"Five hundred dollars," I said.

"Oh, wow! Thank you!" she beamed.

"You were worth every fuckinâ?? penny," the owner said. He lowered his voice. "I know fellow pot heads when I see them. Some fuckinâ?? people arenâ??t cool." He moved his head to indicate a few men on the far end of the room. "Hereâ??s a little thank you gift. Take this cigarette pack and fuckinâ?? hide it."

I stuffed the little box under my tee shirt and went to the rest room to transfer it to my sock inside my boot. Under my bell bottoms, it was safely concealed. When I came back, Martha gave the owner his key, and we left.

"Whatâ??s in the cigarette pack?" Martha asked when we were on the road.

"I didnâ??t look. Kinda awkward to get to right now. Itâ??s in my right sock â?? brake and gas foot. We can check it at my house. My folks arenâ??t home."

My bedroom was over the garage. I opened the window so it would be easy to hear a car coming. Then I pulled the cigarette pack from my sock and handed it to Martha. "This is yours."

"Mine to share with you, yeah." She opened the box. "Holy shit!" She dumped two fat joints and a note into her hand.

I read the paper. "This is the GOOD shit. You probably never had anything like it before. Save one for opening night. It will be more than enough for both of you."

Even though I was a derelict college kid on summer break, I dressed carefully for the first night at The Hangout â?? my good boots, clean elephant bell bottom jeans, and a tie-dye shirt I bought at a concert and only wore on special occasions. It looked great under black light. I pulled my hair back under a white sweatband (again for the lights), and I was set to party.

Marthaâ??s parents sent me up to her room. "Are you ready, or are you going to be like a girl?" I teased.

She gave me the cigarette pack. "Can you hide this in your boot again?"

I stuffed the box in my sock and pulled the leg of my jeans down over it. "I put it on the left side so I can get it out when Iâ??m driving."

"Do I look okay?" She turned slowly so I could inspect her. Frayed, acid-washed, hip-hugger bell bottom jeans dragged on the floor and were tight in all the right places. Her bleached linen top hung loose, hemmed a few inches above her navel. Her wild dark hair was sprinkled with glitter and pulled back from her face into a carved and painted wooden clip behind her head. She wore a short, thin rawhide cord strung with brightly colored ceramic beads on her throat. "I made the jewelry myself."

"Sexy! Guys are going to notice you tonight."

"Oh, please," she smirked. "What time do you have to be home?"

"My parents gave up on a curfew after high school. As long as Iâ??m quiet when I come in, itâ??s cool. They know Iâ??m with you, they know you donâ??t drink, so they think Iâ??ll stay out of trouble."

"Shit!" she laughed. "My folks think youâ??re the good influence on me. They think Iâ??d never smoke pot around a nice boy like you, so they donâ??t care when I get home either."

We said our farewells to her mom and dad and got in my car. I fished the box out of my sock and handed it to her. "Wanna fire one up?"

"Not now," she said. "I pulled one joint apart to look at it and re-rolled it. Didnâ??t smoke any, just poked around. My room still smelled like grass in the morning. A friend had some at college that smelled just as strong â?? not treated or anything, just super potent. If this shit is like that, you donâ??t want to smoke it and drive. We can park at The Hangout and walk down to the tracks. No one will see us."

We picked our way through the debris beyond the parking lot and down to the railroad bed. There was enough illumination from the security lights for us to see. She opened the cigarette box. "I brought both joints. Think weâ??ll get high?" I lit a match, and she inhaled. "Oh, wow! Shit!" she coughed, blowing out a cloud of smoke. She passed the number to me.

We quickly decided to save the other joint for later.

"How far did we walk?" she mumbled when we were done.

"Dunno. Hundred yards, maybe."

"Damn. Guess we should see if we can make it back."

It was a lot of effort to walk to my car and hide the cigarette box under some junk on the backseat floor. We shambled to the newly-built club entrance.

