PFK1 (19 page)

enemy of the common man."

Seven years later, and I can still remember the huge fucking laughs

I got with my delivery. That was sweet.

A bunch of other people got up and did theirs. They stumbled over

words, forgot their lines, screwed up right and left.

Then Polly Ellsworth stood up in front of the class.

Instead of some typical feminine blather about the need for world

peace, Polly launched into a comedy routine about the lengths people

will go to pretend they are better than they are. She punctured human

hypocrisy with one zinger after another. She had me cracking up.

Also worth mentioning, now that I’m at it, was Polly’s body, which

at age twenty was sleek as a racing hull and decidedly ultra fetching.

I was totally entranced.

I don’t know if she was reading my mind as I sat there staring at

her, but once class was over she walked so slowly out of Deady Hall

that I had no trouble falling in alongside her.

"That was quite the declamation," I said.

Her long, dark brown hair fell across her big, dark brown eyes

before she brushed it away and returned my glance.

"Yours was better. You got more laughs than I did."

"I laughed at yours. Didn’t you hear me?"

"You and the instructor were practically the only ones."

"Well, you’re just ahead of your time. Everybody should have

been laughing," I said to her. "In my opinion."

"If you say so. But yours was the best."

"Thanks. I maybe spent an hour on it."

Again the hair fell across the eyes. "I wasn’t sure," Polly said, "if

you were laughing at my jokes or at me."

"Don’t be insecure, I said. "You’re too pretty for that."

She blushed.

Then I introduced myself, telling Polly my name, which she already

knew. I knew her first name, but learned her last name for the first

time.

1 19

She accepted my invitation to walk to the Memorial Union, where

we found seats in one of the second floor window boxes, watching

people walk by in the courtyard below.

This was the winter of 1971.

Soon we were talking, to my surprise and pleasure, about ourselves,

our backgrounds, our petty hopes and dreams.

"What’s your major?" I asked.

"Art and Art History."

"Pray tell," I said, "why would an artist such as yourself be in a

speech class?"

"I figured it was an easy A."

"Me too. I’m in Poly Sci."

"Pray tell," she said, mimicking me, "why would a statesman such

as yourself be in a speech class? Ooops! I think I answered my own

question."

"Yes, you’re right. I’m going into politics eventually," I said. "I’m

already pretty good at speechmaking, but I need to be even better, if

I’m going to get anywhere."

"I see."

There was a pause, while we munched muffins and drank beverages

from the commons. She had coffee with milk, while I drank apple

juice. The winter sun came through the window box briefly and Polly

looked radiant.

"I’ve seen you with a woman around campus," Polly said. "Several

times. Who might she be?"

"My ex-girlfriend. Leanne."

"You sure she’s your ex-girlfriend?" Polly said.

"As sure as I am the sun is shining."

Technically speaking, I was lying. I’d had a number of rocky

moments with Leanne and we were always on the verge of breaking

up. But as no formal split had yet taken place.

Not liking to be put on the defensive, I said:

"What the current status of you and your boyfriend?"

120

Polly looked at me with an expression like I had groped her tits,

first one and then the other. Slowly batting her big, dark eyelashes,

she said, "We’re not together anymore."

I suspected Polly was lying as well, but said nothing. Before I

asked, I had no idea whether or not she had a boyfriend. But I also

knew that no self-respecting female is going to admit that she does not

have a current boyfriend, unless she is at least 70 years old and/or

legally dead.

The upshot was that we kept seeing each other after class, going to

the Memorial Union for snacks and talk, hanging out but going no

further. When the class speech ended, so did our brief flirtation.

Fast forward the calendar to four years later.

By now, I was out of college, finally broken up with Leanne, and

back from my year-long VISTA service in Atlanta. Having no place

else to go, I was temporarily staying with my brother Mick in his

apartment. My readjustment stipend was running out and I had hardly

any money left.

Living with my older brother presented major challenges, him

being an unpredictable combination of good-heartedness and Silas

Marner style parsimony. Mick can be either the greatest guy in the

world or a royal pain in the ass, depending on his many mercurial

moods.

Since leaving VISTA, I had been living in Eugene, fruitlessly

searching for a job. It was a bad time to be unemployed. Over the

winter, the fucking stock markets had melted down, and

unemployment was at a six year high.

As for me, I was in a miserable fix, living on Mick’s limited

generosity and food stamp benefits. Every day I went to the

employment office, looking for work. What I really craved was some

manual labor, especially outdoors. I disliked sitting in an office all

day, closed in by four walls. But I had no luck finding a job like that,

or any job.

On the third of the month, I paid Mick my share of the rent for

June. That meant I had less than $20 total. However, it was a Friday

and schooners of beer were fifty cents each at Taylor’s until 6:00 PM.

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It was there that I ran into Polly Ellsworth again, and things between

us just exploded.

Oh man, but Polly could fuck, once she began doing it with me

regularly. She was an incredibly sensuous and sexy woman, tanned,

slim and lovely at age 23, with those lovely dark eyes and that head of

lustrous, dark brown hair.

The high point of our relationship came within a few weeks of the

beginning, as these things typically do. We had gotten to know each

other pretty well physically well by then and I had learned to my

delight that Polly seemed to have almost no sexual inhibitions.

She was a pure, sweet, sugar-coated whippet of unadulterated sex, a

hot, clinging pussy that was like a magnet to my cock.

