Carl Shankey was drunk, and couldn't care less. He tipped the bottle of Scotch up to his lips and greedily took a couple of swallows, letting the burning liquid slide down his throat and into his stomach. He set the bottle down on the floor and rolled over on the beds staring at the ceiling. What a crummy day it had been, he thought, glancing at his watch. It was almost 6PM. Well, it was almost over, maybe the rest of the week would be more salvageable, anyway he should get up, it was almost time for dinner. Tonight he would have to settle for eating with the rest of the fellows who lived at the fraternity… if he hadn't spent his weekly allowance so soon, he could have gone down to the local tavern. Life's a bitch.
He knew he should go use the bathroom now before the great rush before dinner, but he remained on the bed, thinking of the day's events. What the hell was wrong with everyone anyhow? That morning, Dean Townsend had called him into his office and spent half the morning talking to him in ominous undertones… about nothing but a lot of crap.
"Carl," he said, "for the past few months, I've been hearing a lot of negative rumors about your social conduct. At the time, I was concerned. But, I never like to base a premise on a few rumors. They were stories that easily pass from student to student, and eventually reach a member of the faculty… and hence to me. But enough of that… To add to all of this, last week I received reports from two different members of my faculty, saying they had caught you openly cheating during the midterms."
Carl scuffed his shoes on the floor, and looked down at his feet, saying nothing. The bastard probably had a complete portfolio on him, he thought. He probably even knows that I was arrested last week for drunken driving, and is just saving that tidbit for the grand finale.
"Normally," Dean Townsend continued, "the university staff wouldn't tolerate these actions, and you'd be subject for immediate dismissal." He paused to see if there was any reaction from Carl, but he continued to look down at his feet.
"Carl, look up at me when I'm talking to you, this is a very serious matter," the calm exterior and crisp voice broke momentarily. The boy's passiveness was maddening.
Carl obediently looked up at him with a coolly detached gaze.
Dean Townsend shifted around in his chair and continued, now in a more mellow tone.
"I knew your dad at Yale… Why I was even with him the night he met your mother. She was a beautiful, charming woman Carl… I-I was more than shocked to hear of her untimely death last year."
"Yeah, Dad told me how you and him used to tie one on… then form groups for panty raids," Carl sneered, ignoring the mention of his mother.
"If your trying to say that I once sowed my wild oats, I'll not deny it. Look boy, I understand this had been a very trying period in your life." He closed the portfolio on his desk and put it in the bottom drawer. "That's why I'm putting this report on you away. I'm going to give you another chance, Carl… I hope that you won't disappoint me."
Another chance, hell, Carl thought, reaching for the bottle and taking another swig. The old goat was probably just waiting for him to make another wrong move, so he could tell his father on him. A knock sounded on the door.
"It's not locked," Carl called out, pushing the bottle under the bed.
Mark Loftis entered the room and shut the door behind him. Of all the members in the fraternity, Mark was the one that Carl truly despised. He was the good, all-around clean-cut American boy, why, he looked so fresh, he could even pose for toothpaste ads, Carl thought cynically as he sat up on the side of the bed.
"What can I do for you, old boy?"
Mark looked uncomfortable, like he had an itch that he was embarrassed to scratch.
"Carl… This isn't a social call. I have some thing to say to you, so I might as well come right out with it."
"Do, by all means."
"You've been voted out Carl… blackballed. We had a special meeting of the members last night. That drunk driving ticket, plus all the rest of your actions during the past year… is not in keeping with the image of the fraternity house."
"Do tell."
"They wanted to tell you en masse, but I thought it would be easier on you like this. You can stay here till you find another place to live, though. Carl, I'm sorry… but as President, it's my duty…"
"Hold it… hold it," Carl interrupted with a smile on his face. "No hard feelings, pal… I understand. Just don't give me any long speeches about duty and honor, I'll leave as soon as I can find another place."
Mark looked relieved and started to leave, but Carl stopped him.
"Speaking about honor, old chap," he said reaching in the drawer and pulling out some flimsy nylon material, "here, take this. Consider it a going away present. From me and Lisa… to you." He tossed the panties across the room to Mark.
Mark stared down at the panties in his hands, stunned. The sheer material was covered with dirt and dried cum. The initials "LC" were monogrammed in the corner. He was speechless, at a loss for words.
"You should have stayed for the dance, old boy… you missed a rip-roaring time," Carl sneered at him, with a leering smile stretched across his face.
Mark could feel a tight knot balled up in his throat and his eyes were stinging, but he couldn't force a verbal response from his mouth. Blind fury encompassed him, and the next thing he knew he was on top of Carl, hitting down on him with his closed fist.
Carl was taken by surprise, for he didn't expect the mild-mannered Mark to react so violently. He could feel the rock hard knuckles pounding into his face, but he could do little to defend himself, the liquor had slowed his reflex action. Blood rolled down into his eyes, temporarily blinding him, and he could hear the sickening burst of his flesh, breaking under the tremendous impact of the hard knuckles. A smashing blow landed square on his mouth, and he could feel his front teeth loosen and cave in.
When Mark had finished with him, his face was unrecognizable, a bloody mass of smashed flesh. Carl could feel the bed give as Mark lifted himself off of them, and then heard Mark's voice. It sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel.
"You be out of here tonight."
Then he heard the door close as Mark left the room.
Mark left the house, got in his car, and headed in the direction of the ocean. That was always the place he seemed to gravitate when he had a problem that he had to think out for himself. He guided his car along the curved highway until he found the sandy inlet that had been his and Lisa's favorite spot. It was their secret place and no one else had known about it hut the two of them.
He got out of the car and started climbing down the cliff, following the small foot trail that lead down to the ocean. His knuckles were so swollen and bloody that they were hardly able to grasp against the rocky ledges but moving slowly and cautiously, he finally made his way to the bottom. He removed his shoes and socks, and dug his toes in the cool white sand. Out in front of him, the ocean was flickering with a myriad of sun beams, and the sun was a big red ball, resting on the far off horizon. On the wet sand where the waves were breaking, small clusters of sandpipers chased the waves back and forth, always just an inch away from the water's reach.
He walked slowly over to the edge and let the cold white foam swirl around his ankles. The whole place was so beautiful, he thought… but lonely, and he wished that Lisa could be with him right now. They had shared so many wonderful times together right here at this spot.
He could still picture her sun-tanned loveliness, covered with ocean spray as she ran along the beach beside him. There had been times, when he saw her standing there with nothing on but a brief swimsuit, that he wanted to take her right there on the sand and consummate their close relationship. But, he had held himself back, he had loved her enough to wait.
The deep aching void that burned in the pit of his stomach came back when he remembered Carl's leering remarks and the flimsy torn panties that he had flung at him. For a moment, he couldn't hold his thoughts back, picturing all kinds of lewd scenes of Carl and Lisa. But deep within him, he knew that it couldn't possibly be true, that there was a logical explanation for all of this… but he had to be sure.
Before he had left the beach that night, he made a firm decision to go see Lisa as soon as possible.