CHAPTER ONE—March Winds

Sally woke up and gazed sleepily across the room at the sun streaming in through her front window. A bit of dust in the air was caught by the sunlight, making the light into rays as it shone on the oval wool rug on her floor. The wind had howled last night but was quiet now. She heard a few birds chirping outside. Hey!—that was a welcome new sound! She got up and looked out the window onto the street below, and the campus across the way. The sidewalk was still wet in spots, and various sticks and leaves remained thrown about from the wind. The tree branches were stark and naked against the morning sky, as they had been all winter. But there was a new feeling in the air---- hmm---springtime might actually be coming to St. Louis! It dawned on her that she was seriously sick of winter and ready for a brightening change.

Sally washed up, and put some hot water on for a mug of morning coffee. She glanced around her efficiency apartment. Her school books and papers remained strewn around her desk and the nearby floorboards. But she had stacked up her laundry neatly on the chest at the foot of her bed, and her plants on the kitchenette counter and near the front window looked cheery. She ground coffee beans in her electric grinder, shattering the morning quiet, and fixed the coffee filter and cone, preparing for that most welcome first cup. When the kettle began to screech, she poured the hot water through the filter, filling the room with the fragrant smell of fresh coffee. She sat down on the stool in front of her kitchen counter, as was her routine, and let her thoughts wander as she sipped the hot brew and felt the caffeine begin to run through her system.

Today was a Monday. She thought through the schedule for the coming day and week, and the various assignments she needed to work on. It was not too bad of a week, pressure-wise, she mused. She looked forward to her English class later that morning (the professor was fun), but less so to her philosophy class—that was a requirement that she normally would not have selected. Of course, she concentrated most of her energy on her art classes—this was her passion, and what she felt she was truly best at. She thought happily about her drawing and sculpture classes on Tuesday and Wednesday. The week would be just fine, she decided.

Yesterday afternoon, she returned from a weekend at her parents’ house in Kansas City. She liked visiting them, although she also was glad for the freedom of living away from home. The weather had been cold, and she and her mother had spent most of Saturday doing odds and ends around the house, cooking up pies for a Church bake sale the next morning, and catching up. Her mom had asked discretely if there were any prospects for a man in her life. Not really, she had told her. If the truth be known, she had not thought much about it. Her mother had glanced at her closely, to see if there was anything more than “not really.” However, Sally’s face revealed that she indeed had little else to tell, and was cheerfully unworried. Instead, they had talked about biking on backroads—one of their favorite things to do together. If it hadn’t been so cold, they would have gone for a ride that day, they’d agreed.

On the drive home, riding with two classmates, Sally had thought during the quiet moments on the interstate about the future, in a vague sort of way. What would she end up doing when she graduated? What would her life be like in five years? She wasn’t worried—the future would resolve itself. She felt happy, and generally in control. She had managed fine using her own wits, putting one foot in front of another.

She looked at the clock next to her bed. Whoops! Time to go! She put on her sneakers and a light jacket and headed out the door. She decided to just wear a heavy tee-shirt under her jacket, in celebration of the spring feel of the day. In reality, she was chilly, but she did enjoy the open, free feeling of the loose tee-shirt against her skin. She marched off with a bounce in her step, happily feeling ready for the day.

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After English class, Sally met up with her friend Barbara and some of the other girls from Barbara’s dorm for lunch at the taco place on campus. It was late, and not as crowded as usual. They had a good time, talking and laughing. They watched some of the guys walking by, and one of the girls started to recount some of her recent exploits with her boyfriend. There was lots of talk and laughter about “woodies” and such. Sally listened inattentively, gazing at a bunch of leaves caught up in the light midday breeze. She’d heard such talk before and didn’t have much to relate.

In the afternoon, Sally studied at the library and then went to the university pool to swim laps. She always enjoyed activity and was a good athlete. On the way home, she thought about her mother’s question and the various relationships she had. Although she had many friends, she did not have a truly close girl friend—instead she had a number of girl friends, who she knew from different parts of her life. She also was friendly with quite a few guys, but they were pals. Some kind of romantic idea with these current pals had not really crossed her mind.

