I wasn’t sure how this was working out, not at all. The last time we did this, she had already forgiven me in a letter before I came up. Lynette quickly took off to spend the weekend across the lake in Burlington, and Marilyn and I spent the weekend in bed together. Now she had gotten me out of the apartment, and I didn’t see Lynette packing for an impromptu weekend away. I caught up to Marilyn and walked beside her down towards the nearest elementary school. She sat down on a bench, so I sat down next to her. “Can we talk?”
“You asshole!” Marilyn punched me in the arm. It didn’t really hurt. She hit like a girl. Still time to keep my mouth shut.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” I told her.
“Asshole!” she hit me again. She repeated this a couple more times, and I just sat there until she seemed to run out of steam. I waited a minute more and then apologized again, and she hit me again. This was definitely not how I had envisioned our reunion.
Finally she stopped and we sat there besides each other. She leaned against me at that point and called me an asshole again, and I put my arm around her shoulders. I just whispered how sorry I was to her, and she cried against my shoulder, calling me an asshole every few minutes. Eventually she stopped crying and sat upright again, still close enough that I had an arm around her shoulders. “You never said if I was forgiven or not,” I said, which simply earned me another punch.
“Asshole!” Marilyn stood up and took my hand. She led the way back to the apartment, and left me standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Stay here. I’ll be down if a couple of minutes.” It was closer to fifteen minutes, but she couldn’t tell time even if she was standing next to Big Ben. She was carrying a suitcase. She tossed that in the back seat of the rental car next to my bags. “Where are you staying?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nowhere, yet. I came here directly from the airport.”
“The Holiday Inn is on Route 3.” She got into the car and I stood there in disbelief for a second before running around to the driver’s side and jumped in. Marilyn needed to give me directions. Five minutes later I pulled up to the front of the Holiday Inn. Marilyn stayed in the car while I went in and registered, and then came out and drove around to the nearest door. We were in a room on the back side on the second floor. I grabbed my bags, and by the time I reached over to get Marilyn’s, she already had hers in hand. Marilyn never carried her own bags!
I let us into the room and set my bags down. Marilyn set hers down as well, and then looked over at me and gave me a small smile. She took off her jacket, and didn’t stop. She started undoing her blouse. I gave her a smile as well and tossed my hat on the table, and then unbuttoned my blouse, which is army talk for my jacket. We kept this up until we were both naked, and then climbed onto the bed.
“Uh, not to be rude, but are you still on the Pill?” I asked.
Marilyn punched me again, called me an asshole again, and then said, “Yes, damn it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled towards her and took her in my arms. Marilyn moaned and reached between us and grabbed my cock. I returned the favor by lowering my face to her tits while I started fingering her clit. As soon as she was wet, I pushed her onto her back and climbed on top. Marilyn guided me inside and we made hurried love as she moaned and gasped and shuddered under me. I was moaning and gasping and shuddering as well, and it didn’t seem like it took all that long before I was pumping a load into her.
I calmed down at that point, and as I lay on top of her, I asked, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
That got me another “Asshole!” and a punch in the side. Then she began kissing me, and we started another round. Maybe I was forgiven after all.
Chapter 44: Diagnoses, Fraternal and Personal
Marilyn and I spent Friday evening and Saturday morning living on room service and screwing our brains out, with me apologizing and her punching me in between. By lunchtime Saturday she had gotten the mad out, and we went from makeup sex to regular hot monkey love sex. There was a massive change in attitude, though. We were much more serious about each other, and it was something I had noticed the first time as well. It was like we were no longer kids and girlfriend/boyfriend. Now we were adults, and we were committed to each other, even if we were only 20 or 21 at the time. Saturday we got dressed and I took her down to the mall and we went into a jewelry store and looked at engagement rings. I hadn’t even asked her formally, but she looked at several and got sized for the ring, and I made a 50 % deposit. I would return in a month, finish payment, and she would be my fiancé. We would make the formal announcement at Christmas, when I would visit the family and ask her father’s permission.
At that point I drove back to Troy. Once I got back in the house, I ran across Bruno.
“Sorry, Bruno, your reign is over.” I told him.
“Well, hail to the chief and all that,” he replied.
I had done one radical thing that spring which I had never even contemplated before, certainly not on my first go-around. I ran for Chancellor. Chancellor, the equal to the President of a frat, is an odd position. You have to chair the various meetings and ride herd on a fractious bunch of college guys, and some guys simply aren’t cut out for it. There are also some routine ornamental things, like reports to the national organization and to the college, and monthly meetings with the Inter-Fraternity Council. Some guys are good at it and some aren’t. In order to win the job, it takes a certain degree of respect from the brothers. As a dope smoking asshole on the first ride through, it hadn’t even been an option. Now I had a certain degree of respect, what with doing the doctorate and cooking and the military thing. We were no longer a military frat; since the Viet Nam War was over and the draft ended, ROTC was plummeting, and my class was the last in the frat to have anybody in ROTC. Still, I had a degree of respect because of it.
I wanted to run because of what I saw developing around the house. We needed leadership. The house was splitting into three separate groups, and had been for a year now. The first group was the Dregs, short for Dregs of Humanity. These guys were mostly older brothers, a year or two ahead of my class, with a heavy proportion of ROTC and a propensity for heavy drinking, and they lived in Grogans’. Their enemies were the Heads, short for Potheads, the pot-smoking bunch around the house, mostly in the Main House. The third group was everybody else, growing sick and tired of the nonsense.
Originally I had been one of the Heads. This was a large group, but by our senior year the numbers were down significantly. Ricky Holloway had graduated and moved out, and despite being a Head, had been enormously respected by everyone, even the Dregs. Both Pabst and Schlitz had graduated and left, and Homer Simpson was going to be gone by Christmas. I was not a Head this time, although it was known that I still smoked an occasional joint.
I had tried to defuse what I saw as a growing situation during my sophomore year by blackballing a guy named Kevin Farnsworth. He was a very nice and funny kid a year behind us, who had gotten into the frat on my first run. Once in he proved incredibly divisive. He was a major doper, and after the end of his sophomore year had flunked out. Unlike the average guy who flunked out and moved back to East Asshole, Tennessee, Kevin was a local boy, from Albany. He could come over whenever he wanted. He became a major drug dealer, and supplied most of the Heads, and had no compunctions about giving the Dregs a ration of shit whenever he saw them. This time I blackballed him and he stopped coming around. It defused things, but only somewhat.