Kinky Confessions

“Ay, paisan!” he called from the stairs. He and Rosemary waved. They joined me, and Freddie gave me a back-slapping hug. “So, Joska let you stay?”

“Had to. I’m like a bad penny. I keep coming back.”

“Fuggedaboutit. Are you in this class? Structural and Mechanical?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Both of us,” he said.

Rosemary blushed and smiled shyly.

“Good for you,” I said.

He thought I was talking about the class, but she understood.

“Come on,” I added. “Let’s find seats in the front before they fill up.” I glanced at Gracie as we walked past. She ignored me and looked the other way.

Freddie and Rosemary slid into desks and started chatting with friends behind us. I leaned forward and looked down the row to where Gracie sat.

Part of me wanted to be done with her, to say that I’d tried. But the better part of me wouldn’t let it go. We’d never be close again—and definitely not with Christy in my life—but I owed her more than a halfhearted attempt at friendship.

I had another class immediately afterward and then I met up with Trip. We went to Joska’s office to get his permission to add the dance class. He wasn’t in the mood to be persuaded.

“This will take time away from your regular work, your important work.”

I felt a surge of annoyance. “But, Professor, it’s all important.”

“Business classes I could understand,” he said with a gesture at Trip. “But not this… dance.”

“We want to be well-rounded.”

“At the expense of competence in your chosen field?”

“Life is our ‘chosen field,’” I said tersely.

He did a better job holding his temper. “I fail to see your point.”

“Then let me make it clear: we’re taking this dance class. One way or another. We’re only talking to you because we don’t want to drop an architecture class to do it.”

He puffed up with outrage, so I reined in my screw-you attitude.

“Our girlfriends are taking the class,” I said in a calmer tone. “They asked us to join them. And instead of dropping a class, we’re giving up our free time, to keep everyone happy.”

That gave him the opening he needed to back down. “Is this correct?” he asked Trip.

“Yes, sir.”

He gave me a piercing look. “Very well,” he said after a moment, “your request is approved.” He uncapped his fountain pen and signed the Course Overload forms. But he cautioned us as he handed them back. “You must not let your avocation interfere with your vocation, Mr. Hughes. Nor you, Mr.

Whitman.”

“We won’t.” “No, sir.”

“Now, if there is nothing else…? I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Hughes.”

“Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Just so.”

Trip lasted until we were out of earshot. “Dude! One day you’re going to push him too far.”

“Maybe,” I said with more confidence than I felt, “but today isn’t that day.”

“Yeah, but… man!” He shook it off and shot me a grudging grin. “Warn me next time.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know I was going to do it. He annoyed me, so I pushed

back.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. The dean’s secretary knows me. She can sign for him.”

Dance Appreciation wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. We arrived early, since three of us needed the professor’s signature to add the class. The building itself was an engineering hall built before the turn of the century, complete with wrought-iron balconies and railings. We made an entire circuit of both floors before we realized that the “room” we were looking for was actually the old basketball gym in the center of the building.

Our professor wasn’t what I was expecting either. I’d imagined a grande dame in an old-fashioned dress who spoke like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations. Instead, she was a petite twenty-something graduate student in a wraparound dress. She shattered the rest of my preconceptions when she spoke in a plain California accent.

“Hi, come on in,” she said. “I’m Terri.”

She was a brown-eyed brunette, part-Asian and about Christy’s size. She had a dancer’s body from the waist down, but her chest belonged to a Playmate. Christy faltered as soon as she saw her, so I suppressed a chuckle and took the lead.

“Hi, I’m Paul,” I said. “Nice to meet you. We’re hoping to add the class. I know it’s full, but…” I gave her my best encouraging smile.

“I can handle a few more,” Terri said brightly. She found a ballpoint pen.

“Do I need to sign your slips?”

I gave her my own small form and gently prodded Christy. “This is my girlfriend, Christy.”

“I think I know you,” Terri said as she signed. “From aerobics in the Bubble, right?” She smiled. “You don’t see many women our size, do you?”

“Um… no.”

“Wren’s already enrolled,” I added, “but her boyfriend, Trip, needs your signature too.”

He stepped forward and nodded politely as he extended his paper.

“I’ve seen you at the Bubble too,” Terri said.

I heaved a sigh. Trip was taller, handsomer, and more noticeable than me

in practically every way. Not for the first time, I wondered why I hung around better-looking people.

“Probably,” he said noncommittally.

“He and I work out together,” I said, “usually while the girls are doing aerobics.”