"Oh." She smiled at him. "I'm surprised that she has trouble growing
with you around. You certainly were a huge help to me...."
He grinned at her. "No, YOU did all the hard work. I just gave you a
push every now and then."
"Yeah, right! Uh-huh," she laughed. The Bandit's heart skipped a beat;
innocently or not, when Mary Magdalene smiled at you, you noticed it.
"Hey, listen! I've decided I'm going to do something symbolic tomorrow
morning, and I thought you'd get a kick out of knowing about it." Mary
Magdalene dug into the pocket of her jeans, and pulled out something small
wrapped in string, which she undid and showed to the Bandit. It was the tiny
brass neckbell the Rainbow Wizard had given her.
"I'm going to throw it in the river tomorrow," she said proudly.
The Bandit's smile died on his lips. Somewhere deep inside him, a tiny
voice was raising a protest against the hot tide of joy and triumph in his
heart, and it chilled him for an instant.
Once in a while, he thought, just for a moment, things become really
clear, and I can see the future....
"Don't." His voice was soft but final. "Give it to me; I'll keep it
for you. Someday you're going to want it back."
She shook her head. "Never."
"'Never and forever are neither for men.' Fritz Leiber." He held out a
hand. "Trust me on this one, MaryMag."
She looked at him for a long moment, frowning, then shrugged and
handed over the tiny bell. It tinkled gently as he took it, and he rested it
on his palm and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment.
Then, a small smile quirked across his upper lip. He looked up at Mary
Magdalene, and shook the bell slightly, ringing it.
Mary Magdalene looked at the bell for a moment, then gazed into the
Bandit's eyes. She got up on her feet, took the half step into his arms, and
that incredible smile was his, all his, as she brought her lips down to his.
There are kisses, and there are kisses, the Bandit thought in a daze.
And then there are kisses. And there are...yow.
He wasn't sure how much time went by as he held her and kissed her,
but it took a stiff back to make him break the kiss. He drew back from her and
looked into the dark fire in her eyes.
"I want you," she whispered.
He smiled, a rakish devil's smile, and motioned into his room with a
bow. She returned the bow, one eyebrow cocked superciliously, and glided into
the room. As he pulled the door shut, she grabbed the front of his shirt and
began to unbutton it, kissing him all the while. He returned the favor,
unbuttoning her blouse and expertly reaching behind her to pop the clasp on
her brassiere. She lowered her arms and let everything fall to the floor as he
caressed her small, firm breasts, feeling the jutting, conical nipples come
erect as he rolled them beneath his thumbs. She moaned as his hands teased
her, and she reached down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He broke
the kiss with a jerk of surprise as he felt her reach into his underwear and
firmly grasp his penis, fondling its length as it hardened.
"Too fast for you?" Her smile was teasing, challenging him. He
returned the smile casually, reaching down to unzip her jeans.
"Not at--" He tried to slip a hand into the front of her panties, to
punctuate the "all" with a finger on her clitoris, but they were too tight,
and they resisted his intrusion. He tried again, grunting, "Not at...." Still
no luck. "Not, rrrrrrrrRRRRR, NOT AT--"
Mary Magdalene broke away from him, laughing out loud. "Give it up!"
"RROWR!" He grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her back to the bed
and onto it, climbing on top of her and yanking down her jeans and panties
from her smoothly rounded hips. Taking only the barest second to admire her
thick tangle of black pubic hair and her beautiful, swollen vulva, he lowered
his face into the fragrant mass. "Not at alllllmmmmmmmmmm....."
"Ooohh," Mary Magdalene sighed. "Not at all! Mmmm, not at alllll...."
The next few minutes were a testimony to the Bandit's years of
practice. While Mary Magdalene sighed and slowly rocked her hips against his
busy mouth, her fingers running through his short hair, he quickly and
efficiently untied her sneakers, removed them, peeled off her socks, finished
removing her pants, undid his own boots, removed his own socks, and kicked his
own pants away into the corner of the room. He broke the oral embrace with a
long, slow kiss on her swollen clitoris, and kissed his way up her belly and
across her breasts to her neck, chin, ear, and finally her lips.
"Hey!" She said in mock surprise. "There's a naked man in my bed!"
"Really? Where?" He looked around suspiciously, making her laugh in
delight. "All I see is a naked woman...."
"Hmmmm," she smiled. "You know what I like about you?"
"Um, no. What?"
"We're about the same height," she said, getting up and gently pushing
him back onto his back on the bed. "So I can do this!" And with a quick swing
of her hips, she threw one thigh across his body and lowered her succulent
rump down onto the Bandit's surprised face. Suddenly drowning in pussy, he
could only moan into her labia as she gripped his penis firmly and began to
suck and pull on it.
The difference between Twink's selftaught, clumsy fellatio and Mary
Magdalene's expert technique was obvious in the first five seconds; her teeth
were never too rough on his sensitive skin, her lips were strong and her
suction demanding. He felt like she would suck his innards out through his
penis as she plunged her head effertlessly to the base of it and drew upward
like she was trying to get an entire milkshake into her mouth at once.
