"The Bandit 5"( MF cons )

     "Oh, I don't believe this!  What the hell kind of bullshit are they 
shovelling here?"  The Bandit threw down the newspaper disgustedly and 
kicked it into the corner with a curse.  "Goddamned pseudo-juornalistic 
shits!"  

     He punched his data card into the debit monitor as if he'd been 
punching the Arcadian's editor, and grabbed a tray from the stack at the 
head of the heaterstack line as if he were grabbing her by the throat.  His 
scowl did its duty;  the other students at the dinner table kept their 
conversations to themselves, and nobody tried to talk to him.  The empty 
dining hall was spotlessly clean, and the only sound was the rumble of the 
gathering crowd outside the double doors.  

     Finishing his dinner with the haste of the enraged, he picked up his 
tray and carried it back to the kitchen, throwing it on the dumper while he 
fired up the Stendorf and got it heating.  Stork looked him over dubiously 
as he came around to the uniform drawer, and silently held out a folded 
apron.  The Bandit snatched it with a growl and tossed it over his head, 
tying it on as he went to retrieve a pair of rubber gloves from the glove 
box.  

     "Um, Bandit?"  As always, Stork's voice was deep and quiet, a boom 
that went well with his nearly two meters of height.  

     "What?"  The Bandit hissed in pain as a blast of scalding steam hit 
him in the face, gusting out of the Stendorf's gaping maw.  

     "This is a disgusting job.  Don't make it even less pleasant for us.  
Please?"  

     The Bandit glared at him for a long moment, then sighed, somewhat 
deflated.  "Okay, okay," he muttered.  "Sorry.  I'm just not in the best of 
moods tonight, that's all."  

     "Obviously not," Stork agreed, tying on his own apron.  "At the risk 
of sounding like the Wiz, d'you want to talk about it?"  

     "No," the Bandit snapped.  "There's nothing to talk about.  I'm just 
overreacting, I guess.  But God damn it, you'd think the idiots who ran the 
Arcadian would be a little more careful about getting their facts 
straight!"  

     "Oh, is that all?"  Stork sighed.  "You KNOW they make it all up, 
Bandit.  Simmer down, okay?"  

     "Yeah, yeah, all right.  HEY, FASTBACK!  COME ON, LET'S GET STARTED!"  

     "Coming, coming, coming," Fastback drawled, tying on his apron as he 
sauntered back to the Stendorf station.  "Anon, anon.  Okay, who's on 
what?"  

     "Um, I had Stendorf duty last night, so I'm on tray-dump tonight," 
Stork volunteered.  

     "So that means I have Stendorf duty tonight, ay okay," Fastback 
nodded, taking up a position by the back end of the huge, puffing machine.  

     "And I'm in the sink," the Bandit nodded.  "Okay, here we go, people!  
Hup, two!"  The first stack of used dinner trays came rattling back into 
the kitchen, pushed awkwardly by a young student server/clearer, and the 
familiar rhythm kicked into gear:  trays emptied and cleared into the 
trashvat by the Stork, slid over to the Bandit for a quick scrub, and into 
the Stendorf and out the other side, clean and sterile, for Fastback to put 
away.  Two hundred trays an hour, six nights a week, the Bandit thought 
grimly.  Well, it pays the bills.  

     The temperature in the stuffy kitchen gradually climbed into the 
nineties as the Stendorf's steam mingled with the air.  The Bandit wiped a 
forearm across his sweaty brow and dove back into the sink full of boiling 
water, dishes rattling in his hands as he cleaned and stacked them.  

     "Window!"  

     "Window?  Ay okay!  Bandit!  Window?"  

     "Uh, window!  Yeah, sure, I got it," the Bandit puffed, reaching 
across the Stendorf's entry gate to the window and throwing it wide open.  
The night was cold, but the breeze was pure heaven in the cramped kitchen.  

     "Ahhhhh, I'm alive again.  Thanks, Bandit!"  

     "No problem, Stork ole pal," the Bandit said with a fleeting smile.  
"Hey, are you boys up to loaning your old pal Bandit a tonsil or two?"  

     "Bass on line," Stork grinned.  

     "Baritone on line," Fastback grinned.  "What'll we sing?"  

     "How about some Elvis," Bandit suggested.  

