“Oh my giddy God!” Surely the owner of the giant redwood knew enough about the female anatomy to know that he wasn’t supposed to stick his stump...in there! It was touching me. Pressing into me with blunt intent. The breath on my neck was coming in short, choppy bursts. What were the thoughts going on behind my head? The stump was pressing in and out, as though looking for somewhere to lay root. Its owner must have been awake. Must have been. I turned round, ready for a conflict, ready to. Yesterday afternoon I had a date with a longtime boyfriend and we went out in the woods and screwed twice on a blanket then he brought me back here. The last time he shot in me was just after midnight. That’s how I like to go to sleep. The next morning my brother came over because we were going someplace. He has a key and came in and there I was naked and sprawled out on the bed so he just helped himself like he knows he’s welcome to. It’s a great way to wake up. And then we had a quickie when. It’s also where I matched wits with a female sociopath named Lou, who abused the male students and she was eventually removed from her post when, during my last semester, I led a coalition of students to faculty offices to demand that she leave us alone. At the library, I saw this large, matronly black woman named Bernadine. She was the librarian when I was there and usually seemed like an okay person. I recall forgetting my book bag in the library once near closing time and as I rushed back,. That momentary lapse had caused her to spend four weeks in abject solitude. It had cost her the opportunity to complete the Seven Progressive Challenges and to prove to everyone that she could be uninhibited, that she was no longer a prude. In her momentary lapse she’d quit the Seven Progressive Challenges, and that was that. It was her own doing, she would live with it, and use it as an object lesson. It was the price of not maintaining control. Denise, sadness evident in her eyes, conviction.
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