She had never had a “special” relationship with a guy before. Although she had gone out on some dates, nothing serious had materialized. She wasn’t concerned—she’d had fun, and didn’t need anything special right now. In due time, she would meet someone right for her. On her various dates in high school and more recently, she had made out a few times, but it had stayed casual.

She thought about a guy named Chris with whom she had spent some time together last year. He was a sharp-looking guy, who walked with a bit of a swagger. He had shown interest in her from the beginning, and she had been curious about him. They had gone to a live show one night and spent much of the night dancing up a storm. The way he danced with her, he had made it clear that he wanted to be intimate. She had nothing against that as a matter of principle, but somehow it just didn’t feel right with this guy. She had felt a little weird and unnatural when he had touched her. Something about him didn’t seem totally honest. While it was fun dancing, and she did feel a bit of heat when they danced close, she just didn’t feel attracted to him. They had parted their ways that night, soon after leaving the club, and he had not looked her up again. She imagined that he had many opportunities, and she’d not given him more thought.

During a recent medical checkup, her doctor had asked her about birth control and offered to fit her for a diaphragm or provide her with a prescription for the pill if she wanted. But she declined, thinking that she could always do that if the need arose. Some day, the right, natural thing would happen, she imagined. In the meantime, why not just enjoy each day as it came?

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That evening, Sally found herself daydreaming. Sometimes lately, watching guys at the pool, she had taken special note of how they looked in their bathing trunks, especially the tight ones. They carried such a big lump in front. Sometimes, when they weren’t looking, she looked closely at these bulges, curiously observing the lumpy contours pressed against their suits. What was it like underneath, she wondered?

She’d never really seen a guy without clothes on before. Sure, as an art student, she had seen many paintings and statues. Sometimes she had looked closely. She felt a little ashamed, but she was curious. She had studied a big picture of Michaelangelo’s David once—she remembered well how his nakedness looked. She had looked at various paintings too, so she had an idea of what must be under those bathing suits. But as she thought about it, she was intrigued further. How did it get hard, as people talked about and what did it look like then? What was it really like, as opposed to what a statue or picture could show?

As her imagination continued, Sally felt electricity go through her system, and her body become more sensitive. She smiled to herself: she knew this aroused feeling. But this was the first time she could remember these particular thoughts causing such excitement. She let her fantasy go further. She felt more electricity.

Sally had been getting familiar with her own body—discovering what felt good. As her thoughts continued, her fingers wandered. The thoughts of male nakedness and the touch below made her body hum so wonderfully. Afterwards, she thought how interesting it was that intimate thoughts of guys might arouse her so. She fell asleep, comfortably and peacefully.

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Things were different for Peter Norwood right now. He felt neither comfortable nor peaceful. He had an organic chemistry test the next day, and he was sweating studying for it. This stuff was so confusing at times, and there was so damned much to remember! He wasn’t sure he was going to make it—he’d already had three cups of coffee, and still, his brain just didn’t seem to be moving fast enough. He threw down his pen in frustration. He had always liked science, and chemistry in particular. He believed he was reasonably good at it. But sometimes when he watched his classmates it seemed that they were consistently quicker at getting the answers, and somehow just more on the ball. Last semester, he had done poorly in his biology class (actually, he had gotten a B minus in the end, but....), and it had preyed on him. Was he any good at this stuff really? If not, what was going to happen to him?

Peter pressed on, though, into the night. He went to bed very late and slept fitfully. The next morning, he awoke to an acid stomach but needed a hefty dose of coffee anyway. He entered the classroom with dread and began the test when the time was announced. He plodded through, answering all of the questions by the end, and handed his test in. Leaving the classroom, he headed over to the university pool for swim practice. He thought back through the test—which questions had he screwed up on? As he thought it through, he realized that he actually might have done pretty well—there were only a few questions that he wasn’t sure about. He cheered up. He noticed for the first time that spring was in the air. He bounded up the steps of the recreation center.

Swimming was a form of escape for Peter from the various worries and concerns that tended to plague him every day. He had always liked the water, and he had been on swim teams ever since he was little. He was not exceptionally fast, but he didn’t care much. He was content to be in the middle of the pack on the team---winning or placing in the top three in races just once in a while. He was on the junior varsity team now. Although Coach Tunney had pushed him hard at the beginning to try to become one of the best on the team, the Coach had backed off some of late, letting Peter be.