"There you two are!" the owner exclaimed. He marked the backs of our hands with two different stamps. Then, he appraised us in the light of the entryway and laughed. "Youâ??re destroyed, arenâ??t you? That fuckinâ?? shitâ??s wicked."

"You were right about one being enough," Martha admitted.

"I fuckinâ?? warned you!" he cackled. "That should keep you going for a while. Now listen â?? you guys donâ??t pay for anything. The one fuckinâ?? hand stamp gets you in and out free all night. The other is for sodas and munchies. Show your stamp at the snack bar. Theyâ??ll give you whatever the fuck you want. Check back here in an hour. I may have a little fuckinâ?? surprise."

We went into the eerily lit hall already filling with kids shouting to each other over the shrieking guitar music or moving to the rhythm of the drums. People milled about, pointing out details and scenes in Marthaâ??s strange paintings.

She pulled me close to yell in my ear. "Iâ??m really wasted."

I mouthed back, "Me too."

"Letâ??s walk around," she shouted.

We meandered about the room, looking at her work yet again and eavesdropping on people commenting on it. "They love it!" I yelled in her ear.

She motioned me to follow her to a corner of the huge room, an area where the blare of the sound system wasnâ??t as harsh. "Iâ??m so fucked up. That was a hell of a long walk," she said. "Letâ??s get something to drink."

We went to the snack bar and took large sodas back to our corner to sit cross-legged on the floor.

"Iâ??m so happy I donâ??t know what to do," she said. "Cry? Laugh? Strip naked and run around the room screaming for joy?"

"Crying doesnâ??t sound like fun, and running around naked and screaming is kinda conspicuous. Lots of work, too. Iâ??d pay to watch, but I should probably vote for laughing."

She punched me playfully. Then she leaned against me and rested her head on my shoulder. "We did this."

"You did this."

"I put paint up there, but if you hadnâ??t built scaffolding, brought me everything I needed, and given me moral support, nothing would have happened." She squeezed my hand. "Iâ??ll never forget this."

I checked my watch. "We should probably look for the boss man and find out about this surprise." We struggled to our feet and made our way to the main door.

He was standing outside smoking a cloves cigarette. "Martha! Everyone fuckinâ?? loves your work! You think the crowd tonight is good? Wait till you see the write-up in tomorrowâ??s newspaper! It talks about the whole fuckinâ?? place, but the big thrust of the article is the art. Thereâ??s nothing like this anywhere. I made sure the fuckinâ?? reporter got your name right. Call me Monday. Iâ??m making a list of people you should contact for jobs. Maybe you can do some work on breaks during the fuckinâ?? school year. Iâ??m sure you can fill next summer. Say the word, and Iâ??ll find you fuckinâ?? jobs."

"You donâ??t have to do all that!" Martha said.

"No, but I want to. Iâ??ve opened other clubs, but nothing like this, and nothing with this much fuckinâ?? potential. Your art is the big difference here. Donâ??t know what your plans are after college, but you could make a fuckinâ?? career out of this kind of work."

"Never really thought about it, you know? I always worked small before. My paintings let people see through a little window into my world. Here, they can join me in it."

He laughed. "Youâ??re really fucked up, arenâ??t you?"

"Not as bad as before, but yeah."

"Told ya! Remember I said I might have a surprise? Hold out your fuckinâ?? hands, both of you." He gave us each a small brownie wrapped in cellophane. "Theyâ??re made with the same pot. Youâ??ll get really fuckinâ?? high, maybe even some visuals and body rushes. Eat those, and in about forty-five minutes fuckinâ?? shit will start happening."

We enjoyed our chocolaty treats and went back to our corner inside. After about a half hour, Martha shivered.

"Itâ??s warm in here. How can you be cold?" I asked.

"Iâ??m not. I didnâ??t eat much for dinner, so the brownieâ??s getting to me. Starting to feel real good, different from before." She shivered again, a full-body motion that started in her feet and moved up until she shook her head, spilling a little glitter on her shoulders. "Fuck, yes! Donâ??t mind me. Sometimes I get super body rushes."

