Sex Club for Nerds and Geeks Ch. 14

"We probably put in 50 hours of rehearsal, and we were changing things up to last minute. Once we'd settled on the songs and which went in which set, Charlie took over and integrated everything. Bill Monroe, Flatt and Scruggs, Johnny Cash, he arranged everything so that it made sense that mandolins and guitars were there."

"It seemed like you and your violin were there too, in almost every song."

"Well, not every one, but probably two-thirds," she blushed, her eyes looking down. "It seems a lot more bluegrass-ey when you have the fiddle around."

I felt safe enough to return to last night.

"How much of an apology do I owe you and the others for whatever happened? I'm afraid I don't remember it, and certainly not the round of tequila."

"Not a lot. You withdrew when the alcohol hit you. I don't know what got into you, ordering that round. Mike and Martha joined you, so you probably owe them the apology.

"Mike's dorm was close enough that Nick could walk him home, but you and Martha got so wasted that Lisa insisted on calling cabs. Paul was stone cold sober, so we had him take Martha to her dorm, and I drew you, once Margery and Evan took off."

I put my hand on her knee. "So are you doing anything this afternoon?"

Janice removed my hand, squirmed around to face me, and pulled her legs up under her. Then she fixed me with a very hard stare.

"I am free. And I will spend it with you. But we have to get something straight.

"I hate drunks. My father's been a recovering alcoholic since before I was born, and it's a struggle. My last boyfriend was a serious drinker, which I didn't know it until we got involved. I don't think you're like either of them, but I have to tell you that it will be over if you ever again do what you did last night."

LAST boyfriend?

"I was afraid of drinking when I was in high school," I confessed. "I saw a couple of people when they were roaring drunk. One guy I knew was killed in a car wreck where the driver weaved off the road and hit a tree.

"Sprite's my thing. I've been at a couple of parties where I've had one beer, and I've been out to dinner a couple of times where I've also had a single beer. Nothing like what went on last night has ever happened to me, ever. And I don't want it to, ever again."

"Alcohol's a slippery slope," Janice soothed. "Sometimes it gives you a rush of reduced inhibition, sometimes it's the escape from a situation you don't want to be in. I think last night for you was just macho, but I don't get why you bought the tequila. Charlie shouldn't have started it, but everybody was of age, so it wasn't evil, probably just thoughtless."

"I just don't remember buying the tequila. When did it happen?"

"When Charlie and his teenybopper left, and the singing got going, you made a big deal about calling your friend the waitress over and tried to get everyone to say 'yes,' but only Mike and Martha did. When it came, you proposed a toast to the success of the show and tossed it back."

"I just don't understand it." I was puzzled and felt small, admitting this to Janice.

"Well, you've got to think about it."

I couldn't think of anything more to say. Finally, I tried.

"Can we, I mean, will you —"

"Yes," she said, standing, and as she did the bottom of her shirt opened enough for me to see her panties. She extended her hand and swung me up, and we walked to the bedroom.

My head wasn't throbbing any more, but I wasn't one-hundred percent functional either. Still, I was getting hard underneath my robe, and the sight of Janice's ass ahead of me helped.

We kissed, the ardor growing as we moved into each other. I rubbed her shoulders as she ground her hips into mine.

No bra. Oh yeah, where did she sleep?

I stepped back and began to unbutton the shirt. At the third button, which was the last one closed, her breasts slipped out. I took the left one and sucked on it.

Janice opened my robe and I shrugged out of it. As I continued to suck her nipple she took hold of my cock and closed in on me, rubbing it against her panties.

"Both ends feel nice, so nice," she panted.

I switched to the other nipple and was tonguing it when I felt her let go of my cock. She jettisoned her panties, re-arrested my cock, and moved in.

"Scrunch down a little, let me get you inside," she whispered. As I started to, the realization of no condom hit me, and I pulled away.

"Condom," I croaked. "Please, I have to,"

"No need, it's ok, I'm fine, on the pill."

"No! I have to! Let me get it," and I pushed past her toward the nightstand.

The mood was broken. She angrily spat it out. "What's wrong with you? Or is it me? I know what my condition is. Do you have something I need to know about?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," I hit back, feeling my cock deflating. "It's common sense. Nobody should have unprotected sex unless they're certain of their partner's condition. It's just common sense."