He reached down and fondled her breasts as she sucked him. "Howm vap?"
"Gmmmph," she responded with a throaty chuckle that he felt all the
way down the length of his shaft, and a sassy little wiggle of her ass across
his face. He alternated stimulating her with his lips, tongue, and nose, as
she sucked and pulled harder and harder on his schlong.
Suddenly, without warning, an orgasm sneaked up and swatted the Bandit
upside the proverbial head. His hips bucked and he managed a muffled "MMgd, M
CMNG!" as she swallowed jolt after jolt of thick, sticky semen, milking him
dry without spilling a drop.
"Yum," she breathed, pulling off of his wet, swollen member. "That
was a lovely starter...now I want to fuck you." She turned around and snuggled
down on the bed beside him, pumping vigorously on his penis, which felt like
it was about to come off.
"Uh, birth control?" The Bandit managed to get out.
"Huh? Oh, damn!" Mary Magdalene let go of him, frowning. "I forgot to
pack my diaphragm!"
"Uh, hold on a second, I'll be right back, sit tight, okay?" The
Bandit leaped off the bed, clanging his head against the upper bunk and
eliciting a half-laughed scream from Mary Magdalene, grabbed his bathrobe,
which barely covered his erection, and ran across the dorm room to the bedroom
where Conan lay snoring.
"Conan! Conan, wake up!" The Bandit's voice was a panicked hiss.
Conan didn't budge.
"Conan! For God's sake, wake up, PLEASE!"
"Hmm? Hmmph, whuzzza?"
"Condoms! Conan, where do you keep your condoms?"
"MMph, connmms?"
"YES! Where are they?"
"Desk dror'." Conan raised partly up off the bed and pointed at his
desk, then collapsed.
"Thanks!" The Bandit opened the desk, rummaged through it frantically,
and came up holding a treasure beyond price: a Trojan with spermicide lube.
Conan was already falling back asleep. "Whooyuh gnna fuk?"
The Bandit looked over at him, opened his mouth, closed it again, and
then grinned wickedly. He leaned over Conan and whispered, "Mary Magdalene."
"Oh. 'Snice...." Conan began to snore.
The Bandit came running back into his room, saying, "Sorry for the
delay, hope you haven't cooled down too much, let's see here...." He sat down
on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the condom wrapper nervously.
"Here, let me." Mary Magdalene deftly plucked the wrapper from his
hands, opened it with a gentle tear, and extracted the condom, tossing the
wrapper aside. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him soundly, as one
expert hand rolled the condom onto his penis in a snap. "Now get in here and
do it to me," she breathed.
"Uh, yes, ma'am," the Bandit gasped, feeling somewhat out of his
depth. He crawled on top of her, positioned the head of his cock at the
entrance to her vagina, and eased himself into her gently. He sighed and
relaxed on top of her as he felt himself bottom out in her pussy. "Okay?"
"Oh, more than okay! Mmmmm!" She held him tightly and sighed in
pleasure as he began to thrust rhythmically, in and out, in and out.
Coming twice in a short period of time isn't an easy feat. Coming
twice with the second time being wrapped in a condom is even harder. Two
hours, three rest breaks, and untold tiny orgasms for Mary Magdalene later,
the Bandit gave up and collapsed onto her with a grunt.
"No more," he gasped. "Please....I'm dead...."
"Oh, that's all right," Mary Magdalene said soothingly. "You felt
wonderful. I haven't come that often in ages! We'll try it again in the
morning. Sleep now, darling...."
"In the morning?" The Bandit rolled off of her, pulling off the
condom and groaning. "Oh, God, no!"
"We'll discuss it later," she whispered, silencing him with a kiss and
switching off the light by the bed. "Sleep well, Bandit."
But the Bandit was already asleep. It had been a LONG day....
PART 6: A mistake made, a mistake mended
October 1982
The tiny dorm singlet wasn't as large or spacious as the old quad, but
it only held one man and his belongings, so it didn't have to be much more
than cozy. The bed stretched from end to end of the narrow space, with barely
enough room on the walls for two of the Roger Deans, and there was only a
ratty old bathmat on the floor in place of Zero's Persian rug, but the wires
and cables festooning every spare inch of space and the speakers mounted on
the walls were a sure sign that this was the Bandit's home, unspoiled by
Zero's obsessive neatness. The lights were out and there was no sound in the
room save the muffled hum of music through a pair of headphones and the dry,
sandy whisper of an occasional word or disjointed phrase.
The Bandit was lying on his back on the rumpled bed, staring at the
ceiling as the music played on. It was "The Wall," the disheveled old tape
copy he'd played half to death in 1980 while mourning the loss of his last
high-school sweetheart. When he'd met Teenie, the tape had been gleefully
tossed into the back of his music crate and ignored for three years. But now
it was on again, and the Bandit found he remembered every word, every note.
A hastily scrawled letter lay on the desk by the bed, beige parchment
smeared with Mary Magdalene's careless script. He'd read it only once, but he
could quote its contents verbatim.
