Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

April 21, 1962

New York City, NY

Today was a day that even I would have a hard time fucking up. The weather was absolutely beautiful, 75 degrees with sunny skies. It was so nice that I’d decided to put the top down, daring my Brylcreem'ed hair to try to move in the wind as the Pontiac barreled north. I'd temporarily regretted that decision a few miles back, when I got close to Newark and was blasted with the nasty smell that is pervasive in North Jersey, but now that I was headed into New York City, it was pure heaven. I emerged from the Holland Tunnel and got stuck in traffic, but that didn’t matter at all. As I inched the car forward, I leaned back and looked up at the towering skyscrapers, marveling at their majestic beauty. My father had told me, last time I talked with him, that he and Jim planned to expand into building these monsters, yet one more example of how diligently they were working to expand Crampton Construction.

While I took in my surroundings, I did a brief review of the past month since my return from Claremont. All in all, it had been pretty uneventful month. André had scored with Vivian, and while I tried to be happy for him it was hard not to get jealous. His encounter with her hadn't slowed him down a bit. Ever since we'd gotten back, it seemed like every night of the week he was dragging me out to dance and drink. That was just as well, since I seemed to have sworn off sex myself, so going out with André at least gave me something to do with my spare time. I’d stopped going to my favorite bathroom, although sometimes resisting the temptation took some Herculean self-control. I'm not sure if it was because I was afraid of being arrested like Peter, or that the cop might, through some weird fluke, recognize me. I tended to think it was because I'd been daring and risky enough while I’d been here. It was time to get out of Princeton with my record intact. Not surprisingly, I hadn't heard from Peter. I wondered briefly if part of the reason that I dodged that place was because it would rekindle memories of him. How was it that someone that I barely knew could have such a lingering effect on me?

I was getting into a rut at Princeton, but just before the routine turned into malaise, Billy Schluter sent me a letter suggesting that we meet up in New York and go out on the town for a night. I jumped at the chance for a break in my monotonous life, and at the opportunity to spend time in New York, a city I had grown to love. Billy was stationed up in Groton, so it was a short ride for him. While he didn’t say as much in his letter, I got the feeling that he needed a break too. Having a wife and two kids, and living the Navy life must get old from time to time.

I pulled up to the Waldorf and found myself swarmed by valets and bellmen. That was no surprise, since they were known for their excellent service. The bellmen were disappointed to find that all I had was a shoulder bag, but I flipped the valet two bits to park my car, so I at least made him happy. Within 15 minutes I had checked in and been whisked up to my room. It was small but nice, with two double beds. I kicked back on the bed, closed my eyes, and reveled in the solitude. What a switch from my apartment, where sleeping was often a challenge what with André getting laid in the room right next to me. If it weren’t so erotic to hear him moaning and groaning, I would have bitched at him to be quieter.

From what seemed like miles away I heard a banging noise, and only slowly did I realize that I was asleep, and it took me even more time to rouse myself enough to get up and answer the door. I opened the door and it flew open, ushering in a strawberry blond hurricane who hugged me and used that as an excuse to throw me on the bed. He landed on top of me, knocking all the air in my lungs right out of my body.

“JP!!! Great to see you!” Billy said in his enthusiastically playful way. He was always full of life, and in that respect, he was a lot like André. It was no great surprise that those two got along really well.

“Yeah, great to see you too. Now get the fuck off of me so I can breathe,” I grumbled, pretending to be grumpy when I really wasn’t.

“You used to like it when I jumped your bones,” he said in a seductive tone.

“Yeah, but that was only when I was really drunk,” I lied. We both laughed at that. While he unpacked his stuff, I got ready, then we went out and hit the town.

It was one of those days where we didn't really have any plans so we just wandered around the city, stopping if something interested us, but mostly walking and talking, something we really hadn't been able to do for quite a while. Billy and I had never bonded well over the phone; ours was a personal relationship such that we needed to be in the same space, just like we were now. And now that we were together, we both poured our souls out about our lives and the challenges we faced.