     "Aaaaaalissooooooon, Mah aim is troooooo," Stork wailed.  

     "Wrong Elvis, you foon!"  The Bandit laughed in the gouts of steam.  
"You know I can be found--sitting all alone--you ran off and left me babe, 
and now I'm on my own--" 

     "Don't be cruel (dooooowah) 

     To a heart that's true (ooooooooo) 

     Don't be cruel (doooooowah) 

     To a heart that's true (ahhhhhhh) 

     I don't need no other love, 

     Darling, it's just you I'm--" 

     "THINKIN' OF," Stork boomed.  The next two stanzas went by in a flash, 
with Fastback and Stork bop-bopping behind the Bandit, and at the end of 
the song, the trio were startled by the sound of applause from outside the 
window.  

     Squinting through the steam and out into the night, the Bandit could 
just make out the figures of some people standing under the window.  Waving 
the steam away, he suddenly realized that they were girls, Lovepilers from 
the look of them.  "Pussy alert," he hissed, sotto voce, smiling and waving 
out the window at them.  They giggled and returned the wave.  

     "Right," Stork whispered.  He cleared his throat.  "Don' know why, 
there's no clouds up in the sky--" 

     "STORMY WEATHER," Fastback and the Bandit crooned theatrically, and 
the three dishwashing serenaders mugged their way through that and a couple 
of other songs before the girls waved cheery goodbyes and headed off down 
the road that led past the Roach Motel.  

     The Bandit's eyes popped as he saw them walk across the East Quad, 
right past the turnoff for the Lovepile, and up the steps of the Virgin 
Vault.  "Hey, those babes were V.V.'s!  What the hell were they doing 
risking their reps by listening to us?"  

     "Can't get pregnant from singing," Fastback grinned, heaving the 
umpteenth rack of clean dishes out of the Stendorf.  

     "No, but we all know where shameless revelry can lead," Stork retorted 
with a smile.  "Hey, guess what?  This is the last tray!"  

     "And there was much rejoicing," the Bandit sighed.  

     "Yayyyy," Fastback deadpanned, reaching for another dish rack.  


     "Hey there hi there ho there," the Bandit called, charging into the 
lounge.  Thud waved, not looking up from his cards.  Lanky managed a wave, 
as did Mimosa, who was studying her hand intensely and ordering and 
reordering the cards again and again.  

     "Greetings, Bandit!"  That particular bellow was Thunder's;  the 
training of a New England professor and the manners of a coal miner.  "And 
have you robbed from the rich to give to the poor tonight?"  

     "By all means," the Bandit grinned, emptying his coat pockets onto the 
coffee table.  A small pile of chocolates and mints, given out to students 
who ate at the Roach Motel and normally unavailable at Scum Central, was 
soon divided up and passed around, the Bandit saving a couple for his own 
use.  

     "Ah, a gentleman and a scholar," Thunder smiled, running a hand over 
his bristling beard as he popped a mint into his mouth.  "My thanks, sir."  

     "The pleasure, as always, is mine," the Bandit replied with a bow.  

     "Hey, Bandit," Conan said, getting up from the couch where he'd been 
napping, "Did you read the paper tonight?"  

     The Bandit's smile vanished.  "Yeah," he growled.  "Those miserable 
shits.  I'd like to stuff a boot up their butts."  

     "Well, now, let's back off and look at this thing objectively," Thud 
said carefully.  "They didn't mention his name, and they left out the 
details that might have upset the student body.  After all, what good would 
it do to tell the truth?"  

     "It never hurts to tell the truth," the Bandit said.  He picked up a 
paper from where someone had left it, and flipped it open.  "No mention of 
the misidentification!  Nothing about what had really happened!  
'Disturbed,' it says.  'Disturbed'!"  He tossed the paper away in disgust.  
"What the hell does that mean?"  

     "It means that he was disturbed," Thunder offered without a smile.  
"Although I daresay the police were somewhat more disturbed...."  

     "That's the truth," the Bandit smiled.  The smile, though, flickered 
and was gone after a moment.  "I'm gonna miss him."  

     "So are we all, Bandit," Thud nodded.  "So are we all."  

     The Bandit listlessly picked up the paper from where he'd thrown it on 
the floor, and read through the article one more time.  

