Superman and the Porn Star

Two months into my freshman year on campus, I had yet to score with one of the tempting sirens who crossed my field of vision each day. Admittedly, I lacked the confidence to be a great lover. Confronted with a pretty girl, it was all I could do to get my tongue to function.

There was no real reason for this. The mirror told me that I was reasonably good looking: 5’11”, medium build, dark wavy hair, strong jaw, deep hazel eyes — okay, the eyes were very myopic and had a condition making them too dry for contacts, requiring thick lenses in dorkish plastic frames.

Despite some confidence problems, I was not a complete loss. My virginity had expired over a year ago when a waitress at the lake resort where my family went on vacation gave me an extra special dessert. That gave me the courage to connect with a girl in my class, and we had hooked up toward the end of my senior year in high school.

But so far, despite all the promising porn videos depicting libertine lifestyles on the college campus, I just wasn’t connecting with the girls. And I was feeling the drought. I’d even thought about a visit to my former girlfriend at her college, but it was 500 miles away and her recent letter indicated she had already hooked up with another guy.

My roommate Daryl took pity on me.

“Bro, there’s going to be a hot party tonight at one of the frats. I have a gig there. Why don’t you come along? Never know, you might get lucky.”

Now, in all objectivity, Daryl wasn’t as good looking as me. He was tall and lanky with a hook nose and zits. Even so, Daryl didn’t have a confidence problem, largely because he had a sure fire scheme for meeting babes, which also brought in some spare change. He had a deal recording parties at dorms, fraternities and sororities for one of the online porn producers.

Daryl showed me some of the raunchy stuff he videoed — guaranteed to pitch your tent. He had no complaints about his earnings, and there were trickle-down effects: Frats and sororities got a cut for being “temporary studios,” as did the amateur “stars” they provided. Co-eds attracted to the action chatted up Daryl, the cameraman and informal “director,” and he often wound up scoring during subsequent “casting calls.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” I told him. “I’m not too proud to take one of your table scraps.

The party was not at our college but at the state university campus 30 miles away. Daryl had already told the frat leaders what he was looking for, and we got there early to confirm everything was ready.

“No problem,” according to Tyler, a big, good-looking blond dude who said he had lined up a few willing and very hot babes, one of whom he had already personally “auditioned.” She was to be the lead starlet, inspiring action by others

“She doesn’t have much in the way of inhibitions, but as insurance I’ve already primed her for the shoot with Ecstasy,” Tyler added in a low voice.

I had heard of Ecstasy, a “hug drug” stimulant that produces euphoria and extra energy for long periods of time. Some guys slip it into the drinks of dates, hoping to increase their chances of scoring. One guy told me he took it himself to enhance his performance, and was able to go for an hour or more.

Tyler took us to another room to meet and brief the new starlet. She was tall, with ample cleavage displaying well in her low-cut top, had a nice booty in tight shorts and long shapely legs. She had a pretty “girl next door” face highlighted by a good smile showing white teeth, and long honey-blonde hair held back with a pink ribbon. Her deep blue eyes looked a little glazed.

“I’m Daryl, the camera guy,” my roomie said. “He’s John, my assistant.” She extended her hand, introducing herself as something sounding like “Smanta,” her speech confirming that she was under the influence of something besides ginger ale.

“You’re kinda cute,” she said, smiling at me. “Ought’a lose those glasses though.” Admittedly, my prominent plastic frames did look like something out of the last century, but it was nice to be called cute by a pretty girl, even a porn starlet.

Daryl reviewed the “screenplay.” Tyler would be the “male lead” for “Smanta,”and others from the gathering of onlookers would play “supporting roles.” She didn’t have to fuck anyone but Tyler, but if she sucked off a couple other guys at the same time it was worth bonus bucks. Smanta listened calmly, nodding and smiling, her eyes growing wider and more focused, confirming she was ready to hold an Oscar. Two other aspiring starlets who had been listening pledged to do their parts as extras.

Daryl took a wad of cash from his pocket and gave it to Tyler to share with Smanta and other beneficiaries, including the fraternity treasurer. Daryl had told me beforehand that it was a strictly cash business, and he had already deducted his share.

Students were arriving for the party, and we went to a room where the frat bartender was dispensing plastic cups of keg beer. As in many college towns, liquor laws here were enforced loosely, even in bars and restaurants, and fraternities were the wild west.

The music system cranked up, people started bantering and dancing, and the party was on. I made a circuit of the room. As Daryl had promised, there were a number of hot babes, although most seemed to already have dates or were well-attended by other hopefuls.

“John.” I heard my name called. My cameraman roomie gestured from across the room, giving me a heads up that the main entertainment was about to begin. I made my way to the “studio” room, where others in the know were congregating, and got a good seat facing the “stage.” Daryl shouted “action” and started recording.

It was a simple set and plot: Tyler and Smanta were seated at a small table, with books spread in front of them as if they were studying. Other students who Tyler had picked as extras stopped by, with cups of beer, telling them to put aside their academic pursuits and join the party. Tyler began caressing Smanta’s boobs as her hand drifted down to his crotch, and they fell into a passionate embrace, lips locked together.

Smanta raised her hands as Tyler helped her out of the tight top, so her well-formed boobs could bounce freely, to the cheers of surrounding partiers, who served as volunteer extras.. She undid Tyler’s belt and pulled his pants down around his ankles, his boxers showing a pointed projection. The boxers followed his pants downward, and his sizable erection sprang out to her waiting lips. She seemed to admire it a moment, then began licking up and down the shaft to his nut sack, finally taking his length in her mouth most of the way, making enthusiastic slurping sounds to more cheers from the surrounding voyeurs.

This went on a while before Tyler extracted himself from Smanta’s oral embrace, kicked away the clothing around his ankles and sat her on the table, helping her out of her lower garments. She was shaven except for a small sculpted patch, and Tyler licked tentatively while inserting a couple fingers in her vagina, to soft moans. Then he directed her to lie back on the table for the main event, legs in the air, feet resting on his shoulders. He inserted himself into her, slowly at first, then thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm, to more cheers.

“Fuck that pussy,” someone shouted, and a chorus of mostly male onlookers began chanting that refrain as Smanta continued moaning and writhing, her tits jumping in sync with Tyler’s thrusting. Some of the spectators, mostly female, feigned embarrassed smiles, but no one looked away.

“She needs something in her mouth too,” Daryl exclaimed in an off-camera vocalization, and another frat brother, one of the supporting actors, approached the table next to Smanta’s head, opening his fly and whipping out his hard dick. She looked at it with a vacant expression, then opened wide to accept the latest offering, slurping eagerly as Tyler continued fucking her. More cheers erupted from the audience.

The two female supporting actors on a sofa against the wall began their parts, falling on their knees before their “dates,” while other students who had not even been cast for such parts started making out from sheer inspiration. There were more feigned looks of embarrassment, but no one in the crowd looked away for long, as they smiled, laughed and cheered with raunchy comments. This could serve as a sociological study of crowd dynamics, I thought.

Daryl was a blur of motion, capturing the action from different camera angles, shooting Tyler’s heaving buttocks as he thrust, moving to one side to record his dick plunging in and out of Smanta’s pussy, then adjusting for a closeup of her sucking off the other frat brother and swinging around for a shot of the other couples and a pan of the enthusiastic crowd.

The frat bro being sucked had been briefed on how to play his part, and did it well. He grimaced, yelled and withdrew, shooting globs of spunk into Smanta’s open mouth and onto her pretty face to mock screams of terror from female onlookers and cheers from males. Daryl moved in for a closeup of the girl’s pretty cum-smeared face. She smiled dreamily for the camera. Her tongue shot out to lick jizz from her lips.

It was time for a change of perspective. Tyler withdrew his swollen dick and lowered the girl’s legs to the floor. Smanta was shaky as he guided her to the side of the table and directed her to lower her upper body onto its surface with her feet on the floor. He then entered her again, from behind. This gave Daryl more camera angles to exploit. Someone held a cup of beer for Tyler, who sipped from it as he continued to thrust. The crowd chanted, “Doggie, doggie, doggie,” and there were a few faux bow wows. Another cup of beer was held to the lips of his semi-prone partner, who took a couple of swigs, although it was difficult for Smanta to swallow in that position.

“I’ll give her something easier to get her lips around,” yelled another supporting actor, stepping forth and unzipping his fly. More cheers came from the onlookers as Smanta went to work on the latest offering. It was not long before the second frat brother followed the example of the first, creaming into Smanta’s open mouth and on her face, Daryl zooming in from only a foot or so away. Still more cheers erupted from the group. Smanta choked a little, and someone brought a fresh cup of beer to help her wash down the latest infusion.

I admit to being excited, with a tent in my pants, even as I wondered why a girl so good looking would subject herself to such a demeaning public display. Any number of guys — myself among them — would have gladly taken care of her needs in private. A case of money talks, I supposed, still wondering whether whatever she was earning could be worth it.

Then, as Daryl was shooting the closeup of Smanta’s cum-covered face, she did something showing she truly was in “ecstasy” with this activity. She reached out with both hands to unzip his fly, worked his dick out and began pumping. It was already semi-hard and quickly came to full attention. As Daryl adjusted focus, Smanta began sucking her fourth dick of the night.

“Lights, camera, action,” someone in the gathering cried out, to general laughter. Daryl tried to suppress his own enthusiasm as he shot a point of view angle of himself being sucked. Someone began singing the old sea song, “Blow the Man Down,” and the crowd joined in. Daryl panned the chorus, then swung the lens toward Tyler, who was laughing and singing as well while continuing to hump, and the two of them slapped palms in a high five, Daryl trying to keep the camera fairly steady with one hand. Smanta continued sucking vigorously, and it was not long before Daryl’s eyes glazed and the camera jerked a little as he grimaced.

Showing great stage presence as well as oral technique, Smanta slowed her rhythm and looked up at the lens, releasing Daryl’s dick from the embrace of her mouth and opening wide to show a profusion of creamy, white stuff. She closed her mouth again and visibly swallowed, then took Daryl’s dick back into her mouth and began licking it clean, continuing to look up at the camera with those wide eyes. Cheers showed the audience’s appreciation. One guy exclaimed he was going to change his major to cinematography, to general laughter.

All the sexual excitement brought Tyler to his own limits, and he made a few tell-tale grunts, recapturing Daryl’s attention. The cameraman withdrew from Smanta’s mouth, and despite the immobilizing handicap of his projecting prick, scrambled to the head of the table to film the last few thrusts. Tyler shut his eyes, exclaimed and emptied himself into the girl, then withdrew and thrust his hands above his head in a Rocky victory pose, his shiny prick at full mast, to more cheers and a hand of applause. Smanta remained on her feet, still bent over the table as Daryl kneeled to shoot a closeup of the cream pie oozing from her.