He was expecting his promotion to Lieutenant JG this fall, and after that he was hoping to be posted to one of the Navy's new nuclear submarines. I found it odd that someone as outgoing and talkative as Billy had picked the silent service, but after hearing him talk about attack submarines, about being the hunter and not the prey, I realized he'd found his niche. He had two children with one more on the way. The two kids are about the same ages as Jim's kids, but this third child was not expected. I got the feeling that he blamed his wife, Janice, even though he knew how unfair that was. It was strange that he really didn’t talk about her all that much, but I let that go. I told him all about my job search, and shared my anxieties about being in that limbo spot where I was ending one job without another one to go to.

It got later and we got hungry, so we went back to the hotel, showered, changed, and went out for a nice dinner. Neither one of us was in the mood for clubs, so after dinner we just went to the bar at the hotel and drank and drank and drank and drank. We got pretty loud and obnoxious, laughing so much we got some pretty dirty looks from the other people there, but we really didn't give a fuck.

We’d just finished laughing about something inane from our childhood when Billy’s mood abruptly changed, switching from cheerful and upbeat to serious and somber. “JP, I need to tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything,” I said, even though I slurred most of it.

“No really, you can't tell anyone. This is between you and me. Promise.” At first I was annoyed, thinking that this vow he evidently wanted me to take was proof that he didn’t trust me, but I forced my alcohol induced emotions aside. This had to be important. Billy had never been this earnest about a secret.

“Billy, look, you know you can trust me.” I stared at him, making him look me in the eye so he could see how serious I was. He nodded, getting that I wouldn’t betray him. “What's bugging you?”

“JP, I'm not sure if this kid is mine.” His eyes started to tear up, and all I could do was stare at him, unable to hide how stunned I was. To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

“What makes you think that?” My brain was fried, so I went back to basics: demand data.

“We went to see the doctor and he said she's four months pregnant. I was at sea until the end of February.” He looked totally dejected. Janice and I got along, but she didn’t do as well with the rest of our family. She was kind of flighty, and sometimes not the most stable and reliable person in the world. I’d overheard Tonto agonizing plenty of times to my mother about how nervous she was when Janice was all alone with the kids while Billy was at sea. Then again, her whole family was pretty eccentric, so her dinginess shouldn’t surprise anyone. Regardless, this wasn’t the time to tear her down in Billy’s eyes.

“Look Billy, you know Janice loves you. Maybe the doctor is wrong. Maybe he got the time wrong. The truth will come out in a few months, so to speak.” I was just throwing out platitudes because I couldn't stand to see him in so much pain, when I had no idea how you found out when a baby was due, or how accurate their estimates were.

“Maybe you're right, JP,” he said, and seemed placated. I was just about to relax, thinking we could go back to having a good time, when he got intense all over again. “There were some rumors about her and one of the Lt. Commanders on the base. I pretty much ignored those, but then I find out she’s pregnant and it looks like the kid probably isn’t mine, so it all makes sense now.”

“Remember, you don’t know that for sure,” I cautioned firmly.

“There’s one more thing,” he said insistently. “She's been super nice to me; I mean more than normal, almost like she's feeling guilty.” He had his head in his hands.

“Billy, you're just wracking yourself apart. The truth of the matter is that you don't know for sure. Do you have proof that she fucked this other dude?” I demanded.

“No, but…” I cut him off.

“You've been married for four years now, and they've been good years right?” He nodded. “So don't you think you should give her the benefit of the doubt?”

He looked up at me. I could almost see the wheels in his brain working. “I guess I should.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for coming up here, JP. I really needed to talk to someone...to talk to you about this. I knew you'd make me feel better.” I reached my arm around his shoulders and squeezed him in a sideways hug.

“Anytime,” I said. We had a few more drinks, like we needed them, until we were both completely hammered.

“I'm fucked up, JP. I think I need to pass out.” He was slurring his words now.

