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Cougar Bait's Book: One Page At A Time

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Chapter Two




I really should go back to where it all began for both of us. Wakefield College in 1981 was our introduction to everything our parents had tried to keep from us for so long. And just as hard as they tried to shield us from the world, it was inevitable, like everything else is inevitable. Change just happens. When youre not looking, when youre planning next years Christmas budget, or mowing your lawn, it creeps up on you like a web of dandelions on your welcome mat. Welcome to change, its scarier than you ever imagined. I think its really amazing how differently people deal with change.

Wake up. Wake up you filthy mother fucker, wake up! I screamed in Wesleys ear as he twitched back and forth still recovering from a hangover the night before.

College life has its effects in New England the same as it does in any part of the country. Its mostly a blur of kegs, sex, opulence, and research papers. Luckily the first three played a much larger role in our collegiate career than did the later. I mean, I can remember almost every time I got laid, but cant recall much, if any significant part, of the many works cited which I plagiarized throughout my stint in Wakefield. It had its high points I suppose, the scantily clad women, the availability of hallucinogens, and Miss St. Clair. She was the history professor at Wakefield and made our founding fathers lives much more interesting. I mean, she had a waiting list for fucks sake. She would wear these low cut black skirts with white blouses buttoned down showing just enough cleavage to make you notice. I cant think of a guy I knew who didnt dream of having just one night with Miss St Clair.

Were gonna miss first period if you dont get up. I feel like your god damn mother sometimes, you know that? I walked into the bathroom as Wesley turned over to get another ten minutes in before class. It was the same routine every day. Go to class. Find a party. Get drunk in our room because there was nothing going on. Stumble around the lobby still looking for a party. Come back, drink another six pack before bed. Sleep off the hangover. Get to first period twenty minutes late because Wesleys dumb ass cant get out of bed.
 
Besides the going to class part, this sounds awesome!

Find a party. Get drunk in our room because there was nothing going on. Stumble around the lobby still looking for a party. Come back, drink another six pack before bed. Sleep off the hangover. Get to first period twenty minutes late because Wesley’s dumb ass can’t get out of bed.
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“You know, someday when we’re old and gray you’re going to thank me for making your life interesting!” Wesley shouted as I stepped out of the bathroom. We were already 5 minutes late. This shit never ends.

“Yeah, and maybe then you can pay me back for all the first period classes I’ve had to drop on account of the fact that you were too god damn lazy to get out of bed at eight.” I said as I tied my shoes and headed out the door. “Hey, I’ll tell Miss St. Clair you’re late because you were up all night jerking off to that Polaroid you took of her getting into her car!” I knew that would piss him off. He was real sensitive about shit like that, like we were all supposed to believe that he never shocked the monkey. Let me tell you a plain old fact. Any man who does not have a woman he is sleeping with is jerking off almost everyday, maybe more than once. If he tells you any different he has a severe inferiority complex.

“Oh, yeah right, you know I’m not into that stuff. I like the real thing. You don’t have the balls to do it anyway. Hey! maybe you’re just jealous because Sidney likes me and not you. Maybe you should stop playing the role of sausage handler and try the real deal once…maybe you’d sleep a little better!” Wesley snapped as he stepped out of the shower. Sidney was this ditsy sophomore Wesley had been seeing for almost a month with no results. And Wesley was all about results. Well, as far as relationships and sex were concerned. As far as getting to first period was concerned he wasn’t real worried.

Our schedule freshman year at Wakefield consisted mostly of classes like Introduction to Glass Blowing, or my favorite, Human Diseases. If you’ve ever used a public bathroom do not take this class. You’ll be carrying a bottle of bleach spray with you to the grocery store. It’s really an exercise in paranoia. This year was different though. It was the year that you should be comfortable with your surroundings and working on figuring out exactly what you would like to do for the rest of your life. What pressure. I mean, it has to be within the realm of your capacity, that is to say don’t study to be a brain surgeon if you failed your frog dissection. Another thing is you want to be somebody, you know. Everyone’s had that bad dream where you’re at the class reunion and you get dropped off by Ralph your co-worker at the sanitation plant. I don’t know. Sometimes you just have to stop everything you’re doing and say, “What the fuck?!”

