Column: Discovering the New and

f P.C. Sex The lustrous moon shined brightly through the large bay window. Leslie stood admiring its beauty, an island of tranquility in the sea of chaos surrounding her. Suddenly, a deep, suave baritone broke her concentration. Leslie turned to see who had spoken to her. Brad stood nearby, with a beer in his hand and a smile that revealed his chiseled jaw and ivory teeth. "Sure is a beautiful night, isn't it?" Brad said. "Yes, I was just admiring the moon shining through the trees," Leslie replied breathlessly. Brad took a step towards her. "Look, I don't want to seem aggressive, but I just wanted you to know how beautiful you are." Brad paused. "I'm sorry, that was sexual harassment, wasn't it?" A cloud passed over the moon and a chilly breeze gusted through the leaves. "I don't mean to treat you like a sex object, I only wanted to introduce myself." The moon once again cast its light upon her smile as she said, "Oh, God no, that doesn't even approach my definition of harassment. Just remember to stress the second syllable in "beautiful" not the first though." Leslie felt her heart throbbing in her chest as she looked into Brad's dark eyes. "I do appreciate your sensitivity though. What's your name?" "I'm Brad. Oh, and, just do me a favor and don't confuse my sensitivity with frailty. I try very hard to balance the two elements. Do you care to dance?" Leslie was swept around effortlessly in his arms as they danced to Summer Winds while the party wound down. She felt secure and relaxed as her Ferrari-red fingernails traced his shapely biceps, rippling under his tightly fitted sweatshirt. After the music stopped, Brad helped her put on her jacket. "I have a great bottle of champagne I've been saving ever since I first saw you last March. I swore I'd never open it until I was with you," Brad said gallantly as an amber leaf fell onto his shoulder. "Would you like to join me for a drink?" "I'd love to," she said, trembling with desire, for she had never met someone as mysterious and charming as Brad. Leslie put her long fragile fingers into his masculine hand as they strolled down Locust Walk, past the ivied mansions to his apartment. As he pulled out his keys, he turned, pulling Leslie so close that she could feel the fire of his heart, and kissed her with flaming lips. A moment later -- it could have been an eon -- Leslie and Brad were at his kitchen table sipping a bottle of vintage Moet. Brad went to the stereo and put on Wagner's Die Walkure. The driving rhythms made him feel like he was Siegmund, carrying his beloved Sieglinde. Brad and Leslie's desires blossomed like Sieglinde's flowery arias. Leslie sauntered across the room, her long legs accenting her womanhood with every step. They embraced, hugging and kissing with unbridled passion like two stars colliding to form a stronger, brighter light. Leslie ran her fingers through his blond wavy hair. Brad kissed her milky smooth neck as Leslie moaned in delight. He ran his tongue firmly up behind her ear, then he nibbled lightly on her earlobe as she pulled out her silver earrings. He whispered softly, "Look, I hate to do this, but, well . . . " Suddenly, the compact disc jarringly skipped a track. "You know how sensitive these things are today and all. And, well, I have to protect myself you know. I have this little form here I'd like you to look over and sign before we go any further." He pulled out the handsome sheet of resume quality paper, and held it up to the flickering light of the candle. "Item number one just states that, even though you might have had a few drinks, well . . . you're sober enough to know what you're doing. The second item just states that anything that happens here tonight is with your full consent. "I trust you so much it pains me to have to do this, my sweet little lamb." He kissed her forehead as she bent to catch the dim light. "Oh Brad, God -- don't feel guilty, I understand fully. I know what it's like. I just have a problem with this line about 'gives up the rights to any civil suits or other legal claims.' It's just too vague prima facie, and might limit my future ability to seek restitution for any tortuous act not expressly provided for herein. "Who knows? We might do business in the future and you might be able to use this unjustly as leverage. If you just cross out that line I'm sure I can sign it for you now, and we'll have my lawyer look it over in case we ever hook-up again, my dear." Brad moved the pen swiftly, erasing the contested statement. As the opera slipped into a gentle interlude, Leslie signed, grabbed Brad and pulled him tight. Their lips sealed into an impenetrable bond, leaving their tongues free to wrestle inside. But Leslie broke away violently, staring into his serene eyes as a sudden draft blew out the candle. "I'm glad we got that out of the way. It makes bringing this up all the much easier. I trust you totally and all, but, well, caveat emptor," Leslie explained. "You know, written protection is better than verbal. Here's a little thing I'd like you to look over before we go any further." She took his hand and sucked lightly on one of his fingers while she relit the candle to allow him to peruse the document. "Item one ensures through threat of a class action suit that -- even though I know you'd never . . . you won't go back and blab to all your friends about what went on here tonight. It's just that men sometimes abuse us by slandering us and spreading tales about what occurs in moments of passion. "The second item -- the so-called 'Respect me in the morning' clause -- guarantees that you will talk to me after tomorrow, not that it seeks full relationship, just that you don't ignore me after we have sex like most guys do." "Honey, I'd never do that," Brad whispered lovingly in her ear as he caressed her back. "Thirdly, even though I use the Pill, a sponge, foam and an IUD, and you, of course, will wear a condom with spermicidal lubricant, in case of accidental pregnancy you will bare half of the monetary burden. "The last clause is what I like to call the 'Mutual Satiation Guarantee,' which basically says that you must not roll over like a jerk and go to sleep as soon as you climax." She rubbed his thigh vigorously as he read it over. "Look, sweetie, all this is fine except for the 'no blab' clause. It's not that I don't agree with the principle, it's just that I feel it restricts my First Amendment right to free speech." "O.K., cross that line out. I'll initial it. We'll have my lawyer work out a wording that is more comfortable to both parties." The candle glowed with the fire of their passion as they fell together in a tempestuous, grinding kiss. The moon lit up the hall as they groped for his room. They fell in a fury onto his shimmering silk sheets. Rolling and twisting together like battling snakes, Leslie and Brad kissed and moaned. As his strong hand unhooked her restrictive brazier, Leslie whispered, "Brad, oh Brad, I'm sorry but I broke one of my nails today and I have a small cut underneath. Would you mind terribly if I wore rubber gloves? You know how it is with open wounds and all. It is the '90s." "My darling, do as you like." He passionately undid the buttons of her translucent blouse and began gently kissing Leslie's excited breasts. "Darling, I want you, God do I want you. Look, though, I scraped my stomach playing rugby yesterday, and I have a slight abrasion. Do you mind a little . . . Saran Wrap?" "Of course not! I understand your position. Oh, rugby, you're such a man. Come here, closer hurry, I want you now!" Brad and Leslie made love as if they were dancing Swan Lake. Every thrust was met with the perfect reply, every kiss answered with a kiss. Leslie felt her womanhood swelling up inside of her as she lightly bit his neck. They moved with the music, a symphony of squeaking gloves on crinkling plastic wrap, reaching every note with their passion, crescendoing together. They fell exhausted, as two warriors who have finished in a draw. Brad's chest rose and fell as he held Leslie in his arms, her head on his shoulder, protecting her from the cold. She could hear him snore softly. She reflected back on the evening's wonderful events as she peeled off the gloves and threw them towards the wastebasket. As she saw a glimmer of the moonlight reflecting off the Saran Wrap, Leslie thought that for the first time she felt true love. Brian Kennedy is a sophomore English major from Newark, New Jersey. Never Mind the Bollocks appears alternate Thursdays.

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