The camera light dimmed, signaling the finale of an epic performance in the annals of lust and higher education. Cheers and applause died away as students began exchanging glances, some of them signaling sexual desire, others unsure, perhaps revealing some genuine embarrassment over how enthusiastically they had reacted to the show. A few girls may have been worrying how their cheering would look to folks in the old neighborhood if the production were to go viral on the internet and an e-mail link found its way there.

As the crowd dispersed to go about its partying, Daryl came over and handed me his camera to hold while he tucked away his softening dick. “Bro, that was sheer serendipity. I’m usually shooting other people getting their rocks off, not making a selfie being sucked off,” he said. “She really knew how to use her mouth.” Tyler joined us, still naked, also at half mast, and there was another high five between him and Daryl.

“What happens now with her?” I asked, motioning toward the girl, still draped over the table, eyes glazed, vacant smile in place.

“I’ll put her in one of the bedrooms over there to let her sleep it off, and take her home later,” Tyler said.

As we looked in the direction indicated, a guy and girl opened the door of a room and hurried in. “Looks like we inspired some more action,” Tyler laughed.

Daryl looked at the room, its door partly ajar, and said, “I’m going to see if those two are willing to provide some background shots that I can splice into the video. Why don’t you mix, John? Maybe you can find some horny bimbo and get taken care of. If so, I may be able to get you in the video too, with a small stipend as a supporting actor.” He nudged me and winked.

During the next hour I consumed a couple more cups of beer, but had my usual lack of success with girls. The hotter ones were pairing off with guys to get it on, either in the sleeping rooms of the frat house or their own dorm rooms. Others were being worked on, in hopes they would succumb. Daryl continued to film “background” scenes, one or two about as raunchy as the main event. Eventually we split for our native campus, Daryl saying he had enough for at least one more video that he could sell with little overhead, thanks to the unpaid amateur extras.

Tyler had apparently taken the new star to rest on her laurels somewhere, as she was no longer sprawled on the table.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, I was between classes in the student union, looking over notes to prepare for a test. The union was crowded, with seating at a premium. A girl stopped at my small two-person table, and asked if the empty seat across from me was taken.

“All yours,” I responded.

As she sat I made a quick appraisal: Good looking, tall, long honey blonde hair, wide eyes, a promising body beneath her buttoned blazer. She looked familiar. In one of my classes? As she spread out some books before her, I went back to my notes, but sneaked a few more surreptitious glances, trying to place her.

Suddenly, it clicked — the girl from the party! The star!

The only difference was that her hair was down, flowing about her shoulders. During the production, it had been held back with a ribbon, probably so it would not get in the way during blow jobs.

She was studying something, lips pursed, brow furrowed. I wondered if I should attempt conversation. But why? Did I really want to get involved with a whore? Okay, maybe not officially a whore, but wasn’t a porn star pretty much the same thing — taking money for making a show of sex for popular entertainment, not even discreet about it like a high priced hooker would be.

But, hell, who was I to be picky? I was super horny and didn’t have any prospects. A hit here, even with a porn slut, might get me started again, help build some self-confidence, make it easier to score with conventional girls.

“Looks like a challenge. What are you studying?” I asked.

“Western Civ,” she replied, pouting. “Medieval political maneuverings in England and France. I can’t keep the factions straight.”

As it happened, this was one of my easier courses, and I had a fair understanding of the period from independent reading. I gave a short explanation, summarizing the major actors and their feudal vassals and enemies, domestic and foreign. She asked a couple of questions, made a few annotations to her notes, drew a couple arrows.

“I wish you were my instructor,” she said, smiling. “You make it seem so clear.” She had a great smile, and those big, blue eyes evoked the image of a swimming pool. I decided to dive in.

“Who do you have?” I asked. “My professor is Dr. Drake.”

She had the other guy. “But we do have that common lecture hall — the profs switch off conducting it,” she noted. “I think I’ve seen you there. By the way, my name is Amanda Beaufort — Mandy.” She extended her hand.

“John Drew,” I said, taking it and shaking awkwardly.

So, “Smanta” was now Mandy. Her speech had really been slurred the other night. I was thinking what to say next and how to work up to getting her phone number when I noticed Daryl approach our table, winking at me.

“How goes it, Bro,” he asked, then shifted his gaze to appraise the girl. His face quickly changed from friendly curiosity to surprise, as he blinked, grinned and remarked, “Wow, imagine running into you again so soon. How are you feeling? Recovered from all that activity?”

Mandy smiled quizzically. “Have we met?” she asked.

“Can’t say we’re exactly strangers,” Daryl replied. “You know, I’m always looking for a good performer. If you get around this way often, maybe you’d like to do a party vid I’m lining up at one of our sororities.” He held up his small video camera, which he often carried.

Her seemingly perplexed look deepened, brow furrowing as her smile thinned. “I’m kind of booked. You’ll have to talk to my agent,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes slightly, then looked at me and added, “Well, I have to go, John. Thank you again for your help. See you at lecture hall.” She gathered her materials and rose, motioning Daryl to take her chair, and walked quickly away.

“Well, you may finally be about to hit pay dirt,” Daryl said to me, taking the chair. “You’re on a first name basis, I see. Does she take courses here? I thought she went to State.”

“She goes here, and thanks for chasing her away,” I replied, sarcastically.

“Weird chick, though,” Daryl went on. “She got a wad of cash and a wad of spunk from me a few days ago, but now acts as if she doesn’t recognize me and blows me off when I offer her another job.” He shook his head. “But she remembered you?”

“I don’t think so. We exchanged names just before you showed.”

“Well, she was whackadoo stoned. Probably everybody and everything was a blur. Anyway, keep up the good work, Bro. You can’t miss on this one, according to Tyler. She’s been around.”

Strange, I thought. If this brief encounter had been my first with Mandy, she wouldn’t have struck me as a wild one. She seemed friendly but low key, even reserved, not like the girl I had witnessed fucking and sucking off guys for the camera. Anyway, she was a good looking babe, and I agreed with Daryl that maybe this was my opportunity to get some relief from extreme sexual tension, while building up confidence to improve my record on the social circuit.

* * *

 

I visited the union a few times over the next couple days, but did not run into Mandy again. When the lecture hall arrived, I looked around and spotted her. She saw me too, and I felt a tinge of excitement when she waved me over. I took the seat next to her.

“Now we’ll see if your interpretation of medieval politics was right,” she said, smiling, as Prof Drake called for silence and began the presentation. After a while he asked for opinions relating to a labyrinthine tangle of alliances. No one volunteered a comment.

“Come on people,” the prof urged. “This isn’t medieval England. Wayward interpretations don’t result in the rack.”

Mandy nudged me and whispered, “You know that — it’s what we discussed the other day. Why don’t you say something.” I mumbled back that I didn’t like to hog the spotlight. Mandy quickly raised her hand and spoke to the question, adding insight of her own. I was impressed — she had taken our discussion seriously, must have studied more and actually thought about the material. The prof nodded and saluted her interpretation.

After the lecture adjourned, I invited her to join me for a snack at the union cafeteria. I was not confident she would accept after my lecture hall wimp-out. But she did. Over cola and tacos, I complimented her academic understanding, as well as her comfort expressing herself in a crowd situation (although I already knew that from the party).

“My family is pretty out-going,” she said, smiling. “We were brought up in social situations. Actually I’m the shy one. My brother and sister are more extroverted and uninhibited.”

Wow, I thought, Daryl should see about signing them up.

We talked more. She was a frosh, like me. Did she like the school? She shrugged — she liked the idea of higher education, but was still undecided how to use it; she liked music and would make it her major; was satisfied with her courses and instructors, but considered the social scene, with its fraternity and sorority culture, “hedonistic and downright authoritarian, run by a bunch of former schoolyard bullies.” She had not pledged, and did not plan to.

I was surprised at her take on frat culture, considering how at ease she had been performing at the state university.

“I was curious enough to go to a couple of parties,” she said. “After all, I wasn’t raised in a vacuum, and was up for a good time with some of the people I’ve met here, but some of what goes down is absolutely amazing.”

Sure is, I thought, replying, “Bet you’ve been treated like a star, though. You’re real attractive. Guys must be falling all over themselves trying to show you a good time.”

She looked at me without expression. “I don’t understand the guys around here,” she said, shaking her head. “Some take a lot for granted, and seem to almost get offended if you don’t show interest in jumping their bones. Others talk in riddles, saying lame things — like your friend when we were here the other day.”

“My roommate Daryl. Well, he was under the impression that you and he met before, and…” I couldn’t think how to finish, but it didn’t matter, as she was going on.

“Just the other day, one guy, apparently a big jock around campus, told me he knew I liked ‘action’ but I needed to improve my ‘social standing,’ and he would help for ‘a reward.’ He winked as he said it.” She shook her head. “I mean, what’s with a lame riddle like that? Is it supposed to sweep me off my feet?”

Apparently it did not, although I was pretty sure what the riddle was alluding to, and it gave me an idea for an opening. “Well, I was thinking maybe I should be rewarded for helping you improve your educational standing in Western Civ. There’s the Harvest Dance coming up this weekend. How about accompanying me?” Listening to myself I was not sure how that came out. Corny as hell probably.

She looked at me with an unreadable expression in those wide eyes, perhaps skeptical or maybe amused at my nerdiness, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. I felt the need to say something more clever, quickly.

“If you do go to the dance with me, I promise to keep the riddles to a minimum and I won’t come close to improving your social standing,” I added, with a straight face.

She smiled. My hands were beneath the table and I felt my fingers straining from multiple crosses.

“Well, two guys have already asked me. I turned down the one who volunteered to improve my standing, but was thinking about going with the other guy.”

My lucky streak continues, I thought, probably looking disappointed.

“But I’m not too crazy about him either, so yes, I’ll go to the dance with you, John. You seem like a nice guy, one of the few I’ve met here, and a welcome change from the macho studs.”

“Yes!” I thought. Nerds one, Studs zero.

“I just hope you’re not too deep for me. You’re so well-versed in ancient history, and those frames are cerebral,” she said, making circles in front of her deep blue eyes with thumbs and forefingers, then smiling to show it was meant as a joke. That was the second time she mocked my glasses, although she seemed not to remember our first meeting.

 

* * *

 

Dances can be a great boost to social confidence, offering newbie acquaintances sanctioned close contact when the music is playing, and the chance to talk and get to know one another better during breaks.

We found a table with Mandy’s dorm roommate Kay, who she seemed to like. A well-endowed brunette with a short bob, deep brown eyes and quick smile, Kay had just remarked that she was attending the event “as the official token wallflower” when she was whisked away to dance by an evident admirer.

“Kay is stuck on a guy back home,” Mandy explained. “She had three invitations to the dance, but came here single. She hasn’t dated at all because she doesn’t want to risk being led into temptation. I don’t have that problem.”

Talk about riddles: Was that a cut? Well, it called for a response of some sort. “Sorry that I’m not tempting,” I ventured with a straight face.