     ARCADIA STUDENT ACQUITTED OF ASSAULT CHARGES;  WON'T RETURN 

     The criminal court of Wright County today dismissed charges against 
the Arcadia student who singlehandedly assaulted and beat the entire campus 
security squad on 14 February, at the request of the Office of the College 
Chancellor.  

     The student had left a Valentine's Day party in a state of extreme 
inebriation after behaving disruptively and yelling threats against a 
female Arcadia student with whom he was believed to be having relationship 
troubles.  Security was called to the scene to escort the student home, but 
he became violent when approached and injured the two Security officers who 
attempted to restrain him.  The student fled to the Student Union, where he 
was apprehended and taken to the County Jail by the remainder of the Campus 
Security Squad and two Arcadia Police officers, both of whom were treated 
and released from Wright Memorial for minor bruises.  He was released on 
bond the following day, and taken home by his family.  

     The charges of aggravated assault were thrown out for reasons not 
revealed to the Arcadian's reporters.  However, the student, whom the 
Psychological Service has characterized as "disturbed," has refused to 
return to Arcadia to complete his course of study, citing police brutality.  

     "They didn't show him their badges," The Bandit muttered, wadding the 
paper up in his fists.  "He was drunk, for shit's sake!  He thought they 
were mugging him!  What the hell would you have done if two big guys came 
out of nowhere and grabbed you while you were walking home?"  

     "That's probably why they let him go, Bandit," Thunder said quietly.  
"And it's probably why the College had the Court dismiss charges.  It 
wouldn't look good for them to admit that their Security staff weren't 
well-trained enough to identify themselves before attempting to manhandle a 
student...."  

     The Bandit tossed the paper into a nearby wastebasket.  

     "Goodbye, Livewire," he said softly to himself, and stalked off toward 
his room.  

     Mary Magdalene sat under the paper sky on her bed, staring at a point 
on the wall a few inches to the left of the desk in her room.  Princess 
whined, obviously upset at her mistress's state of mind, and nosed her head 
under a limp hand, trying to encourage a pat.  

     Mary Magdalene looked down at the small brown-and-white dog at her 
right hand.  Then, slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned her gaze to the 
bed by her left hand.  There upon the rumpled bedclothes, lay the letter, 
half open upon the envelope and the bits of scarlet wax from the seal.  She 
picked it up and began to read it for the thousandth, two thousandth time.   

     My beloved Mary: 

     It pains me to write this, for I can imagine some measure of the pain 
that this letter will bring you.  Do not fault me for lack of courage;  I 
wish to present my case before you in full, without interruptions, and the 
only way that I know how to do this is in writing.  By now I am certain 
that you have guessed what I am about to say....  

     She let the letter fall from her fingers, and looked back down at the 
bed.  Her picking up the letter had exposed the envelope, and one more 
thing that had lain beside her for nearly a month now.  It glittered as she 
picked it up, sharp edges gleaming in the candlelight.  She looked at the 
reflection of her eyes in the burnished steel, eyes waxy with lack of 
sleep, eyes dry because there were simply no more tears to be shed.  

     She held up a pale, cold wrist, and touched the edge of the knife to 
it.  A lengthwise cut, she recalled;  that was the best way to do it, so it 
couldn't clot shut after you passed out....  

     For a long time, she sat unmoving, staring at the knife.  Princess 
jumped to her feet and ran barking from the room, ears perked for the 
trespass of a neighborhood cat or some such.  Mary Magdalene barely noticed 
that she was gone.  The candle flickered-- 

     "Do it."  

     She jerked about, startled, the knife dropping from her hands.  

     "Do it.  Save us all the trouble, you pathetic bitch."  

     The Bandit's eyes were unreadable in the candlelight.  He stood in the 
doorway, one hand idly ruffling a shaggy ear as Princess stood on her hind 
legs and chewed on the tails of his jacket.  

     "That's the easy way out.  You know it.  So does he.  He's counting on 
you to do it.  You'll be out of his hair for good, and that's what he 
wants."  

     Mary Magdalene's lips parted, her voice a desert-dry whisper.  

     "My life for him....I gave him my life...."  

