The real surprise came next day when Steve came rushing to find me.

"Hey - guess what!"

"What?"

"You know Hannah's dad is in real estate."

"I didn't, but so what?"

He says he has an apartment we can rent! It's near the college, it has two bedrooms and the rent is actually less than we are paying for the dorm! Isn't that great?

I sighed. It was better than living in the dorm, but I really wasn't too happy with the word "we". Still - it had possibilities...

January really wasn't a good time to date girls in those days. My second meeting with Hannah occurred when her folks came round to see us the following day to sort out the details of renting the apartment and the four parents went into conclave leaving us young ones to "amuse ourselves". I listened as the two ladies went into the usual discussion of their offspring and, in my case, proxy offspring. Michael was obviously much taken with the proximity of a real live girl and monopolised Hannah with stories of his exploits on the games field while he kept his eyes fixed on her boobs and occasionally scratched the front of his pants. Steve just looked jealous, like it was my fault that I had found a girl and he hadn't. The only good thing was that they sorted out all the details of the apartment - and decided that it required a mass inspection by the combined families to make it fit for habitation. Hannah was going back the next day, so we mounted an expedition with my pickup loaded with things that they reckoned we were going to need.

The apartment was small and situated above a Laundromat in a street of small business premises. It was in close proximity to a diner and a general store (yes - they existed in those days) so we had access to everything we needed. The place was clean, but that did not satisfy the mom desire for total sterility - they expelled all of the males to the diner while poor Hannah was included in their orgy of sweeping, scrubbing, polishing and beating of carpets. The apartment had a phone in it and Steve's dad was dispatched to arrange for it to be reconnected. His parents were actually going to pay the rent for the line so that his mom could call him up and see how he was getting along - we only had to pay for calls out. It was one of those two-edged gifts that meant we were subject to random checks and I wasn't totally delighted with that idea. Finally we were readmitted to the apartment and permitted a cup of coffee sitting round a table which was definitely clean enough for major surgery to be performed on it before being allowed to inspect our quarters.

I have to admit that they had done a real good job and that we had profited considerably. The beds had clean linen and the blankets were still warm from their session in the Laundromat where the women had monopolised just about every machine in the place in an orgy of hygiene and disinfection. The toilet was gleaming white and sparkling, the bathtub had given up resisting stain removal and the shower fittings above it shone like gold. Even the stuff between the tiles was white!

We ran into trouble when we went to retrieve our belongings from the dorm. They were happy for us to leave and take our belongings, but they said we would still have to pay for the rest of the year. My heart sank, but Hannah's dad came to the rescue - he rode roughshod over minor functionaries who had struck fear into the hearts of mere students and bullied his way in to see the finance officer. Then he just about made the guy shit his pants, demanded to see our signatures on contracts and things like that and finally threatened to sue the college until we were released from any further obligation - he even made him write that down and sign it. I revised my opinion of the guy - my father wouldn't be able to browbeat him at all and maybe things would go the other way.

When we got back with our things, Steve and I had to endure them being unpacked in a sort of public ceremony of humiliation. Hell - what else could we do with the things we had been wearing the day before we left other than stuff them into a case and let them wait until we got back? Our underwear was held up for disapproval, our shirts were criticised for the state of their collars and the whole lot was dispatched to the Laundromat for thorough cleaning.

Worse was to come. Steve's enema bag was pulled out and also inspected - the two adult males chose that moment to decide that they really needed to check out the bar on the corner of the street. I had to sit while it was washed and a suitable point was found in the bathroom for hanging it up. Hannah looked like she was going to explode from the effort of suppressing her laughter as my daily enemas to remove worms were discussed as though I was invisible. Then Hannah's mother expressed her disapproval of the pipe.

"My dear, this isn't adequate, you know. You can't give a good enema with a short thing like this - the water doesn't penetrate to where it is really needed. It's adequate for simple constipation, but not for something like pinworms. Hang on - I'll show you what you need. Hannah - go to the car and fetch the small case."

The smile on Hannah's face abruptly disappeared.

"Mommy - we don't need to go into this right now."

"Don't be silly, girl - just go and get the case."

The case turned out to contain an enema bag - and other intimate items. Hannah's mom pulled it out and detached a two foot length of rubber from the end of the main length of tubing, then she displayed it for approval.

"This is what you need - a short rectal tube. It has a nice rounded end and the holes are on the side so they don't get blocked - you know how annoying that can be."

I looked at it. My guts constricted and my asshole emitted messages of enemas remembered and urgent desire. Hannah's mom was enthusiastic about its virtues.

"It's much more comfortable than one of those hard pipes and there's no risk of doing any damage because it's soft and rounded."

Steve's mother looked at it with interest.

"I haven't seen anything like this before."

