Fall of '69
written by:
Wilderness

Fall of ‘69

Peer pressure has existed as long as humanity and it was a powerful force on college campuses in 1969.

The majority of students protested the Vietnam War in one way or another. My frat brothers and I would predictably join whatever anti-war demonstration we could find, not out of our deep commitment to stop the war, but out of our commitment to skip classes and party. It wasn't surprising that our less than sincere attendance would cause the truly dedicated considerable distress.

Becky was one of the dedicated.

On the day we met, I carried a protest sign that shouted in red, dripping letters, "Fight for Peace" -- an oxymoron that, right from the start, made Becky suspicious about my sincerity.

She turned and gave me the evil eye when we started chanting, "Fight for Peace! Fight for Peace," and then laughing at our own juvenile brilliance.

"Why don't you boys go home and read your comic books? I can't hear the man speak."

A comment like that only encouraged us, because now we had someone specific to annoy, which was always more fun than shouting at no one in particular.

Becky had a white peace sign sewn to the ass of her faded, hip-hugger, bell-bottoms. It caught Roger Miller's attention, and he started the ball rolling.

"Give me a piece like that and I'd stay home -- in bed."

Others jumped on board, and she immediately became the target of every imaginable sexual reference for the peace/piece homonym -- piece of ass, nice piece, I want a piece now, and so on. At first Becky ignored us, but it must've gotten under her skin.

She reached the breaking point when we started singing, "All we are asking is give peace a chance. All we are asking is give me some ass--"

She turned around and kicked Roger in the soprano section, and then stormed off into the crowd.

I wasn't raised to be disrespectful to women. Somehow, through my chemical haze, I regretted our repulsive behavior. So, I chased after her to apologize for being part of the frat pack, finally catching up with her on the science building steps, where she sat down and cried.

I put down my moronic sign and, totally out of character, tried to be sincere. "Hi... Hey, I'm really sorry about those idiots. We were way out of line."

"JUST SHUT UP!"

She wouldn't look at me.

I sat down a few feet away, so as not to give her the impression I was there to harass her, and for my own safety.

After a few minutes, she calmed down and said, "My brother is in Vietnam... somewhere." She pulled her knees against her chest, and rocked. "I haven't heard from him in over a month." Her head dropped to her knees, the long chestnut hair hiding her face. "Please God, don't let him die."

That was the first time I felt moved by compassion for a stranger. I quietly asked questions and she eventually opened up, appearing glad to have the release. It was a moment that crystallized my life, and remains forever burned in my memory.

I found out her brother, Jeremy, was a West Point graduate and a lieutenant in the Army. He was a platoon leader and had already seen plenty of action.

"When he writes, he doesn't comment on the politics of the war. He just worries about his men. He said drugs are everywhere. Morale is low." She wiped her cheeks with the heels of her palms, and said, "How can you lead men into battle when they're stoned?"

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

"Jeremy hardly ever says anything negative that would make me worry. So, if he told me that much, then it must be a lot worse."

As we got up to leave, I pulled a book of matches from my pocket and ignited the ‘Fight For Peace' sign.

"NO!" Becky yanked it from my hand and stomped out the flames. "I want you to keep it. Hang it on your wall to remind you."

I wasn't sure what it was suppose to remind me of. Man's insensitivity to his fellow man?

I walked Becky to the cafeteria. She let me sit and eat with her. All the while, she talked about the war and the peace talks. Her anti-war sentiment was more about getting her brother home safe than any political ideology. Kissinger, a brilliant man, would stop the war, she was sure.

Afterwards, we walked back to her dorm room and watched the evening news on her portable television. The small, black and white images of the wounded and dead gave the war a surreal horror.

When the broadcast ended she turned off the TV, saying, "Don, I have to study. Time for you to go."

I didn't want to. "Can I help?"

Suddenly, a girl and a guy burst into the small room -- kissing and laughing, until they spotted us.

The girl wore rose-colored granny glasses and had a blue bandana tied over her blond hair. The paisley skirt and filthy bare feet announced, ‘I'm a hippie chick'.

Her words slurred together when she said, "Hey, Becky. Who's this guy? You finally gonna get laid?"

The guy behind the hippie chick snorted while groping her breast through the peasant blouse.

"No, Cindy. We were just watching the news. He's leaving now."

"Too bad. You're so fucking uptight. A little buzz and an orgasm would do your head good."

Becky's face turned red, but she ignored the comment.

Hippie chick held out her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Becky's roommate, Cindy Litsky."

Her male companion snorted again, and said, "Lit-sky, good one."

Out of politeness, I shook her hand. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Don Carter."

Cindy's companion introduced himself with, "Hey man, you wanna drop some acid?"

"Uh, no thanks."

Cindy watched Becky gather her books, and said, "Well, D. C., you must be a special man to meet Becky's standards. It's been a month and you're the first guy she's ever brought home. But don't get your hopes up." She rolled her eyes, and said, "She's saving herself for marriage."

"Excuse me." Becky pushed out of the room, carrying an armload of books and papers.

Cindy shouted after her, "Better plan on spending all night in the library, because Craig is spending the night here." Then she shook her head, turned around in her boyfriend's arms, and said, "What an uptight prude."

"Make love not war," said Craig, as his hands slipped down to her ass.

She giggled and turned to smile at me, while he sucked on her neck.

My heart rate accelerated, but I walked out.

In the matter of a few hours, I'd developed a conscience. For the second time that day, I found myself chasing Becky.

By the time I caught up she was halfway to the library. "Are you okay?"

"What do you care?"

I didn't know why. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because, I'm Becky-the-bummer. Just leave me alone." She walked faster.

I stopped and watched her all the way to the Library front door. That peace sign had a hypnotizing sway. When she was gone from sight, I shrugged it off and went home.

It was seven-thirty on a Friday night, and the frat house already reeked of booze and dope. People wandered from room to room. These were my brothers. I'd sworn an oath to uphold our traditions and values, which seemed completely self-centered in the light of what was happening in the world.

Roger spotted me.

"Where you been, Man? You missed it!"

He put his arm drunkenly around my neck and his acrid breath stung my nose.

"The National Guard showed up and crashed our fuckin' protest. Man, you should've seen Harry." Roger laughed at remembering. "He nailed a commando right in the head with a rock, and that started a riot. It was classic!"

"Wow, I'm sorry I missed that."

Too blitzed to detect my sarcasm, Roger dragged me toward the keg.

"Have a beer, buddy. This is going to be a weekend to remember." He drained his cup, and added, "But we'll drink too much and won't."

Dutifully, I filled a plastic cup, put my protest sign behind the couch, and sipped as I scanned the room. Recent events had tickled my libido and these parties were designed to loosen inhibitions. The halter-topped coeds in particular caught my eye. Their jiggling boobs marked time with the beat of Hendrix and I spotted several sorority sisters I knew to be especially entertaining. The sexual revolution was the only war I wanted to participate in at the moment.

Trying to attain the party spirit, I downed two brews and danced with the breasts I liked the best. Patty Conway had a shapely pair, and she loved to flaunt them. As usual, they were prominently on display -- barely confined inside a thin, white halter. Somehow, the left one had gotten wet, and the outline of its areola was clearly visible. Guys around us were staring and whispering. She acted oblivious.

After my initial titillation, her lewd behavior began to turn me off. She'd shake those melons for anyone. I found myself craving fresh, inexperienced melons, like the ones in the library. I wondered about the taste of melons that were not freely offered for mass consumption.

In a rush, I understood the ideology my father had always preached -- You only value what you earn.

When the song ended, I worked my way to the door and then out into the warm night air. My ears thrummed for a few blocks, and then the distant sounds of campus life came to me like a whisper, infusing me with a melancholy mind-set. In a couple of years, this experience would be over. What would I have to show for it? Was I really learning anything of value?

After wandering inside the library for ten minutes, I spotted Becky on the third floor -- books open, papers scattered over the desk, but her eyes were glued to a small pamphlet in her hand.

Thinking about the best way to approach her, I decided to play it straight. I was tired of bullshit, and she didn't seem the type to play games.

"Hi, Becky."

She quickly closed the pamphlet and slipped it under a textbook. "What are you doing here?"

Pulling out the chair across from her, I sat down and said, "I was looking for you."

Becky flipped a couple of pages in the book, obviously disconcerted. "Why?"

"I like you."

"You don't know me," she said, while rapidly scribbling notes.

"I want to."

"Why?"

"Because you're different, you're interesting."

Without looking at me once, she said, "Your breath stinks. Why don't you go back to the party? I'm sure you can find some wasted chick to screw."

A little put out, I sat back and stared at her a while. "You think you know me? You don't know me at all."

Becky looked me straight in the eye, and said, "And I don't want to." Then, she appeared to be deep into her notes again.

"Fair enough. But at least give me a good reason you don't want to. What did I do in such a short time that made you dislike me so much?"

Her pen flew across the page a few seconds longer, and then she put it down to meet my gaze. "I don't like your fraternity. If you belong to that group of pigs, then you're like the rest of them. You're right. Maybe I don't know you, but I know them."

"Guilt by association, then?"

"Exactly. You guys are a bunch of rich, spoiled brats. Just a drunken mob. If you were lost in the woods, and principles were sticks and morals were matches, you'd all die of hypothermia."

I laughed contemptuously at the ridiculous metaphor, but inwardly died of exposure.

A change of subject was in order. "Are you really a virgin?"

"Go away!"

"I've never met a virgin this old before, but you proved they are just as uptight and bitchy as I expected. Enjoy being a spinster."

Since there was nothing left to say, I stormed outside to enjoy the early autumn night and cool my engine. I was pissed. Who was she to pass judgment on me? After pacing and cursing for a minute, I just wrote her off. The nearly full moon was breaking over the horizon. I sat down on a bench to contemplate its beauty and marvel at man's accomplishment to travel there and back.

It had been an eventful summer. A summer I'd never forget and one for the history books -- Moon landing, Chappaquiddick, Manson, race riots, Woodstock, and the last Star Trek episode. Of course, the Vietnam War churned the country's collective conscience daily.

As hard as I tried to occupy my brain with other thoughts, I couldn't get over the sting of Becky's indictment. It finally dawned on me that what bothered me the most was the truth in it. Was I really that bad? The answer kept coming back: Yes, I am.

Before I knew it, I stood across from her in the library once again, and said, "Becky, I'm sorry for what I said. I flipped out. I didn't want to face the reality in what you said--"

"I'm sorry too, Don." Her green eyes were as soft as her library voice. "I shouldn't have been so mean to you. You've been kind to me all day. It's just...my brother and everything..."