     "No, you didn't.  You gave him three years, and now you see what it 
got you in the end.  Don't make his victory complete, Marymag!"  The Bandit 
squatted down beside her on the hardwood floor, holding Princess with one 
strong hand.  "He sucked the life out of you to stay alive, and he sucked 
the sanity out of you so he could always have someone around to practise 
with.  Now he's got someone else to practise with, so why throw your life 
away?  It's yours again, for the first time in years."  

     "Why her?"  The whisper held the agony of damnation.  "Why her?"  

     "She's better in bed than you are, from what I understand," the Bandit 
said callously.  "She's got nicer tits than you do, she's got better hips, 
and she's better on the guitar.  But most important of all, she's crazier 
than you'll ever be, and he needs that most of all."  He smiled, a satanic 
smile in the firelight.  "He needs a nice, psychotic girlfriend that he can 
fuck at night and headshrink by day, to keep himself in trim.  And you're 
out of a job, seems like.  So why not join the rest of us out here in the 
real world?  It's not too bad, once you get to know it...."  

     "You have friends, MaryMag.  They care about you, and they don't want 
to see you any more hurt than you already are.  He did the hurting, up 
until now.  Any hurting that happens from now on, though, is hurting that 
YOU do to YOURSELF.  Don't be self destructive!  If you die, we'll all 
mourn your passing.  Even he will, I expect.  But in time, a year, ten 
years, you'll be forgotten, moldering away under the ground while we get on 
with our lives!  What kind of revenge is that?"  

     She looked away from him, down at the knife.  She picked it up, 
gripped it convulsively in her fist, stared at it.  

     "There is only one revenge, Mary Magdalene.  To dance on your enemy's 
grave.  And you can't do that if you go to the grave first.  

     "Give me the knife."  

     Mary Magdalene looked over at him, her eyes bleak.  

     "Please?"  

     Slowly, she handed the weapon to her.  He took it gingerly by the 
blade, looked around the room, and suddenly whipped his hand forward in a 
blur.  There was a meaty thunk of steel hitting wood, and Mary Magdalene 
tunred to see an old photograph of her and the Rainbow Wizard, pinned to 
the wall by the knife blade through the Rainbow Wizard's face.  

     She smiled shakily.  "Can you teach me to do that?"  

     He returned the smile.  "Not if you're dead, kid."  

     Mary Magdalene laughed, her first real laugh in weeks.  "Great!"  

     Princess barked and ran to her, and she picked up the tiny, squirming 
life and hugged it tightly to her, her eyes moist.  

     "C'mon, we're getting a group together to go get ice cream.  You 
oughta get to know your friends again!"  The Bandit helped her to her feet, 
and stood back awkwardly from her.  She was exactly his height in her bare 
feet, and this was the closest they'd ever been to one another without the 
Wiz around.  She looked into his eyes, a hint of her old fire beginning to 
smolder there once more, and gave him a quick, hard hug.  

     "Thank you," she whispered.  


Late March 1982 

     Spring Break was over, and the crowds of students were settling back 
into the swing of things, crowded about the lounge and chatting about their 
vacations or watching television.  There were the usual faces, and some 
other students who weren't normal lounge types;  a pair of jockettes from 
the Swim Team wing getting ready to go out and hit the bars, a punk in a 
three-button sack suit and string tie sitting and looking bored at the 
world from behind his silvered wrapround shades.  Conan surveyed each and 
every face as it went by, saying hello to those he knew.  

     "Is the Bandit back yet?"  

     "I think so.  Hey, Lanky, YOU were the last person to see him;  is he 
coming back today?"  

     Lanky tucked a long string of greasy black hair behind his ear 
nervously and scratched at his straggly beard.  "Yes, he is," he said, but 
I haven't seen him, either."  

     "How was your visit with his family?  Did everything go okay?"  

     "Oh, yeah, everything went fine," Lanky said, looking around him with 
a bit of agitation.  "His parents are wonderful people, and I must admit 
they certainly aren't to blame for his being so skinny!"  

     "Oh, yeah!"  Thud grinned, nodding.  "His mom can cook like nobody 
I've ever seen.  I'll never forget last Thanksgiving, boy...."  

     "Hi, everyone," Flower said, skipping up and giving the Rainbow Wizard 
a quick kiss.  Mary Magdalene, sitting nearby, didn't even flinch.  "Hope 
everyone had a nice vacation!"  