The strobes, moving spotlights, and black light made her top glow and the tiny bits of glitter shine like pin-pricks of intense colored light from within her. I was getting seriously high. "We should move."

She giggled. "Do you feel like youâ??re gonna grow roots into the floor? Me too. Help me up before itâ??s too late."

We wandered around the facility again. The colors of the paintings seemed more intense now, and the strobe lights made them move. Clothing glowed under the ultraviolet light. Sometimes spotlights backlit people as silhouettes. The strobes made everyoneâ??s movements jerky. "Martha, Iâ??m having some real trouble focusing."

"Letâ??s go outside," she said. "I need to slow down."

We made it to the main door and breathed in the sticky air of a late summer city night. The parking lot lights spilled down to the tracks, illuminating the ugly wires and transformers on power poles against the night sky. We entered this new world, traffic noises from the streets a quiet calming contrast to the insistent beat of drums and screech of tortured guitars we left behind.

"Jeremy, I thought the walls were gonna start, like, breathing. When that happens, itâ??s time for me to find someplace quiet for a while."

"Some of the stuff in your murals got super intense."

"I painted it, so I know whatâ??s up there, but I started seeing shit that wasnâ??t. Kinda freaked me out. Iâ??m still really high, but Iâ??m okay now."

"Girl, you and I need a mellow-out walk."

We strolled around the outside of the building. The owner had hired bouncers to stop kids who wanted to drink or fight. They didnâ??t seem to notice anyone making out in the shadows.

Martha whispered when we passed a particularly amorous couple, "You know what I wonder?"

"What?"

"How these crazy body rushes I keep getting would feel with sex."

"You never had sex when you were high?

"No. I never had sex at all."

"You didnâ??t?"

"Who would I have sex with?"

"I dunno. Lots of guys. Youâ??re in college."

"No, Jeremy. When other girls are out getting laid, Iâ??m in my room listening to weird music and fucking myself with my hairbrush handle. There. Now you know everything about me. Iâ??m a freak."

"Youâ??re not a freak!"

"My boyfriend is a piece of plastic! No one wants a flat-chested artsy chick with frizzy hair. Iâ??m sexually invisible."

"Youâ??re wrong."

"Am I? We spent a lot of time together these last two months. Some days I wore next to nothing. We even talked about you looking at me. Not a damn thing happened."

"I didnâ??t think it should."

"Yeah, you kinda said that. Forget it. Itâ??s okay."

"No, itâ??s not."

Tears glistened in her eyes. "Why is it not okay? Suddenly you want to fuck me? Is this pity?"

"No! Itâ??s not pity, Martha! Itâ??s just that now, I think of sex with you as a possibility. I didnâ??t before, but if youâ??re interested ..."

She shivered through another body rush. "I think I am."

I took her hand. "You shouldnâ??t be this damn high your first time."

We went back inside. The sound system played Pink Floyd, making the entire atmosphere of the place calmer. The walk cleared our heads enough to allow us to enjoy it. Her artwork looked spectacularly trippy as ever, but we both kept things under control.

Martha asked, "Whatâ??s that on her back?"

"Who?"

"The blond with the tied-up red shirt. Whatâ??s that glowing on her back right above her jeans?"

I looked where she pointed. A busty braless blond strutted her stuff on the dance floor. Something glowed on her back under the black light and glistened when the strobes hit her. It took me a minute to figure out what it was. Then I doubled over with laughter.

"What?" Martha asked.

I cupped my hand over her ear to be heard. "Itâ??s spunk."

"Itâ??s what?"

"Spunk. Cum. Semen. It glows under black light. Look. Itâ??s still wet. Someone must have done her from behind and pulled out."

"Oh, shit!"

"Yeah."

"Here?"

"Who knows? She sure didnâ??t drive here like that."

