried to move back, but she wouldn’t budge. We were leaning against my desk. My arms were around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her side. I released my grip and was strangely aware of her small waist. She had big hips but basically a small body. She pressed against me and I began to feel the familiar rise. Somehow my mind wasn’t clear. She began to work her body against mine. The next thing I knew we were kissing passionately. I still had not moved my hands from around her back, and when we did it was simultaneously. Me down to her ass, and her to my cock. Her ass was firm and smooth. What, a turn on: She was stroking me and wildly kissing my face and neck. I responded in a frenzy. It was like a movie. I had turned her where her back was against the desk. She leaned back against it and momentarily held me off her as she unzipped my trousers and took me in her hands. She maneuvered me around her panties and the warm moist touch of her felt so stimulating as it took my breathe away. She held me against her, never looking at me. The tightness of her little pussy closed around me. I tried to work myself into her. She was so tight. She flinched. I didn’t move at all. She had her hands on my hips and moved slowly against me. It was hurting her, but pleasurably, I hoped. For me, it was like heaven. With each mini movement, it squeezed me. I was only about half way in when she had her first orgasm. She bit into my shoulder so hard it was all I could do to keep from crying out. Her teeth were clamped into me as her body made several more thrusts. For a moment she didn’t move and I started to move back but she held me tight and whispered no. She started moving again and I went deeper. With each thrust she moved her body faster and faster and finally I could feel myself starting to come, and with the swelling excitement, she started orgasming again. It was a powerful climax, and I was absolutely drained. Quietly and gently I moved back from the desk. There was blood on me, and I knew she was hurt. Quickly she stood up and still without looking at me, went out the door. I slumped in the chair and wondered what to do and momentarily had the thought that it was one of my fantasies and really didn’t happen.
“Ms Weinstein, how are you this morning?" I thought about giving her a big hug but then thought better of it. I didn't know where it was going. I loved woman but had learned more than once, they operated on a different plain than men. How to ever understand women? Fuck if I knew. She didn't say anything. I stood at the counter. "I'm going to be gone for a couple of days but wanted you to know that last night was wonderful." She glanced but still said nothing.
Long pause
"I know it was just another fuck to you," she said.
"No."
"No matter. I lost control."
I wanted to say something which could help her with the guilt or whatever she was feeling. I wanted to reach out and caress her. Here I am the enemy and she has lost control with me and we fucked like no tomorrow and I wanted to assure her but knew that it was no use. Sex is a wonderful experience. Why do we have to make it such a fucking ordeal. Talking about it was like Neanderthalville. We didn't. Some may think it is just fucking, not me. It is a sacred act. If a woman gives herself to you, it is not like talking a drink of water, rather a wonderful gift that she has given you. Thank you, Lord. I needed to convey that to Linda but didn't know how and now, I didn't have time. "Linda".
"No," she said.
"God damn it, Linda, for once in your life, will you listen." She started to move away. I grabbed her. She tried to pull away. “Please don't run away from this?” I held tight, desperately trying not to hurt her. I kissed her. At first she struggled, then relaxed. "Easy," I said. "We had a moment and I love you for it, you are a wonderful woman and this is no bullshit. I know that we may not have anywhere to go but we don't have to be enemies. I'm sure I can be a classic asshole and I apologize. I'm going to try and do better." I paused. There were many things I wanted to say. She didn't say anything and I heard myself saying, "Linda, I want you to know I will never mention this to anyone. I will take it to my grave."
I was lost in thought on the way to King’s Park. What the fuck? Al never shared with me much of what was happening with him. He loved to relive the past. His repertoire of war stories could rival anyone. I usually indulged him. He was in fact a good soldier. Not in the beginning but something kind of kicked in. Mainly it was another RTO. I had a battalion RTO and a company one. The company one was called Jimmy although he was Asian. I guess Chinese mothers give them American names so they are easy to pronounce. I think Chinese. It always embarrassed me to asked because I couldn’t tell the difference. For some reason, the soldiers started calling him Charlie Chan. It was kind of funny. He had been in Vietnam since my first tour. The story was that he had never left the field. Saying he was a good soldier, an understatement. He had a six sense and he loved to teach and Al was a good student. Charlie loved being a soldier, a sense of belonging he once told me. He was raised in an orphanage mostly. His Mom and Dad were both musicians. His Dad left them early on and his mom played and picked her banjo in clubs mostly in San Francisco. This meant she was gone most every night and Charlie was left to fend for himself. Over the course of time, she did seem to have several men. A few stayed around for a while but eventually left. Charlie’s grandma on his Dad’s side reported her to Social Services and they took Charlie away. He did make it back home for a time but then they took him again. As soon as he got to be seventeen, he joined up. Forged his Mother’s signature. He hadn’t seen her for years anyway. He volunteered to be a paratrooper. Because he was the only Asian, he constantly stood out and it seemed he did more pushups that most people. Quiet but likeable. At Campbell I saw him several times and thought that he must be a good troop to put up with all the bullshit. I chose him to be my RTO, not knowing that he was so good. He and Al immediately bonded. I never heard any of the talk about being Chinese or gay or anything because the troops knew I was a tough ass and didn’t put up with that bullshit. It was one of the things that I had discovered quickly in combat, make sure that the troops know who is in charge. Problems developed when soldiers weren’t supervised, especially at war. There’s a mentality and if commanders aren’t on top of it, shit happens. Too many young soldiers have lost their way or done stupid things because they were unsupervised. And, in my case, it was one thing that I made sure we did, we stayed busy fighting. When these kids are trying to stay alive, simply less problems. I never voiced these views but you better believe they right up front in the gray matter.
The speaker was Dr. Rothblum. He was a son of a bitch of a royal nature. Head of the prestigious FAC, he constantly threw his weight around. Fat fucker who didn’t know how to push away from the table. He put the bad mouth on Banks on a regular basis and poor ‘Big’ cowered before him as though he were a god. Plus, University policy called for faculty resolutions to be processed through faculty committees before being presented to the faculty at large. If Rothblum and these other sons of bitches wanted to really help people they’d put this shit aside and figure out how to fulfill Collier’s charter to educate. Shit, it was pissing in the wind to think it would happen. “Whereas Collier has long recognized the importance of equal opportunity, the introduction of ill prepared students into an academic environment causes the lowering of standards.” He went on and on. The resolution was the typical stilted academic bullshit of pseudo intellectuals who had to constantly reinforce their importance. Fuck ‘em.
Times like this made me honestly think I really ought to get the hell out of the whole business. I had enough money and my real belief was that there’s no chance of getting to people like Rothblum. Fuck the fat fucker was my real thought. Sorry Mom.
Bigliosi glanced at me as we walked out of the auditorium.. I felt sorry for him. It looked like he’d heard the cock crow for the third time. Goddamn it, just weak. I had just drifted into teaching anyway. I decided I was going to be a lifer anyway. Vietnam fucked everything up. I got out of the Army and, for lack of anything better, got a PhD in Sociology and here I was today listening to these dickheads. Joanie told me once, “Al wants you close to him and so this was the way to make it happen.” I just resigned myself as I didn’t have anything to do anyway.
“Big” refused to look at me because he knew I didn’t consent to the resolution, and the presentation was a violation of school policy. I had not agreed to it and the rules said a department had to be unanimous. Scuttlebutt had it that he was on the FAC shit list. That fact alone was enough to make me like him. The FAC wanted the young professors to constantly kiss ass and always held up tenure as either reward or punishment. I could never survive in this environment. Anybody who is an individualist and attempts to be different gets eaten
“Dr. Peterson.” I turned to see the young history professor, Phil Rokoff. He put out his hand and I shook it. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. In fact, I would have been just as happy to get out of Collier for the day.
“What did you think of the meeting today?”
I continued to walk toward the elevator. He punched the elevator button.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“To be frank with you.” He hesitated a moment. It was obvious he was thinking whether to continue or change the subject. “I expected you to speak against it.”
I smiled at him, “Why?”
“I guess you have a reputation for stirring things up.” He hesitated again. “And this was one of the few faculty meetings I’ve seen you attend. I just thought…” Then he stopped.
I stared past him, then said. “Is Mrs. Rothblum a good piece of ass?” I don’t know why I said it. He turned chalk white. He lowered his cracking voice and glanced around to see if anybody had heard me. “How should I know?” He stammered.
I felt badly all of a sudden. “Listen,” I smiled, “talking about Mrs. Rothblum is a hell of a lot more interesting than the other bullshit.” He didn’t say anything.
“I apologize,” I said. “I can be an asshole at times. I’m really sorry.” There were lots of times in my life when I wanted to kick my own ass. We were in a kind of stunned silence. “Dr. Rokoff, it really is none of my business but let me say this.” While I was saying it I was thinking to myself, stay out of this and what in the fuck am I doing. “This is very confidential and I don’t know shit and even if I did, there is nothing to fear from me. I don’t talk ever. But, you are playing with fire if you want a career unless you have thoroughly defined what you want in a relationship.” I sounded like some therapist. “Dr. Peterson, you are right, it is none of your business” The elevator opened and we got out. OK, I thought to myself. Things like this rarely ended well. People are fucking crazy when it comes to matters of the heart. The flip side of the coin is that maybe it was entirely different than I thought. Rothblum may know and it is fine with him. I doubt it. And, Mrs. Rothblum, although a beautiful woman, hardly would think that her future is with Rokoff but then I didn’t know shit. Young guys like Rokoff would become just like others if something drastic didn’t happen. Next case. . I promised myself that one day soon I’d square it with Rokoff.