     "You bet," Conan grinned.  "Had the whole gym to myself!"  

     "Oh, please," Cricket sighed, settling against him more comfortably.  

     Mary Magdalene was only half following the conversation.  The punk on 
the couch was staring at her, his face an utter blank behind his shades.  
He was robotlike, utterly expressionless, yet there was something about 
him....  

     "OH, MY GOD!"  

     Everyone practically leaped out of his skin at Mary Magdalene's 
shriek.  A dozen pairs of eyes looked curiously at her, but she could only 
point wordlessly at the punk sitting near the circle of friends and make 
strangled noises.  

     "It's--HE'S--" 

     The punk, obviously annoyed at such attention, raised a sneering 
eyebrow...a thick, scowling eyebrow that could only belong to one person.  

     "BANDIT!"  

     The familiar grin broke out on the smooth-shaven face as the shades 
came off to reveal the dark eyes.  Instantly there was pandemonium as the 
Bandit was surrounded by people laughing, running hands through his new 
buzzcut, and fingering the material of his suit.  

     "I don't believe it!"  

     "Yeah, ain't I something?"  

     "Where'd you get the suit?"  

     "It was one of my dad's.  Ain't it the most?"  

     "My GOD, your HAIR!"  

     "Let's just say I got tired of being mistaken for Lanky...."  

     "Lanky!  You knew all the time!"  

     "He did it before I arrived, it was a shock to me, too!"  

     "Hey, you have a chin!"  

     "Oh, gee, thanks!  Listen, people, I need you all to keep this quiet 
until Twink sees me, okay?"  The nods of agreement were mixed with wicked 
grins, all around.  

     "Here she comes!"  

     Instantly the shades were on and the eyebrows were tucked away.  
People resumed their conversations with some effort, stifling an occasional 
snicker as Twink came bouncing up to greet them.  

     "Happy end of vacation, everybody!  Has anyone seen Bandit?"  

     "Um, h-he's around," Conan said with a shushed giggle.  Twink looked 
around at the others, then sat down uncertainly next to the punk, who 
politely moved aside for her.  

     "So how was everyone's--" Twink stopped.  The punk had moved closer to 
her, seemingly nonchalantly.  She moved a bit away from him, and said, "How 
was--" He moved closer to her, and she found herself running out of couch.  
"How--" He shifted even closer, his thigh brushing hers.  Lanky made a 
gagging noise and quietly fell on the floor.  Mary Magdalene had a knuckle 
stuck in her mouth and was chewing on it to keep from laughing.  "What's 
so--" Twink whirled to glare at the punk, whose hand had just brushed her 
thigh.  Her glare turned to a puzzled stare as she regarded him closely for 
the first time, and then a disbelieving smile broke out on her face.  

     "Hey!"  She reached out and plucked off his shades, and began to laugh 
with the others as she recognized him, throwing her arms around him.  

     "You're unbelievable!"  She sighed and rested her chin on his shoulder 
as he returned the embrace, her eyes closed.  But his eyes weren't closed, 
and nobody noticed that his smile was for Mary Magdalene.   



Late April 1982 

     "What's the matter, love?"  Twink looked across the table at the 
Bandit, her eyes concerned.  "You've been really quiet lately.  That isn't 
like you."  

     I'm leaving you, Twink.  Forgive me.  

     The Bandit picked at his dessert, eyes downcast.  "Nothing," he 
whispered.  "I'm just worried about finals, that's all."  

     "No, you're not," Twink said matter-of-factly.  "You never worry about 
finals until Reading Period, and sometimes not even then.  Why won't you 
tell me what's wrong?"  

     Because I feel like a shit sandwich and I don't want to see you cry.  

     "It's hard, it's just hard to put into words.  I--" 

     Her eyes were wide and bright with tears.  "You want to call off our 
relationship, don't you?"  

     Oh, God.  NOW she picks to be observant.  Why me, God?  

     "I, I...."  He sighed and threw down his fork.  "It's not your fault, 
okay?  It's not you at all.  It's me.  I'm just not, I'm not really giving 
you what you deserve from a relationship, and I don't think I can.  It's 
funny;  in a way, you're TOO good to me, Twink."  

     "I love you," she said simply.  "How else can I be?"  