"Neither had I until a couple of years ago. The doctor thought I might have fibroids, so he sent me for an X-ray, and I got an enema with one of these. My dear, it cleaned me out like nothing else! So I bought a couple and tried one out on Hannah. You said it was much better, didn't you, honey?"

It was Hannah's turn for embarrassment. She could only manage a brief nod before being totally overwhelmed with an attack of shyness that had her covering her face with her hands. Her mother ignored it, of course, and just kept on talking.

"I always use it now, even for ordinary enemas. Much more comfortable and much better results. There's a drugstore just round the corner - you can get one there."

They left us sitting in embarrassed silence until they returned five minutes later with a brown paper bag containing a duplicate tube. Hannah's mom (they were both 'Mrs Gordon', of course) pronounced it satisfactory. Steve's mom was uncertain about how to use it. Then they both looked at Hannah.

She jumped to her feet.

"Don't even think about it! You cooked this up while you were out and there is absolutely no way that you are going to use me as a guinea pig so that she finds out how to use that thing!"

"Honey, you really should take an enema before we leave you at your dorm."

"Save your breath. I said no and I mean NO! I am not taking an enema, not here, not at the dorm. When I need one, I will attend to it myself, in private."

Then they turned to me. I was equally firm.

"No, ma'am. I agree with Hannah - I will wait until I get some privacy."

"But what about your worms? You need a few more days to get rid of them."

"Don't worry. I can handle it myself, and I don't aim to be used for a demonstration."

She smiled and turned to Steve. He didn't even let his mother open her mouth.

"No. That's final."

That left them out of sorts and I was really surprised that Steve had stood up to his mother. They left the tube and went off - his mom went home and Hannah's folks continued the journey to drop her off at her dorm. I looked at Steve.

"I never thought you would have the nerve to tell your mom no."

He shrugged.

"I'm sick of all those enemas - I think they are making me constipated so that I need more. I want to try to get back to a normal routine. What about your worms?"

"Aw, I'll go get some medicine for them. They have pills for dogs with worms, so I guess you can get them for people as well. Let's go see what food they put in the larder."

There was quite a selection of cold cuts and salad vegetables, so we made sandwiches and munched happily. We would have to organise shopping for food - it was too expensive to eat in the diner on a regular basis - and maybe I could buy a used refrigerator somewhere. The apartment was growing on me by the minute - no screaming mobs of jocks engaged in some mindless rampage, no fixed times for meals, no waiting in line to take a shower or a shit.

By 8pm I was revising my opinion. Steve wasn't the world's greatest conversationalist and the silence was starting to get to me. At least there were always guys around in the dorm, somebody to talk to, stories of (almost) sexual conquest to listen to and you could get a game of table soccer or ping-pong. There was even homework to do as a last resort. I made a note that I had to get a radio - TV was beyond our means in those days - so that I could at least have some background noise beyond the ticking of the clock. I was mentally debating the relative merits of going out to a movie, drinking more coffee in the diner or just cutting my losses and going to bed when the doorbell rang and we both just about jumped out of our skins.

It rang again and Steve ran downstairs to open the door. I heard the sound of voices, then Hannah entered the room with Steve trailing behind. She was wearing an old shirt and loose- fitting slacks under her coat and she looked just beautiful - and worried. She turned to Steve.

"Be a good guy, will you? Jason and I need a little privacy."

He looked around and then started towards his room. She called to him and held out a dollar bill.

"Why don't you go see a movie? We need a couple of hours to do some serious talking."

He took it, put on his coat and left, still in a state of confusion but programmed to obey female orders. As soon as the door closed behind him, Hannah burst into tears and hugged me tight.

"I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't mean to be totally selfish."

"Huh?"

"Mommy really tore into me after we left. She told me all about worms and now I'm scared for you."

"What?"

"She said that if you don't get rid of worms then they breed inside of you and then they start to move around your body and they can attack your brain or make you go blind. She said I was a really selfish girl because I wouldn't let her show Mrs Gordon how to give an enema with the tube and it will be all my fault if you die!"

It was nonsense. Of course pinworms didn't eat your brain - if they did anything like that then kids who got them would be rushed into the hospital and probably turned inside out while they got rid of the worms. It was obvious to me that Hannah's mother had just been saying those things to make her feel guilty. I was about to say just that but she was clinging to me in a very nice way, so I hesitated for a while. She raised a tearful face.

"She said you probably wouldn't do your own enema and it would be all my fault. She said boys don't do that sort of thing and that anyway you wouldn't ever use the new pipe. So I just had to come round and tell you that it was vital to do it."

That meant I was going to have a really interesting conversation if I played my cards right. I tried to sound innocently worried.

"Well, I don't think I would use that new pipe. Why don't you explain all about it to me and maybe then I'll try it later."

It was still on the table and she pulled it out of the bag.

"It's not difficult. You just push this over the ordinary pipe and that's about all there is. You just have to make sure you use lots of vaseline."