“Me too,” I said, or at least those are the words I planned. I was so drunk, I wasn’t sure how they actually came out. Let's go to bed.” With that I helped him up and we staggered to the elevators. There was a little confusion while we tried to figure out what floor we were on, but we finally found it. We all but fell into our room, both of us so relieved to be in this relatively safe place, and away from the dirty looks of the other hotel guests.

Billy collapsed on the bed while I headed to the bathroom, throwing my clothes off as I went. By the time I got to the bathroom, all I had left on was my boxers. I started pissing and thought I'd never stop, I just kept going and going, and the longer I peed, the more I laughed. I staggered out of the bathroom, still giggling.

“What are you laughing at?” Billy was starting to giggle just because I was.

“I just peed forever,” I slurred. He really cracked up then.

“I gotta go too. Help me up will you?” I pulled him off of his bed and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the bathroom. I heard the unmistakable sound of his pee hitting the toilet, and giggled when I thought he'd peed at least as much as I had.

He came back in the room, his pants down around his ankles. He looked hysterical, and all I could do was roll on my bed laughing my ass off. He staggered over to his bed and collapsed on it. I saw him kicking at his pants, trying to get them off, so I decided to help him.

First I tried to pull him up off the bed, but I was laughing too hard and he fell back. “Here, let's get your shoes off.” I pulled off his shoes, and his socks too, for some reason. After that, getting his pants off was easy. Then I pulled him up so he was sitting and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling that off, as well as his T-shirt. “Thanks for taking care of me, JP.”

“No problem, Billy.” I pushed him back down on the bed and fell next to him, which made him laugh again, until we both realized that my face was right next to his groin. The mood suddenly changed, the atmosphere was suddenly charged with sexual tension.

I stared at his underwear, and saw them start to tent. “Help me with these too?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, smiling up at him. He lifted his hips up so I could pull them off, which left him spread-eagled on the bed, stark naked. After I did, I decided that I should move up farther. If I'd stayed at groin level, that would look way too queer.

“JP, remember how we used to fool around when we were kids?” I lay down next to him, my head now next to his chest.

“Yeah”, I said, as I noticed that his nipples had gotten bigger, his aureoles the size of quarters, and that he had a good amount of that strawberry hair on his chest.

“That was a lot of fun,” he said wistfully.

“I thought so too,” I responded. I put my hand on his stomach and gently stroked his abdomen.

“Know something, JP?”

I looked up at him. “No, what?”

“No one's ever sucked my dick as well as you.” I looked down and he was hard now. I moved my hand down and grabbed his cock, not roughly, but purposefully. He moaned.

“Maybe I need to remind you how good it was,” I said to him, sounding really slutty.

“Maybe you do,” he replied with a leer.

I moved my mouth onto his nipple, but only for a second, because I knew that wasn't his hot spot. Billy was one of those guys who didn't have a special ‘spot’, or it might be more accurate to say that his ‘spot’ was his dick. I could suck his balls, and he'd think that was nice, and I could tweak his nipples, and he'd put up with it, but all he really wanted was my mouth on his dick.

I obliged eagerly. We'd done this often when we were younger, but it had been a long time since I’d sucked his dick, probably since right before he was married. Time had not marred my memory. I knew every inch of his five-inch shaft, knew all the veins that stuck out on the side, knew to watch my teeth because of his wide dimension. He liked me to take my time, and to run my tongue around the head of his penis, then every two or three strokes he liked me to go all the way down on him so he could feel the back of my throat. I knew exactly what he liked and I did it.

He lay on the bed moaning and thrusting his hips into my face. I kept my left hand wrapped gently around his balls, not because he liked it, but because that way I could gage if he was close to cumming and back off. It had been four years since I'd gotten to do this. I was going to make it last this time.