     "Aw, Jesus!"  He buried his face in his hands.  "You're not making 
this very easy, y'know!"  

     "I don't want it to be easy.  I don't want it to happen at all!"  
Twink got up, grabbing her tray, and strode out of the lunchroom, the 
Bandit quickly following behind her.  She was out in the rainy street and 
pulling on her coat before he'd had a chance to get rid of his tray, and it 
took him some running to catch up with her.  

     "Twink, please...."  

     "No, don't ask me to understand!  I don't want to understand, just go 
away and let me be!"  

     "NO!"  He grabbed her roughly by the arm, and spun her around, looking 
into the tear-filled blue eyes.  "I'm not going to cast you aside like an 
old shoe, dammit!  You were my friend before you were my girlfriend, and if 
you aren't still my friend then everything we had was for NOTHING!"  

     She blinked at him.  "You really mean that, don't you?"  

     "Of course!"  And I really do, too, which makes it easier to say.  
Lying to you is like kicking a cripple, Twink;  I don't like to do it 
because there's no challenge in it.  "We'll always be friends, I hope.  You 
should always feel that you can confide in me, that you can come to me with 
your troubles, that you have me to care about you.  Will losing me in your 
bed be such a terrible loss?  We've had wonderful times together, and I 
hope that we'll have more!  Just...not that way.  Does any of that make 
sense?"  

     She nodded, her eyes very wide.  "Yes," she whispered.  

     "Well, good."  He smiled, a sad smile.  "Let me walk you home?"  

     "Sure."  He put an arm around her and held her tight as they crossed 
the Eastern Quad, up the stairs and in the door.  He walked her through the 
lounge and up the stairs to her room in silence.  

     She unlocked the door, opened it, then paused, turning to face the 
Bandit.  "Can I say something?"  

     "Always...."  

     "You're my best friend, Bandit."  She ducked her head shyly.  "I 
thought you should know that."  

     A tear rolled down the Bandit's face, vanishing in the stubble on his 
cheek.  "That means a lot, Twink.  YOU mean a lot.  Don't ever forget 
that."  

     "I won't."  She reached up and kissed him, tenderly, one last time.  
Then she turned and walked through the door.  

     "Bandit?"  She didn't turn around.  

     "Yes?"  

     "Be good to Mary Magdalene...."  

     The door shut quietly.  

     Mary Magdalene was sitting on the beanbag chair in the Bandit's living 
room, reading one of Conan's comic books, when the Bandit came in.  He 
smiled thoughtfully at her, and she returned the smile.  Well, I'm now 
girlfriendless, the Bandit thought wearily.  If I end up alone for the rest 
of this year, it's my own damn fault.  

     "How are you doing, Bandit?"  

     He forced casualness into his voice.  "Oh, I can't complain, I guess.  
Twink and I have called it quits for the time being...."  

     "Really?"  She sat up, the comic book forgotten.  "Oh, Bandit, I'm so 
sorry!  What happened?"  

     "Oh, nothing to get upset about.  We needed to give each other a 
little more room to grow, that's all.  We aren't mad at each other or 
anything...."  

     "Oh."  She smiled at him.  "I'm surprised that she has trouble growing 
with you around.  You certainly were a huge help to me...."  

     He grinned at her.  "No, YOU did all the hard work.  I just gave you a 
push every now and then."  

     "Yeah, right!  Uh-huh," she laughed.  The Bandit's heart skipped a 
beat;  innocently or not, when Mary Magdalene smiled at you, you noticed 
it.  

     "Hey, listen!  I've decided I'm going to do something symbolic 
tomorrow morning, and I thought you'd get a kick out of knowing about it."  
Mary Magdalene dug into the pocket of her jeans, and pulled out something 
small wrapped in string, which she undid and showed to the Bandit.  It was 
the tiny brass neckbell the Rainbow Wizard had given her.  

     "I'm going to throw it in the river tomorrow," she said proudly.  

     The Bandit's smile died on his lips.  Somewhere deep inside him, a 
tiny voice was raising a protest against the hot tide of joy and triumph in 
his heart, and it chilled him for an instant.  

     Once in a while, he thought, just for a moment, things become really 
clear, and I can see the future....  

     "Don't."  His voice was soft but final.  "Give it to me;  I'll keep it 
for you.  Someday you're going to want it back."  