She looked puzzled, then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” she said anxiously, her hand touching my wrist on the table, then smiling when she realized I was at least part-joking. “I meant that I don’t have Kay’s concern about a potential amorous conflict because I’m not going with anyone at present. I broke up with a guy over the summer.”

I was glad to hear that I still had a chance in the temptation department.

We hit the dance floor for a couple of numbers. She moved fluidly on a fast one, and did not shy from contact during a slower one that was more my taste. Holding close someone so good looking boosted my ego as well as my libido.

There was no bar at the Harvest Dance because it was an official college function, with mainly an underage crowd, but many students, myself included, packed small flasks to spice up cups of punch, and the staff chaperones looked the other way unless a problem developed. Back at our table, Mandy joined me in downing a few spiked cups, which probably helped loosen our tongues.

She wore an eye-catching print dress. At first glance it looked like a strapless evening gown, complete to low front showing a lot of cleavage, until you realized that the simulated flesh color in chest and shoulders was part of the dress, which actually had sleeves and a high neckline. I told her I liked it, finding it both modest and bold. She said she was worried the dress was perhaps a “little much” for a harvest theme, but it was warm in fall weather, adding that her sister had picked it out for her “when we were still on speaking terms.”

That led into dialogue on family. Her lawyer dad and teacher mom were “a little pedantic but free-spirited, encouraging us kids to explore our interests.” I told her my folks were a school finance officer and a realtor, also fairly progressive in outlook. Neither of us was particularly close with our siblings, but did not go into details.

We found we both liked outdoor activities. Mandy had done some rock climbing. I was into white water paddling. We had both done a lot of camping and hiking, much of it in national parks, and discovered we may have been in one park at the same time. We had common tastes in music, and ran through musicians and groups we favored. I liked to read. She did too, but also enjoyed movies (which I already knew), and we itemized several that we both liked.

We got into a long discussion about philosophy, morals and personal freedom, agreeing that just about anything was okay as long as you did not hurt other people and were up front about things.

During our conversation, I noticed some people at our table and adjacent ones casting glances our way. Once in a while there were whispered comments and secretive smiles. Were we a mismatched couple according to campus conventional wisdom — the hot chick with the nerd? Whatever. I ignored it, and if Mandy noticed, she did too.

As I walked her back to her dorm, Mandy leaned into me some, perhaps a little dizzy from the spiked punch. Our hands and arms brushed together. We lingered a while longer at the door. She said she enjoyed the dance, and hoped we would “see each other again.” That was an opening, and I suggested a movies date for the next night, noting one of the pictures we both wanted to see was playing nearby. She agreed, then leaning forward, planted a quick kiss full on my lips, smiled and turned into the building.

I was very lighthearted and found myself whistling on the walk back to my dorm, pleased at how our first date had gone. It must have shown.

“Is that a ‘just got laid’ look on your face, Bro?” Daryl asked, as I came in the door. “You look pretty happy.”

“Trying to build a relationship,” I said, adding with a smirk, “Only laid the foundation.” He laughed.

 

* * *

 

The movie date also went well, as did a couple study sessions at the library and between-class meetings at the union. We became ever more relaxed in each others company, touching and letting hands come together easily. There were more goodnight kisses and they seemed to get deeper and last longer.

The big breakthrough came when Mandy’s roommate Kay flew home for Thanksgiving break. Neither of us was leaving for the holiday, and Kay told us if we provided shuttle service to the airport we could use her car while she was gone. After dropping her off, we checked out a nearby night spot popular with students at the state university, ordered wine, and were delighted when not asked to prove our age. I would not have to spike colas with the contents of the flask in my cargo pants leg pocket.

Returning from the men’s room, I found Mandy surrounded by three guys chatting her up. Upon seeing me, she hopped up from her seat and suggested we go to the dance floor.

“People you know?” I asked.

“No, although they acted like we do, or that we should,” she sighed. “I get that a lot lately. Anyway, I want them to see that I’m already with someone, so let’s dance.”

It was a good band and Mandy really got into it, perhaps primed by the wine. Her gyrations accentuated her well-proportioned body, and she was not averse to some light grinding, which turned me on. I lost my usual reticence on the dance floor, entering that zen-like state that good music and a good partner can evoke, and was surprised a couple of times when other couples gave us a thumbs up and mock applause. I noticed some guys looking on with evident envy, and heard a girl say, “That cute guy with the glasses has some awesome moves.”

So, the nerd was becoming “cute” with “awesome moves?” Ego boosts are always welcome.

It was well past midnight when we got back to our own campus.

After parking the car we walked to Mandy’s dorm, and the good night kiss this time became even more drawn out and enthusiastic. Her arms were around my neck, her tongue probing into my mouth. I had a brief uncomfortable flashback about what had occupied her mouth during the video party, but put it aside and returned the tongue interplay. When we broke for air, Mandy looked at me with those wide eyes, a Mona Lisa smile on her face as she invited me to “come up for a nightcap.”

I had a vague memory from orientation that midnight was a cutoff time, after which students were not supposed to have “visitors” in our dorm rooms, but I sure wasn’t going to remind her.

In the room, Mandy took a previously opened bottle of wine from the small fridge. She poured glasses, and we sat down on the edge of her bed, each taking a sip while looking at the other, then without further ado put aside the glasses and fell into a clutch.

Tongues enjoined, I tentatively fondled her breasts through her sweater. She did not object, and responded by running a hand down between my legs. She could undoubtedly feel my hardness through the pants. “Yes,” I thought, as my hands began exploring her in the same area. We soon unlocked lips for a short breather, looked at each other and saw mutual desire.

I took the bottom of her sweater and tugged it gently upwards as she raised her arms so I could pull it over her head. Her hard nipples were evident through a thin blouse — no bra. To my growing excitement, she began unbuttoning her blouse, as I quickly doffed my own jacket and shirt. Her full breasts presented themselves and I leaned in to kiss and nibble gently on the firm nipples.

We engaged in another passionate round of French kissing, all the more exciting for the feel of her hard nipples against my bare chest. Then she stood and began undoing her slacks. “Yes, yes,” I thought, standing to undo my own belt and drop my pants. Hers fell away and she sat and leaned back to remove her panties, then helped slide my boxers down my legs. My dick sprung out at full attention, brushing her cheek. Mandy looked at it a moment, and it apparently passed inspection for she lightly kissed and licked around the head, finally taking it deep in an oral embrace. “Oh, Yes,” I thought, in rapture.

She worked my organ with enthusiasm, quickly bringing me dangerously close to a climax. I backed away, out of her mouth. She looked up questioning.

“Lie back so I can return the favor,” I suggested, gently. She did so, spreading her legs. Putting my glasses aside, I kneeled in front of her partially-shaven pussy and began tonguing and nibbling the clitoris and lips, to her evident satisfaction, then inserted a couple fingers into her love box, following the lessons learned with my ex-girlfriend. I felt clumsy and inexperienced, sure that she was used to guys with much smoother technique, but Mandy seemed pleased, murmuring softly.

I decided to take the big dive, seeking uncharted oral territory, and inserted my tongue into her vagina, detecting a taste that was not unpleasant. But after probing with my tongue for a few seconds, I had a sudden flashback to the video party, with Tyler’s dick in there, and had the horrible thought that I was licking his cum. I tried to suppress the thought, but felt nauseous and wound up withdrawing. Looking up, I hoped not to read disappointment in her expression. Instead, there was a hungry look.

“Do you have a condom?” Mandy asked, a slight quiver to her voice.

“Yes,” I said. Yes, Yes, Yes, I thought. It seemed to take an eternity to retrieve my wallet from the back pocket of my pants on the floor, find and open the small package therein and slip on the tiny latex item. I wondered vaguely why it was important to her that I wear one, considering that she had fucked Tyler bareback on the table, but did not dwell on that due to my own eagerness. Finally, I was ready, and got between her long legs, which were spread wide in open invitation.

Mandy extended a hand to guide me into her. My heart was already racing from the excitement, and the rate probably doubled as I felt my dick virtually inhaled into a tight, warm embrace. I started pumping. She murmured her pleasure, but whispered softly, “There’s no hurry. We have all night. Let’s make it last.” I slowed my pace, and we kissed again. I had to slow even more. I had been so long without a female that I felt on the edge of cumming no matter how slow I went. I had to remain virtually at a standstill.

After a couple minutes, Mandy smiled and chuckled, “This is like suspended animation. Okay, go ahead at your own pace, but I hope you have a fast recovery time.”

I made a few quick thrusts and felt a nova explode in my loins. After virtually yelling the Lord’s name in vain, I lowered my head so we were cheek to cheek on the pillow, and I could feel her boobs against my heaving chest, my heart still galloping, as I thrust ever slower. It had not gone nearly “all night,” but from my perspective it was a great ice-breaker. I probably had a smile a mile wide. Finally, I disengaged, and we lay side by side on our backs.

“That was so great,” I told her. “For me, at least. I’m sorry I didn’t last longer.”

“It was still nice,” she said consolingly, taking my hand, “and maybe you’ll regain some energy later.”

As the afterglow faded, I marveled in my mind — here I was lying naked with a beautiful girl I had not even known a few weeks ago, then saw in a live XXX-rated performance, met by chance, come to like and now fucked, breaking a personal drought of historic proportions in my unseasoned sex life.

My dick had deflated completely, and the rubber was about to fall off, so I removed it and wrapped it in a tissue from the box on her night table before depositing into her wastebasket, then found my glasses and lay back beside her, taking her hand again. We lay there a long while, talking.

We heard a babble of laughing feminine voices as other late-arriving residents walked down the hallway outside. Their conversation was audible as they passed the door to Mandy’s room.

“I still can’t get over the size of it,” one girl said.

“I don’t know how Amy and Jo fit it in,” said a second.

“Was it as big as your boyfriend’s?” asked another.

“It was as big as my boyfriend’s horse’s,” was the reply, to peals of laughter. The voices faded away.

Mandy speculated the girls were returning from a sorority party that the grapevine promised would be pretty wild, with male strippers diddling female actresses in order to turn on the revelers. Maybe it was the party Daryl had tried to sign her up for, I thought.

“Rumor was the strippers would satisfy any adventurous student volunteers,” Mandy said. “From what those girls were saying, it sounded like there may have been a few takers.”

“They probably had more fun tonight than you have,” I said, apologetically.

“I’m more than happy being here rather than there,” she replied, smiling as she squeezed my arm.

“You’ve probably realized already that I’m not very experienced,” I confessed, “but I’m willing to learn.”

“We may really be in trouble, then,” Mandy replied, with a straight face. “So far, you’ve been the tutor in this relationship.” We both laughed. She smiled broadly, adding, “You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not that experienced either. In fact this is a personal record. It’s always taken me a lot longer than this to get into bed with someone.”

