Soundtrack: Rainy Day Women #12 & 35----Bob Dylan
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Donna was one screwed up young woman. Not that Bill thought there was anything wrong with a twenty-something woman having sex, but so soon after having a baby? And what about the father? Where was he in all of this? And then, too, there was the fact of Donna’s going with African-American men exclusively. Again, nothing wrong with a white woman having relationships with black men, but why only black men?
At least, when her parents threw her out, Donna had the good sense to come to Bill for help. He just wished he knew how to help her. Whenever he tried to engage her in discussion of her issues, he found her to be oddly uncommunicative. Not just that she didn’t want to talk to him about these matters, but that she didn’t seem to know how to talk about herself at all, or perhaps didn’t even recognize that these issues might be problems for her. Whatever the cause of her uncommunicativeness, Bill was stymied as to how to help her. The best he’d been able to do, as it turned out, was to accede to her request to stay at his house until the grad student dorms re-opened after holiday break. But, now he was wondering if that had been a mistake. What if some other kids from the party should hear the noises and conclude that some student is up here making it with him?
All that thought did was to plunge him further into depression, as it reminded him of his own sexual dysfunction, especially this past year, during which he’d been little better than a sexual predator, taking advantage of the weaknesses of women who exposed themselves to his depravity.
He and his ex-wife had been legally separated since before his appointment to the U, but it wasn’t until last January that his divorce became final and his lawyer had given him the green light to be “publicly” single again. So, he quickly made up for mostly lost time…with a vengeance. In just the past twelve months, he fucked just about every one of the horny junior faculty gals at the U and dozens of those perky divorcees from town who were constantly on the prowl for a professorial husband. “Fucked” was the right word. Or “screwed” or “balled” or “planked.” Certainly not “made love with.” No. He didn't feel anything even akin to "like" towards these women. In fact, he thought he actually hated them all for being so needy that they were willing to be victims of his heartless, selfish, brutish lust.
But of course, that wasn’t all. There were also the orgies and finally... the drugs. A goodly number of women (and some men) in U-Town were now avid “recreational”drug users, largely thanks to him. And not just grass. Bill was instrumental in turning on a number of previously straight women to coke and uppers, initially as sexual enablers, but for some of these women eventually as sex substitutes.
And then there was the time he tripped on acid with about a dozen other adults at the weekend home of this one completely crazy couple, the van Dam’s (he taught art at the U; she was apparently his model and muse). The group trip morphed into group sex of sorts, although it was less an orgy than a collective dream in which disembodied genitals, breasts, orifices, and other body parts seemed to float through the air, occasionally merging into one another with weird results.
Whether group dream or orgy, that experience apparently broke the monogamous ice and sexual privacy taboos for some of the couples there because Bill subsequently participated with several of these couples in some real orgies, lubricated by the less edgy drugs of grass and alcohol. But, Bill's involvement in these orgies soon came to an end after it became clear to several of the women involved that, as a single, Bill’s role in these had been to bring along attractive young women whom their husbands had always wanted to screw and now could, under the cover of these mutually agreed upon group sex parties.
Ultimately, the whole scene had disgusted Bill, not just the group sex, but also the string of individual women he screwed. So he tried sticking with one, a girlfriend of sorts, but that didn’t last much more than a month. She wanted to move in and “set up house,” whereas, after one failed marriage, Bill was in no hurry to engage in anything that resembled marriage in any way.
As a result of all this, ever since the start of classes this fall Bill had remained celibate, throwing himself instead into his teaching and trying to finish the book he needed to have published in order to get tenure. Unfortunately, neither his teaching nor his writing was going much better than his sex life. He was pretty disgusted with his efforts in both of these areas as well. Come to think of it, he was disgusted with just about everything — himself, the U, the world.
He decided to go downstairs and close down the party, just throw everyone out and drink himself into a stupor.
Links
group sex
Bob Dylan (Buy CDs of his albums)
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New Year's Eve 1968: Bill, Scene 4 "Bump and Grind"
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New Year's Eve 1968: Bill, Scene 2 "Temptation"
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New Year's Eve 1968: Jukie, Scene 4 "With Bigger Thomas Living in His Skull"
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