     She shook her head.  "Never."  

     "'Never and forever are neither for men.' Fritz Leiber."  He held out 
a hand.  "Trust me on this one, MaryMag."  

     She looked at him for a long moment, frowning, then shrugged and 
handed over the tiny bell.  It tinkled gently as he took it, and he rested 
it on his palm and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment.  

     Then, a small smile quirked across his upper lip.  He looked up at 
Mary Magdalene, and shook the bell slightly, ringing it.  

     Mary Magdalene looked at the bell for a moment, then gazed into the 
Bandit's eyes.  She got up on her feet, took the half step into his arms, 
and that incredible smile was his, all his, as she brought her lips down to 
his.  

     There are kisses, and there are kisses, the Bandit thought in a daze.  
And then there are kisses.  And there are...yow.  

     He wasn't sure how much time went by as he held her and kissed her, 
but it took a stiff back to make him break the kiss.  He drew back from her 
and looked into the dark fire in her eyes.  

     "I want you," she whispered.  

     He smiled, a rakish devil's smile, and motioned into his room with a 
bow.  She returned the bow, one eyebrow cocked superciliously, and glided 
into the room.  As he pulled the door shut, she grabbed the front of his 
shirt and began to unbutton it, kissing him all the while.  He returned the 
favor, unbuttoning her blouse and expertly reaching behind her to pop the 
clasp on her brassiere.  She lowered her arms and let everything fall to 
the floor as he caressed her small, firm breasts, feeling the jutting, 
conical nipples come erect as he rolled them beneath his thumbs.  She 
moaned as his hands teased her, and she reached down to unbuckle his belt 
and unzip his pants.  He broke the kiss with a jerk of surprise as he felt 
her reach into his underwear and firmly grasp his penis, fondling its 
length as it hardened.  

     "Too fast for you?"  Her smile was teasing, challenging him.  He 
returned the smile casually, reaching down to unzip her jeans.  

     "Not at--" He tried to slip a hand into the front of her panties, to 
punctuate the "all" with a finger on her clitoris, but they were too tight, 
and they resisted his intrusion.  He tried again, grunting, "Not at...."  
Still no luck.  "Not, rrrrrrrrRRRRR, NOT AT--" 

     Mary Magdalene broke away from him, laughing out loud.  "Give it up!"  

     "RROWR!"  He grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her back to the bed 
and onto it, climbing on top of her and yanking down her jeans and panties 
from her smoothly rounded hips.  Taking only the barest second to admire 
her thick tangle of black pubic hair and her beautiful, swollen vulva, he 
lowered his face into the fragrant mass.  "Not at alllllmmmmmmmmmm....."  

     "Ooohh," Mary Magdalene sighed.  "Not at all!  Mmmm, not at 
alllll...."  

     The next few minutes were a testimony to the Bandit's years of 
practice.  While Mary Magdalene sighed and slowly rocked her hips against 
his busy mouth, her fingers running through his short hair, he quickly and 
efficiently untied her sneakers, removed them, peeled off her socks, 
finished removing her pants, undid his own boots, removed his own socks, 
and kicked his own pants away into the corner of the room.  He broke the 
oral embrace with a long, slow kiss on her swollen clitoris, and kissed his 
way up her belly and across her breasts to her neck, chin, ear, and finally 
her lips.  

     "Hey!"  She said in mock surprise.  "There's a naked man in my bed!"  

     "Really?  Where?"  He looked around suspiciously, making her laugh in 
delight.  "All I see is a naked woman...."  

     "Hmmmm," she smiled.  "You know what I like about you?"  

     "Um, no.  What?"  

     "We're about the same height," she said, getting up and gently pushing 
him back onto his back on the bed.  "So I can do this!"  And with a quick 
swing of her hips, she threw one thigh across his body and lowered her 
succulent rump down onto the Bandit's surprised face.  Suddenly drowning in 
pussy, he could only moan into her labia as she gripped his penis firmly 
and began to suck and pull on it.  

     The difference between Twink's selftaught, clumsy fellatio and Mary 
Magdalene's expert technique was obvious in the first five seconds;  her 
teeth were never too rough on his sensitive skin, her lips were strong and 
her suction demanding.  He felt like she would suck his innards out through 
his penis as she plunged her head effertlessly to the base of it and drew 
upward like she was trying to get an entire milkshake into her mouth at 
once.  