At least as long as it takes for the camera lights to come on, I could not help thinking. But I subdued my cynicism, realizing that if it wasn’t for that porno party I would have no reason not to believe her innocence fantasy. Anyway, it was nicer to play along with it.

She rose on one arm and drew imaginary circles around my chest with a finger. Her long hair fell partly over her face.

“Maybe it happened quicker this time around because now that I’m a collegian I feel some adult entitlement,” Mandy said, with mock sophistication, flinging her hair back. Then she looked me in the eye, adding seriously, “Also let’s just say I feel a special draw here.” The sophistication evaporated and she looked away, as if a trifle embarrassed at having revealed an emotion too soon.

I felt elated. What guy didn’t like a beautiful girl telling him he was special, even if the girl was a porn star. More than ever I wanted to suspend disbelief and let my ego grow.

It was not all that was growing, and she noticed.

“Have another of those wrappers?” Mandy asked, smiling, wide eyes gleaming.

I did, and we went into Act II, this one a lot longer in duration. As it progressed, she voiced her approval in soft murmurs, running her hands down my back, her nails digging in slightly. She enfolded me with those long legs, at one point drumming her heels on my butt as I thrust.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, as her vaginal muscles began to contract, and I felt like my dick was in one of those old wringer washers. It hurt, especially considering I was already sore from Act I, but I gritted my teeth, determined to play through the pain. Before long, the pleasure was predominating again. We picked up the pace, her fingers digging deeper into my back even as her leg embrace tightened and her love box became even more of a meat grinder. She let out a little scream of enjoyment and her hips rose at the same time I came again, adding my voice to hers in an erotic duet.

We lay joined together for a long time before I sensed it was time to withdraw. I plopped down on my back alongside her, my hand resting lightly on her thigh.

“You found that extra energy,” Mandy said.

“Yeah,” I panted. “You got off, right?”

“Oh, yes, couldn’t you tell?”

“So I did okay?”

“You don’t have to go apologizing again,” she said, laughing softly. “In my limited experience you were fantastic.” She kissed me tenderly on the lips, then got up and put on her top and slacks. “Bathroom break,” she said, going out the door and down the hall to the shared facility.

I lay there, thinking how beautiful, witty and affectionate she was, also how nice she seemed, even a little shy. She was certainly passionate enough, evidently enjoying our fucking, but as if it was something special, just between us “novices.” Mandy was not at all like the girl I remembered who casually took it on the table from a big-cock stud while sucking off three other guys to popular acclaim from a crowd of onlookers. If I hadn’t gone with Daryl that night, meeting her when she was stoned out of her mind and ready to service the world, I would be totally entranced by the air of semi-innocence she was now portraying so believably.

Thinking back on our conversations, this interesting girl had never sounded promiscuous. She certainly didn’t like suggestive remarks from guys who had probably heard through the grapevine about her performance at State, and maybe even been there to see her in action. Those guys undoubtedly figured that coming on strong would help them score with a sexually high powered babe. They were wrong. It did not work with the Mandy I was seeing, who seemed to prefer a low key, inexperienced nerd like me.

Definitely odd, I thought, but why try too hard to figure it out. Just let your ego grow and enjoy the ride for a while, I told myself.

We spent the night together snuggling in her single bed. Mandy set her phone to give an early alarm so she could shower and I could get out before the women’s dorm came to life. When it went off I began groggily putting on my clothes while she wrapped a bath towel around her beautiful body. As I zipped my fly and reached for my shirt she put her arms around me and planted a firm kiss.

“Remember, Kay’s not going to be here for the next three nights,” she said, smiling.

“How about we have dinner and get together again tonight,” I said, putting a slight emphasis on the words “get together.”

She nodded with enthusiasm.

Daryl caught on right away. He was asleep when I got back, but woke up as I stripped to take my own shower. “You forget the way back last night, Bro — sleep out on the quad?” he asked. I just smiled in response. He jumped out of bed and insisted on delivering a high five.

Later that day, I went to a drugstore and replenished my condom stockpile, laying the bag on the table in her room when I picked her up. After dinner and a movie, we returned to the room, began making out and undressed. She laughed when I opened the bag and she saw what was in it.

“What a nice gift,” she said. “Let’s put it to use as we further our education.”

That education consisted of variations of the Kama Sutra from an illustrated manual I had obtained from a used bookstore, all of which were thoroughly enjoyable and edifying. Not just nights either. There were a couple of daytime detours to her room. We did other things too, with classes suspended for the holiday. Hikes in the countryside, rides in Kay’s car to look at nearby scenic attractions. But not a day went by without exploration best conducted in bed. With Kay away, Mandy did want to play.

It was as if we could not get enough of one another.

Daryl shook his head as I staggered home one morning, advising me with mock seriousness, “Think about slowing down, John. I know you’re making up for lost time, but you don’t want it to fall off.”

We thought we were being subtle and careful, trying not to be obvious that Mandy’s room had turned into Tryst Haven, but I found out otherwise one afternoon while passing a group of co-eds. Two or three showed sly little smiles as they looked at me. One winked. Another said, “Hi Superman,” and her companion giggled. I informed Mandy that our cover was blown.

She acknowledged it. “We’ve been the object of levity for the last two days,” she said, shrugging. “I guess there are no secrets in a college dorm, even when most of the girls are away.”

“It was the first time a girl ever called me Superman,” I said.

“Well, you’ve been here so much and holding up so well they probably think you have super stamina and deserve the name,” Mandy said, smiling. “They also call you Clark Kent, probably because of those stylish glasses you wear.” She took them off me. “But you do turn into Superman in bed. Some people are calling me Lois, and I admit I like being your Lois.”

“I don’t feel so super right now,” I told her. “I’m eager to service you with a single bound, but my dick is so sore that I worry it may have Kryptonite poisoning.”

“Well, there is a less strenuous activity that may help that,” Mandy laughed, throwing her arms around me and initiating a kiss. We started making out and undressing each other, and then, at her direction, went into a long and passionate sideways 69. It was the first time we had engaged in oral as the main event. I was no longer squeamish about this activity, figuring enough time had passed that Tyler’s deposits had surely been biodegraded and lavaged away.

Judging by Mandy’s vocalizations, plus the contractions and amount of moisture in her puss, I felt pretty good about my performance and was getting close to the payoff myself. Just to verify the protocol, I disengaged from her muff to announce rather breathlessly that my climax was approaching. She mumbled something, which was unintelligible since her mouth was occupied. She must have realized that, and laughingly expelled me to speak.

“You can come in my mouth,” she said, a little short-winded herself, then resumed working me.

I exploded, and as I did she knew just when to cut back the vigorous mouth action to a gentle massage. It was great. She was great.

We both lay motionless for a while, as we recovered. I was still facing her muff, and licked once in a while at moisture escaping around the lips. I felt her return the favor as I softened. There was something tender about this exchange. Finally, I changed position so we were lying face to face. Strands of her long, honey blonde hair wrapped around her face, shoulders and breasts, wet with sweat. Her lips in a gentle smile, were also wet, at least partially with my cum, most of which she must have swallowed. Her wide eyes gazed placidly at me. I found her super sensual at this moment, absolutely beautiful, and told her so. She smiled, and we kissed. I could taste my own cum, and tried not to be squeamish about it. After all, if she did not mind, who was I to complain?

The tender moment passed, and I made a lame joke. “You know, I have to relinquish the job as your educational tutor. You are now the head instructor. That was the best head I’ve ever received, by far.”

She laughed, then her face took on a sort of grim smile.

“I suppose you have my sister to thank if you enjoyed it,” she said. I must have looked puzzled, and she elaborated, “When we were getting along better, and sharing information more, she told me what her boyfriends liked, and gave me some tips on how to please my boyfriend — that is, my former boyfriend.”

“You learned well.”

“But the lesson had a downside,” she said, with a serious expression.

“How come?”

“Should I tell you the whole sordid tale?” she said, looking uncertain. “I don’t want to… well, scare you off.”

“You’re not so scary,” I said, kissing her. She looked at me with those wide eyes, and her expression seemed to lighten a little.

“Okay, confession time. We got together in bed — me, my boyfriend and my sister — and… well, my sister had me give him head while she watched.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Are you turned off by this?” she asked, looking worried. I shook my head.

“I had given oral to a couple guys before, but never felt too comfortable about it,” Mandy said. My sister appraised my technique, and then… then she went down on Jeff — my ex — demonstrating the way it should be done; then had me do it again until she thought I had it down pretty good.”

“Wow,” I said again, eloquent as usual. I tried a pun. “Do they call that two heads better than one?

“Sure you’re okay with this?” She frowned. I nodded, and tried not to look unsophisticated.

“Then my sister asked if I would like to team up with her for an advanced lesson, suggesting we both fuck Jeff as well.”

“Wow,” I repeated, for a third time. After trying to think of something more to say, I ventured, “Guess Jeff was happy.” Actually, I was not too surprised, considering what I had already witnessed with Mandy and what she had told me of her somewhat uninhibited family.

“We didn’t have that threesome. I wasn’t cool with it,” Mandy said. “I felt very uncomfortable just watching my sister give head to my boyfriend, and also doing that in front of her. Not that she and I hadn’t done a lot together. We had been close up to then, shared a lot of experiences, and I thought this was just her way of helping me learn something. But Jeff and I had already been having sex, and I thought we’d figured it out pretty well on our own, so I told my sister we could end the lesson. She said okay, patted Jeff on the ass and left, telling us to carry on.”

“That story sounds sexy, for sure, but not too awfully sordid,” I said.

“Well, here’s the sad ending. Maybe two or three weeks later I came back to the house after some extra-curricular thing at school. I heard sounds from upstairs, and after listening a little, it sounded like people having sex. My parents were away with some friends and my brother was no longer living at home, so I knew it had to be my sister with someone. So, I stayed downstairs to give her time to finish. We shared the same bedroom and I didn’t want to walk in on her. Not that she would have minded — she doesn’t know the meaning of ‘inhibitions’ — but I felt whoever she was with, the guy, would have been uncomfortable.”

Mandy paused a moment. She seemed upset. Instinct told me not to say anything.

“Well, after a while, they came downstairs,” she resumed, “and guess what — the guy my sister was with was Jeff, my boyfriend! They were surprised to see me. I guess they thought I was going to be a lot later getting home from school.”

I did not know what to say. “You were probably pissed?” I ventured.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Mandy said, frowning. “I lost it, started yelling, crying, asking how they could do that to me behind my back, how long it had been going on, all that.” She waved her hand in a circle. “Well, they had been having sex for a while. My sister had set up the blowjob ‘lesson’ to try and entice me into a threesome, so they could come out of the closet. Jeff asked me not to he upset. He said it was not cheating, that it was like having two of me because my sister and I were so alike.” She smiled grimly. “What really bothered me was they hadn’t been upfront about it, going behind my back. I haven’t talked to either of them since it happened — about four months now. I don’t even know where they are, whether they’re together or what they’re doing. And I don’t care,” she said, vehemently.

