Soundtrack: Honky Tonk Women---The Rolling Stones
[via FoxyTunes / The Rolling Stones]
Bill recognized all the signs of attempted seduction, but he had to admit that Pat's approach was much more original — and more effective — than the come-ons he'd earlier fended off so successfully from the sexed-up undergrads at his party! He made up his mind: this had to stop.
He stood up suddenly, setting down his soda can and said, "Pat, where's the nearest bathroom? I mean that men can use."
Pat laughed. "Hmm... tough one. There's a guest toilet on the first floor, near the living room. You could go there, but you might run into someone... and I guess that'd be awkward for you, wouldn't it? Then each floor's got a group bathroom with showers and toilet stalls. At this hour, most of them are probably empty. I could go out and check the one down the hall and then stand guard... Bill, what do you want to do?"
Bill wasn't at all sure. Actually, the really smart thing for him to do would be to leave altogether, to just go home, get away before something seriously destructive happened. But, how could he just walk out on Pat when she'd asked him to help her out...even though, now Bill was thinking that had just been a ploy to seduce him.
Pat was smiling. "Bill, which one? Downstairs or this floor?"
"I think I'd better try the downstairs. I think I'd have an easier time explaining my presence in the guest bathroom than in the girls' group bathroom." But, he was actually thinking that the downstairs bathroom was closer to the front door and that maybe he'd figure out a good excuse to leave once he was down there.
"Sure, Bill. Let's go. I'll walk you down."
Pat stood up and began walking toward the door. Bill quickly followed, but then, without warning, Pat stopped, spun around, and, smiling brightly, said, "Say, I've got an idea. Since you're clearly uncomfortable being here, why don't we just go back to your house? It's so late — or rather early in the morning — that everyone's sure to have cleared out from the party by now and I can help you clean up."
Pat's offer caught Bill short. To begin with, it was spoken from just inches in front of his face. When Pat had turned around, Bill had been so close behind her that his momentum had carried him right up to her, so their bodies were practically touching. He could feel his penis hardening and his face reddening, as he breathed in the odor of Pat's body... a combination of hours' old perfume, dried sweat from dancing, and... something else Bill couldn't put his finger on, but that he associated with women’s bodies when they were “in heat.”
Bill’s mind was racing... back to his place... everyone's sure to have cleared out... early morning hours... Single Women's Residence... what the hell was he thinking of? He felt trapped. This was just the sort of situation he'd been so expert at avoiding in the past... and yet... he had to admit that he now found himself actually contemplating a sexual encounter with this university student with anticipation — ambivalent anticipation to be sure, but anticipation, nonetheless. He began to panic.
"Bill? Bill? Are you there?" It was Pat, breaking into his troubled thought process, once again. "Hey, I just thought it might be easier for you, but if that's a problem, too, we can just call it a night. You go home and I'll catch a few hours of sleep here."
Bill sighed with inner confusion. It seemed as though Pat were giving him a way out, but, did he really want out? That's what was bugging him. There was something about Pat tonight that had shaken his resolve to steer clear of sexual relationships with students at the U. Could it be because she wasn't an undergraduate? No! That was just legalistic hair-splitting, which he knew would carry no more weight with the powers-that-be than it did with him and his super-ego. It was wrong any way you looked at it!
And yet... Bill was disinclined to jump on Pat's proffered way out of the situation. He couldn't say why, but the very thought of going home alone now just depressed the hell out of him... almost as much as the thought of staying here with Pat scared the shit out of him. But, was her coming home with him really a middle way? Or was it the moral — or rather, the immoral — equivalent of staying here? What did he think would really transpire if they went back to his place? Would they just clean up the mess from the party and talk... or would they end up in bed? If Pat were a peer, like that over-sexed Spanish instructor, Rosa Jimenez, he knew what the answer would be. It had happened all too often this past year with Rosa and countless other horny distaff junior faculty members.
Pat was different, though. She was a student at the U. The ethical situation couldn't be clearer! Also, Pat had a head on her shoulders. She'd know better. He could trust her. That decided it. Bill backed away a bit from Pat's body, "Yeah... let's do that. Let's go back to my house...."
Bill paused. He was choosing his words very carefully. Nothing seductive, nothing suggestive. "My house," for example, sounded to him to be more innocent than "my place."
He continued, "... and clean up the mess... and I'll rustle us up some breakfast. It will give us a chance to discuss my Urban Sociology course. I'm not really satisfied with what I've got planned right now and I'd like to get your feedback before classes begin next week."
There! That set just the right tone. It reminded them both of the professional nature of their relationship and their relative positions. He was the professor; she was a graduate student!
Pat walked slowly over to where she'd set down their coats. She picked up Bill's jacket and tossed it over to him casually. She then lifted her coat off the chair and slipped it on quickly before Bill could cross the room and help her on with it. Clearly, she'd picked up on Bill's signals, re-establishing the professional nature of their relationship.
Bill smiled, appreciatively, and turned to open the door. He poked his head out, cautiously and, seeing no one in the hall, began walking quickly to the stairs. Without looking back to see if Pat was close behind, he hurried down the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. When he reached the first floor foyer, he once again rapidly scanned the rooms within eyesight and, seeing no one, breathed a sigh of relief and made for the front door. He pulled it open, fearing as he did so that there'd be a couple kissing on the doorstep. But, again, he was relieved to see no one... either on the doorstep or within sight.
Bill stepped out into the chilly early morning air and took note of the light; dawn was just beginning to break. A light fog suffused the U, adding to its exceptional and unusual quiet. He walked swiftly down the front walk to the main sidewalk. Only then did he permit himself to look back at the Law School Single Women's Residence from which he had just emerged. The building was nearly dark. Only some diffused light from the foyer shone softly through the fog. The front door was closed. Where was Pat, he wondered? Was she coming out or had she changed her mind about coming over to his house?
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New Year's Eve 1968: Bill, Scene 8 "Bill in Trouble"
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New Year's Eve 1968: Bill, Scene 6 "Pat, an Unexpected Turn-on"
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New Year's Eve 1968: Pat, Scene 8 "No Help From Bill"
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