"It looks like it might hurt. It's very long - does it really go way inside?"

She looked totally sincere.

"Jason, I thought exactly the same when my mother got one. I just didn't like the idea, but when she used it, it really was just fine. She told you it was comfortable, and that's the best way of describing it."

I was really rather doubtful and it must have showed because she got really agitated.

"You aren't going to do it, are you?"

"I don't think it's necessary..."

I was about to tell her that I intended to get some worm medicine, but I never got the chance. She burst into tears again and then grabbed the tube and headed into the bathroom with it.

"See - all you do is push it on! Now I'm going to fill up the bag and I want you to give yourself an enema before I leave."

"No way!"

She ignored me and just went ahead and put plain warm water in the bag, then she found the vaseline and smeared it over the rectal tube before she handed it to me.

"I'll wait in the kitchen while you give yourself your enema."

I really did feel very awkward about the whole thing. If she had not been there, I would have given myself an enema immediately - the desire had grown to almost overwhelming proportions. I just didn't like the idea that she would be sitting in the kitchen, knowing what was going on in the bathroom.

"Hannah, I'll do it later."

More tears.

"Mommy was right - she said you wouldn't do it. She said boys need somebody to look after them and they you don't look after your own health otherwise."

She took the pipe back when I handed it to her, then looked serious.

"Jason - will you let me do your enema? I know it would be embarrassing for you, but I won't rest until I know you've had it. I'll lie awake all night worrying about those worms eating away at your insides."

It was a bolt from the blue - the idea had never even crossed my mind. Hannah was a typical American girl of the time - naïve and inhibited by later standards - and her offer of an enema was quite shocking. On the other hand, I was very much in the mood for taking an enema, my asshole was in a state of total excitement - and there was something else. One of the special pleasures of an enema lay in the fact that you handed yourself over to someone else and allowed them access to your most intimate and vulnerable parts. There was the wonderful anticipation in knowing that the pipe was about to penetrate your asshole, but not knowing precisely when it would come into contact. On a more mundane level, it was one way of removing some clothing - admittedly mine, not hers. I made my decision.

"Okay. If you really want to."

She was a picture of total shock. Her mouth hung open and she was lost for words for a while. Then she collected herself and suddenly slipped into the mantle of a mother - all girls have that lurking just beneath the surface.

"That's sensible. Get ready."

I faced the bathtub and started to unfasten my pants. Hannah objected.

"Not like that! You have to kneel down on the floor."

I was puzzled. My enemas had all been given with me either bending over the tub or lying on my bed, but I did what she said.

"Now push your things down."

I could only get them as far as my thigh, of course, and that fastened my legs tightly together. Hannah sighed.

"It's so much easier with girls clothing. You'll have to push them down to your ankles."

Hell - I didn't care about nudity. Greta might have been a real bitch at the end, but six months of sexual bliss with her had completely vaporised all of my inhibitions - and the subsequent treatments from Mrs Campbell had flushed away any vestige which had remained.

"I'll take them right off."

I didn't think she was ready for frontal nudity, so I kept my back to her while I kicked off my shoes and then stepped out of my lower garments. I heard a nervous giggle and that confirmed my suspicion. I knelt down, much more comfortable and waited.

"You have to bend forward and rest your chest on the floor."

Now that was vulnerable! You had no control, no vision and you were laid bare to the sight of the lady with the pipe.

"Oh."

That monosyllable said it all. Hannah had just fully appreciated that boys were not built like girls and she was backing off.

"Are you going to do this, Hannah, or should we just forget all about it?"

"I'll do it."

She speared my asshole with all the finesse of the Ancient Mariner going for the great white whale. I thought my eyeballs were going to fall out as a good half of that tube was abruptly forced up my ass. My moan came out from between clenched teeth.

"Oh - did I hurt you? I never gave an enema before. I'm sorry."

My teeth slowly came unglued from each other.

"No. It was just a surprise. I'm all right."

Hannah might have had enemas all her life, but she obviously hadn't being paying attention, because she proceeded to treat me like she was putting gas in a car. I yelled in agony as I cramped up inside from the onslaught of the torrent of liquid.

"STOP!"

It eventually ceased and I laid my head on my hands and breathed deeply until the pain receded, while Hannah kept asking what was wrong.

"Hannah, you just ran it in far too fast. You need to take it slow, otherwise it really hurts."

"Sorry. I didn't know you had to do it slowly. I thought you just opened the clip and then it was all automatic. Anyway - most of it is in now."

She had run in most of a full bag in one huge rush! That came close to torture. At least I didn't have the problem of an erection any more - just a need to get to the toilet that was becoming more urgent by the second. I reached back and plucked the tube out and then hurled myself on to the pot and doubled up as I lost all control of my bowels. Hannah seemed pleased at the result.

"That will get rid of those nasty worms!"