We were silent for a while. I had some weird thoughts. I wondered if the thing with her sister and boyfriend may somehow have pushed Mandy into the porn party scene. Perhaps fucking and sucking a few guys was a way of trying to understand her sister and ex, to see what drove them, and what she was missing? I was still learning about this wild child: One moment she was super-sexual, promiscuous, pushing the envelope into taboo territory, taking on half the frat house; then she seemed to prefer just one guy, channeling her passion, angry at those who did not. Just as I was still learning about her, maybe she was still learning about herself, and was also a bit confused. The one thing I knew for sure was that I liked the learning process. I kissed her on the forehead, and hugged her. She responded by throwing her arms around me.

“I’m glad I found you,” she said, a tear falling from her eye, moistening both our cheeks.

We showered, ate out and drove to the airport later that evening to meet Kay’s plane, by which time Mandy’s mood had improved. The girls sat in the front seats as Kay took the wheel of her car. She chatted exuberantly about how much she had enjoyed her visit home, how great it was to see parents and boyfriend again — “Really great to see him,” she said, with an evocative look — finally asking what was new on campus.

“John and I are an item,” Mandy replied, looking at her with a shy smile, and turning to glance at me.

“I knew it!” Kay exclaimed. “I just knew it wouldn’t be long once you guys had the room to yourselves.” She looked at me in the rear view mirror. “Congratulations, big guy.”

Kay’s return did not cramp our style too much. She volunteered to be away at the union or the library on certain evenings or afternoons, and I worked out a similar arrangement with Daryl, so we could alternate liaisons between Mandy’s dorm room and mine. It was inevitable that we would begin to slow down — the human body can take just so much strenuous activity — but we still manged to get together several times in following days.

“Tell Daryl we don’t have to throw him out tonight,” Mandy said to me at the union one morning. I looked at her questioningly. “Mama Menstrual,” she said, shrugging. “You don’t want this to turn bloody, do you?”

How fast one becomes accustomed to a new protocol. Until I met Mandy, I hadn’t been laid in months, and although I was always on edge, celibacy had almost become normal. Now, after a couple weeks of frequent sex, going five straight days without seemed like an eternity.

I was also aware of something else: During our abstinence, we continued to meet at the union and library, take walks around the campus and into town, hang out at one of our dorms, studying together or just talking. It was enjoyable being with her, even without sex. She had become a comfortable part of my ordinary routine, frivolity morphing into friendship.

Ironically, she may have been out of commission for a while but Mandy continued to be the object of frequent sexual allusions. Daryl had told me that knowledge of Mandy’s video was widespread at State, and apparently it was spreading on our campus too. Guys I hardly knew would ask me how I liked being with “the star,” and would hit on her when I was not present. Even some of the female students were using the “star” nickname with her. Mandy maintained bewilderment.

“At first I thought they were complimenting my academic performance in class, but they wink and titter, and when I ask what they mean they just clam up, with know-it-all looks,” she said, exasperated. “I can’t figure people out,” she added, squeezing my hand and laying her head on my shoulder as we strolled a woodland path. “I don’t mind being called Lois because I do enjoy being with my super man, but I don’t feel like a star when I can’t even perform for him at present.”

We came to a bench at a secluded spot. “Maybe I can make it up to you somewhat,” Mandy said, taking my arm and making me sit. She undid my fly, worked my stiffening pecker out and began applying her considerable oral skills. It was an outstanding way of making amends.

Finally, she confirmed her period was over, and invited me up to her room. We were all over each other as soon as the door closed, and out of our clothes in short order. I began to unwrap a condom, but she stopped me.

“We don’t need that tonight,” she said. I looked at her curiously. “We should be safe for the next eight days,” she said, “going by the rhythm method.”

She pointed to her wall calendar, on which she had marked each of the condom-free dates by a little symbol resembling the head of an erect penis. The “heads” had what appeared to be little drops squirting out of them. I laughed, even while remembering something that had puzzled me. Looking at the calendar, I figured out that the video party would have been during a previous infertile time for her, which could explain why she had not cared that Tyler went into her without a condom but she had wanted me to use them until now.

“Hey deep thinker,” she said. “Come on. Let’s play doctor. I’m feeling run-down and in need of an energy boost. I want you bareback, to see if I can feel your hot injection.” That interrupted my reverie, and I eagerly responded.

We both agreed afterward that the feeling was great, as we lay back, holding hands in the afterglow. She placed a tissue on the sheets between her legs to catch the creampie bubbling out of her love box.

“I hated our separation, and enjoyed coming back together with you unencumbered by latex,” Mandy said. “I might see a doctor about a pill that would take care of those problems.”

It was a double header night, as we made up for our lost days, but we couldn’t expect Kay to stay out forever, and we had early classes the next day, so I managed to get back to my dorm room before midnight. Daryl was still up, and high-fived me.

“By that smile on your face, the mini-drought must be over,” he said. “I probably won’t see you again for another month. Just don’t wear the starlet out, Bro. Her public needs her too.”

My smile died. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about her like that,” I told him, my voice a little hard. “She’s my girlfriend, and I really like her.” I had a sudden recollection of him holding a camera pointed at his dick in Mandy’s mouth. My face must have shown I was pissed because he quickly got sober.

“C’mon, bro. John, you’re not really falling for her, are you? I mean, she’s a good looking babe, and I’m sure she’s awesome in the sack, but she’s not girlfriend material. You saw her in action. I mean, have a good time with her, but don’t get serious.” He paused, seeing me grow even angrier, then added, “Man, I’m not trying to bust your chops. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“She had some personal shit going on,” I told him. “I think that’s why she did your show. She hasn’t talked about it directly, but I think it was some twisted kind of rebound after being fucked over by her sister and former boyfriend, and she’s ashamed of it now. She’s not like that usually. She’s… ”

“She’s doing another show for me,” Daryl broke in.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, John. I was trying to think how to break it to you, but I guess there’s no easy way. She’s down for another frat shoot at State.”

It took me a moment to respond. “I can’t believe that,” I said. “She told you to screw off — she wasn’t interested when you tried to sign her up for something a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but maybe she got interested when she heard about the $700 I’m authorized to pay her,” Daryl said. “That last video has been a big hit on the porn site. The freebie teaser drew in a lot of paying customers, and the producers want a few more scenarios — if they fly, she could be signed as a regular. She stands to make seven and more each week for a few hours work, and it could go on for a long while. She probably realizes she can pay off her school loans a lot quicker.”

I felt churning in my gut.

“She’s a funny chick,” Daryl mused. “Almost like she leads a double life or something. She sneaks off to State and plays Debbie Does Dallas; then prances innocently around campus here as if nothing has gone down, telling guys to fuck off and not humping anyone — except you. She won’t even talk to me — I’m providing her cash ticket, but she just blows me off like that day at the union. I had to go through Tyler to set up this deal. It’s like he’s her agent or something. She even goes by a different name at State. But an alias isn’t unusual in this business.”

My head was spinning. “So when is this next show?” I asked, at last.

“Tomorrow night, Saturday,” Daryl said. “at Tyler’s frat.”

“That can’t be,” I told him. “Mandy and I just talked. We’re going to a movie — then come here.”

Daryl frowned. “I hope she’s not so nutsy that she’d stand me up on the shoot. Well, we need to straighten this out, for sure. Why don’t you call her.”

“Too late now. She was falling asleep when I left. I’ll call her tomorrow morning.”

I did not sleep well that night. I was too agitated, and even when I did nod off had restless dreams. In one I was trying to find Mandy among sexual revelers at a party in some huge mansion. When not having bad dreams I kept running scenarios through my head about how to open what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant conversation. Next morning, I called her, saying I wanted to confirm our date.

“Oh, I was just going to call you — I can’t,” she said, sounding apologetic. “When Kay got here, just after you left last night, she… Well, she has some things going down — a problem with her boyfriend back home. She wants us to have a girls’ night to go over stuff.”

I could not say anything. My gut was giving an alarm symbol.

“She’s really upset. She needs this,” Mandy continued. “Let’s get together Sunday, okay? That movie will still be playing, or we can just hang out in my room. Kay will owe me some privacy,” she said, suggestively.

I mumbled agreement, and resolved not to think about it any more right away, or to fall for her any deeper until this picture cleared up.

“What did she say?” Daryl asked, after I hung up.

“Our date’s off,” I responded. “She said she has something else going on.”

Daryl looked relieved, but didn’t say anything, probably out of sympathy for me.

“And I’m going with you on the party shoot,” I added. “There are some things you just have to see to be able to believe.”

 

* * *

 

Conversation was muted as Daryl drove us to the scene. A prisoner on his way to the gallows might have felt similar to the way I did — still hoping for a reprieve but primed for the worst.

Tyler greeted Daryl and me, showing us a room with two beds which would serve as the “studio” for the screenplay, which would consist of two girls playing a sex wheel game in the room, gradually stripping, fucking and sucking off a few guys at the party, hopefully inspiring other game-players who were unpaid “extras” to join in. Tyler, who was to play one of the guys, had already briefed the girls on what was expected of them, and primed them with XTC. He went off to pay them from a wad of bills Daryl gave him, and to go over the final details.

“Remember, she’s to get $700. The producer wants to make sure she stays hot to trot,” Daryl called after him.

Tyler did not turn around, just waved his hand as he kept walking, saying, “Don’t worry. The bitch is on board.”

I felt a flash of anger at that remark, as well as Tyler’s smug attitude. Daryl’s description of him as an “agent” for the “starlets” was not so far off, it seemed, although another descriptive word went through my mind.

Daryl went off to get some shots of the party, which was starting to heat up. He wanted candid footage of couples dancing, flirting, drinking and starting to put the make on one another as background for the main event.

My stomach in knots, I surveyed the “studio.” It looked like the typical college frat room that it was most of the time — unkempt beds, small desks with computers and empty cans of beer, a few chairs with stained upholstery and articles of clothing strewn on them, wall posters of music groups and naked women, a sign showing a silhouette of two people doing it doggie-style, with the legend “Party On” beneath.

Soon, the door opened and Tyler escorted the two ladies in. One was a slim brunette with a big rack. My heart dropped into my gut, as I saw the other She looked at me, but then away, with a blank expression. They seated themselves on one of the beds to wait for Daryl.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, even as my gut churned. As she tied back her long hair with a ribbon, she looked at me again, her wide blue eyes glazed by Ecstasy, but this time with slight interest. “The cute guy with the nerdy glasses,” she said, in a thick voice. “You were here last time too. How’s it going?”

Suddenly I got angry. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said. “You were so upset at how your sister and boyfriend went behind your back, and now you do the same to me. By the way, how is Kay?”

Her brow furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Take it easy, man,” Tyler said, adding with a smirk, “Don’t upset the star.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her, ignoring him. Even stoned in this tawdry setting she looked so beautiful. I had to reach her. “Let’s get out of here, go somewhere we can talk.”