How dare you attempt to lay blame for what happened on me? How dare
you insinuate that the cruelty and misery I've been dragged through were all
my fault, and that you were some kind of a helpless victim? If you won't
accept kinder words, Bandit, then let me give it to you in your own unique
style: I do not want to be in any sort of relationship with you, ever again. I
deserve better than you, and I will not be dragged down to your level, and in
fact I think it better if we didn't even speak to one another again....
The Bandit's lips moved unconsciously, following the lyrics of the
tape. He couldn't hear himself with the headphones on, so he couldn't have
known that he was singing out loud, a hoarse, miserable croak that somehow
would have fit in with the music, had anyone been listening.
"Ooooh, babe, don't leave me now,
How could you go?
When you know how I need you, need you, need you, need you,
To put through the shredder in front of my friends,
Ooh BABE...."
The summer was gone, a lingering pink fog that contained two or three
months of his life, now gone forever, the details blurry. He'd been SO in love
with her.... quit his lab job back home to stay in Arcadia and sling hash,
just so they could be together, found a miserable little room to sublet in a
boarding house on the edge of town and made it their love nest, barely eight
feet from wall to wall but it held them, held their love all night every
night, a womb, a cocoon, an oasis....
"I love you."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"I love you."
Her breasts, slick with sweat and his saliva, slipping up and down the
length of his penis, her giggles as he expertly curved her diaphragm into a
perfect U-shape and slid it into her cunt, tickling her clit as he did, the
black, black fan of her long hair over his face as they slept, her head on his
shoulder....NO! Don't think of it, put it aside!
"Hey you, out there in the cold,
Getting lonely, getting old,
Can you feel me?"
When had it gone sour? The trip she took by herself to see that
concert when he couldn't get time off from work? The week he'd spent in bed
with the flu, when she didn't want to get infected? All he was sure of was
that when he'd returned in September, it was dead or dying. And he'd been the
one to deliver the deathblow--ENOUGH! DON'T THINK ABOUT IT!
"You better make your face up in your favorite disguise--"
It sprang into being unbidden, he couldn't hold it back any longer,
the night out in the lounge, him sitting alone, brooding and miserable, her
approaching timidly, a shaky smile--
"Can I rest my head on your shoulder?"
And then--why, why, WHY?-- that good old Bandit instinct:
"Wait a second. Let me note down the date, here."
"Sitting in a bunker, here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come...."
It wasn't fair. All of the wonderful things he'd felt over the summer
were so hazy, so hard to grasp and hold onto, but the next thirty seconds were
etched into his brain like glass oozing under spilled acid... Her look of
agonized shock, as if he'd driven a stake into her heart, her headlong flight
out the door and into the night, and Conan--CONAN, of all people!--
"Bandit, that was unquestionably the lowest shot I've ever seen."
And the rush of the freezing wind as he ran out after her--
"MaryMag, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"
"LEAVE ME ALONE, BANDIT, NOTHING YOU CAN SAY WILL DO MORE THAN HURT
ME, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"
And his forlorn wail in the night behind her as she ran:
"I LOVE YOUUUUUU!"
And then the cold meetings, his pleas for forgiveness, all the studied
cynicism coming back to haunt him...and finally the letter. That letter.
And there was nothing at all left to say.
The Bandit's eyes squeezed shut as a cry of utter agony echoed in his
ears, bringing the thunderous music to a crashing halt and leaving behind the
sad, sweet sound of a lone piano. A flood of tears began to pour down his
face, tears like he hadn't cried since the day they'd put Dad into the earth
and shovelled dirt on him, tears for the loss of something, of everything. And
he sang along with the tape, a plaintive wail that he didn't care who heard.
"STOP!
I wanna go home--
Take off this uniform and leave the show.
And I'm waiting in this cell because I have to know--
Have I been guilty all this time?"
In this cell. This tiny room, alone. No more music, no band, losing my
friends, failing school, alone, forgotten. I deserve it. I deserve it.
"Oh, God help me...."
The Bandit tossed the headphones away. He didn't want to hear the last
song, the one that hinted that there might be some hope left in his world. He
cried and cried, and at last he fell asleep.
November 1982
"Knock, knock! Can I come in?"
The Bandit looked up from his desk, startled, and pulled off his
headphones. He smiled and reached back to switch off the tape deck, saying,
"Sure, Twink. You're always welcome here."
"Thanks!" She came in and shut the door behind her, her cheeks flushed
with the cold wind outside, her smile bright. She came over and stood behind
the Bandit's chair, bending over to hug his shoulders and kiss his cheek.
"Hey," the Bandit said with a grin as he reached back behind him to
awkwardly return the hug, "What was that for?"
"Oh, I just felt like it," Twink replied breezily. She did a neat
little pirouette and fell laughing onto his bed, leaning back on the woolen
covers and smiling at him with a look that told him volumes. The autumn sun
shone in her honey-blonde hair, and the Bandit felt that familiar catch in his
breath whenever she was near him.