Then I saw her expression change and I realised she was embarrassed at the fact she could see my dick. She turned away, blushing. I just laughed at her.

"Hey - you've seen it before! I'm the boy who didn't keep his knees together when he wore the kilt. Remember?"

That got a shy smile from her - and she looked again before she spoke.

"Good girls shouldn't look. But I like looking."

"It's okay. It doesn't worry me."

I put my pants back on though - Hannah was like a shy deer, curious but very wary, about to bolt if she became alarmed. I wanted more than anything else in the universe to get her pants down and screw her until she screamed - but I would settle for something less. For the time being anyway.

"And what about you? You were supposed to take an enema before you went back to college. Did you let your mother clean you out?"

"No. I was too angry with her, and then I was too upset."

"In that case, it's your turn."

I started to clean the rectal tube as she stared at me in horror.

"NO! You're a boy! You can't give me an enema!"

"Why not? You just gave me one."

"That was different!"

"Oh? Explain that to me. Just how was it different?"

"I don't want an enema. I hate enemas. I know I have to have them sometimes, but they hurt and they make me dizzy."

I stared at her. The only painful enema I'd ever had was the one I had just taken, and I really didn't like the position that she had made me adopt.

"Hannah, does your mother always make you stand on your head for an enema - like I just did?"

"Yes."

"That's why you get dizzy. Trust your Uncle Jason - I'm going to give you an enema and I promise it won't hurt one little bit."

I ignored her protests, filled the bag and found a convenient picture hook in the bedroom to hang it in. Then I went to fetch her.

"Come on - time for your enema."

"No. I don't want it."

"Yes you do. You'll enjoy it. Come on."

She followed me into the bedroom. I pointed to the bed.

"Pants off, young lady, and lie on your side."

"I don't want you to give me an enema."

"Well then, those worms are just going to have a free run inside of me, because if you won't take one from me then I certainly won't let you give one."

"That's not fair! I can't be responsible for that."

"Then take your enema like a good girl."

She looked like she was going to cry, then she turned her back and lowered her slacks, followed by her pants. She kept facing away from me as she sidled towards the bed and then lay down on it. I almost came on the spot at the sight of her perfect butt, rounded and very feminine but I concentrated on the task and arranged her legs in what I had come to think of as the enema position.

The immediate problem was to find her anus. It was so clenched up that it appeared only as a slight distortion in what was otherwise just a cleft of flesh and I realised that she was incredibly tensed up. Maybe that wasn't so surprising if her mother administered the same sort of enema as I had just received. I dipped my finger in the vaseline and spread some of it on the rigid circle of muscle.

"What are you doing? What's going on?"

"I'm just trying to get you to relax. Just let yourself go."

I massaged the grease into the orifice and felt it start to lose its tension. Hannah sighed and I grinned to myself - it was starting to work. I replaced the tip of my finger with the rounded and of the tube and continued the massage until it slid effortlessly inside her rectum.

"OH!"

"Relax - it's in and you didn't feel a thing, did you?"

"No. That was clever."

"Right. Now I'm going to start your enema, very slowly. If it even feels uncomfortable, let me know straightaway."

I undid the clip and doubled the tube between my fingers so that I had fine control. She whimpered as the liquid started to flow and I stroked her back and made reassuring noises as I continued it as slowly as I could manage. She finally said it was starting to be uncomfortable when three quarters of the contents of the bag had been transferred, so I clamped the pipe, took one last look at her enticing slit - now slightly damp - and let her go to the bathroom. She spent quite a while in there before she scuttled out, her hand over her pubic area, and went to get dressed. We sat side by side on the small sofa and she leaned against me.

"Well, Hannah? Was I right? Did it hurt?"

She snuggled closer.

"No. Not at all. You were right - it even felt quite nice. Where did you learn how to give an enema?"

Time for a small exaggeration. Not a lie, just not saying that I was only pre-med.

"Well, I am learning to be a doctor."

"I wouldn't mind if all doctors were that gentle. That does it - I'm not taking any more of mom's enemas."

"You won't tell her about what happened here? She would get us thrown out and stop you from seeing me if she knew."

"Of course not. I'll just say that I don't want any more."

Somehow I didn't think that would work, but as long as she didn't mention that I had administered one then it was her problem, not mine. She turned towards me.

"You can kiss me now."

I didn't mind that at all. She seemed even more passionate than usual and she moaned when I stroked her butt. Then I decided to take advantage of the fact that she was wearing slacks and I started to stroke the inside of her thighs until she parted her legs. I slid my hand upwards until the edge was pressing against the seam of her trousers and then I exerted an upward pressure as I moved it slowly back and forth.

"Mmmmm...."

I continued for a short while and then she suddenly went rigid.

"What are you doing? What's happening to me? OH MY GOD!"

I don't know whether it was the enema, the kissing or just the fact that it was her first time, but it took only a couple of minutes before she went into a sort of Technicolor orgasm - she yelled and bucked, squirmed and moaned before she finally collapsed into yielding softness. When she recovered, she sat up.

