Alma Mater (29 page)

"Before."

"What are you going to tell them about this?"

"The truth." Vic checked her watch. "I need to get back to the
house. I left Charly there and told him not to do anything." Vic stood
up, brushing off her jeans. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I'm not the least bit sorry I updated Mary's wardrobe."

Charly wasn't at her apartment. He left a note that he'd gone out to
eat. He called just before
,
six. She told him what she'd done. He argued
with her, but she insisted what was done was done and there was no point in both of them getting into more trouble. He finally gave in.

Then she walked next door and told Chris everything.

"I hope you don't live to regret this," Chris said, worried.

"I won't.

"Is Charly coming back now that he doesn't have curfew?" she
asked nervously.

"No, I talked him out of it."

Chris relaxed. "This is all so wild."

"At least we're not bored."

_T

he rising winter sun washed the bowl of the football stadium in
scarlet.
Having kissed a sleeping Chris, Vic left her a note on the
kitchen table. She needed to burn off energy
_;
she needed to think.
Running the stadium steps would do her a world of good.

She'd already trotted to the top and back ten times and intended to
complete the process twenty more times when a figure in dark green
sweats appeared on the track, running toward her with a familiar grace
peculiarly his own.

Wordlessly he fell in next to her, and they ran the last sets of stadium steps together. By the time they'd finished, the frost was turning
into glistening dew.

They walked around the track to cool down.

"Change your mind?"

"I thought I had you organized on that."

"Vic, you could get bounced right out of here."

"I'll get slapped on the wrist or forced to write 'I will not dress or
undress the Blessed Virgin Mother' on the blackboard one thousand
and one times."

"After Alpha Tau's disgrace, I think it's going to be more than a
slap on the wrist."

"Charly, don't worry about me. If I'm out of here tomorrow, I'll
survive, you know."

"Yeah, but come on, what's
one more semester?"

"I can finish it up later, somewhere else, some other time. We went
through all this last night."

"Oh, the phone. I want face-to-face, baby." He slapped her butt. "I
thought maybe I could talk you out of this. I don't mind taking my
licks."

"There's absolutely no point. None."

"What if I go to Dean Hansen and confess? Then we both get the
proverbial boot. We'll be together."

"No."

"Or I could march in there and say you were covering my ass."

"Forget it. No one wants you out of William and Mary, including
Dean Hansen. Why do you think Coach went to so much trouble? Just
finish up. Then if you get drafted into the pros—"

"First of all, I'd be a last pick. This isn't a football powerhouse."
"But you are."

"Thanks." He paused. "I'll end up a stock broker. No one's going to
draft me."

"Law school?"

"There are too many lawyers in the world." He laughed. "Actually
I'm pretty psyched about learning the stock market."

She reached for his hand. "Don't rule anything out. It's a long way
from here to graduation. And you will get drafted. Scouts have come
to see you play. You know Coach has had calls. Just wait. You don't
have to take any job offered you, but wouldn't it be fun to know? Just
for the hell of it?"

He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the cool flesh. "And what if I
said yes, and got drafted by, urn, Green Bay? Would you live in the
frozen tundra?"

She swallowed hard. "It's not about what I want, it's about chances
that come to few people. The stock market will always be there. You can
study the market—maybe even work at a brokerage house in the off season. You can make a lot of money in football, a lot of money to invest."

"I'll make money no matter what I do." He grinned, exuding
self-confidence.

"I've never heard you say that before."

"Money is the last thing people should talk about."

"Well . . . I guess if you have enough, it's not such a sore subject. I
think Mom only talked about it to me because she was still pretty beat
up by everything."

"I didn't mean that, honey."

"Oh, I know. I'm thinking out loud. I probably shouldn't. I do talk
about money more than I should. It's been on my mind."

"You'll never have to work. You'll never have to worry about
money. I promise."

"Charly, I want to work."

"Sure. I know you can't just sit around, but you will never, ever
have to worry. I'll take care of everything." He put his arms around her.

She hugged him then, her arms around his waist. How was she
ever going to let him go? Couldn't they stay close but forget marriage?
She wondered if she was selfish in being able to enjoy them both
physically or if it was just human. Love is love, sexual pleasure is sexual
pleasure, she told herself. You're going to be dead a long time, so get a
lot of both while you can.

