Ellen Rabbit

Throughout my senior year of college at UNC-Chapel Hill, I dated the first flute player in the orchestra. I have written about her before but never in the context of a “ménage a trios.” We never really had a threesome, but as it ends up I was working three discrete women at the same time. One wanted me, but I didn’t want her because she also was a blond haired flutist. What do you need with two of these? The first one all ready was great in bed, so why risk going down the evolutionary ladder? The second was a trombone player we affectionately called the “L.D.” or “Li’l Darlin’” after Count Basie’s tune. (In jazz band all we played were Count Basie arrangements. Glory was the day we played a Woody Herman tune for the first time!) L.D. was short, plump, cute, and had a “Hamill.” I hit on her because she was available. How it transpired that both women were on the hook at the same time I don’t recall, and I put a stop to it as soon as Senior complained about Junior. I did the best acting job of my career when Lydia confronted me about the L.D. I completely turned the tables around and made her feel guilty for implying I could be such a low life pig. (although it was partially true) The oddest but funniest thing happened, because I used to park my ’69 Volkswagon bug in front of Lydia’s campus house. (the one with four women living in it) I conveniently left it there while I went to class the next day. (which was a no no in terms of city parking, but I didn’t get a ticket) Later in the evening the L.D. and I had chips and dip and a cold beer at our local watering hole. We were cautiously flirtatious. Evidently one of the brood of Lydia’s housemates was at the same place and saw us. She made it home first and alerted the troops. When I got there I received a peculiar reception, albeit one of deserved respect for being able to work two fillies at the same time. (It was a little exciting to them) Upon her complaint, I terminated the somewhat adolescent romp with the L.D. We went our separate ways over Christmas break, and I was met with disapproval upon arriving back at college the next semester. I hadn’t thought twice about calling her in New York. (I’m not sure why) I guess it was because I had my cake and was eating it too. As a sidebar I must include this little tale. One of the few nights the L.D. stayed over night at my apartment, we slept together in my small single bed. (I think it was my dad’s old army cot) I had checked the sliding glass door before we left to go out that night, but before we returned my roommate had unlocked and opened the door. He forgot to lock it. At three in the morning the L.D. began poking me in the ribs with her elbow. As I awoke she said to me, “Paul, there’s someone in the room with us.” I looked down and sure enough there was a figure on all fours crawling toward us on the bed. It abruptly rose and ran out the door leaving a trail of rainwater on the carpet. They had gone through L.D.’s purse but had taken nothing. One pair of stereo headphones was missing from my stereo in the living room. The sliding glass door was ajar and it was raining outside. The funny thing was I had a little Medieval club hanging on my desk next to the bed that had nails sticking out of it. What gruesome torture could have ensued. We never figured out who could and would have the audacity to perform this stunt, except for Ellen Rabbitt. Ellen was the “other” blond haired flute player that had been chasing me for much of our last semester. She hinted later it could have been her on all fours on my bedroom floor unhappy with L.D.’s presence in my bed. After Lydia and I graduated, I drove her back to Rochester in a rental car and spent some time at her mother and stepfather’s home. Unlike Geraldine, who would have nothing to do with public displays of affection, Lydia would perform her ritual nightly fellatio on me under the roof of her own parents. It didn’t seem to phase her one bit, but it did me. She got a little peeved at me because I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. As soon as I made it back to Chapel Hill, Ellen was waiting. School was over and the little college town of Chapel Hill was quaintly abandoned. These were the times you cherished in life. Robert Redford candidly says in the movie Havana, “Life is what happens in between conversation.” That is exactly what happened with Ellen and me. I wasn’t really ready to rebound out of something that was not yet over, but availability and proximity make a difference. The sexual overtones of an isolated college town, no school in session, with warm, peaceful, joyous nights was enough foreplay for the both of us. We went out for ice cream and ended up back in bed in the same bedroom. Who could say if she had been the one on the floor? As was appropriate back in l985, I asked her if she was safe. “Are you safe,” I asked sounding like the ex-Nazi in the movie Marathon Man. It had more do to with STD’s than diamonds. She said yes, but stopped me from performing cunnilingus. I have had two women do that and ask me what I was doing. Isn’t it obvious when you go down between their legs? Evidently that is not for all women. I didn’t know at the time the reason she had stopped me. (as a bit of foreshadowing, they seem to think disease is safer for your dick than your mouth!) That wasn’t the case with Ellen, but with one waitress later. We had a suitably good time and resumed the next morning. She couldn’t stop asking me what I was thinking. How could I say to her I loved her when we didn’t even really know each other, not to mention she had a boyfriend? This was my first hint that Ellen was a few cards shy of a full deck. I left for the summer to return to Fayetteville. A month or so later as I was riding my Honda XL-200r behind my parent’s home, my dad approached me on the playground. He yelled I had a phone call. Why in the devil had he walked all the way up there and chased me down to tell me this? Why not just take a message? I responded and took her call, Ellen’s call. She informed me she was pregnant with my baby. I asked her what she wanted to do. She said she was going to tell her boyfriend it was his and he was going to pay for it. She said she simply wanted to see me again. What!? We made the mistake of getting her pregnant, and she wants to see me again? The least I could do was do what she asked, although I thought it was crazy. I drove up to Cary to see her at her apartment. She was horny, but told me she was on her period and couldn’t do much. In complete shock and dismay I fled in my Beetle never to see her ever again, the only one ever to carry my child to this day.