Martha put her mouth to my ear. "We know this place better than her. I canâ??t imagine where she went. Iâ??m not as fucked up now, and Iâ??m still interested in trying sex, but Iâ??m not putting on a show."

"You split your bonus with me. I can afford a motel room. Come on."

We left the club and walked up the street to the motel. The desk clerk eyed us suspiciously, but a ten dollar tip got us a room with no further questions. We went up the ugly outside concrete steps and found the door.

"Did you ever do anything like this before, Jeremy? Get a room with a girl?"

"No." I unlocked the door and ushered her inside. The room wasnâ??t horrible. At least it looked clean.

She shivered again. "That wasnâ??t a body rush. Iâ??m nervous."

"Itâ??s just me."

"That may be the problem." She found a brush in her bag and went to the bathroom sink. She pulled the handmade clip from her hair and removed as much glitter as she could. "Should I get undressed now?"

I turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the harsher room lights. "Letâ??s sit down."

We sat on the bed, not touching. "Are you sure you want to do this, Martha?"

"Not if you donâ??t want to. Be honest. Itâ??s okay. Do you want to go back to the club?"

"No!"

"So, youâ??re being a gentleman?"

"I donâ??t want to mess things up between us. I donâ??t want you to do anything youâ??ll regret tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I may regret not doing it. I feel safe with you. I never even kissed a boy."

"Why not?"

"No one asked, dammit!"

"Iâ??m sorry. Didnâ??t think I should be the one. Weâ??re like, you know, friends and all, and I â?¦"

"Stop, Jeremy, please. Will you kiss me?"

Things moved along after that. The first tentative kiss heated up fast. She couldnâ??t stop trembling when I pulled her top off. When I placed the palm of my hand over her fast-beating heart, she rubbed against it like a cat until her nipple was a hard nub on her tiny breast. I licked the other one.

"Oh, shit, that feels good!" she moaned.

I plumped a boob with my hands and sucked most of it into my mouth to tease with my tongue. She whimpered, and her hand went to her crotch. When I worked my fingers under hers to feel the warm denim between her legs, she moved her hand tentatively between mine.

"I feel it," she whispered. "Itâ??s getting bigger. I never saw one before."

"A dick?"

"In magazines, and last year when my roommate and her boyfriend thought I was asleep, but not really. Not up close. Sure as hell not hard because of me."

"Letâ??s get these off." I opened the two big buttons that held her hip hugger jeans closed, grabbed the top hem, and tugged. She retrieved her panties and pulled them back into place before they got too far down. I removed her shoes, socks, and jeans. Everything went on a heap on a chair near the bed.

"Should I take my necklace off?"

"No. I told you it was sexy."

She covered her crotch modestly with one hand but rubbed her nipples with the other. "Now you. Iâ??ve seen you with your shirt off, but thatâ??s it."

I pulled my headband, shirt, boots, and socks off and started on my jeans. "Hang on. Gotta get something." I pulled my wallet out of my pocket.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting a condom. I learned this trick from listening to my Dadâ??s stories about going on evening leave in the service. Always carry a rubber. If itâ??s in your wallet, youâ??ll probably have it when you want it."

"My mom got the doctor to put me on the pill to go to college. She assumed Iâ??d need it. Shows how much she knows about me. Gotta admit, though," she grinned, "Iâ??ve been careful about taking them and havenâ??t gotten pregnant yet. Please donâ??t use a condom."

I put my wallet back in my pocket, took my jeans off, and threw them on the chair with my shirt and her clothes.

"Holy shit! That," she pointed at the bulge in my shorts, "is supposed to fit in there?" She pointed at the crotch of her girlish bikini panties.

"Not if you donâ??t want it to."

"I didnâ??t say that. Itâ??s just different when you know itâ??s for you." She yanked her panties off and used the waistband elastic to shoot them across the room. In the dim light, her pale, fragile form was enticing. Her small breasts matched her thin waist and narrow hips. Close-cropped dark hair decorated her mound.