"What did you do? What was that?"

"It's called a climax."

"It certainly was. Oh my god - I've wet myself."

"It's not what you think. All girls get wet down below when they have a climax."

"But look at these things - they're soaked through!"

"Just as well we live above a Laundromat, then. You can put a pair of my trousers on and I'll take yours down and wash them."

She utterly refused my offer of a pair of jeans and settled for wearing my pyjama trousers because she could pull the cord tight around her waist. She changed in the bathroom and then handed me her trousers and underpants - I hurried down and gave them a quick wash and dry and returned to discover that she had found the cold cuts and eaten the lot! I handed the warm garments over..

"Better hurry - Steve will be back soon."

She looked at the clock and then wailed in horror, then she forgot all about modesty and changed as fast as she could.

"It's half past ten! I have to be back by eleven! Hurry!"

I drove her to her dorm as fast as I dared - it was icy and I didn't want to risk crashing. When we got there, the front of her dorm was dark with only a light above the door.

"It's locked!"

"There's a bell."

"I can't ring that! The housemother will have to come and let me in and then I'll never hear the end of it. She will want to know where I was and who with and she might even call my mother if she gets suspicious. No - I'll come back with you and sneak in tomorrow morning, then she won't know I was out late. You can share with Steve and I'll have your bed."

Steve was wandering around in his pyjamas, eating cold baked beans straight from the can when we returned. He took one look at Hannah and fled to his room. To my surprise she went and dragged him out to explain the new sleeping arrangements. He went back inside and Hannah kissed me again - she was getting real good at it.

"You can take me home in the morning. I'll come round tomorrow evening to give you your next enema."

"What about Steve? We can't just send him out to the movies again!"

She smiled.

"Oh - I'll bring him something to keep him busy."

That 'something' turned out to be Terri, an eighteen year old freshman girl student, who dragged a delighted but somewhat stunned Steve out to a dance.

I thought it was really using Terri, and I said so. Hannah just laughed.

"Hey - I could have gotten a dozen girls prepared to go on a date with a nice college boy. Ours is a girls college and the only boys around are the local ones - all they want is to get into your panties and collect another... scalp."

I hadn't thought of that. In a co-ed college, boys outnumbered girls by a big margin and it was the girls who could pick and choose. Hannah brightened up.

"They'll be back by ten, so I had better get on with your enema right now."

I was surprised at how very open she had suddenly become. She filled the bag and, to my relief, hung it up in the bedroom. I didn't object - an enema from Hannah was infinitely more fun than one from Mrs Gordon. She was mock-stern when she told me to get my pants off and lie down for my enema. I kept my shirt on again without really knowing why - maybe total nudity would have represented a more sexual scenario and keeping it on made it more medical?

The real surprise came when she started to copy what I had done - she dipped her finger in the vaseline and began to massage my asshole. Nobody had ever done that to me before - it felt real good, exciting and relaxing at the same time. Then I guess maybe I relaxed too much, because I suddenly found her finger stuck right up my ass! It wasn't deliberate because she pulled it out real fast and started to apologise.

"I'm sorry, Jason - it just slipped in. I didn't even know it was happening until it happened!"

"Hey - don't worry. It felt good."

"Like this?"

It slipped in again and I almost exploded on the spot as she felt around inside of me.

"I guess doctors do this all of the time? What's it like learning to be a doctor? Do you do this sort of thing?"

More prevarication.

"Medical students have to learn to do all sorts of things."

"Mom wanted me to be a nurse, but I thought that I would never be able to do anything like this. I thought it would be disgusting, but really it isn't."

To my relief, because matters were starting to get beyond my control, she removed her finger and replaced it with the rectal pipe. She was obviously in conversational mood.

"I didn't even understand how my mother could give me enemas without being nauseous, but it's kinda cute seeing that tube sticking in your butt. I didn't know boys grew hair back here."

"Hey - girls do as well. You've got butt hair too."

"I have not."

"Yes you have."

She seemed to go into a sulk at the thought that hair might dare grow in such a location. It made the enema much less erotic than it might have been as I wondered if I had offended her.

Hannah was one of the Scots who hail from the west coast or the islands with fine jet black hair and, incongruously, piercing bright blue eyes. When she took off her slacks and panties and got into the enema position, the black hair was very evident. I decided to settle the argument once and for all, so I fetched a mirror and moved it under her instruction while she craned her neck to check that the hair really did exist. When I finally got the correct angle, she screamed at the top of her voice and rolled into a sitting position, hugging her knees tightly.

"Oh my GOD! You can see everything! You can see right up inside of me! I haven't seen those parts myself!"

