She had passed, though, and even though she had figured it would be years before she had a car of her own Peter had surprised her by telling her he was leaving his car in her care while he was away.

This saddened her as much as it pleased her, although of course she didn’t say so to Peter. The thought of his car without him in it; of being reminded of his absence every time she stepped out of her house and saw it in the driveway; of knowing the story behind virtually every stain in the upholstery but not having him there to smile over it with her… Oh god, she missed him so much already, how would it be when he was actually gone?

Then the last few days were upon them. Jane was sunk in gloom although she tried, not always successfully, to put on a brighter face for Peter when they were together.

There was suddenly something different about him now, she sensed. He had seemed worried for a while, preoccupied about something. He had told her it was just the strain of getting everything organized in time, but it had felt like something deeper to Jane. Now there was a lightness there, a clearness in his face. Jane wondered miserably if it was because he had accepted the fact that he was leaving her behind.

Even their lovemaking had changed, it seemed to Jane. For weeks there had been a solemn, almost ceremonial quality about it: very little, and then nothing, of games and playfulness. No Mr. Bad Man, no being tied up or ordered around. Just the sweetness and poignancy of love and farewell.

And now... Jane couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was, again, a lightening in Peter, even though he was as tender and considerate of her as he had always been. Something had changed. She had no idea what it was, but in the depths of her sorrow there suddenly appeared a tiny spark of hope, like a candle at the bottom of an empty well.

The day came.

Peter was going to pick her up; they would drive to the airport together and then Jane would drive his car back by herself. Jane waited by the door. She had made herself as pretty as she could and had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t spoil her make-up by crying—at least until after Peter was gone, and then all bets were off. But she felt as if she were going to a funeral, that her bright dress was a lie and the sunny day outside a mistake. Her breathing was shaky and uneven. Oh god, she was going to start sobbing any second. Why didn’t Peter hurry up?

Suddenly she felt two arms slipping around her waist, and her mother was embracing her from behind. Jane turned and took what comfort she could, returning the embrace, grateful for the love and support she felt flowing into her from her mother.

Then there was the sound of wheels on the gravel drive.

Jane pulled away from her mother and they smiled at each other silently for a moment. Then Jane kissed her mother on the cheek and hurried out the door.

Peter got out of his car and came around to give Jane a big hug and a kiss. He held her at arm’s length, just looking at her with such total love that Jane felt her vow to herself not to cry beginning to crumble, and she bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. Peter told her how beautiful she looked, then turned and opened the car door for her.

They drove in silence, holding hands. As they rode along the highway towards Boston Jane stole a glance at him once in a while and was astonished, then infuriated, to see a small smile playing around his mouth. Was he happy to be getting away from her? She knew that couldn’t be true, and yet...

She was just working him up her nerve to ask him what was going on when they reached the exit for Logan airport.

And drove right past it.

And when Jane turned to him and saw that the small smile had been replaced by an outright grin, and felt his hand squeezing hers, the tiny candle-flame of hope in her heart began to glow more brightly, but she didn’t dare speak. She felt as if she was holding her breath, although she had no idea what for.

It wasn’t until they had entered Boston and were driving down Beacon Street that she began to suspect what Peter had done. And when they turned onto a side street and parked, and she saw a half-dozen or more young men, sometimes accompanied by what appeared to be their parents and siblings, carrying luggage and boxes into a nonde*********** gray building, she finally dared to believe it.

"Peter," she murmured, trying to control her shaking voice, "are you...I mean, is this your..." Then her voice failed completely and she simply stared at him, begging him to tell her that it was true.

His eyes were as gentle as she’d ever seen them. "My dormitory, yes. Welcome to Thoreau College, Boston, Massachusetts, miss."



He turned to face her more completely and took both her hands in his. "It took me a while, but I managed to talk Dad into it. We can’t really afford it but I’ve already found a job in the college bookstore and we took out a slightly bigger loan than we were planning to, that’s all."

Peter’s gaze turned inward for a moment, then he added, "I think Dad understood that Thoreau has at least one big advantage over Kenton." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth before adding, softly, "It’s a lot closer to you."

Jane thought that now might be the right moment to cry—she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes—but she forced herself to smile impishly and ask, "Does this mean I don’t get your car?"

Peter’s eyes widened in mock-outrage, and he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her and kissed her hard before replying, in the same bantering tone, "As a matter of fact you do. That’s the only reason I switched colleges, really: so I can come home on weekends and make sure you’re taking care of it."

The implications of his last remark were not lost on Jane. "You’re...coming home...every weekend?" she asked, her voice faint. "Oh god, Peter..." She threw herself into his arms. And finally allowed herself to cry.

"Of course," he said softly, next to her ear. "How else am I gonna be able to check up on my car?" Jane laughed, weakly, as she continued to cry. Then he added, "So you’d better take good care of it...or it’s Mr. Bad Man for you," and stuck his tongue in her ear, causing her to squeal and jerk away from him, now laughing in earnest.

Then she hugged him again, whispering, "Oh yes, sir, please. I’ll show him my panties...I’ll take off my clothes for him..." She began to breathe heavily into his ear. "...I’ll let him tie me up and kidnap me... She gave his ear a moist kiss and, heedless of the people moving around outside the car, let one of her hands drift down into his lap. "I’ll let him put his cock...in my mouth..." She began slowly unzipping him. "...in my...pussy..." She slipped her hand inside his pants and began to stroke him. "...in my...ass... She put her lips right against his ear and continued, "in my...EAR!" Then she suddenly pushed her tongue into it as hard as she could.

Peter, who had been leaning back with his eyes closed as he surrendered to her erotic spell, jumped as if she had given him an electric shock, then turned on her and began viciously tickling her ribs, causing her to giggle even more hysterically than she already was. "You little brat," he laughed, as she tried helplessly to fend him off, "You are going to get such a spanking when I come home!"

Still laughing, Jane managed to push herself between his arms and hug him again. "Say that again, Peter," she whispered. "It sounds wonderful."

She helped him unload his suitcases from the trunk and carry them up into his dorm room. There she met his roommate, a red-haired Texan named Charlie, who tactfully excused himself so they could be alone.

Jane helped Peter unpack, and while he had his back turned to her, hanging clothing in the closet, she slipped her farewell present to him—the one she’d planned to give him at the airport—out of her pocket and under his pillow. She smiled to herself and wondered if Charlie would be in the room when Peter reached under the pillow and discovered the valentine panties she had left for him.

Then it was time to go. Peter walked her out to the car. There was no big farewell scene and Jane was glad because it reminded her that this was not farewell. There was just a hug and a kiss...and a long moment of simply smiling into each other’s eyes, enjoying and wondering at their good fortune in having found each other. Then Jane climbed into the car and drove off, waving at Peter in the rear-view mirror until she could no longer see him.

Although the drive home was a little melancholy with the knowledge that she and Peter would be apart for a while, there were no further tears. Jane was happy. She was loved, truly loved, and she would be seeing him again soon.

And he, like no one else alive, would be seeing her.

The End

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