I tortured him, getting him to the edge and backing off, even as he tried to thrust back into my mouth. Finally, I could make him wait no longer, and I dived down on his cock. He took his two hands and grabbed my face, pulling me onto his dick and ramming it down my throat. Normally this would really piss me off, but for Billy it was no problem. Besides, his cock was kind of short so it didn't choke me or anything. He let out a loud growl and then he started shooting. And shooting. And shooting. God, when was the last time he'd come? No way I could swallow it all, and cum came dribbling out of my mouth onto his pubes. Finally he finished and lay back, totally satisfied.

“JP, thanks. That was amazing. You are the best. Fuck! I don't think I can breathe.”

“Glad to be of service,” I said as I smiled down at him, oblivious to my own hard cock poking through my boxers.

“I want to watch you jack off.” He turned on his side and just looked at me. Billy was something of a voyeur, which was fine with me, horny as I was. I stripped completely down, lay on my back, and started stroking my cock. I reached down and scooped some of the cum from his pubes and used it as lube, which made his eyes bulge. He watched me as I stroked, his eyes level with my cock. I felt his fingers run up my thighs and stroke my balls, the contact was so stimulating I had to slow down so I didn't blow right then.

Then he stroked below my balls, hitting my perineum, and I willingly spread my legs to encourage him. I learned that that was one of my hot spots. I enjoyed that for a while, but I wanted him to play with my hole. I lifted my legs up to give him access to my ass, hoping he'd go for it. I'd always wondered what that would be like. Strangely enough that reminded me of Peter, but we’d both been so focused on his ass, we had pretty much ignored mine. Fortunately, Billy was game for it, and as soon as his fingers grazed my hole, I found my other hot spot. As he stroked my ass my moans became almost uncontrollable. I felt his finger push at the entry to my hole, and I pushed back into it. Slowly, and with a little pain, I felt his finger slide up my ass. I could take no more; the stimulation was just too much. My dick erupted so violently that not only did I shoot a lot, I shot so far I hit myself in the face twice.

We both lay there for a few minutes, then I got up, grabbed a towel to clean us both up, and tucked him into his bed.

The next morning was sheer agony for both of us. I was nursing one of the worst hangovers I’d even had, and so was he, so we made the command decision to have room service for breakfast. I was hoping that a meal, followed up by a couple of aspirin, would start to solve my problem, but it took all of my effort just to keep both of those things in my rebellious stomach. We ended up staying in the room until checkout time, dozing in and out of sleep and waking up just long enough to bitch about how miserable we were.

Just as we were about to leave the room, Billy turned around and pulled me into an embrace: a long, lingering hug. As we pulled apart, he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “JP, you're the best. Thanks for everything.” I smiled at him, and then both of us went back to our respective states, and our respective lives.

May 24, 1962

Princeton, NJ

It had been two months of uncertainty, two months of waiting, two months of planning my day around the mail, two months of making sure I would be here when it got arrived. I’d sent out four applications - four long, complicated, onerous things - and I’d waited two long months, and still gotten no responses. I wondered briefly how someone without my patience could handle this kind of pressure, then I resumed my normal afternoon position. I sat in a chair by the front window, with my eyes glued to the mailbox.

With a nervousness I only displayed when I was alone, I grabbed the paper and began thumbing through it as if I were looking for something important. My erratic reading pattern frustrated me more than anything, so I re-exerted control over myself, calmly went back to the front page, and started reading from there. Apparently Scott Carpenter was up in space, orbiting around the earth in Aurora 7. This was an exciting time, to be sure, and space exploration by the Soviets and us was fascinating, but I didn’t really care about that right now. What I cared about was getting responses to my applications. I glanced at my watch and noticed that the mailman was late, and wondered where he was. I wondered if Scott Carpenter could see my mailman from space.

Scott Carpenter

I finally tossed the paper aside, as if it were responsible for its inability to keep my mind occupied. I hated job-hunting. First of all, I hated the uncertainty. My life was usually planned out and organized, so to have such a massive loose end there was maddening. On top of that, I felt vulnerable because now that I’d sent in the requisite paperwork, the entire process was completely out of my control. There was nothing I could do to influence the process. Even worse, by applying for jobs I was opening myself up for rejection, another thing I wasn't good at. Normally I'd ease my tension by cruising for some action at my favorite bathroom, but I was still avoiding that place. We had to be out of our apartment by June 1, so I only had one more week of self-control. I would make it, but it wouldn't be easy, especially if I was kept hanging in limbo like this.

