"Shit" I whispered to myself. Someone was using my spot – I didn't know anyone else knew about it. I had taken Linda Short there to fuck her, and had not been worried since I was sure it was a private spot. Now I knew differently. I crept up quietly and peered from behind a bushy tree.

It was Ann Macafee, there with Bill Arnold. I was totally shocked; Bill was known as sort of the school hoodlum. He wore heavy metal T-shirts, engineer boots, and torn levis pretty much all the time. He was just the sort the Ann would avoid like disease, yet here she was with him, at night, and in a very intimate spot.

They were kneeling over something and talking in hushed tones. I could not tell what they were doing at first, then Bill lit a small candle. I saw the mirror on the grass, and the razor blade glinting on its surface. Aha, I thought: Cocaine. Now everything made sense; Ann liked coke (okey, that was suprising, but not insane) and Bill was certainly the most likely source for drugs on campus.

I could not make out what they were saying, but Bill's face was full of mischief. Ann looked very anxious as she stared at the coke he was forming into a line on the mirror. He did the line, then sat back, his vial of coke in his hand, and stared at her. Finally, probably out of frustration, her voice rose to where I could hear it.

"Come on Bob. Lay out a line for me. You said you would." She still held her usual expression of superiority, but there was a quivver of desperation in her voice that told me coke was not a casual thing for her.

"Maybe I will. Wha'cha gonna do for me, Annie?" Bill said, leering at her.

"Fuck you!" Ann said and looked away.

Bill chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I had in mind. Pussy for coke. Not a bad deal, when you consider how much this shit costs. I'll bet you've got a tight cunt…"