He put down his pen, and said, "Okay, okay, it's obvious I'm not going
to get any more grading done until you tell me what's on your mind. Did you
meet someone special over fall break, or something?"
She nodded eagerly, her lower lip caught pensively between her teeth.
"He's called the Paladin," she said with a dreamy smile. "We met at a Dark Age
Society Revel back home...."
"A WHAT?" The Bandit slapped his forehead. "Oh, Twink, you DIDN'T!"
"Didn't what?" She frowned at him in sudden worry. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," he replied disgustedly, grimacing. "Just bad memories,
that's all. The DAS and I have kind of a feud going on in my home town, and I
do my best to stay away from them. But," he added more solicitously, "Some of
them are very nice people, I must admit...."
"He's WONDERFUL!" Her voice was practically quivering. "He was so
romantic, and so sweet and gentle....We're going to be married!"
The Bandit's jaw dropped. "Married?"
"YES! He proposed, and I said I'd have to think it over, and he said I
could take as long as I wanted because he'd wait forever for me! Oh, Bandit,
I'm so HAPPY!"
The Bandit shook his head with a smile. "Well, if you're happy, I'm
happy, sweetheart. I just hope he takes good care of you, that's all."
"Oh, he did, all right." Her smile was playfully wicked now.
That sat the Bandit back in his chair more than the marriage proposal.
He asked in a faint whisper, "You mean he...You and he...?"
"Uh-huh!" There were almost tears in her eyes. "I'm so glad I waited
for just the right time, Bandit! It was beautiful, and it didn't hurt at all!
I didn't even bleed, or anything! He was just, just GRAND!"
"Wow." The Bandit scratched his head in a daze. "I, uh, don't know
what to say, I, um...wow."
"Oh, c'mon, Bandit! I've never seen you at a loss for words before!"
Twink leaned forward and gently stroked the Bandit's cheek. "Are you jealous?"
"Well, uh...." He looked into space for a moment, a thoughtful frown
on his face, then gave a short, sharp nod. "Yes, dammit! I am, I guess. I know
I don't have a right to be, but you're just so important to me, I kind of have
trouble with the idea of you jumping in the sack with a guy you barely know
and coming out engaged!"
"Oh, no," she grinned, shaking her head. "I went IN engaged. I was
very clear on that point when we first met on Monday, when he asked me for the
first time to spend the night. And he said it was okay, and he didn't hassle
me or anything, and we spent the whole week together and we were so happy and
then he asked me to marry him and I--" She paused, out of breath, hands waving
in the air. "I just feel like FLYING!"
The Bandit watched her emote, his eyebrows puckered into a forbidding
glower. As she finished, he carefully composed himself, his expression
neutral. "Did he give you an engagement ring?"
"Uh, no, not yet," Twink sighed. "He didn't have the money, and we
didn't see anything we really liked at the DAS jewelry booths...."
"Uh-huh." The Bandit nodded sagely.
"He couldn't even find a nice ring with Guinevere helping, and she
knows ALL the best jewelers at the Revel! So we decided we could wait for the
PERFECT ring."
"Who's Guinevere?"
"His girlfriend," Twink said easily. "Ex-girlfriend, I mean. She was
really sweet about the whole thing, she said that he and she needed a little
space from one another and that she understood perfectly." She giggled. "She
even promised to keep him out of trouble for me while I was gone."
"I'll just bet she did." The Bandit's lips pursed grimly.
"Oh, lighten up, Bandit!" Twink gave him a playful shove. "I know
they're going to be together while I'm here, but it's okay...I trust him, and
he trusts me! We can have friends and people with us and still be true...."
"Uh-huh," the Bandit said drily.
"You seem skeptical," Twink said throatily, leaning forward and
giving the Bandit a good look down the front of her blouse. His eyebrows
raised. Since when has she started wearing red silk underwear? "That'd be a
real shame, considering the real reason I came over here...."
"Oh? And what was that?" He was only half listening to her, trying to
get his mind off of the impressive cleavage that was closer to him than it'd
been in half a year.
"To fuck your brains out," Twink sighed, grabbing the Bandit by the
hair and pulling him out of his chair and onto the bed with her. "I figured
that now that I'm not saving myself any more, I could at least give you a
taste of what you were decent enough not to demand when we were dating...."
The Bandit allowed himself approximately two seconds of guilt over
forgetting the lonely torch he'd been carrying for Mary Magdalene for the past
month or six, and over the prospect of boinking another man's fiancee. Then he
gave the mental equivalent of a shrug, and kissed Twink as hard as he could. I
am but the slave of fickle Fate, he decided philosophically. If she's set on
expressing our friendship in such a, a, a UNIQUE fashion, then who'm I to
argue? YIPPEE! I don't know who you are, Paladin, but thanks a HEAP!
He had almost forgotten what a wonderful body Twink had. Memories from
the dim past A. M. (Ante Magdalenus) came flooding back as he kicked his
sneakers off and pulled off her shoes and socks, never pausing to break the
incredible kiss they were sharing. His pants followed, then hers, then his
underwear and his shirt, then her blouse.