The words trailed off and she looked away. I could see tears welling up in the corners.

"Tell you what, let's start over." I sat down and looked at her textbook. "Philosophy, how's that going?"

"I hate it. It's stupid! All it does is answer a question with a question. I need answers!" Becky flipped the book closed.

Underneath was the pamphlet she'd been reading when I first saw her. ‘Sexual Awareness', it was one of those public service brochures the campus health department distributed at orientation.

"Shit!" Becky grabbed it and slammed it inside her book. Staring at the table, she whispered, "I was curious."

I tried not to smile at her mortification. "Don't worry about it. Everyone is. We all want answers to something."

Leaning back, and putting my hands behind my head, I laughed. "You said ‘shit'. That's what really shocked me."

She grinned shyly.

"You have nice dimples. You should smile more often."

Her face turned a pretty pink.

"It's a beautiful night. How about taking a walk with me? I'll treat you to an ice cream cone."

Her eyes narrowed. "How drunk are you?"

"I'm not. Do you think someone has to be drunk if they want to spend time with you?"

"Drunk or stoned."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a very intelligent and attractive woman."

There was only a slight hesitation, and then she said, "Sure. I'd like some ice cream."

"First, let's take your books back to your room."

Her face darkened.

I understood her dilemma, and offered to take them into the room and put them on her desk. "You can wait in the hall, if you want."

Before she could change her mind, I scooped everything up and put the pile under my arm. She begrudgingly followed me out the door.

"I can't stand Cindy. She acts like she's got it all together, but she's a scheming, dope fiend slut. She puts everyone down that doesn't agree with her. I've asked to be moved to another room, but no one wants to rock the boat when it comes to Cindy's deviant behavior. ‘Free love', I'm sick of it. It's like she has the right to do whatever she wants and I have to turn the other cheek and close my eyes. This world's going to hell."

I was beginning to think Becky might be a religious zealot. "Turn the other cheek, I remember that from Sunday school. I also remember the world is going to hell, or at least most of it. Aren't we supposed to love the sinner, but hate the sin? Maybe she just needs to be loved."

Becky looked at me like I'd just grown a third eye.

"Okay, I can't believe I just said that either."

We walked through her dorm in silence. Their door was ajar, so I opened it just enough to peek inside.

"You'd better wait here."

"Why? What'd you see?"

"They're in bed asleep -- naked."

I slipped into the reefer-scented room. A lava lamp provided dim, rosy light. Cindy lay on her side and Craig lay against her back, his arm over her. I took a moment to admire her body. It wasn't bad. I don't like leg hair on a woman, but other than that, Cindy was fine. The boyfriend looked pudgy and pasty. I didn't understand her attraction to him, other than a drugs-for-sex symbiotic relationship.

I placed the books on the tidy desk, assuming it had to be Becky's. When I turned to leave, I found Becky inside the room and staring at the couple on the bed, her expression more curious than disgusted.

I waited until she had her fill. Then I followed her out, closing the door tight behind me.

"Man, less than a minute in that smoke and I've got the munchies."

She laughed softly.

I liked making her laugh. It felt like a good deed.

Playfully, I put my arm around her shoulders, and asked, "What's your favorite ice cream flavor, Becky?"

Her body stiffened, but she didn't make a move away. "Hmm, I guess it depends on my mood."

"And what kind of mood are you in tonight?"

"I'm in a Rocky Road mood." She giggled a little nervously.

"Ooo, good choice."

"How ‘bout you, D.C.? What are you in the mood for?"

I smiled at her use of my initials. Everyone seemed to like using them instead of Don. I kind of liked it too. It made me sound cool. Coming from Becky, it showed a growing comfort level and an effort to reach out of her darkness.

"I'm in the mood for opposites. The yin and yang of a chocolate and vanilla twist."

"That sounds good too."

I took my arm away, and said, "Tell you what. If you let me lick yours, I'll let you lick mine. Deal?"

"Deal."

After a few steps, her head snapped in my direction. The suggestive innuendo finally sank in. It was too dark to tell, but I believe she was pink.

We walked on in an electric silence, until we reached the student union. The place was packed. Didn't matter what your political, social, or economic status might be, everyone had ice cream in common.

While we waited in line, Becky asked me what I was studying.

"Business Administration."

It sounded lame and boring. But Dad wanted me to take over the Ford dealership someday, and I had no plans of my own. My life seemed a neatly wrapped package -- a present from my parents. I knew they only wanted the best for me.

I didn't like to talk about it, so I asked, "What's your major?"

"Education. I've always wanted to be a teacher."

"Wow. I admire your certainty. Good teachers are important. I'm always questioning my future."

"Thanks. But all I really want is summers off."

I laughed out loud. "Becky! You're funny!"

She smiled like it surprised her, as well.

"Are you're parents teachers?"

"No, they were farmers."

"Were?"

"They died in a tornado when I was a baby. I never knew them."

My mouth dried up and my chest tightened. There was that annoying compassion again, butting in and spoiling my fun. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "That's life." Then she smiled at me, making her dimples reappear.

We waited silently for a while.

Then Becky explained, "We were raised by my paternal grandparents. Grandpa owned the farm next door. At least we lived the lifestyle my mom and dad wanted."

"That's good. You have their belief system, anyway." Belief system? What the hell was that? Psyche 101?

"Yup. You gotta believe in something."

We took a couple of quiet steps in line.

"What do your parents do?"

"Well, Mom's a housewife. My brother and I are away at college, so she's a very bored housewife at the moment, buzzed on Scotch by 3:00, Monday through Friday. Dad is a workaholic, comes home around 10:00. He owns the biggest car dealership in Pittsburgh."

"Sorry." Her green eyes looked gray in the neon glow, peering at me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"That's the lifestyle I have to look forward to. My brother wants to be a chemist. I'm the one that's supposed to take over Dad's business someday. Sounds exciting, doesn't it?"

"Not to me. Does it sound exciting to you?"

"I'll let you know in ten years." I didn't want to dwell on it. By this time on a Friday I was always too drunk to question my future. Sobriety meant rational thought, and I avoided that as much as possible. "Is your brother going to take over the farm?"

"No. He's making the Army his career. The farmland is rented out. The money's in a fund to help pay for college."

I hated to ask, but I couldn't help myself. "How's Grandma and Grandpa doing?"

"They're dead, too." She gave me a pitiful smile. "Maybe you shouldn't stand so close to me."

Instead, I put my arm around Becky and hugged her against my side. We stood in line like that. After a few seconds passed, she put her head on my shoulder and her arm around my waist. I could feel the tension release from her body. I'd never been a comfort to someone. It was a compelling sensation.

We got our ice cream and wandered away from the building. The air turned cool, and was perfumed with a hint of autumn leaves.

Becky seemed content to follow me, so I headed in the direction of my favorite secluded bench, only to find it occupied by another couple. Unaware of everything around them, their lips were clamped together. Her hand rubbed his crotch and his hand moved around under her sweatshirt.

The spectacle tickled my libido back to life.

Becky's eyes stayed riveted for a few seconds, and then she turned and headed in another direction.

I followed her, patting the bottom of my ice cream cone.

Acting as if nothing unusual happened, she asked, "Why are you doing that?"

"What?"

"Pounding the cone on your palm."

"I don't like eating a dry cone. This moves the ice cream down and fills it up."

"Here." Becky grabbed the ice cream cone out of my hand and raised it to her mouth. She tipped it and pressed the ice cream down with the flat of her tongue. "That's how I do it." Then she took a sizable lick as a reward and handed it back.

"I see what you mean. But I don't like to use force. I prefer to gently coax the ice cream into the cone. A much smoother, kinder process, and less mess." I pointed. "Look how much ice cream is hanging over the edge now. By patting it, I don't have to worry about annoying overflow or cracking the cone. The cone accepts the ice cream willingly. The cone and ice cream become one flesh... colored treat."

She laughed. "Is everything sexual with guys?"

"Mostly." I held out my hand. "You licked mine. Can I lick yours?"

"Sure."

I made a show of using just the tip of my tongue to leisurely scoop some Rocky Road off the side, and then moaned with satisfied bliss as I savored the flavor.

"You're weird."

Handing it back, I said, "Thanks. Yours was delicious."

"I bet you say that after licking all your girls' cones."

Once again, I took the lead and headed for another spot I liked. This time, the bench was empty.

We sat down, ate ice cream, and gazed at the moon.

"Where were you when Armstrong walked up there?"

Becky sighed, and I knew it couldn't be good. "At a funeral parlor for Grandma's calling hours. Not many showed up."

"That's really sad." I put may arm around her and played with her hair.

"Yeah, it was." She leaned against me.

Afraid to bring up more bad memories, I stopped asking questions. We just sat there, eating ice cream.

A minute passed. Becky lifted her cone up to my mouth. I sampled hers and offered her mine. We shared back and forth, until they were gone.

I felt her shiver.

"Here." I placed both arms around her and pulled her close.

The tension I usually felt in her body whenever I touched her did not materialize. She stayed relaxed and compliant in my arms.

I said, "You feel nice," then tipped my head down and buried my face in her hair. "You smell nice," I whispered, and then kissed the top of her head.

Without prompting, Becky looked up at me and smiled. The moonlight glowed on her cheeks as her eyes studied my face, and then they closed with deliberate sluggishness. Her lips parted, invitingly.

She tensed, when I bent forward and touched my lips to hers. When I pulled away, she opened her eyes and stared at my mouth, as if saying, ‘That wasn't terrible. I think I want another.'

"Becky, you taste delicious." Then, I kissed her a little longer and a little harder.

When I pulled away again, her lips followed mine, and she mewled unhappily when we separated.

I went back for another, this time using my tongue to tickle her lips. When my tongue retreated, hers advanced to repay my tickle with a tickle. I began to hope she would share herself with me, like we shared our ice cream. If I were giving, she would give back. The possibility of being her first sexual experience gave our tender exchange an elevated eroticism. This was not a moment to rush. This was not a moment at all. It was an event -- an event to relish slowly, and remember forever.

That's why I stopped, and kissed her forehead. "Thank you."

Becky smiled and stroked my cheek. "For what?"

"For sharing yourself -- opening up and letting me get to know you better."

"Well then, I should thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me feel like I'm worth getting to know."

It dawned on me then that her aloofness and rigid principles might be born out of insecurity, and not from a feeling of superiority. She wasn't confident at all. She was afraid to let people close. Maybe because people she loved died.

"Becky, Becky, Becky." I kissed her again with an aching heart and a lump in my throat that rivaled the one in my jeans. "I'm so glad we met today."

"Yeah?"

"It's been a trip. I like hanging out with you."

"Really?"