A car drove by and interrupted my reverie and getting my hopes up, but there was still no mailman. I felt a trickle of sweat flow from my armpit, and blamed it on the warm temperatures and not my nervousness. It was the end of May and it was already hot in central New Jersey. I got up and turned on the fan, doing an internal mental calculation as to whether the effort and energy expended to get up and turn it on would be offset by its feeble wind gusts. As I sat back down and reaped the small benefit it provided, I decided that the effort probably hadn’t been worth it. I refocused my eyes on the mail box, while my mind wandered off in different directions.

I started daydreaming about Billy, and Peter, and André. All three of them were important to me, but in entirely different ways. Peter was the ultimate lover, the guy who introduced me to fucking, the guy who premiered in my jack-off fantasies. His humor was so effective that even thinking about him now made me laugh. He was such a sexy rogue, but I hoped he had sense enough to conserve the money I’d given him while he tried to build his new life out California. Peter was a friend, but not in the same way as André or Billy. André, so unobtainable and so perfect, was my best friend in the whole world, and the one person whose love I craved the most. He gave me everything he could, and I felt selfish for feeling that it wasn't enough. And then there was Billy, who was more like a brother, although that made me visualize messing around with Jim and that grossed me out. I reined in that train of thought. Messing around with Billy wasn’t incest; it was more like two friends doing each other a favor, kind of like rubbing someone's shoulders.

These internal ponderings had so distracted me that I didn't even see the mailman walk up to the box. It was only when he slammed the lid shut that I broke free from my daze and rushed out to see if today was the day, the day I’d actually receive some news. I grabbed what few letters were there and found what I'd been waiting for. Today was jackpot day. There were two letters addressed to Dr. John Paul Crampton.

I took them into the living room and set them on the table, staring at them, almost too afraid to open them. I shook off my fears and doubts and picked up the first, from UC Berkeley.

Dear Dr. Crampton,

We are pleased to offer you a post-doctoral research position beginning on September 1, 1962 and lasting until the end of Spring Semester, 1963...

It continued on to delineate the terms of their offer to me, including the stipend they’d pay me and the duties I’d be required to perform. I smiled slightly at the letter, because it wasn’t really earth-shattering news. I’d expected this offer, because it was simply another Post-Doc. For me, getting this Post-Doc was sort of a fallback position, giving me a geographical choice more than anything. I could either continue here at Princeton, or head to Berkeley for a change of pace, but neither would be a permanent home. I'd still be a glorified temp worker.

The next one was from Brown University, and I eyed it with more trepidation. If my application to Berkeley had been a safe standby, this application had been my long shot. The chances were good that this letter contained a rejection, but if it didn’t, I'd be able to stay on the east coast, which I had grown to love, and I'd be close to Billy. Maybe if they hired me I’d get to see him more often. I shook myself, reminding myself that staring at the envelope wouldn’t give me the answer I needed, so I opened it up and pulled out the letter.

Dear Dr. Crampton,

We are honored by your interest in joining our faculty, but while your credentials are impressive, we regret that we are unable to offer you a faculty position at this time......

Even though that rejection was expected, it was still disappointing. I was alone in the apartment so I allowed myself to lounge on the couch and wallow in self-pity. I'd have to cheer up in a few hours when André got home, but meanwhile, I grabbed a beer and tried to convince myself that Brown had made a huge mistake, and that years from now when I won a Nobel Prize or something other huge award there would be a hand-wringing meeting where everyone would try to figure out how a gem like me escaped them.

