Wendy’s on the Mend

I knew a girl (woman) back in college named Wendy. I met her during one of the worst crises in her college career. I worked the overnight shift at the college computer center. Monday midnight to 8 Am. That was crunch time at school. Most papers were due Monday mornings. So, when something went wrong, it almost always involved a short deadline and an all important paper lost on a broken disk. She came up to the counter one night, floppy in hand.

“I don’t understand, the paper was there this afternoon!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She was very pretty. Jet black hair, pouty lips, and an easy smile. I figured that the smile would only last as long as her problem did, but I didn’t mind.

Lucky (or not) for me, it was an easy problem to fix. She had deleted her paper by accident. I recovered her paper and walked her back to her seat. I pulled up a seat and we started chatting. She seemed able to write and talk at the same time. She was a second year nursing major. After an hour, I was called away by another problem. She surprised me greatly by giving me her number and asking me to call sometime.

I fretted for a day or two, annoying my friends with my endless enthusiasm. Then I called. We talked for hours. It seemed like we were a perfect match. She even knew Les Paul… she called him “Uncle Les”. What could be better? She was hot, she seemed to like me, and she was on first name terms with a rock legend. I started dreaming of shaking his hand, touching his guitar. I won’t say what I dreamed about her, but it had something to do with shaking and touching, too 🙂

I asked her out on our third phone call… she said YES! She said that Red Lobster was her favorite restaurant so I broke the rule of first dates, and took her to a chain restaurant. Here’s where I figured I could impress her right back. I knew the manager of this particular Red Lobster. He was an alumni fraternity brother. She ordered Lobster, of course. My star crossed eyes never actually landed on the bill, but the free desserts helped a little. We hit it off right away. There were no pregnant pauses, no awkward silences. Mostly, she chattered away about her life, and anything else she thought of. I drove her home and walked her up to her dorm room. She gave me a lingering peck on the cheek, and I floated back to my place.

We talked several times that next week. Saturday, we went out to dinner again. Red Lobster again. I wasn’t so glib about the bill this week, but I hid my pain as best I could. Lobster dinners every week can really take the wind out of a college student’s budget, but I was determined not to let it get in the way of our good time. After dinner, we went back to the fraternity for a party. We mingled and talked for an hour. Then she seemed to, I don’t know, flirt with everyone but me? I withered a bit and retreated to my room for some glum time. 10 minutes later, she blew through the door and looked at me with drunken mirth.

“Why aren’t you out having a good time?”

“I’m just taking a break, I’ll be out in a minute.”

She jumped in my lap and planted a big wet kiss, right on the lips. Then she ran out of the room laughing. I followed with what I hoped was dignity, only to see her hanging on a stranger’s arm. Confused, I lingered nearby for a minute until I was convinced that she wasn’t going to leave her new friend for an old friend like me.

I called her again two days later. Everything was back to normal. She still wanted to see me, she still liked hanging out with me. We agreed to go out again the next Friday night.

Another trip to Red Lobster. Another $60 dinner. Another ride home. Another lingering peck on the cheek. Another night of confusion. Clarity came to me later that night. A bunch of beer has a way of loosing up even the tightest knots. Did I mention that she was a close talker? That she liked to touch and caress my arm when she talked to me? That I was WAY past blue balls?

Saturday night came, and we were having another party. Wendy wasn’t home, so I figured that I would unwind on the last weekend before the start of finals.

After a night of foosball and darts, I staggered back to bed and went to sleep.

RING RING. Huh? Wha? I rolled out of bed and tried to focus on the clock. 3:30AM. Ugh. RING RING. What now? I picked up the phone. It was Wendy.

“James, can you come over right now? I’m so stressed out about my final on Monday. I can’t study, can we talk?”

“Sure, I’ll be over in a little bit.”

GRIN! HA! Finally! I scrounged for my cleanest clothes and jumped into the car. My heart was pounding in my chest as I rang her room. Riding up the elevator, I paced back and forth, fingering the condoms in my back pocket.

She answered the door in short shorts and a heart rending halter. She turned and… and … and floated back into her room. I followed, hoping that I wasn’t panting too hard.

“My roommate is pulling an all nighter at the library, we have the place all to ourselves.”

Suddenly, my pants felt very uncomfortable.

“Could you give me a backrub? I just feel SO tense.”

Duh, you have to ask? “Sure, how about the couch?”

I started with her shoulders, kneading with real passion. She was enjoying it, even I could tell. Every small word of encouragement gave me more courage, and I eventually decided to try something more sensual. Starting with her feet, I massaged up her smooth legs until I was at that invisible boundary half way up her thighs. She grunted approvingly, and I kneaded a little closer. Now, I was right at her short shorts. She reached back and guided my hand under her shorts.  She wasn’t wearing underwear!

She let me stay there until I tried to turn her over.

“James, I really need to study for this exam, would it be mean of me to ask you to leave?”

YES!!!! GAH!!!!! I was seeing blue, now. I left, though. What else was I going to do? I limped home, tossing the Trojans out the car window.

She called me Tuesday night asking if I would like to go out to dinner. Well, she asked my answering machine. Even my dull intellect had grasped the tenor of this relationship.

Posted in Writing. 1 Comment »

One Response to “Wendy’s on the Mend”

  1. Nicola Says:

    Her Loss ……………..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: