Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults over eighteen years of age. While the story line is true, the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early sixties and seventies, but should be a concern for everyone today.
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It was about seven o'clock in the morning when I left home driving my 1960 International Scout; it was loaded with everything I thought I would need for my first semester of college. As I drove the five hundred plus miles from Tampa to the small teacher's college located in the mountains of North Carolina, my mind was at first on the life I was leaving behind. Mowing lawns certainly helped me to get to college, but many of the women whose lawns I mowed gave me memories that would last a lifetime.
I knew there were those who thought that the women took advantage of my youth and innocence for their own pleasure, but I think every boy should experience life's most important lessons with an experienced, mature woman. If I was taken advantage of, it was certainly to my benefit.
Once I hit I-75, about fifty miles north of Tampa, it was mostly smooth sailing up to Atlanta even though there were still sections of the Interstate uncompleted. I spent most of that time thinking about my previous day with Faye and Katie; what a day. I could still smell their sweet aroma and feel the smoothness of their skin, at least in my mind. It was only a little less than three months before I would be home for Thanksgiving. How in the world would I be able to spend time with everyone I wanted to during one long weekend?
I pulled into a truck stop just south of Atlanta to get gas, go to the restroom, and stretch my legs a bit. As I stood in the restroom taking a leak, I was amused by the wide selection of rubbers and cologne truckers had; there were different colors and styles, some I had never seen or heard of, like French Tickler. Oh well, I'm glad I brought my own. As I got into the Scout to continue my journey, a young woman came out of the store struggling with what looked like a Navy seabag; she was a rather cute, dirty blonde with her long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
I had to ask, "Where are you heading?"
With an exasperated look, she sat the stuffed bag down and displayed a crude card sign with ASTC printed on it, "You ever heard of Boone, North Carolina?"
I chuckled, "Not only have I heard of it, but I'm a beginning freshman at ASTC."
Her entire expression changed as she looked at my tightly packed Scout, "Do you think you have any room in there for me and my bag?"
"Well, how tall are you?"
She looked perplexed, "Five-six, why?"
I scratched my head, "How much do you weigh?"
Exasperated she replied, "One ten, why?"
"I was just trying to determine if you would fit inside or if I would need to strap you to the top."
She laughed and we began stuffing things here and there to give her room in the passenger seat. Once that was done, I hefted her seabag onto the top rack and strapped it down securely then off we went. We exchanged names as we pulled back onto I-75; her name was Cass, a short version of Cassandra. She commented about how hot it was then lifted her long flowery skirt up toward the dash so the air vents could blow up her skirt and cool her off. Of course being dirty minded, I immediately thought how nice it would be to see what was being cooled off.
As the miles and hours clicked off we got to know more about each other. Cass was from Mobile, Alabama and was beginning her junior year at the same teacher's college I would be attending. Her parents had given her a bus ticket back to school, but as soon as they left her at the bus station to get to church on time, she cashed in her ticket and hitched a ride to Atlanta with a trucker.
She laughed, telling me, "He was okay, but he did make several suggestions about us pulling over and getting into the back."
"So, did you?" I asked.
"Naw, I wasn't in the mood; it was just too hot for that crap. I told him I was having my period and it would be too messy."
After a few minutes, she asked, "So did you leave a girlfriend behind?"
"No, I'm footloose and fancy-free. How about you?"
"No, I couldn't handle all the drama of a long distance romance. I've seen too many girls try to juggle a jealous, hometown boyfriend while trying to get laid once in awhile at school." She paused a minute then added, "I don't know if you are aware of it or not, but there are almost five girls to every guy at school. I guess it has something to do with the school being a teacher's college."
By the time we crossed into Tennessee we were well acquainted with each other. Cass wanted to find some other girls and share an apartment or house. She had figured it would be cheaper than living in the dorm and on those rare occasions when she had a date, she would have a place to go.
"The guys at school have it made, they can get laid anytime. We girls often go through some rather long dry spells."
I chuckled then added, "Well if I can be of assistance, I would be honored to do what I can."
Cass replied, "You say that now, but when you have girls pining away to get in your pants, you will sing a different tune. Your problem will be trying to sneak them into your dorm without getting caught."
We exited I-75 near Johnson City and headed east over the west side of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After asking bunches of question about her living habits and how she would get along with sharing an apartment with others, I admitted that even though I was supposed to live in a dorm my Freshman year, I had applied as a local student because my family owned a house, a cabin really, not far from the college.
I asked, "Do you think you would like to try sharing a house with me?"
"Are you serious?" she asked then asked another question, "Would I have to screw for my rent?"
I laughed, "No, you would have your own room. We would share utilities, groceries, and cooking and cleaning chores. You could help me with learning about the school, courses, profs, etc. We could try it for a semester and see how it goes. Of course, I wouldn't discourage you from screwing me if you hit one of those dry spells."