Evenings Along N. Collins Street...

"Nothing stays the same. You grow up, make friends, lose friends, go to college, lose track of people, meet new ones and sometimes you ask yourself why. But all I can tell you is that every single experience you go through changed you in some way. Every new person who comes into your life changes you. Every moral dilemma or emotional experience you come up against changes you. It’s your job to decide how…" - Unknown

By Patrick Alcatraz

Editor

ARLINGTON, Texas - We met in Biology class during my third year in college, and that came by way of a glance over toward a beautiful girl with longish hair. Marcy was her name, a redhead from California chasing a job in the DFW metroplex. As things happened, I walked into this frickin' cavernous classroom, walked up the stairs to one of the middle rows and sat directly behind her, after a smile, of course. I loved to smile at girls back then, perhaps for myself, but some for them. Some days, I still do it.

In any case, the lecture was about amoebas or protozoa or some boring bullshit like that. After awhile, bored stiff, I bent over to say this to her: "May I see your breasts?" It was a line I learned to use often, mainly because it got me somewhere with chicks. Marcy turned around and smiled before asking, "Are you serious?" I nodded, thinking, well, yes, I am serious. "Not here," she said, sweetly. I sat back after smiling back at her before she turned around and gave the professor her full attention. The line was not unlike others used by my friends in school. My friend Paul liked to work reverse psychology, once telling a girl at a disco, "Not tonight. I've had too much sex this week." I'd never have said that, but it worked for him.

Marcy scooted-off that first day, and by the time I made it to the hallway outside the class, she had vanished. It was one reason I hated signing up for classes that registered more than a hundred students; it was Hell to get out. But two days later, I walked into the class a bit late, got an unmistakable scowl from the prof and made my way up the stairs. It was then that I spotted Marcy waving me over. She'd held a seat next to hers for me. The lecture dragged on. I rose like a champ after the session ended and asked her if she had time for a snack at the student union. We walked over, me hoping I'd not see any of the other broads I'd been seeing. I didn't, and so we sat and talked before she said she had stuff to do at home.

"Ok," I said. "...So...about the breasts?"

"I'm thinking about it," she said, laughing.

I watched her walk away, my eyes frozen on her lower back and ass in a sway.

It would be another week before she'd invite me to her apartment on N. Collins Street. She threw burgers on the grill out in her small balcony and then walked back into the kitchen to slice potatoes. I was taken when she sliced one in two and began licking it. "It tastes just like sperm," she said, laughing. We ate listening to music by The Marshall Tucker Band, which she liked, and then I made my move. Shortly, thanks perhaps to the cheap wine I'd brought along, we were in her tiny bedroom, Marcy losing her blouse and bra and me thanking God for the sight of her two luscious, supple, over-sized breasts. There was nothing for a Texas boy to do but approach and suck.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" she asked, coyly.

I slurped something out of the side of my mouth that I hoped would sound in the affirmative. That lasted long minutes, until she said we needed to move on to better things. I stepped back and watched her drop her shorts and then slip out of her panties. "Now you," she said, and I worked the same drill.

"Will you eat me first," she asked with all the faith of a lifelong nun.

"I will," I said, lowering myself so that my nose was where my hose wanted to be. "I love it," Marcy said in a soft voice while I worked the vertical tasting of God's choicest morsel. We would fuck many times more, doing it even on weekend outings to Lake Of The Pines in East Texas, where I loved to spend time at her father's cabin in the winter. I did well in the Biology class thanks to Marcy, but we split up after I met my future wife Narda in the school library near the end of that semester. The last time I saw Marcy was at a 7-11 on West Division Street. She was walking out with a bag of chips and some soda when she spotted my beat-up VW Beetle in the parking space in front of the front door.

We traded pleasantries and she said she'd seen me with a girl and I said I'd seen her with a dude and we both said well, it's good seeing you now. I went into the store after inhaling a deep breadth for the good times and Marcy disappeared into the night outside. Some books have heartfelt endings, is what I've said over the years...

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