I was surprised. I really could not understand the way girls could be so nosey about some things and at the same time not even know how their own body was made. I eventually got her back into position and told her to spend some time with a mirror and an appropriate book, then I started to massage her anal area with vaseline. She responded, so I extended the area and then finally slipped one finger into her sex.

"Oohhh! That's good. But...but... Where is it? What's going on?"

"Just relax and enjoy it."

I slid the rectal tube into her anus - I could actually feel it through the thin flesh which separated the two passages and administered the most comprehensive combination of stimuli that I could achieve while the liquid trickled into her rectum.

At least we got the girls back home in good time. Then Steve related, with glee, the fact that Terri was, to put it mildly, of an amorous disposition. Not only had they eventually been ejected from the movie theatre where even dark corners were subject to some limitation, but they had spent the remainder of the evening in the park, surrounded by other dark and grunting shadows, and he informed me with a great deal of pride that they had done "everything but". Considering that my balls were aching for release by that stage, I felt justifiably jealous at his success.

Hannah presented me with a problem. My father may have been a rotten manager, but he was adept at arranging my life. When I first enrolled for college, he accompanied me in full uniform and arranged for me to take extra credits each year - it nearly killed me during my first year, but he had a ready supply of junior officers that he detailed to tutor me. The same thing happened in my second year and I had suddenly realised that I was within one credit of being able to graduate that coming summer. And I could get it by attending one of the make- up courses that were run during the Easter vacation for people who had failed and needed to catch up. It was a straight trade - my Easter vacation for a whole year of college. Living out of dorm was not going to help, and I had to explain to Hannah that we could only see each other Saturday nights because I needed to work real hard.

Then there was the actual vacation. This was before the days of Spring Break - that started in the sixties when the colleges decided to divide their year into four terms and thus created the short vacation - it carried on even when they abandoned the division. In the early fifties, the one time when male and female students could mix freely away from parental supervision was the Easter vacation - you went in single sex groups, of course, but that was a division of convenience, not of fact. Steve and Terri were keen to go, of course, and Hannah wanted me to go along with her.

What could I do? Well - I reckoned that Hannah's mother would never give her permission, so I pretended to be enthusiastic and I never mentioned that I had already decided to stay home and do the course. We spent a lot of time talking about heading south and sleeping in the pickup to save money and got as far as planning a route before I told Hannah that she had better make sure her mother would approve. She laughed.

"Oh - mommy says it's fine. She knows Steve is a good boy and as long as he comes along she knows we won't get into any trouble."

Steve grinned from the corner where his hand was roaming under Terri's sweater.

"They haven't caught up with me yet! My mom says it's fine too."

My sins had found me out. I confessed that I needed the extra credit and that I had decided to stay home and work for it. Hannah became frosty rather than angry and asked what they were going to do for transport. To cut the story short - the three of them drove off in my pickup and I had to walk to college each day.

After a lot of thought, I called dad to see how he was getting along. At lest he didn't slam the phone down - he said that business was picking up and that things were starting to look much better. I didn't dare ask about mom!

I guess it was inevitable that Hannah found another boy - I really couldn't blame her once she knew that I would be leaving for medical school proper after the summer vacation. That was starting to look increasingly doubtful anyway as I started to get replies stating that their next year's intake had been filled months ago and inviting me to apply for the following year. I hadn't reckoned on Harvard, but surely some medical school would have a late cancellation? It appeared not - they all had waiting lists for them. It looked increasingly likely that I was going to have to take a job for a year while I waited - so I would have wasted all of my efforts.

I waited keenly for the final confirmation of my graduation and finally it arrived. Jason Boyd B.A. WOW!

I really wanted my parents to be there when I got my degree, so I called dad, hoping that he and mom had got together again. Nobody picked up the phone - it was the same number for the showroom and the apartment, so somebody should have answered. I asked the operator to try again and maybe to do something to get him to answer - all I got was a statement that the phone was ringing and if nobody picked up that wasn't anything to do with the phone company. After trying all day and night, I thought of driving there to see what was going on, then I reckoned I would try dad's lawyers - they administered the trust fund and they would know how to contact him.

I finally got through to Mr Jacob, the guy who sent me my cheque three times a year. He sounded tetchy.

"Really, young man, you should have told me that you had moved out of the dorm, but they obviously got my message to you. I've arranged for plane tickets and you should leave at once - pick them up at the airport."

"Plane tickets?"

"Of course. It would take too long otherwise. The funeral is the day after tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about? I just called you because dad didn't answer his phone."

There was a silence while the word 'funeral' sunk in.

"I'm sorry to have to break the bad news, but the Colonel died two days ago from a massive heart attack. It was very sudden and very unexpected. My deepest condolences."

"Dad is dead?"

"I'm afraid so. I will see you after the funeral - there are things I need to discuss with you. Meanwhile - time is wasting, young man."