She looked at me blankly at first, then said with a look of amusement. “I wouldn’t mind going somewhere with you, cutie, but how ’bout later. I have business right now.”

“And a promising career,” Tyler added with a snigger.

I rose and stood before her, holding out my hand. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re better than this. You don’t want this gig. Come on, please, let’s go,” I pleaded softly.

For a moment, she appeared uncertain. The smirk left her face, and her expression softened. She reached out and touched my hand. Tyler started to rise. Then Daryl, followed by some of the student “extras,” noisily entered the room.

“Okay, curtain call,” Daryl said. “Let’s get the game wheel set up in the middle between the two beds, and start the action.”

I turned to face him. “Sorry Daryl, but we’re leaving. Make this other lady the new star, or get another volunteer from the party,” Turning back to her, I said softly, “Come on Mandy,” taking her by the wrist to encourage her to rise. But the spell had been broken. The hard look returned to her face, and she yanked away.

“I’m not Mandy, I’m Sam,” she said. She seemed about to say more, but Tyler stepped between us, and pushed me back.

“Fuck off,” he said menacingly, looking me in the eyes. He stood four inches taller and outweighed me by at least 75 pounds, but for the first time in my life I knew what it was like to actually “see red.” Fists clenched, hoping to get in a good first shot, I lunged forward, all my weight behind the punch. If Tyler had held his ground he would have had a broken nose, but he bobbed enough so that my fist just glanced off a cheekbone. Even so, it must have stung — one of his hands went to his face, which took on a surprised look. I swung again, a roundhouse punch this time that hit just air, as he backed up reflexively, into the bed where the two girls sat. They screamed and jumped away as he lost his balance and fell back onto the bed, bumping his head against the wall. At that point his expression changed to something like fury as he balled his hands and rose quickly.

Daryl stepped between us.

“Chill,” he said in a loud voice, staring directly at Tyler, then at me. “Everything’s cool,” he shouted, turning his head between the two of us. Tyler paused, but looked as if he wanted to kill me. “Come talk with me, Bro,” Daryl ordered, pushing me back and taking me by the arm away from the stunned gathering. Band music coming through the open door almost drowned out his words, delivered in a firm tone.

“I feel for you, Bro, I really do, but giving it to you straight, she’s not worth getting all bent out of shape over, and if you mess with Tyler he will bend you out of shape. Even if by some miracle you take him out, she won’t leave with you until she fucks whoever fills in for him. Money’s at stake here. You’d have to fight the entire house and her too. Look at her. You can see that.”

I did look. She was running one hand along Tyler’s bicep and with the other was softly rubbing his face where I had hit him. He glared at me, shouting over the loud music that he would make my glasses a permanent part of my face. She followed his words, looking at me and smiling, not disdainfully but also not affectionately, and mouthed something inaudible, which looked like, “I’m Sam.” Then she turned back to soothing Tyler. She showed no inclination to leave.

“Maybe when you see her tomorrow she’ll be your girl again, but if you’re going to stick with her, Bro, you have to accept this shit,” Daryl said. “Otherwise, you have to give it up, man.”

Reality hit. Daryl was right. I felt nauseous and suddenly drained of energy. I made my way to a nearby chair, and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands on face.

“That’s it, Bro, chill. Couple hours and we’re out of here and on the way home.” He turned, and shouted, “Okay everybody: Pre-shoot warmups are over. Places, lights, camera, all that shit.”

The newbie starlet was clearly nervous, even through her drug-induced haze, but the leading lady was good, I had to admit. She looked right at home, doffing clothing and then bestowing favors as the spinning wheel dictated. With her poise, statuesque appearance and those wide eyes, she was clearly star material. I felt numb and curiously detached at first, as if I was looking at a pornographic stage play rather than a personal romantic tragedy. I lasted through a couple of lap dances, but could not take any more after Tyler shed his drawers, his dick popping up, and she got down on her knees to deliver the first head of the game. I spun out of my chair and elbowed my way through the crowd of voyeurs that had gathered. Sustained cheers erupted from the studio room as I chugged a cup at the beer tap.

“Anyone with a car want to make 100 bucks for a 30-mile trip?” I yelled, waving bills in the air. There were no takers, but the bartender sold me a bottle of hard stuff under the table, and I went out to Daryl’s car. I could still hear cheering and chanting through the loud music, but the booze deadened the sound along with the pain. I was pretty well gone when Daryl showed up some indeterminate time later.

“I was looking for you, John,” he said. “Glad you didn’t try to walk home.”

“How’d it go?” I asked, my words undoubtedly slurred. “Get your dick sucked again?”

“No, bro,” he said softly. “I was strictly the cameraman tonight.” He started the engine. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you, man.”

I did not respond. We drove back in silence.

 

* * *

 

I was hungover most of Sunday. It occurred to me while chewing tentatively on a piece of bread that Mandy and I had a date. I laughed, finished my meal, took a few swigs from the bottle and lay back down. My phone sounded a few times, but I ignored it as I debated whether my physical condition was beyond salvation. The room buzzer sounded once. I did not stir. It couldn’t be anybody I wanted to talk to.

My hangover abated Monday, and I swigged nothing more to encourage it, but cut all my classes, just lying in bed most of the day. I was still sick, but it was centered in the head and around the heart.

Tuesday morning came and I had not died. Life must go on, I decided. There were classes to attend. But I passed on my usual trips to the union and library, instead returning to the dorm, which became my pattern in subsequent days. My phone continued ringing, and I continued ignoring it, but did look at the missed calls list at midweek. Sure enough, most were from her.

I almost skipped the lecture hall the next day, but in a sudden flash of indignation decided it was time to stop letting a bruised ego dictate my actions. She was already seated in our usual area when I got there late, but I settled by the door and tried not to look at her, although I sensed that she was looking at me. When it ended, I bolted out the door, not looking in her direction.

Next day I went to the union at a time when I knew she had a class. I spread out some notes and was attempting to read when her backpack thumped down on the table. She had an angry look on her face.

“Why are you acting like this?” she asked, not too quietly. “If you want to break up, at least have the balls to be upfront about it.” Her voice broke a little, and she seemed to swallow hard.

“Upfront — that’s a joke,” I responded, not too quietly myself. “How upfront have you been about your double life?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked loudly.

People were looking at us. “Don’t make me spell it out here,” I said. “If you want to continue this, let’s go outside.” I gathered up my stuff, she took her backpack and we went out to a bench on the periphery of the quadrangle, where we sat apart.

“So what is your problem?” she asked, angrily.

“Your job as a porn star,” I replied.

The anger left her. She appeared shocked, almost as if I had struck her. I was too pissed to care, and went on.

“You come off as only a couple steps from a virgin with me, talk about being honest and straight with each other, and then sneak off to take on guys on video for money. You act like it’s no big deal, as if I should be cool with it.”

They weren’t calling her “the star” for nothing. She was a good actress, I had to give her that, sitting there with her mouth open, looking genuinely startled and uncomprehending. Then her demeanor changed quickly back to anger.

“You bastard,” she said, standing. “I thought you were a great guy. Now you’ve caught the male creep sickness too, saying weird shit about me — even worse — incomprehensible shit.” She stood there a moment, then added, “I hoped you were different. I really liked you.” Tears filled her eyes, as she turned, walking away hurriedly.

Suddenly I felt bad. My anger left, and I almost rose to run after her, but pride stopped me. I restrained myself. Hell, I had been deceived, cheated on, laughed at, rejected and almost beat up. So why did I feel like I was an SOB and she was the victim?

 

* * *

 

In my head, I had written Mandy off as a lost cause. The head does not rule the heart. I kept thinking about her over the next couple days. We had been so close. How could she not know I would be hurt by what she did? And her reaction to our breakup made no sense. Why act innocent and play the martyr, as if I had scorned her without cause. It was almost as if she did not remember what she had done.

Could it be she really did not remember?

I did an online search on the drug Ecstasy, which Tyler had given her. While it reduced inhibitions and might also cause some short term memory loss, there was no evidence of lasting personality changes or total memory wipeout. So, it was not that.

My state of mind was completely new to me, bordering on depression. I could not get her out of my head, recalling our happy times going places, talking, laughing, making love, and how comfortable we had been just hanging out together. Now I felt alone and miserable, skipping meals at the cafeteria, going mechanically to class and then back to the dorm, just hanging out in my room staring at the ceiling, unable to study and uninterested in anything.

Daryl seemed genuinely concerned, and probably felt guilty. He made conversation, told jokes, tried to get me talking, brought me junk food. One evening, he suggested we chill in the dorm lounge, where there was a big screen TV. That did not interest me, but nothing else did either, so I went. We streamed an old movie, “Three Faces of Eve,” about a young woman taken over by “multiple personalities” hidden in her subconscious, which made her do reckless things, including coming on to strangers, that she did not remember later. The personalities even had their own names…

It was like a sudden electric shock. Daryl and I looked at one another. Could it be?

That night I did another online search, finding the malady is now called Dissociative Identity Disorder, and affects more women than men. The main personality, which goes by the person’s real name, is often overcome by alter egos with different names (such as “Smanta” or “Sam,” I thought). The main personality is unaware of the others and has amnesia about promiscuity and stuff she does in an “alter” personality. She shows confusion and anger when confronted about such behavior. The disorder may be caused by physical or emotional abuse, and as in the movie, hypnosis and therapy can help victims remember such trauma, face it and purge alternate personalities, leading a normal life in their main personality. A disturbing revelation was that people with multiple personalities, if not treated, often get more confused and dysfunctional, even try suicide.

I had to attempt to reach Mandy again, and convince her to see a shrink.

It was as if I was writing a term paper. I spent half the night preparing a list of talking points, with links to source material on medical and psychiatric health web sites; also to Daryl’s videos on a porn site. The promo trailer for the latest one had just been posted. That would be the hardest part of this intervention, but if Mandy really could not remember making the videos and continued to deny it, they would be indisputable proof of a problem. I anticipated a difficult presentation.

Next day I made the journey to her dorm room, my gut churning. Kay answered my tentative knock, her face registering surprise, then hostility. Before I could say anything, she pushed me back, came out of the room and shut the door behind her.

“She’s resting,” Kay whispered harshly. “I finally got her to take a sedative, and she’s getting her first good sleep in days. What do you want?”

“There’s something I have to talk to her about.”

“Talk to me first,” she spit out, adding, “Let’s go down the hall, where we won’t wake her.” We went into the stairwell, where Kay opened up.

“You are such a bastard. How could you accuse her of cheating on you, in a porn show no less? How could you believe any of the cruel bullshit that’s being whispered about her? She was completely devoted to you, saw you as a refuge as well as a lover, and then you treat her like shit.”

“Kay, I should have handled it differently. There may be stuff going on with her that’s beyond her control. I’m here because I want to help her.”