May 31, 1962

Princeton, NJ

I looked at all the stuff I’d neatly sealed up in boxes, and stared at the other items still waiting for me to pack them up, and that just made my mood worse. I decided that packing sucked, and then with my unwanted academic mind, I revisited that conclusion and changed my mind. I decided that packing sucked when you had nowhere to go. In my case, not even that was entirely accurate. I had to be out of this apartment tomorrow, and then, with the Pontiac all loaded up, I’d be headed back to Claremont. I tried to get myself excited about going home by ruminating about how nice it would be to have my parents around and to have air conditioning. I visualized a euphoric summer spent riding, swimming, writing, and researching.

In fact, I’d done such a good job of convincing myself it would be a total blast that when I realized I was full of shit, it was just that much more devastating. My entire time in Claremont would be a living hell. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of the things I’d just imagined because I’d be too miserable grappling with the limbo that my life was in. I'd never in my entire life been as such loose ends. I threw some more stuff in a box, probably useless things I should just throw away, but that would require more thought than just packing it. I stubbed my toe on my dresser and let out a string of oaths. Fuck, that hurt.

I'd gotten a response from Ohio State two days ago, and even though it hadn’t been the blatant rejection I’d gotten from Brown, it had still been unsettling. They’d told me that they were interested in talking to me further, so they wanted me to come in for an additional interview in the middle of June. I wasn’t so naïve that I couldn’t determine the real story behind their response. That letter meant they had reviewed my application and had decided to reject me, but before they could actually do that, someone stepped in and delayed them by pulling strings, political strings. There was only one person who could really be doing that, and that was my father. I felt the conflict again between the love I felt for him and my appreciation for his efforts, juxtaposed against my desire to do this, to take this next big step in life, based solely on my own efforts and merits. It depressed me to think that I wasn't good enough to get a job on my own. Maybe all my successes were mere fiction? Maybe I was just the lucky scion of a wealthy family, a man who had promoted me through the ranks solely because of my pedigree, just like they used to do with young noblemen in Europe. Back in those days, there was no need to suffer the indignities of being a mere lieutenant when one could simply buy a regiment and be the colonel. I threw more useless shit in the box. Maybe my parents could buy me my own university.

I heard André come bursting into the apartment. He, of course, was in a great mood. He’d be shipping out for officer's training and then three years in the United States Army: 2nd Lieutenant André Clerreault, honoring the terms of his ROTC contract. With his universal optimism, he was confident that he'd be sent to Europe, and had all but decided he’d end up being stationed in France. In one of my more petulant moves, I’d tried to burst his bubble by reminding him that de Gaulle was agitating about removing French forces from NATO, but it hadn’t had any effect on him at all. I heard his footsteps and then there he was, handsome as ever, leaning against my door frame with an idiotic grin on his face.

I wanted to say, ‘what the fuck are you so happy about?’, and he stood there waiting for me to do exactly that. That I restrained myself and didn't do it gave me my first satisfaction of the day. “Guess what I have behind my back?” he taunted.

“Your big ass,” I countered, thinking I was such a wit.

“Very funny. I have the mail.” I stared at him, feeling all of my composure leaving my body. He’d only make a big deal about this if there were a letter for me. “Looks like this one came from Northwestern. Wonder what it is?”

I felt myself reacting and jumping forward, even before my brain could engage, frantically trying to grab the letter first from behind his back. He held it over his head, infuriating me because now it was out of reach, and the whole situation just emphasized how short I was. I was jumping up, trying to grab it, completely losing my cool, but there was no way I could pretend to be calm and unflustered. The letter he held in his hand represented my last chance to launch my career on my own. It held the key to my future. “Come on asshole. Give it to me,” I yelled.

“You sure you don't want me open it for you? Maybe I should read it to you?” He taunted me, pushing me right to the edge, then just when I was about to punch him in the stomach and grab it, he feigned a bow and handed it to me.

I grabbed it from him but instead of ripping it open, I just stood there, looking at it, frozen by fear. This was it. My destiny was inside this envelope, and all I had to do was open it, but I other than the fact that my hands were shaking, I was all but paralyzed.