On this particular Sunday morning in late June, we were at Polly’s

place, a two bedroom house that had been thrown up after the war to

accommodate students on the GI bill. It was kind of secluded for

being in the university neighborhood, on an alley between High Street

and Pearl.

A couple of hours before, we had finished up a late breakfast, and

now were just lounging around. Polly had picked some strawberries

her roommate Lori Sanchez was growing, sliced them, and was

feeding them to me slice by slice. There weren’t many, but they

tasted sweet.

Polly seemed to get a big kick out of dropping them into my mouth

with her fingers. At each insert, I crunched down on the tangy pulp,

chewed, and swallowed.

Polly’s roommate Lori was in California visiting her mother and

sister. Lori wasn’t due back for a week, so Polly and I had the place

to ourselves.

We hadn’t bathed yet and Polly was still in her blue-green

bathrobe, this one these white lace accents on the lapels. Her robe

was partly open, showing her smooth, flat belly and small, pert

breasts, crowned by pink, quarter-sized nipples.

"I want to take a bath," Polly said. "The house only has a tub, no

shower."

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"Mmmm..." I said, thinking deeply. "Why don’t we take a bath

together?"

"Really? Together?"

"Sure. Why not?"

I was in a good mood. Since landing a job at a local flower nursery

the Friday before, my prospects had taken a turn for the better. We’d

spent the night celebrating with schooners of beer at Taylor’s, and

then more intimately in her narrow single bed. With Lori gone, Polly

didn’t care how much noise we made, which was a lot. Three times is

my usual limit after beer, and Polly only fell asleep after having

demanded and received her full quotient.

On Saturday night, we’d had dinner with Polly’s sister Peggy and

her boyfriend Ted, coming back to her house late.

This time, we were both too drunk to do anything but sleep, and

therefore put off fucking until morning.

Now I was ready for round two and Polly had not yet agreed to my

suggestion about the bath. Instead, she seemed transfixed by the

bulge in the front of my pouch briefs.

"What’s that?" Polly said. "You’re hard again already?"

"Afraid so." My briefs looked like a fire hose was uncoiling within.

"C’mon, it’ll be fun to bathe together."

"Something you should probably know," Polly said, taking the dish

that held the strawberries to the kitchen counter. "I’ve never taken a

bath with another adult before."

"Well," I said, "I am sure it will be pleasant. A novel way to pass

time and achieve cleanliness, I think."

Polly stood beside me, smiling. Her right hand, with fingers

probing like antenna, caressed my cock through the material of my

briefs.

"Do you like that?" Polly asked, in a murmuring tone.

"Oh, yes. Very much," I said.

We kissed. Polly broke the kiss after it had gone on several

minutes. During the kiss, a drop of leakage oozed from the tip, passed

through the brief, and moistened her fingertips.

123

"Mmmm. I’ll go run the bathwater," she said huskily. "You put

some music on the stereo."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Carole King."

I found Polly’s Carole
King Tapestry
album and set it on the

turntable. The record started up. In the bathroom, I could hear her

urinate and then flush the toilet. A minute later, she turned the water

taps full on.

"Do you need to pee?" Polly asked.

"I won’t until after we do something about this," I said, indicating

my erection.

"Okay."

I pulled my briefs down and off, placing them on top of my pants,

which sat on the chair beside Polly’s bed. I followed my beautiful

naked girlfriend into the bathroom, where the tub was reaching its

requisite fullness.

I noticed that there were tons of suds.

"I put a couple of capfuls of Lori’s bubble bath in it," Polly

explained. "It’s called Lavender Body Dreams."

Because we were so skinny, getting into the tub together was not a

problem. The hot water meanwhile had a calming effect on my cock,

reducing it to a state of mere semi-rigidity.

I took the side of the tub with my back to the faucet while Polly sat

facing me.

We took turns dumping the warm, soapy water over each other’s

heads. Then we shampooed each other’s hair.

"God, you’ve got gorgeous blond hair," Polly said, rubbing. "Some

women would kill to have hair like yours."

"Hasn’t done me a bit of good," I said.

"Oh, yes it has."

Polly’s own long dark brown hair was plastered against her skin

and her pink nipples stood out.

"This is fun," Polly said, as we splashed around in the water, our

bottoms squeaking whenever we moved.

124

Carole’s song Like a Natural Woman drifted in while we played,

pushing islands of foam at each other.

I bent to kiss and suck Polly’s nipples. She moaned softly, passing

her hand between my legs. I sat up, exposing my cock. Now the

whole thing was above the sudsy water.

That was my cue to slip my finger in her pussy. I discovered then

that Polly was not only wet on the outside, she was wet on the inside,

too. At that point, I developed a monster erection.

Polly tried to push my cock under water.

"Don’t sink the lighthouse!" I begged.

She laughed and laughed.

As the water grew tepid and the suds melted away, Polly had me

pull the plug. Once more, she turned on the water, warm not hot, and

filled a plastic pitcher. We poured clean water from the faucet over

ourselves, sending our sweat and dirt and oil down the drain.

We toweled off and chased each other naked around the house,

laughing and yelling. Following that, we returned to the bathroom,

where we took turns drying our hair under Polly’s electric blow dryer.

Drying my shoulder-length hair took as long as hers did. But rarely

have I ever felt as good as I did in that moment, naked with a beautiful

girl nearby, my cock standing up like a spring, with nothing to do all