"I trust you. Isn't my word good enough?"

"You don't know anything about me! Why would you take the risk?" I was hot now. How could she be so cavalier?

She slumped to the bed and began to cry. Long, wracking sobs crying.

I sat beside her, wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. The sobs eventually ended and she pushed me away.

"That was terrible. I'm sorry, I've got to go now." She stood up and found her panties, then stalked to the living room where her pants, bra, and sandals were.

As she dressed, I composed myself. "Okay, it's alright. Please call me. I want to see you again. You helped me when I did something dangerous and stupid."

"I'll let you know."

*

I filled the hour that I was willing to wait for her to come to her senses and return by sending out the next two days' notices for the interviews.

Finally, I gave up on her.

I got dressed and wandered out to the "Olympics," the university's rolling series of recreational programs that were meant to burn off excess hormones and keep Michelle Obama off our backs. I snapped lots of pictures, including Carrie at one of her food stands, but I really didn't care.

You are 100% right. The responsible thing is to fuck with a condom unless you have a commitment for monogamy from your partner and can prove they're clean. That's how you and Martha did it, and it's how the club operates. Even if it's not AIDS, there's herpes and syphilis and the quiet STD's.

You don't know anything about her. Sounds like she wants a boyfriend. Maybe she wants to get pregnant. Are you ready for a girlfriend, or a baby? Are you crazy? You've gotten used to sex with no strings, fuck when you want to, say good-bye, see you next time.

She gave you the shits when you first met. It was like high school all over again. Then BANG, she jumps you, you're fucking, and she takes you home to meet her house mother. Then she gets bent out of shape about something that wasn't really your fault. Sure the second round wasn't genius, but where's the understanding? Then she's crying.

Didn't you learn anything when what's-her-name gave you the bout of impotence? "You made a bad choice of sexual partner." That's what Ascheim said. He was right. You should recognize the signs this time.

You're coaching Martha about learning how to decide who's a good man versus a bad man. Follow of your own advice. Whatever that is.

I tried to pick up three girls at the fireworks that evening. I struck out.

*

When Margery showed up for the second interview of Monday morning, I was completely flummoxed. I hadn't noticed that she was on the list and my recovery was not smooth.

"What are you doing here?" I'd just paid the subject and seen her out the door.

She looked at me curiously. "You're going to pay me an obscene amount of money for an hour of my precious time."

Afterward, I patched it up with Anna. She was amused, at least a little.

"You some sort of politician, putting your friends on the payroll?"

"No, no, they're all qualified. They applied, they fit in categories, they responded."

"How many?"

"I'd met the one last week after she signed up, so she doesn't count. But after Margery there are three more."

Anna whistled. "Look, I've got to tell Don about this. There probably won't be any trouble, unless you discussed the purpose of the interview beforehand. But this is serious stuff, we can't have relationships interfere with the study."

*

"That was too weird," Margery said, as we settled into our meal. It was our catch-up night, and we were in the Italian food court.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but there's a logic to the questions about —"

"No, I mean the show at Lit. Or rather, the aftermath."

"Oh. Well, that apparently wasn't my finest hour." I don't know why, but I'd hoped no one else had noticed my behavior.

"I've seen you drink a beer, but never anything hard. And the tequila? What was that about?"

"I had no idea what tequila could do. I was having a good time. I really liked the music, everyone at the table was interesting, so I just went along when Charlie proposed the chaser. It burned my throat, but somehow it didn't matter. I was having a good time."

"Laissez les bons temps rouler?"

"What?"

"French. 'Let the good times roll.' A movie with Chuck Berry and Bill Haley and the Comets, in the seventies. Also the title of a B. B. King album. As in, you were feeling no pain, so let's do it some more."

I was feeling small. "I don't know, I don't remember, honest. The last thing I remember about Saturday night was everybody singing. Well, almost everybody. I don't know any of those songs."

"When did you wake up?"

"Around nine. It was horrible. My head was killing me, I had to throw up, and then the harpy of remorse and I got into an argument."

"Metaphorically speaking, I presume?"