"Really."

She stood up, and held out her hand. "Then come with me."

I took her hand and she didn't let go of it.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

My mind wandered to all kinds of possibilities, but not this one. The sign in front of the house we approached read ‘College Life Ministries'.

"Becky, what's going on?"

"The guy that lives here is a friend of my brother. I've been putting off meeting him. I wanted to be independent, make it on my own. But I need a place to stay. Maybe he'll help."

I almost said ‘you can stay with me,' but I had ulterior motives that were purely selfish. For her sake, this was probably a better idea. I gave in, which was totally out of character.

People were singing inside. They sounded like a church choir.

"Maybe we should come back."

She smiled and kissed me sweetly. "No big deal, it's just a Bible study," she said, and pushed the doorbell.

"Bible study! On a Friday night?"

"Beats drugs and drinking."

The door opened before I could offer opposing arguments.

A young couple greeted us.

"Hi. Welcome. I'm Bill Crossway, and this is my wife, Trudy."

He stepped out of the way and waved us in with his one arm. The left sleeve hung empty against his side.

Trudy was a petite woman with a big, toothy smile. "Come in. Join the crowd."

Becky stopped in front of Bill and introduced us. "Hi, I'm Becky Jeffries, and this is my friend, Don Carter."

"Becky Jeffries?" His eyes narrowed, as he studied her face. "You wouldn't be Rebecca Jeffries, J.J.'s little sister?"

She smiled shyly, and said, "Yes, I am."

Crossway yelled, "Praise the Lord!" and hugged Becky with his one arm. "This is great! I'm so glad to finally meet you. Jeremy wrote and said you'd be starting school here. Come in, come in."

Bill went into the living room ahead of us and yelled. "Hey! All you sinners shut up for minute!"

The room fell silent and all eyes turned expectantly.

"I want you to meet the sister of a good friend of mine. This is Rebecca Jeffries, and her friend, Don Carter. If it weren't for her brother Jeremy, I'd be burning in Hell right now. He saved my life and then he showed me the way to save my soul. Make them feel welcome."

Everyone stood and came over. We shook hands. There were too many names to remember.

This was not my kind of crowd. Everything was too nice, too civil. But I didn't want to leave Becky until I knew she had a place to stay.

"Bill, can I talk to you a minute?"

"Sure thing, Don."

We stepped into the foyer for privacy, and Bill asked, "What's up?"

"Becky is having roommate trouble. Her roommate is doing drugs and letting her boyfriend sleep over. I think Becky's been spending nights in the library to avoid the hassle. Is there any chance you could find her a place to live off campus?"

Bill grinned at me. "Are you looking out for her, Don? You're worried about her. I like that. It's nice to know she has some good friends."

With such a favorable first impression, I couldn't tell Bill I'd just met her and I wanted to take her virginity.

"Thanks. Becky's a nice girl. I just want her to be safe. She's really worried about her brother--"

"What's going on?" said Becky, walking up with a serious look.

"I was asking Bill if he'd be able to find a place for you to stay--"

"Without talking to me first?"

From the tone in her voice, I knew I'd blown it.

"Well, I need to get going, and I wanted to make sure you'd be all right--"

"Fine! See-ya around." She marched back into the living room and began chatting with a couple of guys.

My blood surged.

Bill put his hand on my shoulder and smiled with understanding. "Don't worry about Becky. We'll take care of her. She'll be fine."

"Thanks, Bill." Unceremoniously, I walked out the front door.

The loneliness I felt annoyed me. There was only one thing that would make it go away. I headed back to my frat brothers where I belonged.

‘White Rabbit' blared from the stereo as I entered the front door. Someone had placed a table lamp on the floor and built a six-foot pyramid of empty plastic cups around it, washing the room with a subdued glow. People danced around it like a tribal fire. I only recognized half the participants. Our Friday night open door policy invited revelers of all variations, which worked in our favor most of the time.

The second keg had just been tapped. Derrick was on guard duty. The frat brothers tried to rotated keg-watch every 30 minutes, after someone left the tap open and flooded the kitchen.

Derrick looked pitiful.

As I filled my cup, I said, "Hey, Man. What's up? Where's Roger?"

"Downstairs."

My head snapped up. Downstairs was our private party room. "Who with?"

"A bunch went down about twenty minutes ago."

I sipped casually. "Any chicks?"

"Patty, Linda, and a couple others."

"Sounds like fun. I think I'll check it out."

Derrick said to my retreating back, "Remind Jimmy he's on keg-watch in ten minutes!"

"Will do."

The door to the party room was locked, so I pulled the house key from my pocket and let myself in. It was like walking into another dimension. The only light was a flashing strobe. Incense and reefer mixed to form a low cloud, as ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida' drowned out any other possible sound.

With my back against the door, I took a moment to get my bearings. The center of attention was the four girls seated on the couch. Eight horny guys stood around them like a picket fence. The girls whispered to one another, laughing and passing a joint. These guys were all pussy whipped. I know, because I'd been there.

The record needle scratched to the end and lifted off in a crackle of static. The silence felt deafening for a few seconds.

Patty stood up in the flashing light, shimmied in a circle while jiggling those outstanding boobs, and said, "Time to get this party started!"

Roger walked over to the wall switch and turned on the fluorescent ceiling lights. "Jimmy, get the game."

Quickly, Jimmy opened the closet, while a couple guys put a coffee table in front of the couch.

I smiled at how fast they moved. They were afraid the girls would chicken out.

A redhead I didn't recognize put on a record. ‘Paint It Black' began to play and she turned the volume way down.

Jimmy placed the dice, a stopwatch, and a stack of dog-eared index cards on the table.

Roger said, "Everybody rolls to see who goes first."

Harry spotted me. "Hey, D.C., are you in?"

"Not right now. I'm going to spectate."

Patty groaned in disappointment. "Come on, Don."

I just laughed it off. "I'm sure you'll get off without me."

The dice began rolling, and I was forgotten.

"All right!" Jimmy won the honor of being first. He rolled a six. "Yes! Sixty-seconds!"

Everyone hooted and celebrated his good fortune, as he picked up the top card.

Jimmy groaned. "Shit!" and then read aloud to the group, "Pick two people. They must kiss for the allotted time. You cannot be one of them."

Laughter at Jimmy's change of fortune stopped when he held up his hand, demanding silence, and said, "Okay. I choose Patty and the redhead."

Patty was a veteran at this game and, before the redhead could protest, she wrapped her arms around her neck and planted a wet one.

At first the girl squealed in shock and struggled against the affection. But then the intensity of the kiss, her intoxicated condition, and the encouragement from the voyeurs overcame her inhibitions. Her arms pulled Patty tight, crushing their breasts together, and returned the passionate kiss for the last 45 seconds.

As the next person rolled the dice, I realized this was just the kind of immoral behavior Becky accused us of. We were a pack of hedonists, ignoring the limits of decency. It seemed like harmless fun. But maybe, as educated people, we should be taking a higher road.

Deciding to take my turn on keg-watch and let Jimmy stay and play the game, I left the room.

Before the door closed behind me, I heard Roger read the next card. "Fondle someone's chest through their clothes."

Derrick headed downstairs as soon as I release him from the keg.

Sitting backwards on a chair in the kitchen doorway, I people watched.

For the most part, it was a mellow crowd that drifted in and out of the front door. No one appeared totally out of control -- yet. The beer flowed freely and I drank my share.

My keg-watch time ran out, but no one came to relieve me. Jimmy showed up 30 minutes late.

"Thanks, Man, for taking my turn. It's wild down there."

"How wild?"

"Well, let's just say I won't have to jerk off for a week."

"That's because you're impotent, Jimmy."

I stepped out onto the front porch to escape his curses. The fresh air felt good and I took several cleansing breaths.

"D.C.?" Becky walked out of the dark and up the stairs.

"Becky? What happened? Didn't Crossway find you a place to stay?"

Looking nervous and shy, she approached me, and said, "Yes, I'm staying with him and Trudy for now. But I didn't like how we left it between us."

After several seconds of obvious indecision, she said, "I wanted to thank you for being so nice today. I had fun."

I wanted to take her in my arms and feel her body against mine. "You're welcome. I had fun, too. I'm sorry -- for taking off."

She looked past me, into the frat house. "I can see why you had to go. This looks very important." Then she met my eyes with her now familiar sarcastic smirk.

For some reason, I liked that look. It made me feel exposed and accepted all at the same time. I wanted to kiss her crooked mouth.

"Hey, not everything has to be important. Life can be just about fun. You should thaw out once in a while and live a little."

Her jaw clenched, as she held back a spontaneous reply. "Well, anyway... Thanks again."

As she turned to leave, Roger staggered out the front door, bare-chested. "Well looky who we have here! It's the nice piece-of-ass sign from the rally. My balls are still sore, thanks to you." He rubbed them for show.

Becky looked away and said, "I apologize. I shouldn't have done that."

"If you're really sorry, I know how you can make them feel better."

Her lips made a hard line, as her head wrapped around a proper comeback. Finally, she said, "Believe me. I'd only make them feel worse," and turned to leave.

"Don't go. I apologize for being an asshole." Roger grabbed her arm. "Stay and have one beer. We'll have a peace talk."

"Roger, leave her alone."

Becky gave me a hard look, so I put up my hands. "Sorry. I'll keep out of it."

I just didn't get the whole women's lib shit. You never knew what they wanted. I was dammed if I did and damned if I didn't. I went inside for another beer.

Surprisingly, Becky and Roger followed right behind me. Knowing how Roger's lecherous mind worked, this couldn't be good for Becky.

Jimmy winked at Roger, as he filled a cup to the brim and handed it to Becky.

Roger and Becky moved out into the living room. They chatted as amiably as any drunk and sober person could.

Becky glanced around, as if she were using the time to strengthen her case against fraternities in general. I was too far away to hear any of their conversation over ‘Nights in White Satin', but Becky seemed fine with whatever bullshit Roger was running. So, after a few minutes, I drained my beer and went to the little boy's room.

When I came back, Becky, Roger, and Jimmy were nowhere in sight. Keg-watch had been abandoned for something more interesting, which made me fear for Becky's reputation. I felt responsible after my ‘You should thaw out and live a little' comment. Not knowing her tolerance for alcohol, I wondered how vulnerable Becky would be to coercion.

The party room was pretty much the same as before -- loud music, strobe lit, and smoky. But the people had changed. A new girl had been added. Becky now sat on the couch between Patty and the redhead. Other than Becky, the girls looked wasted and rumpled.

In the flashing strobe, Becky met my gaze as a joint was passed to her. Staring defiantly, she passed it on without a toke.