She broke the kiss, panting, and pushed him away for a moment. He sat
back against his pillow, buck naked and hard as a rock, and she ran a hand
down his chest and stomach as she arched her back and purred at him, a coy
smile on her face as she flexed her muscles and proudly threw her breasts
forward, straining against the clinging red fabric.
"You like?"
"Si, I like."
"Muchas gracias, senor," she laughed, sliding a finger down into her
cleavage. There was a tiny click, and the invisible front closure of the bra
sprang apart, leaving her breasts jiggling gently with each heaving breath.
She tossed the bra away, and slid her hands down her hips, peeling away the
matching red silk panties to reveal her lush golden curls of pubic down.
"Now for a snack I've really missed," she chuckled, diving her head
down into his crotch. His lap vanished into a sun-kissed golden waterfall of
hair, and he dimly heard, "It tastes so gooommmmmmmmmmm...."
"Oh, God!" The Bandit's eyes actually crossed. "Easy, Twinkles, easy!
I appreciate your, urk, enthusiasm, but you're, ooch, you're biting me!"
"Oh, am I?" She sank her teeth into the base of his dong with a laugh.
"YIKES! GENTLY, WOMAN!"
"Hmmmm," she grinned, "Maybe I should let you put it someplace where I
don't have any teeth." She crawled up onto him, kissing his lips and pumping
on his penis with a tightly gripped fist.
"Whoa! Whoa, time out, here!" The Bandit pushed her away gently.
"What's wrong?" She stopped, puzzled.
"Gotta get a condom," the Bandit explained, pulling a foil wrapper out
from under a pile of papers on his desk. Thank God I had a couple left from
before MaryMag (who? never heard of her. HAH!) started on the diaphragm, he
thought, tearing open the package and rolling the cold latex onto his shaft
with a grimace.
"Oh, that looks so terribly uncomfortable, dear," Twink said with a
shake of her head. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Yeah," the Bandit laughed, pulling her on top of him, "Help me warm
it up, it's cold!"
"EEEEK! It IS cold," Twink laughed, feeling the cool, slick invader
between her moist thighs. "Help me, Bandit...I'm not good at this yet...."
"My pleasure," he smiled, guiding his tool between her juicy labia and
feeling gently for the entrance to her cunt. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Hey, you've still got your hymen! No wonder you didn't bleed!"
"Really?" Twink looked down at herself in perplexity. "Why didn't it
break?"
"Yours is ring-shaped, sweetheart," he explained, rubbing the tip of
his penis gently over the point in question. "It may have just stretched
rather than torn, that's all."
"Oh. Well, let's see what you can do with it!" And with that, Twink
swiftly and surely lowered her full weight down onto the Bandit's hips.
For a long minute, she just sat there, her body swaying back and forth
and her head thrown back as she gasped and panted at the feel of it. The
Bandit was in heaven, feeling the moist heat and clasping strength of her
untried young pussy even through the triply-accursed condom. Slowly he began
to buck his hips up and down on the mattress, pumping in and out of her hole.
Twink matched his rhythm, stroke for stroke, levering her whole body
up onto her knees and slamming herself down on his rod with all of her might.
He reached up and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and rolling her huge
nipples in his fingers as she bucked and tossed on him, grunting and moaning.
Twink grabbed his hands and held them tightly to her breasts as she
screamed, "Oh! OH, GOD! I'M CUH, UH, UH, UH, AHHHHHH!" The feel of her cunt
contracting spasmodically about his penis was too much for the Bandit to bear,
and he grunted and heaved upward against her, semen spurting from him in
torrents. She collapsed atop him, sobbing, as he relaxed back against the
pillow with a groan.
"Oh, Bandit, I love you! I'll love you forever, you're my best friend
in the whole world, I missed you so, I'll make you so happy...."
"Shhhhh, sweetheart, it's okay, I love you. I never stopped loving
you. What you've given me is so special, I, I just wnat to hold you. Shhhh,
please don't cry...."
"C-can't help it, you kn-know that...it feels s-so GOOD...." She
hugged him fiercely and wept into his hair, her body shaking with the
aftershocks of her orgasm and her cunt spasmodically squeezing his shrinking
rod. "I felt you, I actually FELT you come in me! Even through the rubber, I
felt it, it was like molten FIRE, oh GOD, I LOVE you!"
"Shhhh...Shhhhhh...."
Outside, the setting sun slowly turned the air in the room to gold.
It was night, the sky dark and the room almost as dark. The prison
cell's become a love nest again, the Bandit thought with a weary happiness.
What did I do to deserve someone like Twink? Thank you, God. I let her go
once; I won't make the same mistake again, I promise.
"Mmmmm...Bandit, are you awake?"
He smiled at her languid, sleepy whisper in the dark.
"Yes," he said. "I'm glad to have you back, Twinkles."
"For a while, anyway," Twink said with a practical tone he'd never
heard her use before. "I still have the Paladin to go back to, and you'll
leave Arcadia in May and never come back. But for now, we have each other. And
that's okay, isn't it?"