Steve had heard the conversation and he looked as shocked as I felt. I packed quickly while he called his father and passed on the news. I had a feeling that I would not be returning to the apartment, so I took all of my clothes - at least I had a decent dark suit to wear - and emptied my bank account on the way.

It only hit me on the way that I had no idea what to do about funerals or anything. I didn't even know where dad's body was it had to be in a funeral parlour, but which one? Fortunately the lawyer had thought of that - I was met at the airport by a young man from a local lawyer's office and he had already made me a hotel reservation. He didn't know anything about my mother, but he assured me that everything was taken care of.

The strange thing was that I had forgotten that dad had been in the army. They hadn't. Next day I was visited by a captain that I knew slightly who went through the arrangements with me - and who asked about mom as well. In desperation, I called the lawyer and asked him.

"No, I'm afraid the colonel's ex-wife will not be attending."

"EX-wife?"

"Oh dear - had he not told you? Your mother divorced him in Nevada earlier this year. She remarried last month."

The captain had gotten the message and his sympathy cut me like a knife. After he left, I simply sat down and cried as guilt overwhelmed me. My dad was dead - probably worked himself to death. Mom wasn't mom any more and that must have hurt him more than anything else. I had been so wrapped up in my own life that I had just let it all happen without even trying to find out.

In deep despair, I called Steve's dad - I wasn't feeling adult and I needed some man to talk to. He listened to my rambling self-accusations and let me grind to a halt before he spoke.

"Jason, lad, phones work both ways. He obviously didn't want to let you know what was going on and you just have to respect that decision. So the army is giving him a send off?"

"Yes. The usual platoon of riflemen, the Flag, the volley of shots. You know what they do."

"What about you? What are you doing?"

"Me? I just have to turn up, I guess."

"I'll call the local association. You need a piper. You can't bury a Scot without one."

He was as good as his word - and I decided to wear my kilt. The burial was moving - the piper played "Flowers of the Forest" while they lowered the casket into the ground and that was followed by three volleys of shot. He played "Lord Lovat's Lament" and then finally swung into the "Black Bear" - a stirring and happy quick march that Scots regiments always play as they march home after the day's work is done. Not funeral music, but meaningful and tear-jerking all the same.

Afterwards I had to go to the lawyer's office.

"Well, young man, your father left everything to you."

"What about my mother?"

"She divorced him in Nevada. That means she just walked away. He left nothing to her and she has no claim now that she has remarried. The business will just about cover its debts when it is sold - don't expect anything from that."

"I didn't expect anything at all. I don't want anything."

"Well, you get his life insurance. Twenty thousand dollars."

He took a cheque out of a folder and passed it to me.

"That's a very great deal of money, young man, and you still have the trust fund for your education. I suggest you allow us to invest it for you."

I stared at the piece of paper and the figure of $20,000.

"Thank you, Mr Jacob, but I already have someone who does that for me."

Even without the excuse, I was going back to the place which would allow me to get my life back on course. I had a year to fill, and what better place than with The Campbell?

The one thing that I could simply not take was any more sympathy. Each time anyone offered it, all my guilt came flooding back - the wrong guy was getting the sympathy. I kept looking at the cheque and several times I came close to tearing it up or putting it in a collection box for the poor. When I finally deposited it in the bank and resisted the urge to give it all to the next beggar I met, this made me feel even worse for my selfishness.

I called Steve and told him that he could keep the pickup and anything else I had left in the apartment and then headed for New York without telling anyone where I was going - hell, there was nobody to tell anyway. I decided that I didn't want to fly to Scotland - I needed time to think and a sea voyage would give me that. I didn't want to go on a liner with its entertainment and crowds and so I booked a passage on a cargo ship which carried only eight passengers and which was slower - it took ten days to cross the Atlantic.

I bought some new clothes and also some medical textbooks - if I had to wait a year then at least I could get a good start by studying in advance.

When I got to the ship, it lived down to my expectation. The passengers were accommodated in four double cabins in a deckhouse, with doors opening directly on to the deck. Meals were taken with the officers and there was no entertainment of any sort. My fellow passengers consisted of one elderly married couple, a pair of creaking old ladies who seemed to spend their whole lives travelling and a youngish couple plus their fifteen year old son, Charles Martin, who was the other occupant of my cabin..

He seemed a nice kid, excited at the prospect of a European vacation and we got on okay. We spent the first two days of the voyage still tied up to the pier while the ship waited for some urgent cargo to arrive and this left me at a loose end, wandering around the city. I decided to pay a visit to the medical school there - it was one which had deferred my application and I might as well take the opportunity to see what it was like. It was, of course, virtually empty and the lady at the desk said that there was nobody who could talk to me at that time. My visit would have been totally wasted had I not seen a printed sheet advertising student supplies and I decided to pay the store a visit.