I don't know why, but I felt relief.

Just when I thought the party might be winding down, Roger turned on the overhead lights and shouted, "Time for round two of ‘Come Together'."

Quickly, someone killed the music.

The redhead perked up and raised her fist. "Far out!"

Patty spotted me. "Come on, Don. Play this time. Pretty please?"

Becky continued to stare at me. She didn't ask any questions.

"Sure." I gave up trying to be someone I'm not. Hiding the truth would be hypocritical. Becky was about to see the real me.

I thought, ‘Bye, bye, Becky. It was nice knowing you,' and took a seat on the floor next to the coffee table.

Because we had a first time player, the group became wide-awake and attentive. If they only new how inexperience Becky really was, they'd be creaming their pants.

Everyone rolled the dice.

"Yes!" Roger won the first play.

Then he rolled snake eyes. "Twenty seconds."

Roger drew the top card, and read to the group, "Pick two people to hold hands."

It was obvious to me then that the cards had been prearranged. We'd done this before with new people, to ease them into our little game of seduction if we thought they'd be reluctant.

"Patty and Becky, hold hands."

Patty enthusiastically grabbed Becky's hand and kissed the back.

Becky's face flushed, and she smiled shyly.

My heart jumped. I was torn. Part of me wanted to drag her away from these letches. Part of me wanted to see her fall off her pedestal.

The joint got around to me and I passed it on without partaking.

Becky glanced away and smiled. I'd obviously done something she approved of, and it felt good to make her happy.

Jimmy was the next to roll. "Twelve!" Then he read his card. "Give someone a massage."

He looked, one by one, at the three women.

Becky's eyes locked on mine.

"I choose Red."

No surprise. Everyone knew Jimmy had a thing for redheads. I think his mother let him watch too much ‘I Love Lucy'.

Red stood up and stepped, a little wobbly, in front of Jimmy. Her bushy Afro framed a pretty, blue eyed, freckled face. She held his stare, as her lips arched into an inviting smile.

Barely audible, Jimmy said, "Hi, Beautiful."

She tipped her head, and answered, "Hi, yourself."

"Where would you like it?"

Apparently no one explained to Red the game's slow seduction process. She turned around and backed against Jimmy. "I want you to rub me the right way, like before." Grabbing his wrists, Red placed his hands over her small tits.

I shot a glance at Becky, who stared unblinking at the couple.

Roger said, "Ready, set, go," and clicked the stopwatch.

Jimmy wasted no time. His hands immediately went to work on Red's chest.

She groaned appreciatively and laid her head back on his shoulder.

Jimmy kissed her neck, and Roger shouted, "None of that! That's not a massage."

Red pouted, until Jimmy's fingers concentrated on just the nipples that had sprouted beneath her cotton tee-shirt.

When Red began to grind her ass against Jimmy's crotch, Becky stood up. "I've gotta go."

Everyone groaned.

"Come on, Becky. Stay!" Roger stepped between her and the door. "Have another beer. Smoke a bone. Chill out. Have some harmless fun."

She tried to go around him, but he blocked her with his arm.

This wasn't going well. Everything she'd accused fraternities of seemed to be proved true. I got up before Becky kicked Roger in the nuts again. "I'll walk you home."

Roger scowled at me, as I pushed by with my arm around her.

"Rog, I'm doing this for your own protection."

The frat brothers who were at the anti-war rally remembered the kick in the balls, and snickered.

"Shut the fuck up!" was the last thing we heard, as the basement door closed behind us.

I followed her outside, where she turned around, and said, "I'm fine now. Thanks. Go back to your," she paused, and her eyes squinted as if she struggled to find an appropriately nasty adjective, but simply said, "game."

I continued to shadow her. "That's all it is! It' a stupid game."

"Do you think it's okay to have sex in front of a crowd?"

"They weren't having sex."

"Not yet! But what was next? What's on the other cards?"

She had me there. "No one has to do anything they don't want to."

"Oh really? If you weren't there would Roger have let me go?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

Not totally, but I said, "Yes."

"But first he'd try to get me stoned enough to manipulate me into playing."

She had me again. This was a no-win situation, so I just followed quietly behind.

After a block, she asked, "Does it turn you on?"

"What?"

She stopped and whirled around.

I backed up a couple of steps and covered my privates.

That made her smile. "The game! Don't play stupid. Or maybe you're just too drunk to think."

Of course I knew what she meant, and I was playing stupid, because I was too drunk to be coherent, and I didn't want to say anything that would piss her off more. "Yes, the game turns me on! All right?"

She turned back around and started walking. I followed.

In self-defense, I asked, "It didn't turn you on at all?"

Her steps slowed a little, and after a prolonged silence, she said, "Okay, it did -- a little. I'm only human. But, it's sinful behavior. Sex is not for public display. It's private."

"Why can't it be both?"

"Because, the Bible says so."

How could I argue with that? So I didn't.

"Becky, I admire your virtue." In fact, I found it damn sexy. "It makes the kisses we shared that much sweeter." Which was true. I couldn't remember kisses more thrilling.

Out of nowhere, Becky said, "Patty likes you."

Stupidly, I said, "She does?"

"Well, she begged you to play the game. Doesn't that mean she likes you?"

I laughed. "No. It just means Patty likes variety."

"So do you, apparently."

"Hey! When I fall in love for real, I'll be monogamous. Until then, I'm having fun."

"If you were a girl, people would call you a slut."

"Times have changed."

"Oh really? Would you marry a girl like Patty?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She's not my type."

"You're wrong. She's every guy's type. There's nothing special about a woman that screws around. That's why you wouldn't marry her. How could you trust her to be faithful?"

Becky stopped, and poked her finger in my chest. "How could any girl trust you to be faithful? You wouldn't know how. You're too busy having fun to know the meaning of love."

As she started to walk away, I backtracked, "Be honest. Weren't you turned on by watching Jimmy massage Red's tits?"

After a few steps, she said, "Honestly? I felt desire. But sin isn't always ugly. In fact, most of time it's attractive and seductive. People have the choice to do the right thing when they're tempted."

She turned and pointed at her chest. "By the way, these are breasts, not tits. That's just another way you men demean women. Break us down into sex toys and give our body parts vulgar names."

Becky had nice tits, and her pointing at them gave me the chance to openly stare. But it was a compliment that I didn't think she'd appreciate at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut. I just smiled at them.

Realizing her mistake, she huffed and continued walking away.

I followed.

She turned onto the sidewalk to her dorm. "I need to go to my room and get some things for tonight."

The fact she felt the need to explain where she was going gave me the impression my presence meant more to her than just an annoyance. If I weren't with her would she have the nerve to stop?

The room door was closed. Without knocking Becky barged in and I followed. She stopped short and I bumped into her.

Her roommate, Cindy, sat naked on the edge of her bed. Craig and some other naked guy stood in front of her. She gripped a cock in each hand. The trio looked in our direction with red eyes and brainless grins.

"You people are animals!" said Becky, and began stuffing things into a duffle bag.

Cindy began stroking the erections, and said, "The human body is beautiful, and should be enjoyed in every way. There's no shame in what's natural."

The guys grunted their assent.

Craig bent down to roll her nipple.

Cindy closed her eyes and moaned from the sensation.

Becky glanced their way, before storming out of the room.

I said, "Nice to see you again," and, after a few seconds pause, followed Becky from the room. It amazed me how such an attractive girl, like Cindy, would put out for such ugly guys. Must be the drugs. Everyone plays their own power game to get what they want. There was no doubt in my mind Cindy was the one in control.

"Did you enjoy that?" asked Becky, when I caught up.

"It was a cheap thrill."

"Cheap is right. Why don't you go back and get in line?"

"No thanks. I don't want what Cindy's selling."

"What do you mean?"

What did I mean? "I don't know. I'd feel obligated or indebted. I don't need druggies thinking they had something on me."

"So, it's all about power and control, not free love? Then your frat game is a power trip, but you boys are in control."

"That's different."

"Yeah, right."

We walked in silence for a block.

Someone yelled, "Look out!"

A glow-in-the-dark Frisbee zipped toward Becky's head. I grabbed it just before impact and threw it back to a silhouette standing in the front yard across the street.

The shadow said, "Close one. Nice save. Thanks man."

I said to Becky, "I saved you from a broken nose or a black eye. You owe me."

We passed under a street lamp, and she looked at me. "What do you want for repayment? A hand job?"

I laughed out loud. Her sarcastic humor always tickled me. "That's okay. I'll take care of it later, myself."

"Really? You do that?"

Thinking I might as well be honest, I said, "Hey, it's been a long, frustrating night. I need some relief."

"Why don't you go back to the game? I'm sure Patty would give you a hand."

"Maybe you've shown me the light. I don't feel like playing games. Sex should be private."

She laughed, and said, "I meant private as in, shared between two married people in love, not alone."

We walked on a few paces, and she asked, "What will you think about when you do it? Cindy? The game? Other women you've known?"

Wow, what a question. "You really want to know?"

Becky stopped and looked at me with genuine interest. "Yeah. I'm curious."

Well, I was drunk enough to tell her the truth. "I'll be thinking about you."

That shut her up. She continued walking at a faster pace.

I watched her for a few seconds, before catching up. "Hey! You asked!"

"I know. I'm sorry I asked. It puts the wrong thoughts in my head."

Now I was curious. "Tell me."

"No."

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

Becky glanced at me. "I already know what you're thinking."

I grabbed her arm. "Slow down."

She gasped at my touch, and stopped. Standing close, she passively stared at the ground between our feet, while I struggled with a coherent apology.

Becky spoke first. "Don, I--," Without warning, she wrapped her free arm around my neck and kissed me.

The force knocked me back a step and the shock slowed my reaction. It was over before I could unravel my senses. "What was that?"

"A goodnight kiss." She turned and ran to the front door of Bill Crossway's house.

"Becky! I'll pick you up tomorrow, at 9:00. I'm taking you on a picnic. Dress for a hike."

The front door closed behind her without a word.

All night, Becky Jeffries' taste was on my lips and her body pressed against mine. I dreamt about her -- felt her, and heard her voice -- only to wake up with a throbbing erection, begging for relief. But I didn't do it. I didn't take matters into my own hands. I was afraid she'd ask me and I'd disappoint her by saying I had. It would make me less in her eyes, and I wanted to be more for her. I could've lied and gotten away with it, except I'd know. Maybe I wasn't as jaded as I thought.

At dawn, I showered, made ham and cheese sandwiches, and began packing my truck for the day. No one would be up for hours. The house was trashed. Empty cups were abandoned all over. There's nothing like the stench of stale beer in the morning to make me want to get outside. The only sounds were snoring bodies, and they occupied every room. Someone I didn't recognize was even asleep on the kitchen table.