"No, actually. Janice — the fiddle player? — had taken me back to the apartment and poured me into bed. I guess she slept on the couch to make sure I didn't drown in my own vomit. She called me a 'fucking stupid drunk' and reamed me a new asshole about it. We had an argument and she stormed out."

"No good deed goes unpunished."

"Meaning?"

Her eyes flashed and there was a steely edge to her words. "Meaning she did you a huge favor getting you home safely, taking care of you, and trying to get you see how badly you behaved. You repaid her by picking a fight. No wonder she left. I'm surprised she didn't slug you."

"Well, there was other stuff."

"I'll bet. And it's none of my business, but I hope you don't start partying like this in the future. Boozing is a slippery slope."

"Her words exactly."

We ate, silently.

Finally I tried. "I hope your evening went better than mine."

"It did! I called Tom during the break and he said it was a very big deal, they'd be working at least through Monday. There had been some intermittent problems during the week, so the shutdown wasn't a complete surprise, but it was a big deal.

"I was bummed, 'cause we'd planned the evening, but I enjoyed the show and when they all came over to the table afterwards, Evan started hitting on me right away. I liked it.

"We spotted you hanging around the Olympics in the afternoon. You didn't look happy, so we decided to leave you alone.

"He's an interesting guy. He says he'll probably be a banker, but if he had his druthers he'd be a musician. He can't carry a tune in a bucket but he plays jazz piano in addition to the mandolin."

"So he spent the night?"

Her look was withering. "He dropped me off at the front door of the dorm, kissed me chastely on the forehead, and we shook hands. Yes, of course he stayed. I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity."

"Need some more condoms?"

"I'll buy my own, thank you. I've got to learn about them anyway, I suppose." She paused.

"Look, Carl, can I ask you about something?"

"Always."

"You could say I've known you your whole life — or rather, your whole sex life, right?"

"Right." I grinned, because it was true: she had taken my virginity four months ago, in a fuck-filled night I will never forget.

"And until classes ended, you'd never used a condom, right, not ever?"

"Right."

"So that, when the club closed up for the summer, you had to start using them if you were going to have sex with anyone other than Lisa, Carrie, and me?"

"And Julia, don't forget Julia." I smiled. "I haven't."

Julia, Margery's cousin, was a high school senior trying to decide which branch of the state university campuses she wanted to attend. Margery asked me to give Julia a campus tour. The next day she went with us to a picnic that the club sponsored for prospective members. Afterwards, we went to bed and I took her virginity. During the tour I had taken a photograph of her that was the best I'd ever done.

"Right, Julia. Anyway, you're like me, you like variety, I understand that. You've developed a talent for getting girls into the sack, but you always use condoms, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. So, have you ever thought 'the heck with this, I just like the feeling of skin, what harm can it do, college students don't AIDS?' "

"I wouldn't dare. You, and everyone else in the club, has trusted me to not give you a disease I pick up from some girl who was unknowingly infected by somebody with something. And I trust you. It's not necessarily AIDS but herpes, or chlamydia, or gonorrhea. And condoms help with bed hygiene. It's just that I don't like them."

" 'Bed hygiene?' "

"Yeah, the wet spot, the mess in bed, you know, right?"

"I'm just teasing you. Anyway, why don't you like them?"

"After I cum, we're lying there, feeling the glow. If I don't grab the thing before I get too soft and slide out, it gets left inside. I feel awful and she thinks I'm a thoughtless dork. It breaks the mood.

"Of course none of this had ever occurred to me before I started having sex —"

"Fucking?"

"— before I started fucking. I really love that glow. I resent having to break the mood. I guess this is shallow and self-centered, but it's how I feel. I've never discussed this with anyone, so I have no idea whether I'm the only person who feels this way, though I doubt it."

"It used to be that girls enforced them," Margery mused. "For birth control especially, back before AIDS and the pill. Guys used to buy them from machines in men's bathrooms, which had a label that said 'for the prevention of disease only.'

"Condoms can break, but they make them better now than they did even ten years ago. The failure rate, at least as far as pregnancy is concerned, is under two percent, but the problem is you have to use them right, all the time, or the rate climbs steeply. The pill is 20 times more effective, something like one-tenth of one percent, but it costs more.

"So all of us in the club are on some version of the pill. Bareback is one of the club's selling points, for everyone. Now that I'm getting around —" she blushed and looked down, but recovered and continued "— I'm having trouble getting used to them, and I find it's the guys who have to remind me.