It turned out to be quite an experience. You could buy anything there from a lab coat to a skeleton - it had never crossed my mind that they were bought and sold. Business was slack during vacation time, so I got the full attention of an elderly clerk who was happy to show me what the well-provided medical student needed. I was completely disappointed to find that a stethoscope was just simple rubber tubing which connected the bell shaped end to your ears and that it was actually no better than placing your ear against the patient, just simpler. I bought one immediately, surprised at how cheap they were.

I was fascinated at how simple most other instruments were. That mysterious thing for looking in ears was no more than a flashlight and a magnifying glass - I bought one with an equally simple attachment for looking at eyes. I guess the clerk must have spotted me as a guy with more money than sense because he promptly sold me one of those doctor's bags to store my increasing collection of medical tools.

I bought a set of scalpels and a special stone for sharpening them on - no disposables in those days - and then he convinced me that I needed forceps as well.

We finally got round to the more mundane items that all doctors still carried in those days. A barrel syringe for glycerine enemas, a serviceable bulb syringe and a couple of thin latex enema bags. He smiled happily when I mentioned a rectal tube...

I told him that I was about to depart on a sea voyage. That involved a trip to the pharmacy section and the purchase of a special pack of medicines for use on voyage by "Young Doctor Boyd". The total bill came to over two hundred dollars - doctoring apparently was not a cheap occupation.

Charles looked on with amazement when I started to unpack my purchases in the cabin.

"You're a doctor?"

I wasn't going down that path - I had a momentary vision of being asked to remove an appendix on the high seas.

"No. Just a medical student. I won't get to be a doctor for a couple of years."

I had a couple of hours start in my knowledge of the items in the bag, so I pulled out the stethoscope and we played with it like two kids, listening to the mysterious and incomprehensible noises from each other's chests. He was enchanted with the thing for looking in ears and eyes and he whistled at the array of shining scalpel blades.

"Gee - they would be good for model making! Are they real sharp?"

"Of course they are. They have to be."

"What's this?"

He pulled out the box containing the glycerine syringe and examined it curiously. Then he read "Rectal Syringe" and put it down real fast - he obviously knew the word. He obviously knew all about rectal bulbs too, because he blushed as he prodded one with his finger and then announced that he was going to see if they would let him look in the engine room. I felt kinda sorry for him - fifteen was that in-between age where your pretensions to adulthood could be abruptly punctured by teachers, parents or nurses.

The two days lengthened to four and I looked with dismay at my growing pile of discarded linen. The boat did not offer a laundry service to passengers and it was obvious that my remaining stock was not going to be enough for the journey. I was also starting to itch all over because there was no running hot water in port and so baths were impossible. I decided the first priority was to find a Laundromat.

Charles mentioned the fact to his parents with the result that he was sent along with me with a large bag of family laundry. I was an expert on washing clothes after my days in the apartment and Charles watched with amazement as I sorted whites from coloureds prior to loading them into two separate machines. The place even had an attendant that you could pay to iron the things in a large steam-press, so we ended up with everything in perfect condition.

That was more than I could say for my skin, but I had noticed an imposing building with a carved inscription saying that it was a bath house. If Charles's parents had been there when we took the laundry back, his dad might have warned me off, but there was just a note saying that they had gone out. I told Charles that I was going back to take a bath - he scratched himself and asked if he could come too.

The place looked fine. An attendant in white shirt and trousers stood behind a desk and nodded to us as we came in.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

I looked at the notice behind him. There were prices for shower and for bath, even for Turkish baths, but my attention was caught by the sight of the word 'Jacuzzi'. I had heard of them but I had never seen one, let alone tried one out.

"Is the Jacuzzi available."

"Five bucks. Each."

It was a steep price, but I handed over a ten and received two immense white towels and two white cotton bags.

"Change in there. Put your clothes in the bags and leave them here."

That sounded a good idea. I stripped without even thinking about it, but Charles was clearly embarrassed when he got down to his undershorts.

"Hey, Chuck, I'm only a boy as well. You don't need to be bashful with me."

He smiled uncertainly and removed his shorts, displaying a penis so large that it would merit a place in an anatomical museum. I couldn't help staring at it and he went crimson all over.

"I know, Jason. Everybody laughs at it."

"Hey - I'm not laughing. I'm just jealous! Want to swap?"

He stared at me and then burst out laughing. The ice was broken, but I could imagine the way in which other kids would call him a freak and I felt for him - being different when you're fifteen years old is a death sentence.

We wrapped ourselves toga-fashion in the towels and then deposited our clothes, receiving bracelets with metal disks in return.

"Lose them and you lose your clothes. Room thirty. Read the instructions."

The Jacuzzi was a large circular tub, already filled with clean, steaming water. Charles looked at it in amazement.

"We take a bath together?"

"Hey - it's as big as a swimming bath. You can get four in it."

We lowered ourselves slowly into the hot water and sat down on the tiled shelf that ran round the tube. Charles relaxed and I grinned at him as I reached for the brass lever that controlled the air.