Outside, Roger lay on top of the picnic table. Good thing it stayed warm, otherwise he might have died of hypothermia. When I dropped the cooler onto the truck bed he rolled over and opened one eye. "Where you going?"

"On a hike."

"So early?" He looked at his watch. "It's only 7:30. Wait an hour. Let me change and I'll go with you."

"Nope. This is a date. Three's a crowd."

Groaning, Roger sat up. "You're not going out with Becky the bitch, are you?"

I wanted to hit him, and that scared me. "She's not a bitch."

"Hey Brother. She kicked me in the balls. She's a bitch."

"You deserved it. You were an asshole."

He lay back down. "She's got a nice ass. I want all the details," he said, before closing his eyes.

The truck needed gas. I drove into Lewistown and filled up. That left an hour to kill. I wasn't sure Becky would even be up, much less go anywhere with me, but after the kiss, I knew she felt some affection for me, or maybe it had been a permanent goodbye kiss. The anticipation was torture. I wanted to drive right over to Crossway's house and pound on the door.

Instead, I drove to the grocery store and bought some ice, potato chips, and a variety of sodas. In hindsight, the cans of beer already in the cooler might turn Becky off, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to appear considerate and temperate. The thought crossed my mind I should jettison the beer. But if Becky would not come with me, I wanted the beer to numb my unhappiness.

At 8:30, I drove by the Crossway's. No sign of life. After the third trip around the block, I parked in front of the house and sat for a while.

Around 8:50 the front door opened. Bill Crossway, in a bathrobe, stepped out and walked to my window. "Good morning, Mr. Carter."

The formal tone put me on notice. "Good morning. How's it going?"

"Fine, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm good." Enough small talk. "Is Becky up?"

"Yes, she is." Crossway leaned close, and quietly said, "Becky's a nice girl, Mr. Carter. She's lived a sheltered life. She's been through a lot recently. Last night, I smelled alcohol on her breath. I'm concerned about her vulnerability and falling in with the wrong crowd. What are your intentions?"

Anger bubbled up at his accusatory tone. I fought against a sarcastic remark, and said, "I like Becky. I want to know her better. We're going on a picnic."

"Where?"

"Sand Bridge Park."

"I want her home before dark, and I want you to come to church tomorrow, or she's not going anywhere with you." He stuck his one hand through the window. "All right?"

God, I was pissed, but I shook his hand anyway, and said, "All right."

As I got out, Crossway walked around to the front of my truck and memorized the license plate number.

On the way to his front door, Crossway said, "First Baptist Church on Waverly. The service begins at 10:00. Sunday school starts at 9:00, if you're interested."

I kept my mouth shut, because I had no intention of showing up for either.

When I reached the bottom step of the porch, Becky stepped out, and all my hostility was washed away by her smile.

"Good morning, D.C."

"Good morning, Becky."

She looked fresh and country clean in a straw cowboy hat, jeans, and flannel shirt. Her hair was tied in a ponytail that hung down between her shoulder blades. Growing up on a farm, I guessed she looked like this most of her life, and I liked it.

Crossway watched us walk to my truck, saying, "Remember, be back before dark."

Becky answered, "Okay. See ya later. Have a nice day."

I opened the truck door for Becky. It wasn't something I normally did for a girl, but somehow I thought it was expected of me.

"Wow, DC, I love your truck! Grandpa had a Ford 250, but it was a lot older."

"Thanks. It was my high-school graduation present." I closed her door, walked around and got in, feeling like a spoiled, rich kid.

"I pictured you more as a Mustang convertible."

I was happy she thought about me at all. "Not me." I said, pulling away from the curb, excited to finally have her all to myself. "Can't go four-wheeling in a Mustang."

"Is that what we're doing today?"

"If that's okay."

"Great! I'd love to see some of the countryside. Pennsylvania is beautiful. Where I'm from, everything is flat and nothing but cornfields as far as the eye can see."

"Where's that?"

"Kansas." Becky leaned against the door and smiled at me.

"What?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"Okay. Don't tell me. Put on some music."

Becky looked through the 8-track collection. "Oh my God! I love this album."

‘The Sound of Silence' began to play. "You're full of surprises."

"What? I can't like Simon and Garfunkel if I belong to a fraternity?"

She laughed and closed her eyes, enjoying the music for a minute. "Did you sleep well?"

Since she brought it up, I said, "No. I kept dreaming about you."

Shyly, she glanced at me, and then out the window. "I thought guys always fell fast asleep after... an orgasm."

"That was the problem. I didn't have one."

Becky almost looked disappointed. "Oh?"

"I wanted to, but it just felt wrong."

Staring straight ahead, she quietly said, "I'm flattered you thought of me that way and showed restraint."

Miles of country road passed serenely as we sang along with the music.

While song tracks changed, she asked, "How far is this place?"

"Only 20 miles. Won't take long." Was she bored already?

"It's getting hot."

I was about to tell Becky to open the window, when she took off her hat and began to unbutton her shirt.

Playing it cool, I kept my eyes on the road, while watching her out of the corner of my eye. When the shirt was open to her waist, Becky pulled the shirttail out of her jeans and tied it in a knot at her midriff. Underneath, she wore a navy-blue tank top. Unless my eyes deceived me, her breasts were free under the thin cotton. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Becky broke into my daydream by asking, "This isn't going to be you, is it?"

"What?"

"Richard Cory."

Suddenly, I heard the lyrics again.

"...Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got..." She was staring at me, waiting for an answer.

The tragic song, about the richest man in town who kills himself, always touched an empty place in my soul. I related to the purposelessness of Cory's life. "No."

She continued to stare at the side of my face, apparently not satisfied with a one-word answer.

I was saved from more explanation when we crested a hill. "Check it out."

Just ahead was a car with its rear wheels in the ditch. A lady, cradling a baby in her arms, stood next to the front fender.

"Oh, the poor woman," said Becky, as I pulled off the road and stopped.

"Hi. Are you all right?"

"Yes. We're fine. A stupid deer ran across the road. I swerved to miss it and lost control on the gravel shoulder."

"Maybe I can pull you out."

"Really? That'd be wonderful."

I knelt down and looked under the car. It didn't appear damaged. Mud coated the wheel wells from her spinning the tires. They just couldn't get enough traction to climb out.

"Yeah, no problem. I have a cable and a come-along in the truck."

I got what I needed from behind the seat, crawled under the car, and put the cable through holes in the frame. Satisfied it would hold, I got up and went to hook the come-along to my truck hitch, but it was already done.

Becky smiled, and said, "We did this all the time on the farm."

I was in love. "Great! Get in the car and steer. Give it a little gas, but don't rear-end me."

A few minutes later, the car was out of the ditch, and the woman and child were safely on their way. She offered us twenty dollars, but I declined.

As I stowed the tools behind the seat, Becky said, "That was nice of you."

"I like doing stuff like that. Back in Pittsburgh, me and my friend Doug would drive around during snowstorms and look for stuck cars. We'd pull them out for free. If they offered to pay us, sometimes we took the money, sometimes we didn't."

"And what did you do with the money?"

"Got beer."

There was that look of disapproval. Then she held up a hand, and asked, "Got a Band-Aid?"

Blood dripped down her middle finger.

Gripping her wrist, I gently inspected the small slit. "How'd you do that?"

"I snagged it on the come-along cable."

"Sorry about that. I have a first aid kit."

"It's no big deal. I've had a lot worse. See?" She dropped the shirt from her left shoulder to expose a 2-inch scar. "I tried to go under some barbed wire when I was seven. Farms are dangerous places."

As I retrieved the first aid kit, I asked, "Got any more scars? I'd like to see ‘em all."

She laughed with an in-your-dreams tone.

Wiping the wound with an alcohol swab, I said, "It would only be for educational purposes. I'm minoring in anatomy."

Cleaning the wound must've stung, but Becky didn't flinch. She just smiled, as I bandaged her up.

When I was done, I kissed her finger. "All better?"

"Thanks." Her face colored a little, and she met my gaze with something more than gratitude.

‘All right. Let's hit the road."

"Wait. Turn around."

"Why?"

"You've got dirt on you."

She roughly brushed my back clean from shoulders to waist, and then she quickly swiped the seat of my pants. "There. All done."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

She grinned and walked to the other side of the truck. "Anytime."

I liked the sound of that.

It was a clear autumn day. The deep blue sky against the red, yellow, and orange leaves on the hills painted a brilliant tapestry.

We passed the time talking about Becky's life on the farm and about my life in the big city. I think we held a mutual admiration from our opposite experiences. I know I enjoyed her stories of harvesting, county fairs, church suppers and the violent storms that marked her youth. Becky seemed equally interested in my urban tales of school, rock concerts, and nightlife.

Soon we were at the Sand Bridge park entrance.

"We'll make a pit stop here. There are no bathrooms where we're headed."

"Where's that?"

I pointed to a dirt road. "That way to Naked Mountain."

She laughed. "Very funny."

"No, really." I pulled out my topographical map and opened it on the seat between us. "See. We're here." Drawing an imaginary circle, I explained, "This is the Bald Eagle State Forest." I dragged my finger along the dotted line representing the road, "and we are going there, Naked Mountain. There's an amazing view of the Susquehanna Valley up there."

"Will we see any Bald Eagles?"

"Maybe. If we're naked."

She slapped my shoulder. "You wish."

I did.

The bathrooms were nothing more than plywood boxes with no amenities other than china fixtures and cold water. As I washed my hands, I clearly heard Becky call my name.

"Need some help in there?"

"There's no toilet paper."

"Wait a minute."

I swiped a half roll from the men's room and took it next door. "Is everyone decent in here?"

A hand appeared under the only stall door. Faintly, I could see sneakers, with jeans and pink panties piled on top.

I placed the roll in the hand, but then wouldn't let go. "What's it worth to you?"

"Don! Give it!"

"Okay, okay." I resisted the urge to peek through the door crack, and went back outside to wait.

At 10:30 AM there were no other vehicles around. As far as I knew, we had the entire mountain to ourselves. The fragrant air invigorated the senses and filled my head with memories from last night and hopes for things to come. Soon, other people would arrive, but past experience told me no one ventured higher than the paved parking lot this late in the year.

Becky came out of the bathroom grinning. "You are so bad!"

I got the impression she was beginning to enjoy my badness. "But not all the time."

"That's true. You have a couple of redeeming qualities."

I didn't ask what they were and she didn't offer.

"Let's rock-n-roll."