Miss St. Clair was handing back papers from the last assignment, in which she asked us to assume the role of someone from American history and describe what it was they did that changed life as we live it today. I decided on Lee Harvey Oswald. I don’t think she was too impressed since she wrote at the top in large red marker “Depressing, morbid, and dependent!” I totally understood depressing and morbid. Hell, they’re two of my favorite words. I didn’t quite get dependent. I decided that even though I did poorly on the paper I would stay after class and ask her about it.
 
“Excuse me, Miss St. Clair?” I said as my voice nearly broke in half. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes Lenny, what is it?” she spoke as the words poured out of her mouth. I edged my way around her desk so I could get a better view. God, if this wasn’t worth the price of admission I don’t know what was.

“I was just wondering, about what you wrote on the top of my paper. I understand what you mean. Maybe JFK’s assassin wasn’t the brightest choice for the subject of my report, but what did you mean when you wrote that it was dependent?” I said as I tried to look her in the eyes until she looked away. I’ve noticed this is a good tactic to use when trying to invoke a certain response. It gives you a feeling of power.

She fumbled around her desk nervously, as if something was bothering her. Her face was flush and her eyes looked weary, like she had been up for hours. The clock on the wall showed 10:15 and the minutes ticked by slowly as she drew her head up to respond. I could feel the pressure of her thighs as they gave way when she turned her chair. Something had to give, and I was hoping it would be her nylons.

“Oswald is dependent because his fame and contributions to society are based solely on the achievements of another individual,” she said as she turned her head back down in an act of dismissal.

I wanted to respond, but I really don’t think anything I had to say would have made a difference. I was almost late for my next class, and at this rate I was going to win the Tardy Award for 1981. Which of course, I would have to share with Wesley since he was the one who made all of it possible. Still, as I walked to my film class, I couldn’t help but think of Miss St. Clair and what may have been troubling her. Did she have a fight with an old ex-boyfriend? Maybe she was pregnant. Maybe she was pregnant with her ex-boyfriends bastard child. I guess I’ll never know. Someone knows though. It would be nice to know what people are thinking. To know when you’re getting introduced to your girlfriend’s parents for the first time if they’re saying inside, “God where did she dig this one up from?” or “How does she ever expect to get anywhere in life when she dates janitors?” Hopefully they don’t think that. All you can do is hope.

Nighttime around Wakefield was spent one of two ways. Drinking or working. Sometimes both, however it’s not a combination I would suggest. That night as Wesley strolled through the lobby of our dorm I could see that I wasn’t going to get much working done. So, I abandoned all thoughts of homework and went straight to the bottle. I know it might be hard to believe but liquor was really easy for us to get. Our neighbor across the hall was 27 and he had been at Wakefield for 8 years, and it wasn’t because he was trying for his masters or anything. Teddy Tesky stood 6 feet 4 inches tall and was a wall of mass near 300 pounds. He ate the way some people sleep. For hours. I thought about timing him once, but figured I had better things to do than time Teddy while he ate bratwurst. He was a fat slob of a man, and I have to say wasn’t much of a ladies man, but he could get us beer. It’s interesting the reasons people find to include others. It was a bit of a necessity. And as necessities go, this one goes down as one of the big three. You know, eat, sleep, and drink. I’ve decided to replace shelter because I’d rather be drunk in a box than sober anywhere else.
 
Wesley smiled as he strode down the hall, “You ready to get shit faced little man? I know Teddy’s got a case with your name on it.”

“Sure,” I said in an act of acceptance. Sometimes you can see right through me. Maybe I ask for sympathy, but maybe I just want you to feel worse than I do. I want to bring you down with me if the boat has a leak.