“The best help you could give now is stay away and let her heal,” Kay virtually yelled. “I swear, all males are sociopathic, mean bastards.” She paused a moment, then continued. “You want to hear something funny: I hung out with my boyfriend during my trip home — we went places, he fucked me, swore he loved me; there was a tender goodbye kiss at the airport. Then a week later I get his letter saying he found someone else and it would be better if we go our separate ways. He may have been composing it in his head before my plane even left. Mandy consoled me. She said her former boyfriend treated her like shit too, but there would be a better guy come along, and the example she gave was you.” She punched her finger into my chest like a stiletto.

Putting aside the pain of Kay’s words and sharp fingernail, I asked if Mandy had been with her Saturday, the night of the second party. Kay was adamant that Mandy had, and I began to wonder if personality disorder amnesia was contagious.

“The whole time?” I asked. “She didn’t leave for a while?”

“Look, man, I was half out of my head with my own bastard boyfriend problem. I took a couple pills earlier in the day, and probably was out cold a large part of the time, but whenever I looked around Mandy was there for me. She’s one of the few people that can be counted on, a great girl, even if you don’t know it.”

If Kay had been wiped out on sleeping pills, it probably hadn’t registered when Mandy slipped away for the porn shoot, I thought. She may have even taken Kay’s car to drive there. But that aside, Kay cared about Mandy, so I decided to brief her about my theory. It was not easy getting her to listen — I had to block the exit door once, and speak in a low, soothing voice as one would to an angry dog. It did not help that other dorm residents passed us on the stairwell a couple of times, giving us curious looks.

“Bottom line,” I concluded, “I was at both parties and know what I saw, and you’re also aware of all the rumors and comments circulating around Mandy. Unless several people, including me, are all having a mass hallucination, Mandy is leading a double life. Not necessarily a hidden life — she may not even be aware of it herself. This multiple personality disorder is the most logical explanation.”

I gave her my notes, stressing that she could check out the porn party links while Mandy was still asleep. “Whether you believe me or not, whether you like me or not, please look at all this so we can get her help. The experts say suicide is a real threat, and support from friends is important.”

Kay still looked skeptical, but her expression softened a little.

“I don’t remember what time it was when I woke up and we started talking, but I don’t think it was so late that she could have gone to a porn party at State and returned.” She held up my notes. “But I will look at this, and if it seems like there’s something there I’ll talk to her about it when she wakes up, and get back to you.” Her voice hardened again. “In the meantime, stay away from her. Man, if I had to choose, I’d pick you as the one with the personality disorder.”

She went back toward the room. It could have gone worse, I reflected, walking down the stairs. At the first floor elevator I passed three girls who were laughing and carrying on as if they were stoned on something.

“Hey, it’s Clark,” one said, grabbing my arm. “You know, if you got rid of those glasses, Clark, you would look so much like Superman you could be his identical twin. From all the time you spend with a sexy star like Lois, you must have super powers.” She giggled. A friend whispered something in her ear. “No shit?” the talkative girl said. “Sorry Clark, I didn’t know Lois changed your secret identity to Superprick.” The elevator opened, she let go my arm, and they boarded. “But come see me if you need another outlet for all those super powers,” she said, batting her eyes, to laughter from her friends as the elevator door closed.

Next day, another girl who was in one of my classes and lived in Mandy’s dorm, approached me. She was good looking, one of the more popular freshman girls on campus.

“I heard about the breakup,” she said. “Hope you’re not too sad, or depleted of super energy. I may not have Mandy’s credits, but some guys seem to think I’ve got star power of my own.” She winked, smiled and gave me a piece of paper with her name and phone number before walking away.

I reflected on the irony. I had pursued Mandy with the idea of getting an easy lay to build up my confidence so I would have a better chance of scoring on the campus social circuit. Apparently, that goal was at hand, but it no longer mattered. I felt so empty: All I could think about was Mandy, how much I cared for her — for the real Mandy, not her alter ego Smanta or Sam — and getting her help.

The weekend went by without contact from Kay. Thinking she may have blown me off after all, I decided to rev up my courage to go back and see Mandy directly. Monday, after morning classes, I stopped at the union and sat down at a table. My plan was to wait an hour, go to my last class, then find her at the library, where she usually studied.

I was looking vaguely at some textbook when Mandy and Kay showed up. Mandy stared at me with a stern expression.

“So now you think I’m not only a porn star, but a mental case — Three Faces of Eve,” she said, with a thin smile, shaking her head. “Well, at least those videos you told Kay about cleared up a few things.”

I was unsure how to respond to that, and was also overcome by the unexpected close proximity to her and how beautiful she was, even though she was looking stonily at me and her tone was anything but loving.

“Come with us,” she said. “I have something to show you.”

“I have a class coming up,” I said weakly, off balance. “Can…”

“Cut the class,” she ordered sharply. “If I ever meant anything to you, cut it and come with me.”

We went to the parking, got into Kay’s car and headed out of town. Not much was said during the drive. I inquired where we were going, and when they did not answer wondered with some black humor if they were planning to make a hit and dump my body in the country.

Eventually we wound up at the rural night club popular with students of State that Mandy and I had partied at after dropping Kay at the airport. It was early but the place was open, and we went inside, the girls leading. The interior was dark and virtually empty. Someone was at a table near a window. We approached, and as we got closer the outside light provided a clearer view of the person, who rose and faced Mandy.

I was seeing double!

Two of them!

They were alike in every respect — tall, shapely, long honey-blonde hair, big wide blue eyes. The only difference was a slightly harder look on Mandy’s clone.

Kay’s mouth was open. She appeared about as stunned as I.

“Kay, John, I would like to introduce my sister Samantha,” Mandy said.

“You two are identical twins,” I managed to stammer.

“Not identical,” Mandy corrected. “We may look it, but lately we’ve been going separate ways.”

Samantha smiled and nodded in agreement.

“So, Sam, thank you for meeting with us,” Mandy said. “And would you please clarify something: Are you the one in our family who has taken to starring in action videos?”

“You know the answer to that,” Samantha responded. “I told you so when you called.” Even her voice sounded identical to Mandy’s, a little colder perhaps.

“And have I had any part in them?”

“Of course not,” Sam scoffed. “Your beaver is anything but eager.”

Well, it was “multiple personalities” of a sort. And of course it explained why Mandy came off so normal but seemed to suddenly morph into an over-sexed schizoid; also why guys came on to her with sly comments and false expectations. She and Samantha — i.e., “Sam” — were so identical that the party crowd at both schools, even Daryl the cameraman, thought they were the same person using different aliases. So had I.

We all sat down at the table.

“You’ve really made things difficult for me lately,” Mandy told her sister.

“It wasn’t intentional,” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t know about the identity mix-up.” She then conceded, “Maybe I should have suspected something when the glasses guy here called me by your name the other night, but I was kind of spaced out.”

“I didn’t know you were living so close by, or I would have figured out why strangers were acting like they knew me and people being so weird,” Mandy said. “So you’re attending State?”

“No. Sometimes I pretend I am to get around campus security, but I’m just auditing some classes,” she replied. “It’s a way to meet guys and get to the parties. A lot of people think I’m going there.”

“And a lot of others think you’re enrolled at my college,” Mandy said. “Or rather, they think that I’m you — the ‘star’ — and that ‘Sam’ is my stage name at State while I hide out at the college under my real name.”

“Reflected glory,” Sam said, striking a celebrity pose. “Well, you should be grateful. It’s probably helped you meet guys.”

“Oh, sure,” Mandy replied. “Guys with big dicks and tiny brains, and guys who think I’m a mental case. There’s even one theory that we’re the same person with a multiple personality disorder.” She looked pointedly at me.

More conversation ensued. Sam had an apartment and job downtown, near the university, but was thinking of chucking the job when her “media career” took off, which was likely according to a guy she was going with who got her the video gigs. That would be Tyler, parroting Daryl, I thought.

“And that’s how you want to make your living?” Mandy asked.

“There are worse things,” Sam shrugged. “Like working 9 to 5 flipping hamburgers or running a cash register at minimum wage.”

“There are worse things than that too,” Mandy retorted. “Such as never having a real love relationship, no guy coming on to you unless he wants to get laid or make money selling videos of you getting laid, and then having even that dry up as you get older.”

“You think they’ll be swarming over you in your old age?” Sam countered. “At least I’ll have made enough to live off of while you’re still paying your college loans.”

“When you’re a single mother and addicted to drugs or sick with AIDS or some other STD, you may find there were hidden costs,” Mandy said.

“And you could get hit by a bus on your way to the Honor Society banquet.”

It was getting nasty.

“Excuse me a minute,” Mandy said, getting up and heading toward the lady’s room.

“I’m coming too,” said Kay, who followed, leaving me alone with the porn star. As they moved off, Samantha took a swig of her drink, then looked at me.

“So, guy with glasses — John, right? — you’re my sister’s new squeeze, and you thought I was her.” She giggled. “That explains why you got all bent and tried to drag me away from the video shoot. You wanted to ‘save’ me.”

“For a moment there, I thought you might come along,” I said.

“When a cute guy shows such interest in you it may be worth checking out, but I have bills to pay,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “If you’d hung around, I might have invited you back to my place later to get better acquainted.” She batted her eyes, then smiled. “But that would have got me into trouble with Tyler, and even more trouble with my straight-laced sister. She stopped talking to me after I poached her last boyfriend.”

“I heard about that,” I said. “Just wondering — does it bother you that wrecking their relationship hurt her so badly, and has come between the two of you?”

Sam thought a moment before professing that if she had it to do over again, she would not, although regret over the estrangement was not the sole reason. Mandy’s ex had turned out to be “too tame” for her, she said. She had “moved on.” She also indicated it may not have been the only time she cut in on one of Mandy’s love prospects.

“I used to pretend sometimes that I was Mandy. It was fun to keep the guys guessing. When you called me by her name at the last video shoot, I thought maybe you were from our high school, and maybe we’d hooked up before. I was kind of spaced out that night.”

“Yeah, it showed.”

“You weren’t wrapped too tight either,” she said. “That was a lucky punch you got in on Tyler, but he’s one tough dude and you’re lucky your cameraman buddy stepped in when he did.”

“Probably so, but it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Tyler’s a pimp, a user. He doesn’t really respect you, you know.”

She pursed her lips, then nodded. “Tyler is my main guy at present, but it’s getting old,” she said. “Why doesn’t your buddy the paymaster-cameraman deal directly with me?”

I explained that Daryl was confused by the identity mix-up along with everyone else, and after Mandy spurned his direct attempts to sign her up for jobs he went through Tyler because it seemed the only way to reach the promising star.

“You see? Mandy complicates my life as much as I do hers,” Sam sighed. “Tell Daryl to call me, will you?” She looked at her phone and wrote the number down on a piece of paper. “I want to know if I can make more bucks if we cut out Tyler’s commission.”