     He reached down and fondled her breasts as she sucked him.  "Howm 
vap?"  

     "Gmmmph," she responded with a throaty chuckle that he felt all the 
way down the length of his shaft, and a sassy little wiggle of her ass 
across his face.  He alternated stimulating her with his lips, tongue, and 
nose, as she sucked and pulled harder and harder on his schlong.  

     Suddenly, without warning, an orgasm sneaked up and swatted the Bandit 
upside the proverbial head.  His hips bucked and he managed a muffled 
"MMgd, M CMNG!"  as she swallowed jolt after jolt of thick, sticky semen, 
milking him dry without spilling a drop.  

     "Yum," she breathed, pulling off of his wet, swollen member.  "That 
was a lovely starter...now I want to fuck you."  She turned around and 
snuggled down on the bed beside him, pumping vigorously on his penis, which 
felt like it was about to come off.  

     "Uh, birth control?"  The Bandit managed to get out.  

     "Huh?  Oh, damn!"  Mary Magdalene let go of him, frowning.  "I forgot 
to pack my diaphragm!"  

     "Uh, hold on a second, I'll be right back, sit tight, okay?"  The 
Bandit leaped off the bed, clanging his head against the upper bunk and 
eliciting a half-laughed scream from Mary Magdalene, grabbed his bathrobe, 
which barely covered his erection, and ran across the dorm room to the 
bedroom where Conan lay snoring.  

     "Conan!  Conan, wake up!"  The Bandit's voice was a panicked hiss.  

     Conan didn't budge.  

     "Conan!  For God's sake, wake up, PLEASE!"  

     "Hmm?  Hmmph, whuzzza?"  

     "Condoms!  Conan, where do you keep your condoms?"  

     "MMph, connmms?"  

     "YES!  Where are they?"  

     "Desk dror'."  Conan raised partly up off the bed and pointed at his 
desk, then collapsed.  

     "Thanks!"  The Bandit opened the desk, rummaged through it 
frantically, and came up holding a treasure beyond price: a Trojan with 
spermicide lube.  

     Conan was already falling back asleep.  "Whooyuh gnna fuk?"  

     The Bandit looked over at him, opened his mouth, closed it again, and 
then grinned wickedly.  He leaned over Conan and whispered, "Mary 
Magdalene."  

     "Oh.  'Snice...."  Conan began to snore.  

     The Bandit came running back into his room, saying, "Sorry for the 
delay, hope you haven't cooled down too much, let's see here...."  He sat 
down on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the condom wrapper nervously.  

     "Here, let me."  Mary Magdalene deftly plucked the wrapper from his 
hands, opened it with a gentle tear, and extracted the condom, tossing the 
wrapper aside.  She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him soundly, as 
one expert hand rolled the condom onto his penis in a snap.  "Now get in 
here and do it to me," she breathed.  

     "Uh, yes, ma'am," the Bandit gasped, feeling somewhat out of his 
depth.  He crawled on top of her, positioned the head of his cock at the 
entrance to her vagina, and eased himself into her gently.  He sighed and 
relaxed on top of her as he felt himself bottom out in her pussy.  "Okay?"  

     "Oh, more than okay!  Mmmmm!"  She held him tightly and sighed in 
pleasure as he began to thrust rhythmically, in and out, in and out.  

     Coming twice in a short period of time isn't an easy feat.  Coming 
twice with the second time being wrapped in a condom is even harder.  Two 
hours, three rest breaks, and untold tiny orgasms for Mary Magdalene later, 
the Bandit gave up and collapsed onto her with a grunt.  

     "No more," he gasped.  "Please....I'm dead...."  

     "Oh, that's all right," Mary Magdalene said soothingly.  "You felt 
wonderful.  I haven't come that often in ages!  We'll try it again in the 
morning.  Sleep now, darling...."  

     "In the morning?"  The Bandit rolled off of her, pulling off the 
condom and groaning.  "Oh, God, no!"  

     "We'll discuss it later," she whispered, silencing him with a kiss and 
switching off the light by the bed.  "Sleep well, Bandit."  

     But the Bandit was already asleep.  It had been a LONG day....