Professor Baxter had the pairs get together the last ten minutes of class to work out the initial details - brainstorm a list of cultural sites you were pretty expert on, then exchange sheets, and figure out a time and place for your first planning meeting. Chance's list was
"1. Wrestling practice; 2. Wrestling meet; 3. Any sort of farm-related activity (planting, harvest, etc.); 4. Football game (or other sporting event); 5. [blank]."
Reed's list: "Dance Clubs, Men's clothing, Salon/Spa, Men's Wear Buyers' Planning Meeting, My Gym, Viewing Designer Collections, Downtown Restaurants." The two read each other's over.
"You must like clothes, fashion stuff, huh?"
"Wow, how could you tell?"
"Well, it's obvious from your list, and the way you dress every . . . Oh, I get it," Chance laughed, embarrassed, "you're pulling my leg."
"Just a little. Sorry. Yeah, I did a double major: marketing and fashion design. It was a lot of course work; that's why I still have a few required courses like this one to finish up. And you, 'wrestling' and 'farming' seems to be the operative terms here. Well," and here Reed tried to sound cool because, really, whose fantasy wouldn't be observing wrestlers, "wrestling practice sounds interesting. It's definitely 'alien' to me. And I've always wondered how you guys learn to do that."
"Great!" Chance said. "I'll ask the coach and the team if it's cool with them to be observed, and if so, figure out the best time for you to come watch."
"Cool," Reed said, already starting to fantasize vaguely about some home-grown version of a "Dieux de Stade" calendar shoot. "And what about you? Anything on my list appeal to you?"
"Well, you probably noticed I ain't too much into clothes or anything."
"Don't be modest, Chance. I've seen you this term. You've got a great look, jeans and T's or flannels. It's classic 'All-American.' Plus you're a handsome guy, so simple clothes set off your good looks."
Chance was blushing. "Thanks, man. Thanks for the compliment. But you're the handsome one. Shit, I can see why you're interested in fashion. You look like a movie star or a celebrity or something. I feel like a hick from hicksville next to someone like you. You're the kind of guy us guys are jealous of cause you get all the ladies!"
Reed laughed; this kid was too much.
"OK, so no clothes stuff. What else on the list appeals to you?"
"Well, 'dance clubs' sound cool to me. That's a scene we don't have back home, unless you count karaoke night at the VFW."
"Great, we'll go clubbing!"
They agreed to meet later that evening at Reed's dorm, which was a single, to plan out their observations.
At wrestling practice that afternoon, Chance had no problem getting an OK from the squad. They were kind of excited to show off to an outsider. They agreed on tomorrow morning's practice, which included weights and scrimmages, as best. Great, thought Chance, that's taken care of.
All I have to do is practice wrestling, then go to a dance club or two with a handsome dude, who's probably a babe magnet. Hell, we might even score a couple chicks! That would be OK with him, as he was sure having woman problems.
He'd been dating a girl, Andrea, off and on since freshman orientation. More off than on, really, as she always seemed to cancel dates at the last minute. And when they did date, winding up back at one of their dorm rooms, she always seemed either to have her period or claim she was "too dry" down there.
She'd jerk him off every now and then, sure, but hell, he was a red-blooded American boy! He needed some honest-to-goodness love-making! So going bar-hopping with a suave older dude sounded like a fine way to meet some classy women who might be up for some fun.
Maybe they'd get a couple girls and all wind up back at Reed's dorm. Whoa, that'd be wild. Some of the guys on the wrestling squad described their 'orgy nights,' as they called him. Chance never dreamed he might be a part of one; he was getting hard just thinking about it.
He got from practice a little after 6:30, hit the dining hall, then went back to his dorm to change clothes before he met Reed at his dorm room. He stripped his clothes off, luxuriating in his nakedness a bit before he looked around for some clean clothes to wear.
He stretched muscles still sore from wrestling practice as he stood in front of the mirror. As he stretched, he studied his body. Chance was a regular scholar of his own body. So Reed had said he was handsome, huh?
He looked at himself: his hair was short and nicely-groomed, giving him a rugged sort of jock look, he thought; his eyes were nice, too (so many of his mom's friends back home told him over and over how lovely his eyes were, jeesh did it embarrass him); but his nose was kinda crooked, wasn't it? And his lips were so full.
Sometimes he thought they looked sexy as hell, but often times he wondered if they made him look a little too cute. Anyway, it was his body he was proudest of: not a trace of fat and extremely well muscled.
You had to have massive, coiled power in your muscles to do well in wrestling, and Chance did very well in wrestling. Placing first in state one year in high school helped get him the scholarship here, and he was determined to do well. So he worked his body hard and often, and it showed.