Peter swam lap after lap, feeling the tension of his worries about his schoolwork wash away. He particularly enjoyed the quiet rushing sound of the water as he swam down the lanes and the feeling of the cool water against his bare skin. He also liked the exertion, and the release it gave.

After practice, he spent some time on the lawn in front of the cafeteria, horsing around with some pals in the late afternoon sun. When he wasn’t fretting about something, Peter had a free, easy, and fun-loving manner that attracted others, and he did have a lot of friends. He liked sports and outside activity, and on a nice day like this, he was often one of the first to grab a Frisbee or start kicking around a soccer ball.

Today, he jumped to intercept a Frisbee being thrown between two guys in his dorm and sent it sailing close by the ear of a girl in his chemistry class who was walking close by, oblivious and unsuspecting. When she jumped in surprise and looked around with a frown, Peter grinned broadly at her and shrugged his shoulders. She shook her head back and forth, but smiled back--Peter’s grin was infectious. Feeling hungry, with the departure of the earlier tension of the day, Peter headed into the cafeteria, where he joined two of his best friends—Rob and Beth—wolfing down plates of spaghetti.

After supper, Peter walked towards the library to dig into homework. Slowly his mood began to dampen as his mind turned back to various worries. He walked by a couple ambling along the walkway more slowly, happily fondling each other. One of his recurrent frets was what he viewed as his lack of success with women, and especially his lack of sexual prowess. Although he wasn’t lonely, he felt that he should have had a steady girlfriend once or twice in his life, and he hadn’t. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt this was a deficiency, but he felt the lesser for it.

In high school, Peter had become sweet on a pretty girl named Samantha. He had watched her from afar for a long time and had daydreamed of going out with her. Finally, he gathered his courage and started to approach her—chatting in the lunchroom and such. She had been friendly with him and seemed to like him. He asked her out to the movies, after much debate with himself, and she had accepted. They had had a great time, and he had kissed her tenderly good night with all the “debonair” bravado he could muster. They had gone out a few more times, and he was ecstatic that it seemed to him that they were becoming an item. But, unbelievably, he saw Samantha just days after one of their dates chumming around with one of the hip guys in the school. They walked arm-in-arm right past him--when she saw Peter, she looked right through him, as if he were invisible. He had been deeply hurt, and after soul searching and more worry, Peter eventually concluded that he was a fool to think that he would have a chance with such a pretty girl anyway.

As he thought about this set of shortcomings, Peter’s mind moved on to a related frustration. Although he hid it as a close secret, he had never had a full encounter. He had heard so many guys, and even girls, talking about their sexual exploits, and he felt he was the only guy in the world who was still a virgin. It was embarrassing, and hence could not be discussed with anyone. His ideas about sex were vague, though. He had never even really imagined what it might be like. He just felt that at this time in his life, it was something that he should have experienced by now if he was a normal person.

He was well aware of his “friend downstairs”, however, which had a definite tendency to spring up hard and excited at the oddest of times, with little apparent provocation and completely uncontrollable. This “friend” had been behaving this way for some years, and when it demanded attention and he was alone and in private, he could provide the requisite relief and enjoyed the pleasant feeling that brought sometimes. But this uncontrollable friend was also a big source of embarrassment—it seemed that he was constantly getting hard-ons at the most inappropriate times! Just last week, he had gotten hard for no reason in the shower at the locker room after swim practice, and he had only just avoided certain ridicule by quickly finding a towel and disappearing into a restroom stall. He had felt like a damn fool!

This winter, Peter had spent time with a friend named Alice. It wasn’t that he was really attracted to her, it was just that she could be fun sometimes. They had palled around downtown, going to some dancehalls. During one of the slow dances, his supposed “friend” downstairs had popped up with great excitement, especially when she pressed close to him. She had backed away, apparently turned off and repulsed. After that night, they had not gone palling around anymore. He had felt ashamed of his impulsive, ever-excited “friend”, and once again felt like a damn fool.

Oh well, he thought, as he walked through the doorway of the library. He refused to become seriously depressed—life had its ups and downs, and good things came along sometimes too. But life did seem a bit uncomfortable right now.