He hugged her hard, feeling the agony of loss mixed with the weary
knowledge that she was right. It was that tiny, cold voice again, the one that
saw the future; he knew his promise was utterly empty. But I'll make her happy
anyway, he vowed. Even if she can't be mine, at least she can be happy for a
while....
"Yes," he said. "Yes, it is. More than okay."
"Hey!" Her questing, sleepy hand had found his limp, dry penis.
"Where'd the rubber go?"
"I took it off after you fell asleep and I pulled out of you, dear.
It's dangerous to leave it in if you get soft; it can slip off."
"Oh." She giggled. "Things were sure a lot easier the first time!"
His entire body stiffened. Concerned, she looked up at him, and could
just make out the furious glare on his face.
"What's wrong?"
"Twink," he said carefully, "What did you do for birth control?"
"Oh, don't worry," Twink replied brightly. "Is that all? You had me
worried for a second there, looking all sour like that! No, he took care of
everything!"
"Be more specific," the Bandit said darkly.
"Well, I couldn't get pregnant if he pulled out in time, right?"
The Bandit's left hand, of its own accord, leaped off of his knee and
slapped his forehead so hard it left a red mark. "Aw, TWINK! JESUS CHRIST!"
"What's the matter?" Her smile was gone now.
"Withdrawal isn't any good as a form of birth control!" His next
phrase, 'Anyone with any sense knows that' or something similar, got pulled
and dumped before reaching his mouth. Twink doesn't HAVE any sense, idiot, he
reminded himself angrily. Or any education, or any experience.
More calmly, he explained, "A man secretes more than enough sperm
cells to impregnate a woman just by penetration. He doesn't have to have an
orgasm-- Hell, he doesn't have to be IN you to knock you up! Don't you
remember how I'd never come anywhere near your pubes when we were going
together? Only in your mouth or your hand or on your tummy? Twink, I did it
for a reason!"
Twink was looking shamefacedly down at the pillow. He gently lifted
her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye, and whispered, "Don't be
upset, you couldn't have known. And if HE'S from Bumfuck, North Dakota, like
you were, maybe he didn't know any better, either. When's your period due?"
She bit her lip. "Not for a long time, now. I stopped bleeding right
before the Revel began."
"Good!" The Bandit sighed in relief. "You wouldn't have ovulated yet,
with any luck, so maybe you got away with it this once. But PROMISE me
something, Twink! Never, never make love with him again if you don't have some
kind of real birth control handy! If he's not repsonsible enough to wear a
condom, then YOU have to be protected, with the Pill or a diaphragm or
SOMETHING!" He shook his head. "And you should probably make that snake in the
grass wear a condom, anyway, just so you don't catch anything."
"Bandit!" Twink looked outraged, or at least as outraged as she ever
could manage. "Don't you talk about him like that!"
"He nearly got you pregnant, Twink! What the hell would YOU call him!"
And I love you too much to tell you that I heartily doubt he's really planning
on marrying you just yet, kid, he added angrily to himself. One shock at a
time.
"Look," he said gently, "I'll meet him someday, and I'll get to know
him before I judge him. But you have to admit he hasn't made a very good
impression to start out with."
"I suppose not," she said unwillingly. Then, softly: "Bandit?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Will you come to our wedding?"
He hugged her as hard as he could. "Of course, kid. Of course."
PART 7: Making music, of various sorts
January 1983
The Bandit rolled over languidly in bed, yawning and stretching. He
scratched his balls idly, then winced at a sudden stab of pain. Ouch, dammit,
he thought wearily. Must've been sleeping on my stomach or something. Feels
like my balls went and took a hike for the exercise!
Beside him, Twink rolled over, kicking the blankets aside, and arched
her body back with a loud yawn. The Bandit idly watched her move, luxuriating
in the sight of her limber, gorgeous form. She saw him looking at her, smiled,
and with no effort at all bent her body so far back that a quick bend of the
knees was all it took to plant the soles of both feet on the top of her head.
"That's incredible," the Bandit whispered. "How can you DO that?"
"Mmmmm, it's easy if you stay in shape," Twink said, relaxing. She
shuffled sideways a bit, and eased herself down onto the Bandit, her breasts
gently teasing the sparse hair around his nipples. "I love waking up with your
come leaking out of me, darling...."
"Hmmm," he smiled. "Sorry I couldn't oblige, last night."
"What do you mean, couldn't oblige?" Twink slid a hand down the center
of her back and between her rounded, smooth buttocks. It came out wet and
slick with clear fluid. She held it up to his nose, and he sniffed at it
experimentally, frowning. "It sure seems that way to me!"
"Huh." The Bandit scratched his stubbled chin. "But we didn't make
love last night!" His frown deepened. "Did we?"
"Mmmm, I think you fucked me while I was asleep," Twink giggled. "I
had the most delicious dreams." Her slick hand wrapped around his
half-hardened penis and began to pump up and down. He winced and pulled her
hand away.