Even with four-wheel drive, my truck struggled to make the climb up the dirt trail. Becky laughed and screamed with excitement, as the cab bounced and tipped. She seemed in her element, carefree and animated.

By the time we reached the end of the ruts, my arms were tired from wrestling with the wheel. "It's a 30 minute hike from here to the top. Are you up for it?"

"It'll feel good to walk for a while."

"Cool. Let's pack up some food to take." I climbed into the truck bed, untied the cooler, and slid it to the tailgate. "I hope you like ham and cheese. That's all I have."

Becky flipped up the lid, saying, "I'm a vegetarian."

My heart sank. "Really?"

Her hand went deep into the cooler. She withdrew it quickly, and flicked ice water at me. "No. Just kidding."

"Oh, so that's the way it's going to be?" Dipping my hand into the icy depths, I said, "Remember, you started it."

She laughed, and turned to run.

Grabbing her around the waist with one arm, I pulled her against my chest and rubbed my wet palm against the back of her neck.

She squealed and struggled to get away. "Oh! That's cold!"

I restrained her briefly, and then let go.

Her face was beautifully flushed from the struggle. The flannel shirt had come untied and I caught a glimpse of jiggling breasts and distended nipples through the soft cotton.

"I guess I asked for that," she said, retying the shirttails. The laughter in those piercing eyes told me there were no regrets, only the possibility of retaliation.

"Yes, you did. And there's more where that came from, so behave yourself or suffer the consequences." I hoped she'd misbehave all day.

She didn't say anything, but went back to the cooler. This time, she pulled out a 7-Up. "I'm so thirsty."

"Wait!"

Too late. She lifted the tab and soda sprayed out. Most of it missed, but enough struck home to drip off the end of her nose and wet her sleeve.

Her shock gave way to laughter, so I joined in.

Shaking the foaming liquid from her hand, Becky said, "I should've known better. Now I'm going to attract flies."

"Nah. We can clean you up." I sprung into action, wanting to take the initiative before she had time to think.

Retrieving a napkin, I dipped it in the ice water, saying, "Better take off the flannel."

There seemed little reluctance, as she removed it and threw it on the tailgate.

Keeping my eyes locked with hers, I said, "Hold still," and began washing her face.

She argued, "I can do it myself."

Pushing her hand away, I said, "No, let me."

After a moment of indecision, she gave in.

As I wiped her forehead, Becky closed her eyes and I took the opportunity for a quick glance down at some very alluring cleavage.

When I moved the napkin to her cheek, her eyes reopened to meet mine. The warmth I saw in their green depths stirred me to confess, "You're beautiful."

She smiled and blushed. When the napkin laved her neck, her eyelids fluttered and she looked away.

I thought she would stop me. I expected her to stop me. When she didn't, my arousal soared.

Soda had dripped from her chin onto her chest. Reverently, I washed lower, all the way to the exposed cleft. The pulse on her neck throbbed and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. My fingers ached to slip down and tease the proud nipples. Instead, I refreshed the napkin in the ice water and wiped off her sticky hands.

"That should do it," I said, throwing the wet paper into the truck.

In a husky whisper, Becky said, "Thank you."

I wasn't sure if she thanked me for cleaning her up, or for not taking advantage of her vulnerability. Maybe both.

"My pleasure."

Her gaze dropped to my lips and then closed. Her body tipped forward.

This was an unexpected, yet longed for invitation. So, I did what any red-blooded, horny young man wouldn't do. I gave her a quick peck on the lips, and said, "Let's get going," and began loading my backpack with lunch.

Obviously puzzled by the brevity of the kiss, Becky remained silent as we gathered the picnic supplies. I caught her glancing at the bulge in my jeans.

Eventually, the testosterone fed beast inside me receded.

When everything was ready, I removed my sweatshirt and offered it to Becky. "I'm going to get hot carrying this pack. You might need this."

I was rewarded with a grateful smile as she put it on.

"Okay. That's it. Let's go."

Becky drained what was left of the 7-Up and tossed the empty can into the truck bed. Then she burped, and said "Lead on, DC."

"Nice."

We walked a few paces, when Becky asked, "Do you come here a lot?"

After the roar of the truck, the serenity of the woods felt incredibly calming. I loved the solitude, and often came by myself to wander along the forest trails and escape from the world.

"Whenever I can. It's peaceful. I forget about everything when I'm here."

"How many other girls have you taken on picnics like this?"

The prying comment annoyed me. "Why?"

"Never mind. It's none of my business."

We walked 50 paces in silence.

"No one, I've never brought anyone else up here."

After another 50, Becky said, "Thanks for inviting me. It's beautiful. My brother and his friends loved to hike in the Rockies. He took me once, when he came home from West Point."

It was quiet a few more seconds, and then she added, "I wonder if he ever enjoys hiking in Vietnam. I wonder if he can ever really relax."

She was behind me on the trail, so I couldn't see her face. "Jeremy sounds like a guy who loves life. I bet he can find happiness wherever he is."

Sniffling caught my ear. I stopped and turned around.

Wiping her eyes, she muttered, "I'm sorry. I'll be all right."

No words of comfort came to me, so I hugged her against my chest, and she cried into my shoulder for a while. When her body finally stopped quaking, I stroked her hair and asked, "Feel better?"

A heavy sigh, and then, "Yes, I do."

She kissed my cheek and we separated. Her eyes were red and her smile weak, when she said, "Thanks for being so understanding."

"Me? Understanding?" Resuming the uphill trudge, I said, "I'm not. I just saw the perfect chance to feel your body against mine."

I kept walking, and then, "Ow!" pain shot through my side. "Your claws are sharp!"

"You deserved it -- for being a snot."

"That's going to leave a mark." I lifted my tee-shirt to inspect the red welt. "You're going to have to kiss it and make it better."

"You wish."

"I do."

Becky just smiled, and gave me hope. I never pictured her as a tease. Maybe all women are, naturally. Maybe it was just my wishful thinking.

Soon, the steep and uneven path took its toll. We became too busy huffing and puffing to talk. When I looked back to check on Becky, the sweatshirt was off and tied around her waist. With every step, her breasts swayed delightfully under the loose tank top.

Tearing my eyes away, I said, "Let's take a break," and headed for a log.

"Thank you!"

Obviously winded, she bent over and put her hands on her knees. "I can't believe how out of shape I am." Her shirt bloused open, revealing the creamy skin of her chest.

I couldn't help myself. "You look in great shape to me."

Realizing her exposure, Becky snapped upright. "Pervert," she said, punching my shoulder. Her grin said something else.

"What'd I do? A guy can't even give a girl a compliment anymore?"

The backpack cut into my shoulders, so I dropped it and rubbed a sore spot.

"Here, sit down. Let me." said Becky, circling around behind. "I used to rub Grandpa's shoulders. After a long day on the tractor he'd get so stiff."

I bit my tongue, as my head filled with inappropriate ‘stiff' jokes.

Timidly, her hands began to massage.

"Thanks. That feels fantastic." The stiffness left my shoulders and moved south.

My sweaty neck didn't seem to faze her in the least. Her fingers became more confident and explored the contours of my upper back for a little while.

I groaned in pleasure and let my head loll forward. "You're going to let me return the favor, right?"

Her fingers slid up and tickled my ears, sending a tingle down my spine. "We'll see," she said, and sat down on the log beside me.

We took turns drinking from the canteen.

"Mmm, the air smells so good." Becky leaned back on her hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Her chest expanded, her back arched, and the shirt molded to her body. After several more cleansing breaths, she sat upright, and stretched her arms overhead. "I'm ready when you are, D.C."

We both stood.

My heart thumped, as I studied her smiling face. When Becky was happy, nothing compared to her beauty. She radiated a magnetic, innocent joy that tugged my lips toward hers.

As I drew closer, Becky's posture changed. At first, I saw nervous indecision, and then, as our lips touched with feathery softness, I felt surrender. The kiss lingered, and her body pressed against mine. My hands slid up from her hips to brush the sides of her breasts. She tensed, as I momentarily stroked my thumbs along their outer curves before my hands continued up to cradle her face.

I broke off the embrace, and we shared an intimate smile.

Becky looked away, as my eyes wandered over her body. But she said nothing to discourage it.

Picking up my backpack, I said, "We'd better get moving," and slung it over my shoulder.

Once again, we trudged in silence with me in the lead.

After a while, I tried to make small talk. "So, Becky is short for Rebecca. Do you have a middle name?"

"Evelyn. It was my grandma's name."

"Rebecca Evelyn Jeffries. REJ, Rejjie. Anyone ever call you that?"

"No."

"Then I will, unless you hate it."

"No."

"Is that, no don't call me that? Or no, you don't hate it?"

"It's a guy's name! Becky is fine. But please, don't ever call me BJ."

Laughing, I said, "Okay, I promise."

"What's your middle name, Don? Is it Juan?"

"Ouch, that hurts."

"Sorry. I'm feeling a little defensive."

"You have no reason to be. I'm harmless."

She snickered, as if unconvinced.

We walked a few paces, as I thought things over. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I promise."

"I really hate my middle name. I never tell anyone, but I trust you. It's Oliver."

She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle. "Instead of DC, I'll call you Doc."

"Thanks for the compassion."

"Oliver is pretty bad. Is it a family name?"

"It was my uncle's. He died in the Korean war."

"Sorry."

"Thanks, but I only know him from photos."

"Could've been worse. His name could've been Oscar."

A jingle popped into my head: "Oh, I'm glad I'm not an Oscar Mayer wiener. That is what I'd never want to be. Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer wiener. There would soon be nothing left of me!"

She laughed. "You're weird."

"I know. Things just pop into my head and come out of my mouth. It's a bad habit."

"At least I'll always know what you're thinking."

"Well, I don't say everything. For example, I didn't tell you how nice your boobs felt."

Afraid to look back for her reaction, I just waited for another agonizing pinch.

Instead, after long seconds, I heard, "Some things don't need to be said. Your wiener, poking me in the stomach, already told me how much you liked it. Maybe I should've asked, ‘What's up Doc?'"

I laughed out loud, and then a flash of red caught my eye. "Look, a cardinal!" I stopped and pointed.

Becky stopped beside me, and we watched the crimson bird flit from pine bough to pine bough.

"Did you know if a red Cardinal and a Blue Jay mate you get a Purple Martin?"

"No, I didn't." She took my hand. "You're quite the nature expert. What else can you teach me?"

"What do you want to know?"

She thought about it, and said, "What do you get when you cross a Kansas Jayhawk with a Pennsylvanian woodcock?"

My mouth went dry and coherent thoughts wouldn't form. She was definitely playing with my head. "I'm not sure, but I bet it would be a thrilling experiment."