"Oh, my God," I said under my breath.

"I look that bad?"

"No. That good." I pulled my jockey shorts off and kicked them away.

She stared at my hard cock. "Shit," she whispered.

We pulled the covers down and lay side by side on the bed.

"Hold me?" she asked.

I rolled on my side and pulled her close, folding my arms around her. "What are you scared of?"

"Not the thing my mother told me to worry about. I believe youâ??ll respect me in the morning."

I kissed her and played with her hard little nipple. "Relax."

"Will it hurt? Pretty sure my hairbrush popped my cherry a while ago."

I moved my fingers to her folds.

She giggled when I touched her. "Iâ??m pretty wet."

"If your cherryâ??s gone, thereâ??s nothing to tear. Youâ??ll feel stretching."

Her fingers closed softly on my erection. "I feel stretching with my hairbrush. Itâ??s not like this. Youâ??re bigger than that thing, and youâ??re real."

"We donâ??t have to do this, Martha."

She stroked me experimentally. "Yes, we do."

I massaged her sex. When my fingers got slick, I teased her opening with the middle one. She spread her legs for me, and I pushed a finger inside.

She shivered again. "Oh, God. Thatâ??s almost as big as my hairbrush."

Her clit grew as I watched, and I moistened it with juice I pulled from her opening.

She jolted and squeezed my cock. "I cum really fast. Youâ??re gonna feel huge."

"Iâ??ll get you wetter." I broke free of her grasp and kissed her torso, starting at her throat, nibbling with my lips on her compact boobs, and tracing patterns on her trembling belly with my tongue as I fingered her. I moved between her legs and kissed her slender thighs. Then I teased her lips with my tongue.

"Fuck! Jeremy! Damn!"

"You like that?" I kissed her hard little clitoris. She jumped in response. "I think you do." I worked her with my fingers and tongue, bringing her off quickly. She squealed and squirmed, so I rested my forearm across her pelvis to hold her still while I attacked her sex again. She came harder this time, writhing her slender body on the bed and grinding her head into the pillow. I didnâ??t stop. She got wetter and wilder.

Finally, she yanked on my hair. "Stop! Please! Iâ??m gonna pass out or something. Make love to me. Have sex with me. Put your cock in my cunt, and fuck me. Do something!"

I dried my chin on the sheet and worked a second finger into her tight hole.

"Oh, shit!" she gasped.

I tweaked her nipples gently as I finger fucked her. "You can only have one first time, Martha."

She grabbed my dripping cock. "Yes. Now."

She was so slick getting the head inside wasnâ??t too difficult. Her outer lips shone with her moisture where they hugged me.

"Is this gonna hurt?"

I didnâ??t push any deeper. "It shouldnâ??t. The vagina is made to stretch."

"How deep will you go?"

I moved just a little. "How deep will you let me go?"

She winced but pulled on my hips to urge me on. "Not sure it will all fit."

"It will." I pushed some more, kissing her, and she relaxed enough to let me advance. A tremor shook her. "Body rush?"

"Half an orgasm. Push in more."

It took a lot of willpower, but I advanced carefully, penetrating a little deeper with each slow thrust. She was incredibly tight, but so creamy slick it wasnâ??t that difficult. Each time I pushed in her arms wrapped around me tighter.

"So this is sex, huh?" she breathed.

"Yeah." I was about as deep as I was going to get, so I pulled almost all the way out and then slid back in.

"Kinda hurts, but not really. I just feel so full."

I pulled partway out and put my hand between us so I could play with her clit. Then I moved in again, my body pushing my fingers firmly on either side of her button.

She bit her lip. "Keep doing that."

Her orgasm was deep and luxurious, but when she gathered herself, she started fucking me back. "Make me cum again, Jeremy. Please make me cum again."

I pulled out to fight my own urge to cum and moved to the foot of the bed to eat her steaming pussy. Again, I had to hold her down to do it.

