I was supposed to be at Margery's apartment at 6PM. She said "try to dress up a bit." What did that mean? I wear jeans, boots or tennis shoes, t-shirts or sweatshirts, almost every day whether I'm going to class or going uptown. I have a suit that looks pretty good, but I didn't even bring it to school. The only thing close to "dress up" clothes I had were in a pile on the floor where I dropped them a few hours ago after getting back from her apartment in the middle of the night. Well, I could go downstairs to the laundry to wash the black pants, but if I wash and wear the same shirt she'll think I only have one decent shirt. Which was true, but, you know, it wouldn't be very cool.
"Petey, let me borrow a shirt," I said.
"You make me sick. In fact I haven't felt this sick since I had mono," Pete replied.
"C'mon ya little girl. How about that light blue dress shirt? Is it clean?" I asked.
"Take whatever you want, Wil. Fuck! My shirt's gonna get laid without me in it. Jeebus H. Christ!" he said.
I ran downstairs with a pocketful of quarters and my black pants. Luckily nobody was washing clothes in the dorm on a Saturday afternoon. By 5:30 I was dressed in black pants, black dress shoes, black socks, a black belt, and a light blue long-sleeved borrowed oxford shirt. I was showered, shaved, my hair looked presentable about a week since I got it cut. I needed to put some weight on, but there wasn't time for that now. At 6PM sharp I was knocking on Margery's apartment door. Her roommate, Judy (sister of my best friend-remember?) answered the door. Pleasantries were exchanged. Sitting was suggested. Waiting for my date to get ready was on the immediate agenda. Time passed. Slowly.
At 6:20PM Margery came out of her bedroom into the tiny living room/ dining room/ kitchen area where we were sitting. I stood up. She was wearing a navy blue suit with a white blouse. The blouse, like her blue one the night before, was unbuttoned two buttons so that just a hint of cleavage showed. Buttons number three and four were working harder than I had my entire senior year in high school. So far they were keeping her blouse somewhat closed. The skirt of her suit was quite snug. It came to just above her knees. She was wearing heels, but not very high heels. We hugged but didn't kiss with Judy sitting there. Margery smelled great. I felt the tip of my cock twitch. I begged it not to get stiff-- not yet anyway. By concentrating on the Chicago Cubs 1969 batting order I kept it from getting hard.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
Judy laughed softly as Margery said, "We're going to meet some people for dinner at a little Italian place nearby."
We arrived at Luigi's at 6:30. Soon two other couples came in and sat with us. I was introduced to all of them and don't have any real idea who they are to this day. My mind was on not splashing tomato sauce on my (Petey's) shirt, not getting fall-down drunk on the red wine, and on how hot my date looked. Not necessarily in that order. I had a horrible time. All five people at the table with me were at least two years older than me-- when you're 34 that means nothing but when you're a college freshman it makes you feel like an 8th grader. I thought we'd never leave but they all seemed to enjoy each other's pretentiousness so maybe I was just the oddball. There were times when I thought the one guy was treating me like a nitwit, but his date always seemed to be studying me and smiling when I glanced at her so I figured he was just a jerkoff. The place was crowded until about 8:30 or so when it started to empty. We didn't break up our party until almost 9PM. As we stood in front of Luigi's the girls were all doing the "this-was-so-fun-we-should-do-this-more-often-I'll-call-you-smooch-smooch" thing while the guys were talking about the White Sox and waiting.
As we walked back to the apartment Margery said, "Wasn't that fun?"
"Sure," I said.
"Didn't you have fun?" she asked.
"I don't know any of them. But they seemed OK. I'm not sure that Larry isn't kind of a jerk though," I replied.
Margery laughed, "He's an asshole. Linda's trying to dump him but can't get the nerve. Very perceptive, Wil"
"You know me. I'm all about feelings and..."
"I've known you for all of about twenty-four hours now," she interrupted.
"Has it been a good twenty-four hours?" I asked.
She stopped walking, turned to me, put her arms around me, and gave me a big open-mouthed kiss. She still smelled great, but she tasted like tomato sauce and red wine.
Judy wasn't around when we got back but we didn't stay in the front room anyway. We went straight to Margery's bedroom. "Put some music on. I'll be back in a minute." She left, I assumed, to use the bathroom. I flipped through the LP's. Lots of singer-songwriter stuff: three James Taylor albums, four Joni Mitchell's, Carole King's "Tapestry" of course, a couple of Cat Stevens-- lots of soft stuff. "Abbey Road" had been put away next to a couple of other Beatles records. There was one hard rock album there: Led Zeppelin IV. "How did that get there?" I wondered. "Did a boyfriend leave that behind?" No matter. A few minutes later cut one, side one, "Black Dog" was playing. I did NOT crank it up. But I wanted to. Jimmy Page. Damn that guy can play guitar.
"The Battle of Evermore" was just starting when the door opened and Margery walked in. My idle thoughts of getting her out of that suit, blouse, bra, and panties went up in smoke. But they were replaced by something as good. She was wearing what I would come to learn is called a "baby doll". It was a very pale pink; almost white it was so pale. I was never crazy about the color pink but I had a growing appreciation for this shade. The material was shiny around her breasts, and see-through, what there was of it, everywhere else. The panties were the tiniest bits of sewing ever done without using a microscope. She had also put on a pair of white high-heeled sandals with little poofy, feathery stuff just behind her toes. Her hair was brushed, her makeup touched up-- at least her lipstick was. I could tell that she had also put on a touch more perfume. She had a four-strand pearl choker around her neck.
My jaw actually dropped open. "Holy shit," I muttered under my breath.
"You like this?" Margery asked softly.
"Get over here," I said.
My pulse was pounding in my ears so loud I could barely hear the music.