Becky did not accept or reject the hypothesis. She just smiled shyly and looked up the path. "How much farther is it?"

That was my cue to start walking again. "Not far. Are you hungry?"

"A little."

Sex seemed to be on her mind. After everything we'd done and seen together, it was obvious she'd been thinking about physical pleasures since yesterday. For some reason, she regarded me as a safe person to tease. The funny thing about my excitement was the hint of reluctance that dulled my usually unbridled lust. I didn't want to hurt her.

"Doc, do you play any sports?"

"Yeah, but nothing serious. Just for fun. Why? Do you want to beat me at tennis, or something?"

"You're in great shape. I just figured you were a jock."

"You mean a dumb jock."

"When we first met I thought so, but now I know you're not dumb."

A compliment about my body seemed like another green light. "Thanks, Becky. And you're not half as uptight as I first thought."

"Thanks a lot."

I got another pinch.

After 100 yards, I announced, "We're here," and pushed through a wall of scrub brush.

Becky came up beside me. "Wow!"

"Exactly." The view of the river valley stretched for miles. The autumn leaves blanketed the panorama like a patchwork quilt.

I pointed. "You can just make out the campus from here."

Removing the backpack, I walked over to the base of a large oak. "Let's eat in the shade."

Becky helped me spread the blanket and unpack the food. The cans of 7-Up, almost cool, were opened carefully.

When all was ready, she said, "Doc, would you ask the blessing?"

"Uh... sure."

We closed our eyes, and she took my hand.

Regrettably, the modified prayer from my Boy Scout days popped out. "Thank you for the food we eat, Thank you for my warm, dry feet, Thank you for the friends we make, Thank you for girls' sexy shake, Thank you for the birds that sing, Thank you Lord for everything, Amen."

"Amen." She slapped my arm. "You're bad!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Her smile only encouraged my bad behavior.

"Not really."

We sat in crossed-legged silence, eating crushed chips and bland sandwiches, while feasting on the view.

"This is wonderful, Doc." Becky rubbed my knee. "Thanks again for sharing it with me."

I gave her a ‘see-food' smile, and mumbled, "You're welcome."

She shook her head and looked away. "You're bad AND gross."

When we'd had our fill and the garbage was packed away, I walked out to the cliff's edge where the view was the best. Becky stayed on the blanket.

"Come out here Beckster. You can see a lot more."

She made an anxious face, and said, "I'm kind of afraid of heights."

"There's nothing to be afraid of." I jumped up and down. "See, its granite, solid as a rock."

"I can see plenty from here."

"Suit yourself."

I turned to face the valley, and started taking off my shirt. "Man, it's hot in the sun."

When the tee-shirt covered my face, I started to wobble, "Uh-oh." I tipped forward and stepped off the edge.

Becky screamed as I fell, and then her horrified face appeared over the precipice.

I grinned up from the ledge eight-feet below. "See? It's perfectly safe."

"Ooo, you're such an ass!" Then she disappeared.

I climbed back up. "Don't worry. I'm not going to Cory out on you."

She sat on the blanket with her arms folded, staring angrily at me. Her eyes flooded.

I remembered all the loved ones she'd lost and her worries about her brother. My heart sank down to my stomach.

Sitting, I put my arms around her, and said, "You're right. I am such an ass. That was a stupid thing to do. I'm so sorry, Becky."

She didn't answer.

Hugging her tight, I asked, "Forgive me?" and kissed her cheek.

Turning to meet my gaze, Becky didn't say a word. Instead, her eyes closed, pushing tears out to roll down her cheeks. Her body pressed forward and our lips met tenderly.

I kissed back with a little more enthusiasm, and she groaned approval.

With shared effort, our bodies moved as one. Soon, Becky was lying on her back, as we kissed passionately -- her hands in my hair, my arms around her back, clutching her to my chest.

She was mine. I knew it when her thigh moved suggestively against my groin. The surprise of her advance shocked me back to reality and, frightened I'd lose control, I rolled off to stare at the sky and catch my breath.

I heard Becky's breathing ease up as she regained composure, but I didn't dare look. I was afraid I'd see horror or disdain when she came to her senses. The big, puffy clouds, gliding across the sky, became my focus. I tried to see images in their shapes, anything to subdue the desire burning inside.

Stupidly, I pointed at one, and said, "That one looks like an elephant's head without a trunk."

Becky laughed, breathily. "I know where his trunk is. Or were you just happy to kiss me?"

"Becky!" That didn't sound like a woman with regrets. I turned to look at her.

She blushed prettily, but continued to stare at the sky.

Rolling onto my side, I propped my head up with one arm and laid my free hand on her stomach. "I was enormously happy to kiss you. You're all I've been thinking about since we met."

"Enormous? Don't flatter yourself. I've seen horses bred. Now that's enormous."

We both laughed, and my worst fears dissolved. "I guess size is relative to what you compare it to."

"Well, that's about all I have for comparison -- horny farm animals." Becky looked at me seriously, and said, "But you have known a lot of women for comparison."

The accusation stung. I flopped onto my back and stared at the sky. "Not a lot."

Becky rolled onto my chest and looked into my eyes. "How many? What are their names? Who was the best?"

"None of your damn business!" I pushed her off and sat up.

"What's the matter, Doc? Don't you kiss and tell? Won't your frat brothers be grilling you about what happened today?"

"It's none of their damn business, either."

We sat side by side for a while. I stared out at nothing, trying to control my anger. I felt set up, just to be put down for her self-righteous amusement.

"So then," Becky whispered almost inaudible, "today is our little secret?"

Still not comprehending the implication, I said, "Yes, I won't tell anyone that we kissed. Your reputation is safe." I stood up. "Are you ready to go?"

"No." She leaned back on her hands and stretched out her legs. Looking off into the distance, she said with a quivering voice, "I'd like to kiss a little more."

Understanding finally rushed into my thick skull. I turned away. "Well... maybe I don't."

"Really? Why not?"

"I think you'll regret it, later." which was the truth. I can't believe I cared about the truth. But that was only a half-truth. I was afraid she'd regret it, and then hate me.

We let our emotions chill for a while. I walked out to the cliff's edge to prevent my lack of discipline from overcoming good sense.

Becky broke the shaky silence. "I'm not asking you to have sex with me. You're the first man I've ever felt this attracted to, and I want to know what things feel like."

I didn't say anything. I didn't look at her, but my heart was torn between wanting her body and wanting her to like me for who I am. Honestly, my hesitation frightened me. Falling in love was not my style. I thought I knew a lot about sex, but nothing about relationships. Now suddenly, I began to think I wanted one. I wanted her respect and admiration, because she had mine. Maybe relationships were more fulfilling and I didn't know how to do it.

When I didn't respond, she added, "I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about you. Thinking you were masturbating about me. It turned me on. I touched myself for the first time..." Her voice faded.

I stared out over the valley, my heart pounding. "Where?"

"In my room."

I laughed. "I meant where on your body."

"You know. Down there."

"Did you come?"

"No. I didn't. I heard Bill and Trudy on the other side of the wall. I could hear them whispering. Then I heard Trudy moan. Their bed squeaks. It embarrassed me, but it excited me too." After a brief pause, she added, "Everybody around me is having sex!"

I turned around and faced her. "So, what do you want from me?"

Her eyes left mine and stared at her toes. "I don't know." She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. "I guess I was hoping you'd be willing to... take the lead without getting carried away." She laughed with self-contempt, stood and bent down to pick up the blanket. "I'm sorry. It sounds stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid." I couldn't say anymore, but it was enough.

She dropped the blanket and straightened up.

We stared at one another and shared a nervous grin.

My eyes wandered over her, and the anticipation coursing through my veins felt greater than having all the unopened gifts ever given laid at my feet. I went to her, and my resolve to be virtuous dissolved like sugar against her lips.

Becky said she wanted me to lead, but it was her palm on my chest that moved things forward. She massaged the firm curve of muscle and then her thumb found my nipple and teased it through my shirt.

I responded in kind, filling my hand with her right breast.

Becky moaned and shivered, then broke our kiss to watch me fondle the supple weight through her shirt. When I gently rolled the jutting tip between my fingers, her eyes closed with overwhelming pleasure.

A simple, "Oh..." escaped her lips, before I covered her mouth with mine.

Our tongues met, and soon tangled with desire. In slow motion, we dropped to our knees, embracing chest to chest. I broke away and sat back on my heels. Without preamble, I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it aside.

Becky's eyes shyly drifted down to study my torso. She didn't comment, other than smile with approval. Her hands drifted to the hem of her tank top and a lump lodged in my throat. With timid sluggishness, the fabric inched up her belly. I knew Becky was fit, but her lean, defined abdomen surprised me.

She closed her eyes again, and I wondered if she were pretending to be alone in order to have the courage to expose her chest. The trembling hands paused when the bottom curves were visible, and then, in a rush, she pulled the shirt off, and tossed it near mine.

Becky's breasts were perfect. Exactly the size and shape I always fantasized about. "Rebecca Jeffries, you're a beautiful woman all over, inside and out."

She opened her eyes and smiled. Her face and chest turned a rosy pink.

Rising up on my knees, I held out my hands and she took them. I pulled her close, and when our bodies touched, we both sighed with the pleasure. The first incredible contact of her skin against mine is an experience I'll never forget. We kissed, as I lowered her to the blanket. It took every ounce of self-control not to rush my exploration of her body. I wanted Becky's first experience to be everything she'd ever hoped for.

While we kissed, my left hand calmly teased -- circled an areola, slipped down to her bellybutton, and then back, enjoying her contour. She squeaked and her body twitched from the sensations. When I finally traced over a stiff nipple, her hands drew frenzied circles on my back.

My lips began a gradual tour down, stopping at the sensitive areas I knew existed on her neck and shoulders. The thrill I felt teaching Becky these new delights had me near a climatic level already. Every time she whimpered or sighed it touched me like a caress. Being her first brought back memories of my own first -- everything new, all exhilarating.

My mouth finally touched the rise of a breast and her fingers tangled in my hair. She tugged, trying to move me along, but I held firm to my slow progress. With lips and tongue I tortured one breast, while my fingers tortured the other. Becky started to writhe, which only made me burn hotter.

"Mmm, Becky, you taste so good, and you feel so good."

"Don..." was the only audible sound I understood, once my mouth sealed around one nipple and my fingers pinched the other. Although many other encouraging noises slipped uncontrollably from her, while I did my best to take her higher.

Rising up on my arms, I stopped to admire my work. Becky's chest heaved with great gulps of air. Her skin glowed from my kisses and her nipples extended out to me.

"God, you're beautiful."