I was not sorry to hear that, and assured her I would mention it to Daryl when I handed him her number.

“And tell him I’ll also give him a kickback in ‘trade’ if it works out,” Sam added, winking.

I had to laugh. “Daryl will be your new agent in a heartbeat,” I said. “He was sold on your potential by that unexpected gift you gave him in the first video shoot.”

“Take off your glasses,” she directed. I did so.

“You really are cute,” Sam told me. “I’m glad Tyler didn’t rearrange your face like he was ready to. Say, if you get me a good deal with Daryl, I could give you a gratuity too,” she said, with a seductive smile.

“Well, under different circumstances, I might have taken you up on that,” I responded, stiffening a little in spite of myself, “but as it is, I’ll pass because I’m very fond of your sister and hoping to get back with her.” I put my glasses back on.

“Or you could replace Tyler as my chief male supporting actor,” Sam continued, as if she had not heard. “That would really piss him off. His ‘rival for my affections’ wins. Tyler gets no money, no glory and no pussy pie either.”

“Tempting. Thanks anyway, but I’m just hoping to be Mandy’s co-star,” I repeated.

“Mandy’s not too experienced,” Sam said with a teasing smile. “I’d be surprised if she’s banged more than two or three guys.” She reached out and stroked my hand. “I know how to please guys. I could show you what you’re missing. Then you can instruct her, and it’ll benefit you both.”

I was getting hard. She was so much like Mandy that it was as if Mandy was role-playing with me, talking dirty to turn me on. For the first time, I could imagine the temptation that Mandy’s ex, Jeff, had faced, and not blame him so much for succumbing. Nevertheless, I declined once more.

Sam shrugged, and sat back. “Well, the offer’s on the table. Think about it.”

The ladies room door opened, and Mandy and Kay approached the table. Sam went on as if they were invisible.

“Mandy was always the good one,” she said. “As for me, I discovered early that I like to do guys, and now I find it’s a great way to make money as well.” She was evidently trying to bait Mandy, and it worked, but probably in a different way than Sam intended. Her words produced no anger, just heart on the sleeve sadness.

“We used to be so close,” Mandy said, her voice husky. “We thought alike, we knew what each other was going to say before opening our mouths, we went places together, had a good time with each other, and now we’re hardly on speaking terms. You’re just ruining your life, and making mine miserable in the process.” She wiped at moisture in her eyes.

Sam’s expression softened. She hesitated a moment, then got up and put her hands on Mandy’s shoulders.

“I always could get you going, one way or another,” Sam said, suddenly serious. “but it’s you who’s been giving me the silent treatment for months. You’re still my alter ego, you know, even if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you,” Mandy said. “It’s just… I felt betrayed.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Sam said, her own voice becoming husky. “We don’t think identically on some things, but what happened between us was meant to help you and me both, not hurt you.” After a moment, she added, “I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Mandy said. Tears flowed freely as they held each other in a tight hug, and even the soft sobs seemed identical.

The bond of identical sisterhood must have been there all the time, but I was amazed at the sudden transformation from hurt, rivalry and animosity. Kay gave me a head motion, and told them we would stretch our legs out by the car, giving them privacy to talk.

“So when did you learn about this?” I asked Kay after we were outside.

“I looked at your notes while Mandy was sleeping, and at the video trailers, and… well, I was shocked — your theory made sense,” she replied. “When Mandy woke up, I tried to be gentle about it, asking her if she had ever heard of multiple personalities. I brought up the stories about her, the strange remarks from people. She wasn’t getting it, so I asked her to watch a video. At first she seemed puzzled — why would I want her to watch porn? — but then she saw who the star was, and she just gasped. It had to be her sister, she said. I didn’t know what to believe at first, but she immediately called Samantha’s cell. She didn’t get through until Sunday, but I was there when she did. They talked a little. Mandy told Sam her videos were causing problems, asked if they could meet, and here we are.” She added, “It’s incredible, they are so identical.”

“Amazing, isn’t it,” I commented.

“Mandy asked how I had learned about the videos,” Kay said, “I told her it was through you and your roommate, and you guys had come up with the personality disorder theory after seeing that TV movie.”

Mandy and Sam soon joined us, and the two of them agreed to meet again soon. They hugged once more before we got into our respective vehicles.

“I was glad to see you guys talk some,” Kay said on the drive back.

Mandy seemed pensive. She nodded, then turned to look at me in the back seat.

“So now you know — the porn star isn’t me, I wasn’t fucking around on you, and I don’t think I need a shrink either.”

“I was wrong,” I conceded. “I’d give anything for a do-over. Is there a way to apologize enough for the things I said?”

“You know, that hurt, but there’s some other stuff that bothers me too,” she said. “If I have the timeline right, when we met at the union it was after that first party, which you had gone to, and you thought I was the one who had starred in that porn video, that I was Sam.”

“Yes, the resemblance is amazing.”

“But you never talked about it to me,” Mandy said, an edge to her voice. “You had this whole misconception about who I was, which you didn’t tell me about. You kept it to yourself the whole time we were getting to know one another, when we were talking about values such as honesty and being straight with each other.”

The elephant in the room.

“Yeah, it was a weight I could have done without, believe me, and I should have brought it up, but I didn’t know how. It appeared like you were trying to repress it yourself — going by a different name, pretending not to know Daryl, who paid and filmed you, or understand wisecracks from people — At least, that’s what it looked like at the time, before I knew you and Sam were different people.”

“Okay, so not only was I a porn star, but a deceptive one trying to hide her secret life, or maybe a schizoid who was repressing it. So what was the attraction? Why did you pursue someone you thought was a cinema whore and a liar or a nut case?”

“Okay, honesty time.” I took a deep breath. “At first, I was going to do a hit and run. I thought you would be an easy lay to boost my confidence so I could score with other girls.” She flinched, and I went on quickly. “But that motive faded fast. I found I really liked being with you; that you were not only incredibly beautiful, but smart and sensitive, and we had a lot of common interests. It was fun hanging out with you — more than fun. There was that one weird thing, but even that made you… interesting.”

“Not interesting enough, apparently. You started avoiding me, without an explanation, talked short and mean when I asked you why.”

“Look at it from my point of view,” I urged. “I had written off the first video thing as some weird psychological discrepancy, something resulting from the trauma of your breakup, betrayal by your sister. I thought maybe you just went wild in an attempt to see what you were missing. But when we talked, you really put down fraternity stuff and parties. I figured you didn’t like what you did, and would be unlikely to repeat. I got to really like you and be comfortable with you. Then it appeared you were doing another video behind my back, using Kay as an excuse. So I stopped avoiding the issue. I confronted you at the second video shoot — the person I thought was you — and it was like you told me to fuck off. At that point, I couldn’t keep pretending nothing was wrong. I was hurt and angry, and decided to write you off. I just wasn’t going to try any more. When you confronted me, I was still pissed and hurt, and confused, and yeah, I talked mean.” After a moment, I added, “But I still couldn’t get you out of my head. I still cared for you, enough to play amateur shrink and try to get you help.”

Kay looked at Mandy, and nodded. The aggrieved expression on Mandy’s face seemed to soften a bit. She gazed at me for a long moment as if probing for something, then turned away.

“I have some thinking to do,” she said.

 

* * *

 

It amazes me how efficient the grapevine is. I don’t know who spilled the story of the identical twins mix-up. It was unlikely Mandy did. It could have been Kay, trying to correct all the mistaken assumptions about her friend, or Daryl, as surprised as anyone when I filled him in. He immediately called Samantha, eager to work directly, and perhaps Sam, wanting to take the pressure off her sister or just jealous that Mandy was getting the limelight, told Daryl to spread the word about who the real star was. Anyway, by the end of the week it was all over campus.

Jokes abounded: “Hey Clark, you’re going to have to be a bigger Superman than ever with two Lois Lanes to take care of,” and “Go easy on the Kryptonite Shots, Superman — you’re seeing double,” or “The fight against evil must be tough, Superman — you’re seeing stars.”

A few offered sympathy that my relationship with Mandy might be over. Three girls volunteered to “console” me. One said she was looking for “someone of heroic character.” At least I would not have to spend the rest of my life in a monastery, but that thought was less comforting than it once would have been.

I was at a table in the union when someone approached from behind and asked, “Is this seat available?” I recognized her voice, and smiled broadly. Mandy sat down. She looked much more at ease than the day we met with Sam.

“So have you done your thinking?” I asked.

“Just about. I’m thinking maybe we should give us another try, if you’re still willing.”

“More than willing,” I said, feeling a burden lift. “Very glad you came to that conclusion.”

“Well, as Kay says, you can only expect so much from guys, and you did manage to muddle through a very confusing situation, with motives pure as well as prurient.” That seemed like a compliment, of sorts. She added, “And you even lived up to your Superman rep, rushing into a den of iniquity to rescue the fallen heroine, willing to take on a guy twice your size.”

“Who told you that?”

“Sam. And Daryl. They both said you showed a lot of guts.”

“Sam and Daryl seem to be getting on pretty well,” I remarked, recalling Daryl staggering into our dorm room the past two mornings, once with a high five, muttering, “Not just a star, a supernova.”

“No doubt they are,” Mandy said with a smile. “You know, in addition to praising your courage, Daryl told me that, in his words, you were ‘depressed like a zombie’ over our breakup and ‘booty deprivation’ was only part of the reason.”

“That’s true,” I acknowledged. “I missed you terribly. Lust had morphed into ‘like,’ and ‘like’ to… Well, as we both know, I’m not too experienced in these things, but if it’s not love I feel for you, then I probably never will discover what that is.” There! I may have danced around a little, but had said it — the feared L-word.

“Stand up and take off those glasses,” she commanded, rising herself. I complied, whereupon she threw her arms around me and we locked lips; also entwined tongues, bumped foreheads, and pressed chests and midsections together with appropriate gyrations. We held the clinch for a long time, and were brought back to reality only by applause and cheers from students at nearby tables who were privy to the drama and apparently approved this plot twist.

“Get a room!” someone called out.

“Not a bad idea,” I replied, retrieving my glasses. Arms around one another, we exited the union to more cheers and applause.

“Daryl talked about more than just your heroism, gallantry and devotion,” Mandy said, as we hurried toward my dorm room. “He said we have a gold mine if we play it right — that identical twins are much in demand in the porn video business, so if Sam and I star together, taking on the frat house, it would be worth a fortune.” I was concerned only for a millisecond because she quickly added, “After I threatened to kick him in the nuts, he said he was only joking, but if we ever did want to consider a theatrical career that the ‘terms of hookups would be negotiable,’ and you could even be my agent and leading man.”

I laughed. “Daryl is a good guy. I’m not surprised he put in a good word for me, and I also have no doubt that his offer to make you and Sam identical twin pornstars is a serious one.”

She gripped my arm tighter as we entered the dorm.

“I think I’ll stick to just private shows with you, Superguy.”

 

– 30 –