"If I confessed and got thrown out with you, we could get married
right away." His eyes sparkled.

Thinking fast, Vic replied, "And your mother and father would
hate me. I'd much rather have them on my side than against me. Why
make things difficult?"

"They'd get over it." But he knew she was right.

"Fat chance. I'd have to present them with four of the most perfect
blond children in the world for them to forgive me."

"Blond?"

"Right. And they'd have to have names like Nigel and Clarissa."
Vic burst out laughing—she couldn't help it. She didn't dislike
Charly's parents, but they could be such awfully squeaky WASPs. Not
that she wasn't a WASP, but the Savedges set less stock in it.

He laughed, too. "Dad would love it even more than Mom." He

stopped, reached for her hand, and kissed her. "Vic, let's go back to your place."

She wanted to make love to him. Even though she knew it was
good-bye to that part of them, she wanted to make him happy one
more time.

Vic drove them to Jinx's knowing she would be in class. Charly
didn't ask any questions. Vic said this would be exciting, since it was
kind of forbidden.

She pulled off his sweatshirt and then the T-shirt underneath. She
ran her tongue from the waist of his sweatpants, up between his pecs, up to his Adam's apple, and to his lips.

She put her hands around his tight rear end, feeling the muscles,
feeling him get very hard, very fast, next to her. She kept kissing him
as she slid her left hand around and rested it on his jock strap, letting the heat from her hand make him crazy. Then she stripped off his
sweatpants and jockstrap in one clean motion. She felt the smooth
skin of his penis, the heat, the head. He kissed her forehead, her nose,
her lips.

They launched themselves onto Jinx's unmade bed, coupled in sec
onds, came in minutes.

Charly rested on his elbows, over her, breathing hard. His penis softened for a moment and then stiffened again.

"Can men have multiple orgasms?" he whispered, quite thrilled
with the possibility.

"Why not?" She moved herself under him. This time it took longer
but was no less pleasurable.

Afterward, he rolled over on his side.

"For my first million, I'll write a book about multiorgasmic men."
He stroked her stomach. He loved her washboard abs. "All they need
is you."

They showered. Vic left Jinx a note, said she'd explain everything and that she owed her a dinner and a clean set of sheets. She did strip
the bed and put on new sheets with Charly's help. She dropped him
off at the dorm so he could change for class.

She drove out to the discount stores and bought a new set of white
cotton sheets for Jinx and a reduced maroon blanket for herself.

She wasn't going to tell Chris. It would serve no purpose other
than to hurt her. She probably should have ended it with Charly this
morning, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say the words. Still,
she knew that as good as sex with Charly felt, Chris's love was like a
firebomb. Maybe she had needed one last time with Charly to be sure
of where she stood.

She told herself it was nobody's business but her own, but a wave
of guilt and confusion washed over her. She felt guilty because she had
betrayed Chris, guilty because she was going to hurt Charly, guilty be
cause she was going to let her parents down.

She fought back tears. Maybe the only way anyone learns any
thing is to make a mess, she thought. Well, she'd made quite a mess.

_T

he monsignor, at first suspicious of Vic's confession as relayed by Dean Hansen, soon seized upon it with enthusiasm. Punish
ing a beautiful woman somehow provided more of an emo-

tional reward than punishing a man.

Monsignor Whitby had graciously offered sherry to Dean Hansen
and the two other college officials accompanying him.

The first step the monsignor wanted to take was to call a news
paper reporter with the story. Dean Hansen suggested that enough
negative publicity for the college had been generated this year. Better
to forgive and forget.

The monsignor resisted. Young people needed to be held account
able for their misdeeds.

As the discussion rolled into a monologue from the monsignor, the dean and his colleagues realized the only way to satisfy him while pro
tecting the college would be to punish Victoria Savedge. Though
none of them especially wishedto do this since her record was spotless
and her grades high, the needs of the whole had to take precedence
over any of its parts.

After two hours of reaching for the decanter by the monsignor, the
meeting concluded. The clergyman agreed not to call the local newspaper, radio, or TV stations with the story or tell anyone Vic's name. Dean Hansen would expel her from William and Mary. Of course, the