"Ow! Yeah, yeah, all right, it sure feels like it." He shook his head.
"I just can't remember doing it, that's all. I sleep like a log, usually."
"Bandit," Twink giggled, nuzzling his cheek, "Are you trying to tell
me that you were fucking me in your sleep? I've heard of sleepwalking, but
never 'sleepfucking'!"
He laughed at the ludicrousness of the idea, but there was a note of
uncertainty in the laugh. What the hell was I dreaming about, he wondered. It
must've been the pizza again. When will I ever learn?
"Too fast, too fast!" The Sloth held up a hand and waved the others to
silence. "Turn the tempo down, Bandit!"
"But you just told me to turn it up!"
"Oh, SHIT!" The Sloth got up from his electric piano and began to pace
angrily. "Man, this is NOT going to work...."
"The music's gotta breathe," Zero said quietly. "Machines don't
breathe. That's the problem, right there."
"I know that, dammit!" The Sloth switched off the rhythm box and sat
back down at the keyboard stack. "We naturally follow one another, but the
machine just keeps on going its own merry way. No tempo changes, no buildup of
tension, no laying back on quiet stretches...."
"No attitude problems," the Bandit snapped at him. "No showing up late
for practice, no tuning up while we're trying to work, no lugging three drum
cases and a trap set up five flights of stairs, no threats to leave us high
and dry if we don't put up with infantile behavior!"
"All right, all RIGHT!" The Sloth yelled. "WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!"
"Take five to cool off, you two," Zero said, taking off his guitar.
"You're both getting too steamed to think, much less play."
The Bandit and the Sloth both glared at him. The Bandit suddenly broke
into a sheepish grin, and the Sloth shook his head, smiling. He got up from
the piano again, stretching, and stalked slowly out of the room, saying, "I'm
going to go get a drink of water. Be right back."
The Bandit watched him go, his huge bulk rolling gently from side to
side like a battleship in heavy seas. "He's got a lot going for him," he said
quietly. "I wish I had my act together as well as he does when I was a
freshman."
"Yeah, well, we've been saying we needed a keyboardist for a long
while now," Zero replied. "He's got good taste, good hands, and a pretty fair
setup." He looked coolly at the Bandit. "I think we were lucky to find him."
"Oh, I agree," the Bandit nodded. "HE isn't the problem. The problem
is that little box over there...." He pointed at the rhythm machine. "We just
can't work with it. He's right, and I know he's right. And he knows I know
he's right. And I know he knows I know he's right."
"Yes, but does HE know that?" Zero grinned.
"Yep, I do," replied the Sloth, coming back into the room. He wiped a
forearm across his mouth, and said, "The water fountain's right outside. If
you guys want to talk about me behind my back, you should close the door
first."
The Bandit sighed. "Geez, you can't even compliment a guy without
getting into hot water!"
"Life's tough," Zero agreed. "Seriously, though, I think it's about
time we admitted we were in trouble. We've been trying to rehearse for nearly
two months now, and without a drummer things just aren't coming together."
The Bandit looked belligerent for a few seconds, and then deflated,
sitting down on his stool and cradling his bass on his lap. "You're right," he
groaned. "I know I'm gonna hate myself in the morning for admitting it, but
you guys are right. We need a drummer. But where the hell are we gonna find
one?"
"Good question," the Sloth answered without rancor. "I am but a lowly
freshman. Tell me, O Great Senior and Junior friends of mine, where does one
go to get drummers around here?"
Zero smiled without mirth. The Bandit looked grim.
"Wrong question, huh?"
"You know it, Sloth," the Bandit said humorlessly. "Drummers are a
rare commodity in Arcadia. Every band that tries to get off the ground needs
one, and the ones who are good enough to play generally have to fill in on
three or four different bands. They're in demand, so they get away with
murder. Man, I miss Livewire!"
"He's the guy that beat up the entire Security Squad last year,
right?" The Sloth looked a bit queasy. "WONDERFUL guy."
"He was, actually," Zero interjected mildly, cutting off the Bandit's
angry retort. "Enthusiastic, well-equipped, and all ours. Nobody else could
get decent results out of him, but with the Bandit in control he was a real
pistol."
"So we're back to Square One," the Sloth sighed. "We need a drummer.
We're screwed without one. And there are none to be had. Now what?"
The Bandit got up and walked slowly to the door. "End of rehearsal,"
he said quietly. "I need to brainstorm."
February 1983
"So, I hear you guys are going to be doing some concerts eventually,"
Starch said casually, sipping his Coke to wash down the last bit of dessert.
"Eventually," The Sloth agreed. "Once we can find a drummer, that is."
"A drummer? Ooh, bad news," Starch said, shaking his head
sympathetically. "Good luck. You guys are gonna need it."
"Thanks," Zero said quietly, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. The
lunchtime crowd in Scum Central was just beginning to thicken into the
critical mass that always seemed to center around twelve noon, with tables
filling up rapidly and knots of people collecting and breaking apart like
streams of bubbles in a swift river.