Eventually, she grabbed my hair. "No more. Fuck me. Cum inside me." She wrapped all four limbs around me when I entered her. This time we went faster.

After a few minutes, I grunted into her hair. "Wonâ??t be long now."

"Do it."

I pushed harder and faster as I felt my orgasm approach. She responded in kind. I tried to keep most of my weight off her upper torso when I erupted.

She reached up and wiped the sweat from under my eyes when I was done. "I felt you cumming. That was amazing," she murmured as we kissed.

I dismounted and lay on my back, spent. She rolled on her side to cuddle. Neither of us spoke.

Eventually, she said, "Thank you. I donâ??t feel like a freak anymore."

I grabbed her little ass to pull her close. "Youâ??re not a freak. A freak in bed, maybe."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Some girls donâ??t act out as much as you."

"If I enjoy something, I enjoy it."

I fondled her nipple. "I noticed."

"We have the room for the night, right?"

"Yeah."

She turned my wrist so she could read my watch. "Wanna go back to The Hangout before it closes?"

We cleaned up the messy parts, neither of us now shy about our nudity. We dressed, and I held Marthaâ??s wild mane up for her so she could clip it in a loose bun on top of her head. We walked back to the club.

The owner met us at the door. "Thought you two fuckinâ?? left."

"We took a break."

He gave us a knowing wink and turned to talk to another patron.

Martha grabbed my hand and pulled us away. "Do you think he knows?"

"Knows what?"

"That we did it? Had sex?"

"He probably thinks we went out and smoked. Do you care?"

She laughed. "The crazy part of me hopes he guessed."

"We were careful. We washed. Nothingâ??s glowing on us."

"Oh, you!" She play-smacked my arm. "Letâ??s dance."

"I donâ??t know how."

"Neither do I. So what?"

It was near closing time, so the DJ slowed the music down. The Moody Blues played "Knights in White Satin." We fit well together. I held her close, and she rested her head on my chest. We didnâ??t move much, since itâ??s not a song that inspires it.

"Itâ??s okay, you know," she said.

"What is?"

"Look around. Other boys are kissing the girls theyâ??re dancing with."

A guy near me squeezed his girlâ??s ass. I did the same to Martha.

"Woo-hoo! Yeah, thatâ??s more like it!" She kissed me back when my mouth sought hers.

When the lights came up, we joined the rest of the crowd and headed for the door.

The owner called us aside. "You two gonna be here tomorrow? My treat, of course. The fuckinâ?? place will be packed. I can hardly wait. Hey," he said to me, "you okay to drive home?"

"Weâ??re just moving his car to the motel," Martha offered.

"The motel? OH! Cool! You kids make a fuckinâ?? great couple. See ya tomorrow?"

"Weâ??ll be here," I said.

In the car, Martha asked, "Are we a couple now?"

"Not sure what that means."

"He called us a couple."

"Yeah, but what does it mean? To you, anyway?"

"Not sure.

When we got to our room, she flopped on the bed. "A couple enjoys each otherâ??s company."

"Right."

"And they have sex."

"Sometimes, yes."

"Not sure we should be a steady couple like some of those sappy kids in high school," she said.

"We canâ??t be together all the time. Our colleges are an hour apart."

She started getting undressed, so I did the same. She lay on her back, unselfconscious about her nudity. "I think I like the sex part."

"Me too." My cock sprang rigid from my shorts when I took them off. I joined her on the bed and pulled her to me. We kissed anxiously this time, and soon she grabbed me.

"Iâ??m a little sore, but I donâ??t care. Put it in me again."

I assumed I should take it slow for this, her second time, but she would have none of it. As soon as I was seated in her opening, she used her heels on my back to pull me in.

"I watched my roommateâ??s boyfriend finish in her mouth. Do you like to do that?"

"Thatâ??s up to you."

"Weâ??ll save it for next time. I want to learn how to make you feel as good as you did me, but right now I want the same thing as before."