"I resent it. I know it's the smart thing to do, I just don't like them. Maybe I resent that the guys have taken this over, I dunno.

"Tell me, are you as sensitive with one on as you are without it?"

"There's at least one way to make putting it on that is really erotic, and by the time that happens and we're ready to go, I've forgotten about it. I can't imagine that having something between us wouldn't decrease my sensitivity, but I can't say I've noticed it. I just don't like having to mess with it afterward."

"Evan rolled them on himself, once I showed him where my stash was. Tom, though, makes a production of it. He showed me how to use my mouth —" she was blushing furiously now "— to roll it on. He was moaning all the way through, I think he wanted to get started and I was slowing him down." She giggled. "It was fun!"

This conversation was getting me hard, which was awkward since we were in a public place.

"Dessert?" I asked, pushing my mostly-finished dinner away.

"Absolutely."

I turned from locking my door to find Margery sitting on my bed, eyeing the spot beside her. As I sat, she stroked my cheek, then ran her finger lightly across my lips. I pursed them and she drew it slowly back across. The third time, she lightly tapped my teeth for admission.

I opened, my lips took her finger, and I sucked on it. She wiggled it against my tongue and sighed.

We exchanged fingers, tongues, and lips. As she was licking my finger, I rimmed her ear with my free hand, then leaned over and nibbled the lobe. The moan came from deep within her.

She leaned her head back and I moved in on her neck, then to her throat. I took her head in my hands and began massaging her skull, from the back hairline to the front, then across her temples, and she sank her head onto my chest with a small moan.

Laying her back on the bed, I began kissing her throat again and opened the top button on her blouse so that I could kiss her chest. After a while I popped the second button and began stroking her bra-clad breasts with my fingers, lightly caressing each one.

The third button opened, I moved in on the bottom of her rib cage, trickling my fingernails across the bones. Popping the fourth button, I had her navel and I played with it, finally moving my mouth to it and tonguing, then blowing. Her moan was very deep.

Her hips rose up as I popped the button on her jeans. Too early, I thought. When there was no further action, she dropped down. I love the sound of the zipper on a woman's jeans, the slow rasp of its splitting is a special music. She lifted again when I palmed her mound, and I peeled the jeans down, but left the panties.

Bending to kiss her thighs, I smelled her arousal. Only a small touch of my tongue was needed for her to open her thighs, and at that point I shifted to kneel between them.

Since we'd shucked our sandals at the front door, her jeans slipped easily away. I started with her insteps, caressing and tonguing the left one first, then moving up her calf to behind her knee, then to the V of her crotch. I heard the catch in her breathing as I moved off her skin, but she resumed when I reached the other leg and began descending.

Easing up her left leg, I kissed rather than caressed. When I reached the V, I pushed her panties aside enough to reveal her pubic hair and the one pussy lip. I moved in and tongued it, getting a deep guttural groan as a reward.

I crossed over to the other side of her panties and pushed that side of her panty away, so that now they were bunched in her slit, between the lips, piling layers of silkiness on her clit. I licked and tongued the left lip, then took it into my mouth and rubbed it across my teeth with my tongue.

"Please, Carl, please."

"Soon, lover, soon."

I was hard, there was no doubt about that, but I wanted to give Margery a super fucking, so she wouldn't forget me in her quest to get new guys into her bed. And I knew from experience that wanting it, asking for it, not just getting it on request, heightened the pleasure.

Her bunched panties were soaked. I sucked them into my mouth and wrung them out with my lips, savoring the accumulated nectar before swallowing. I inched up and took the elastic top in my teeth and wiggled it down far enough to reveal her pussy, but I was stymied in going any further because she was laying on her back.

She solved that problem by lifting her hips.

Now, with full access to her pussy, I could play. I alternated long, slow licks up the slit with coquettish tonguing of her clit, which brought groaning from her. Still I held out.

"Please, Carl, pleeeease."

My finger had barely parted the lips when she jumped. She began swinging her head wildly around and she humped my hand, licking her lips for moisture as she came. She slowed and I wiggled my finger and she started again. "AAAARGH, god yes, omigod, yesssss!"