Her green eyes opened to smile at me. "Thank you. That felt incredible."

She pushed me away, and removed the rubber band holding her ponytail. Shaking her hair free, she said, "Your turn. Lie back."

I did as I was told, and watched, placing my hands behind my head as a pillow.

Feisty, a word my grandpa used to describe grandma came to mind. Becky was feisty. I saw the appeal of loving a feisty woman. Was this the beginning of love? It definitely was a greater level of attraction than I'd ever felt before.

Becky bent over me and smiled with those sensuous lips. "You look happy."

"Never been happier."

She lay on my chest, and before kissing me, said, "Me either."

Her hair and breasts tickled, as she pecked her way down, following a trail similar to the one I had traveled on her body. A woman who wants to repay pleasure for pleasure is a rare jewel. As Becky's emerald eyes flashed to witness my reaction when she softly kissed my nipple, I knew I'd found a treasure.

Becky licked it with a broad tongue, and said, "You're salty. You'd make a good saltlick." She licked the other side and then sat back on her heels, leaving her hand on my stomach, her fingers playing with the sparse hair below my navel.

She traced to my side where I'd been pinched earlier. "I did leave a red mark. Let me make it better."

As she bent down and gently kissed the injury, her hand rested on my hip, just inches away from my straining cock. The pressure from her weight gave it a nice tug. She peeked at the bulge in profile, while she soothed the welt on my side. I wondered if she'd someday kiss that swelling until it receded, as well.

"Feel better?"

"Much better," I said, and cupped a hanging breast with my hand.

Her eyes closed with the sensation. By the nipple, I guided her back to lie beside me.

We smiled, kissed, and cuddled for a few minutes. A gusty breeze tickled our hot flesh. Mother Nature seemed to be playing along with us.

Rolling Becky onto her stomach, I said, "My turn," and straddled her thighs. "Time for a back rub."

Starting with her scalp, my fingers massaged gently down to her shoulders and lower back, eliciting pleasant moans of enjoyment. Occasionally, I'd chafe against her firm ass with my crotch.

"Mmm, you have good hands, Doc."

"Just relax and let me operate."

Becky responded with a soft laugh of acquiescence.

My hands drifted past her waistline to new, unexplored territory. Gradually, my fingers worked down, until I was squeezing her bottom.

The muscles tightened, but there were no complaints.

"Relax, Becky. Feels nice?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good." I massaged all the way down her legs and then, said, "Let's air out those toes," removing her sneakers and socks. "Are you ticklish?"

"A little."

"I'll be careful."

Methodically, I tended to each foot and toe. The limp weight of her legs, as I bent them at the knee, confirmed her total relaxation.

After a few minutes, I stopped and lay on top of her. Her back felt cool against my chest. I kissed her neck, and whispered in her ear, "There, all done."

In a dreamy voice, Becky answered, "Mmm, thank you. That was very nice."

Rolling off to the side, I pulled her over onto her back.

Fully at ease now, Becky lay with her eyes closed and hands above her head, a contented grin curling her lips.

But I was far from content. While bending over for a kiss, my hand slipped down across her abdomen and wedged under the waistband of her jeans.

Her stomach tensed.

My fingers wormed in until they met the elastic band of her panties. Our lips played lightly, while my hand pushed further and toyed along the hairline.

Becky's breathing became ragged. Her body trembled.

Sensing reluctance, I ended the kiss to look into her eyes. I saw anxiety in those emerald pools. Was she pleading for self-restraint? It seemed Becky didn't have the willpower to say stop. I withdrew my hand and cupped her sex from the outside. Her eyes closed and she moaned encouragement.

As I fondled the cleft of her sex, my mouth found a nipple and playfully sucked. Moist heat radiated through the denim onto my palm.

"Oh, Don..." Becky's hips began to gyrate. Her thighs sporadically opened and closed.

My hand abandoned her sex to unbutton her jeans.

She bent forward to see what I was doing. "Don?"

"Shh, it's okay." I pressed Becky's shoulders down with one hand as I unzipped her with the other. "Trust me. This will feel great," I said, and then kissed her, while my hand slid unrestricted into her panties.

Becky squeaked into my mouth when I touched her cleft. Her pussy was unbelievably wet and my finger slipped easily between her labia. The entrance to her vagina was incredibly tight. I pressed the tip of my index finger inside, and then her thighs clamped together.

"Relax, Beckster. I won't hurt you. I just want you to feel good. I want you to come."

I left my hand trapped where it was, unwilling to give up ground. My finger could still move enough to tickle her clit. My mouth and free hand went to work teasing her breasts. Becky was already extremely aroused. It wasn't long before her legs relaxed and her hips began to twitch, once again.

"That's it Becky. Go with it. Let it build. Don't hold back."

Afraid I'd scare Becky, I didn't try to penetrate again. Instead, I toyed with her clit, using different speeds and pressures to vary the experience.

Less than a minute passed, when her arms pulled me tight to her chest, and she hissed, "It's too much..."

"No Honey. Let it out."

Becky's body began to convulse. Her hips lifted from the blanket and her legs crushed my hand. Her high pitched squeal echoed across the valley. The climax came in waves -- first a tsunami and then lesser swells and troughs. She grabbed my arm and wrenched my hand from her panties. "Stop!"

I can't describe the thrill I felt, gazing down into her hooded eyes and hearing her deep breaths slow to normal. I zipped her up, and then brought my hand to my nose and sniffed, "Yum." I sucked her essence from my fingers, and she blushed. We hugged and kissed, and then I lay down beside her on my back. Becky had always returned my affection in kind, so I thought a hand-job was in my future.

My expectations were high, until, in a husky voice, she said, "I'd always planned my first orgasm would be with my husband."

I turned my head to witness a tear fall to the blanket. Becky continued to stare straight up. This was exactly the regret I feared, and I cursed myself. "There are plenty of first you can still share with him."

I sat up. A terrible dread engulfed me. Would I lose the first woman I'd wanted to know more than sexually because of sex? I reached over, picked up her shirt, and handed it to her.

Without hesitation, she sat up and put it on, and then rested her forehead on her knees like she was praying.

"I'm sorry if you're upset, Becky. I'll never forget you. I'll always cherish this memory." Cherish? I don't think I'd ever used the word in a sentence before, evidence I was definitely not myself.

Becky got up and walked out to the ledge. For no apparent reason other than a change of subject, she said, "This country is so beautiful."

She couldn't jump from there, but I was still worried, so I got up and stood beside her. At least she smiled at me when I took her hand, and yet there was no strength in her grip.

"Hey Beckster, this isn't the end of us, is it? You don't hate me, do you?" God, I was acting like a wiener.

"Hate you?" She smiled and shook her head, as if the question was too silly to even consider.

"That's good." I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. She laid her head on my shoulder. We stood like that for a long time, silently enjoying the moment.

"We should leave soon. You need to be home before dark or Bill will crucify me."

"Very funny, Doc."

"He wasn't kid--" My sentence was cut short by Becky's lips attacking mine. The force made me stumble back and trip over a rock. We fell in a heap with her knee in my groin.

As I writhed in agony, Becky knelt beside me and kept up a stream of "I'm so sorry".

"It's okay. I'll live." God was punishing me. "My fault. You surprised me, that's all."

She laughed nervously, and said, "I hope I didn't break you. Is there anything I can do?"

What a question. "I'll be all right."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should check it."

The thought occurred to me that the knee had been intentional. I laughed through gritted teeth. "Do you think so?"

Becky tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at my crotch. "Yes, I think you should."

"Maybe you should look to, because it's hard for me to see down there."

"Okay."

The pain had nearly subsided, but I faked a limp all the way to the blanket. I turned away, unfastened my jeans, and dropped them around my ankles. Then I sat down in my jockey shorts and Becky sat beside me. This was supposed to be a clinical examination, so without dramatic flair, I pulled my jockeys down to my jean covered ankles and lifted my limp dick out of the way.

Bending forward to examine my balls, I asked, "How do they look?"

Becky's face became serious, as she flipped her hair to one side and bent down to inspect. "Like Robin's eggs in a wrinkled sack."

"Damn it!"

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"They should look like woodcock eggs in a wrinkled sack."

Relief made her face happy again. "You can't be too hurt, if you can joke about it."

‘Kiss it and make it better' popped into my thoughts. Instead, I lay down and closed my eyes to give her curiosity unobserved access. "You're right. I'm feeling much better."

Ten seconds later, I felt a delicate touch trace over my scrotum. Keeping my eyes closed, I wrenched a foot out of my pants, and spread my legs wider.

Becky's fingers began to tease around my thighs and the base of my cock, without actually touching it. But the results were the same. I got hard.

She stopped caressing me, and whispered, "There, all better, Doc Woodcock."

I sat up on my elbows, looked at my hard-on, and then at Becky's red face. "Not really. Now it's just a different kind of ache, but I'll live."

Her gaze darted from my eyes, to my dick, and back.

I smiled.

She smiled.

I winked.

With her usual startling impulsiveness, she grabbed my cock in her fist, and said, "Lay down."

She didn't have to tell me. The rush of delight from her hand made me fall back. I wanted to watch, but I didn't want to make her more uneasy. Mine was the first cock she'd ever seen or touched. That alone brought an unmatched thrill. When her hand squeezed and pumped me with experimental sloth, I knew I wouldn't last long.

I groaned.

"Feel good?"

I heard a smile in the question and had to look. Becky's eyes were fixed on my groin. Her face beamed with exhilaration, and struck me with a fresh tingle.

"Great," I said, getting back up on my elbows. My ache grew larger.

Now both her hands gripped my shaft loosely and pumped. "Are you going to come soon?"

The comment sounded so indifferent. This was just payback, and not the affectionate exploration I'd hoped for.

"Yes."

I lay back down and enjoyed her hold on me.

She picked up the pace. "Relax, Doc. I just want you to feel good. I want you to come."

Those were almost my exact words to her, and they sounded hollow and impersonal. It was then I realized I wanted more. But how could there be more? What was missing?

My cock didn't care. I warned her, "Getting close."

A couple of strokes later, my load shot out with pent up force, laying down a thick streak from my neck to my navel. Becky stopped pumping as soon as I erupted, which made it a little less pleasurable, but all-in-all, it relieved a lot of frustration.

Tenderly, she released my cock and patted its softening underbelly. "Wow."

We shared a smile, and I said, "Thanks Beckster, that was just what the doctor ordered."

Grinning, she rubbed my thigh, and said, "I'll get some napkins."

After cleaning myself up, I got dressed and we headed back down the trail, the mood much heavier than before. The invisible line we'd been flirting with had been crossed. Things could never be the same between us.