“What’s your problem? Miss St. Clair catch you looking up her skirt again?” Wesley barked as we made our way up the stairs and into the hallway. “I’ve got something to lift your spirits man. I called Sidney and asked her to bring a girlfriend over with her tonight. I guess she’s in one of Sidney’s classes and they both live on the same floor over there at Traber Hall.”

“I don’t know man. I don’t like being set-up like that. You know I’m not good in situations where I’m expected to perform. Maybe she will be gorgeous and I won’t know what to say or do. You know I have that drooling problem. I don’t want it to get messy,” I said as I put my books away for the night. I tried not to think about all the work I should be doing and thought about something to wear.

“You’ll be fine. They’ll be here in about an hour and a half so you have plenty of time. Wear that new yellow v-neck sweater you just picked up. All you’ll have to do is smile and say hello and she’ll be all over you,” Wesley said with tones of sarcasm. Like his closet was any better. It was littered with cashmere, polyester pants, white wing-tips, and countless pastel polos.

I decided on a brown and white stripped shirt and my favorite pair of white jeans. I got the look form an episode of Three’s Company I saw last year. Jack Tripper was a legend in his own time. He deserves an award or something.

I picked out a few records to set the right mood for the evening. Thumbing through I came across an old Marvin Gaye record that I quickly pulled for just the right moment. I also decided on Blondie, The Talking Heads, and Eric Clapton. Picking the right music can definitely give you an upper hand. I stepped into the kitchen to notice we had pretty much nothing to eat. The refrigerator was littered with half-used condiments, orange juice, and half a bottle of whiskey. The whiskey reminded me that I needed to pay Teddy a little visit.
 
Hey Wesley, I need some dough for the beer. How much do we need? I shouted into the next room. He was still primping in front of the mirror.

I dont know. Sidneys isnt a big drinker, but I dont know about her friend. Just get two cases. If its not enough well make cocktails with whatevers left in the fridge, Wesley said as he groomed himself incessantly. Just grab some money out of my wallet. Its on the dresser next to my SAT scores. He was so damn proud of his SAT scores he framed them and hung them up on the wall like a trophy. I grabbed his wallet as I stared at his impressive scores. Its amazing what people determine is important in life. Its really just a sheet of paper with some ink printed on it. I mean, when it all comes down to it do you flash your lifes achievements on a billboard for everyone to observe? I guess when modesty is overcome by cheap cologne, catchy one-liners, and the sound of Duran Duran echoing through the hallway walls I will understand.

I made my way through the living room and out the door to the opposite side of the hall. Unidentifiable noise rattled through Teddys walls like the hissing of an old tire. I knew he was home, so I knocked a few more times, each turn becoming louder and louder until I was beating on the door, feeling the hollow emptiness of cheap wood give way with each blow.

Lenny! To what do I owe this unexpected visit? Teddy shouted as a distorted guitar riff rang in the background underneath his voice.

Come on man, Ive only been coming over three times a week for what is it, over a year now? You know what I need. Ive got money I just need you to pick me up something. Wesley and I have girls coming over and we need a mild sedative to calm their nerves and hopefully get them drunk before they realize we were exactly what their mothers warned them about, I said as I stumbled over empty bags of chips and cereal boxes that littered the floor.

I wish I could help you man, but I have no means of transport, Teddy said as he reached in the cupboard. My wheels are grounded. I know someone who could help you out, but he wont be home until around eight or so.

Are you fucking around man, because this isnt funny. I really need you to come through for me here. I havent even met this girl yet and Ive already let her down. Do you have anything here, you know, until your friend gets back? I said as a hint of desperation ran through my voice.

Yeah, well Ive got something, but its not alcohol or anything. This is something they dont sell at your corner liquor store. I dont really think it suits you though man, maybe you should just wait until later, Teddy smirked as he turned around heading toward his stereo.
 
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