"I'd loan you Buckshot, but, well, he's booked solid," Starch grinned.
The Bandit scowled at that; Buckshot, widely considered the best drummer in
Arcadia, was a hot property, and Starch had him all to himself. The first time
they'd played together to see what each other could do, Starch and Buckshot
had gotten along famously, leaving the Bandit out in the cold with the quiet
kid with the fast hands and the big beak. He made it a point not to complain,
since he and Zero had been friends ever since, but getting one's nose rubbed
in one's troubles was a common risk in talking with Starch, who seemed to
thrive on other people's misfortunes.
"No, thanks," the Bandit said acidly, "I'd hate to pull the one good
musician you've got out of your greasy little hands, Starchy."
"Not the only one," Starch said smoothly. "Slats is easily as good a
bassist as you are, I'm not impressed by what I've heard this new kid of yours
play, and as for guitar, well, our new guitarist can work miracles!"
"Very fun--" The Bandit stopped dead. He looked at Starch narrowly.
"Work miracles?"
"Yep," Starch grinned. "Your loss is my gain, Bandit. The Rainbow
Wizard, the best damn rhythm stylist in this school and a dynamite voice!"
"You backstabbing shitpile," the Bandit hissed, standing up.
"Cool, Bandit," Zero said. "We don't need the Wiz, you know that."
"No, you don't," Starch said. "What you need is a drummer, and with
that pathetic sicko Livewire off in a padded cell somewhere--"
The Bandit took two swift steps to Starch's side.
"You touch me, you're expelled from Arcadia," Starch said casually,
not looking up as he picked his teeth with a fingernail. "School rules."
The Bandit just stood there, seething.
"You know your problem, Bandit?"
"Why don't you tell me, you fudgepacker?"
"Your problem," Starch drawled, leaning back in his chair and looking
boredly up at the fuming young man beside him, "Is that you know what you
want, but you don't have the wherewithal to get it. You scrape together a few
puny victories, and stand on them like a turtle on a rock, crowing about how
great you are. Zero! This Sloth kid! Big fucking deal! It took you two and a
half years to assemble this lineup, and you've got less than four months to
make your mark before you're out of here. Where are you going to get a
drummer, huh? You don't even know where to look!"
"When we had Livewire, we blew the doors off your crummy crew," Zero
whispered tightly.
"Did you? He couldn't play half of what Buckshot can! And you never
had a keyboardist, even with Zero bonking the best pianist in Arcadia, 'cause
she wouldn't be caught dead in the same room as the Bandit! Pitiful." He
looked up at the Bandit, relishing each word. "You are going to be in my
shadow for the rest of your time here. Deal with it."
The Bandit just stood there, trembling with anger.
"You can't get what you need, much less what you want," Starch
continued gaily. "Not here, not anywhere. I get what I want, Bandit. I sat
through the Wiz's stupid speeches on miracles and healing power to get myself
a vocalist who could rival you, I set up Buckshot like a king to have a rhythm
section I could rely on, and I'm going to be playing shows while you're still
trying to find a drummer." He whirled in his chair suddenly, cocking a finger
behind him. "You see that girl over there?"
The Bandit followed his gaze to a nearby table, where a group of
freshmen were sitting and chatting, most of them girls. The young women were
all attractive, but one stood out: a wide-shouldered girl with a long fall of
silky brown hair, a cherubic round face, and what promised to be a delectable
body under a demure white blouse and long skirt. She chatted and gesticulated
vivaciously with the others, bursting with energy and life.
"What about her," the Bandit whispered.
"She doesn't know I exist yet," Starch said mildly. "But I've scoped
her out. She's called Blitz, and she's going to be my girlfriend."
"Just like that," the Sloth sneered.
"Yup," Starch shrugged. He looked from the Bandit, to Zero, to the
Sloth. "I'm going to get up from this table. I'm going to leave you losers
behind. And I'm going to go over there and start talking to her. And she's
going to like me. A lot. I'm an upperclassman, with a band, and lots of
interesting things to talk about. I'll start simple. Ask her to a movie or
something. Then maybe a date at the Union, in the Clean Room or the Burger
Bar. And so on." He looked over at Zero, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"She won't have a chance."
"Nope," Zero agreed, his grin widening.
"Not a chance," the Sloth said with a placid smile.
Starch looked from one to the other, his smirk dissolving into a
frown. He turned around, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Across the room, the other young ladies were whispering to one another
excitedly as the Bandit, wearing his best smile, pulled up a chair beside
Blitz and began chatting with her.
"Excuse me...."
"Yes?"
"Could I speak with you a moment, miss?"
"Certainly. What can I do for you?"
"Uh, nothing, actually. Other than look like you're enjoying my
company, that is. Do you mind?"
"Well, it sounds intriguing, that's for sure. What's going on?"
"There's a guy at a table behind you who thinks he's God's gift to
women, who's telling everyone how he's going to come over here and sweep you
off your feet. Any second now, he's going to turn around and see us, and if
you look like you're enjoying my company, I hope it'll teach him a lesson