I gave it to her. I learned to recognize her impending orgasms and to encourage them. She cried out with each one loudly enough I was glad the rooms on either side of ours were empty. Finally, I filled her.

We rolled apart.

"Holy shit," she chuckled.

"What?"

"Is it like this every time?"

"I dunno. Sex is fun."

"It is, but itâ??s messy," she giggled. "I need to clean up."

When she was done in the bathroom, I took her place.

"Can you bring a towel?" she called. "Thereâ??s a wet spot on the bed."

I handed her the towel and found my shorts.

"Donâ??t put them on. Letâ??s sleep naked," she said.

We covered the dampness and pulled the covers up. She spooned against me.

"Do I feel what I think I feel against my ass?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Donâ??t be. You said you look at it." She plumped her pillow, pulled my hand over her to cup her breast, and fell asleep.

When we got to Marthaâ??s house the next morning, she asked, "What should I wear tonight?"

"I dunno. What do you feel like wearing?"

"Something that comes off easily. Iâ??ll pay for the room. Womenâ??s Lib and all that."

"We have the other joint," I reminded her.

"No brownies tonight for me," she said.

"Martha, you asked last night if we were a couple."

"You tactfully avoided answering me, and Iâ??m glad. I like what we have."

"All of it?"

Her hand moved to my groin. "All of it. Weâ??ll take this as it comes. In a couple weeks we go back to school."

"My car could stand some highway miles. I can visit. I need to help you paint your apartment."

"Yes, you do â?? the ceiling over my bed. When weâ??re done, Iâ??ll inspect it lying on my back while we have fun." She kissed me and went in the house.

***

About "The Hangout":

The real name of the place wasnâ??t that, but an eighteen-and-up club did, in fact, open when I was a college kid in the small city near the town where I grew up. An entrepreneur bought an abandoned quonset hut that had been used as a heavy truck repair shop. The new owner steam-cleaned everything and turned it into a dance hall with a disc jockey and small-time bands. The character in my story is nothing like the real man, a legitimate business owner and developer. My guy is a caricature of several sleazy promoters Iâ??ve seen in my day and is portrayed as he is for scene setting and comic relief.

Iâ??m "Jeremy". "Martha" went to my high school. She was our graduating classâ?? only hippie â?? skinny, funky hair, bell bottom jeans, peace sign jewelry, and anti-Viet Nam war slogans on her clothes. She was the first person I knew who tried that dangerous narcotic Mary Jane, a.k.a. whacky weed or grass, which was still very much a dirty Commie pinko radical thing way back then in our conservative little east coast town. By the time we were sophomores in college, many people our age smoked pot.

Martha was a brilliant artist, good with every medium and style. She loved abstract, psychedelic, and surrealist art. Before the club opened, the owner hired her to decorate parts of it, not nearly as much as in the story, but enough to make the place very "cool" for its time and a true novelty in the region. The owner supplied people to help with the project, so I wasnâ??t involved. I did, however, see the inside of the place before, during, and after she did her work. Very "far out". Martha dressed as I described for opening night. I ran into her there and admired her work with her for a few minutes.

The setting was real. The protagonists were real. The actions were not. We never made love. Martha and I didnâ??t have as much contact after high school graduation as we did before, at least in part because she went to a prestigious art college in a city a distance from me. She aced every class. She was hugely successful in the local and collegiate art worlds, earning grants for several advanced degree programs, including study abroad. She was also chosen as valedictorian for her college graduation. When it was time for the ceremony she didnâ??t show up, so people went looking for her. They found a note pinned to her folded cap and gown on the roof of her ten-floor apartment building saying she had realized all her dreams. Her broken body was in the parking lot below.

"The Hangout" was her Sistine Chapel, her defining work, the one thing most people remembered about her after she was gone. This romanticized fantasy is a sort of tribute to a brilliant, creative, and troubled young woman.

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