It is early Sunday morning and George is just returning to LSU from visiting his mother for Thanksgiving. He is on his way to Donna's apartment on Nicholson Drive just off campus. He knows that Donna likes to sleep late on Sundays but he needs to see her. After what happened while he was visiting his mother, he needs to know that she still cares about him. While driving into the parking lot of her apartment he thinks about how they met and started dating.

It was originally in his course on English literature. At that time, she approached him after class one day and asked him if he would like to work with her on an assignment that the professor had given the class. He agreed and after that she helped him write some of his compositions.

They had been seeing each other, meeting for lunch in the student union together and studying together, for a couple of weeks when she asked him to help her look up something in the library. Later, as they walked back to her apartment, he held her hand. The next afternoon they met in the Greek Theater. She kisses him on the lips; it was the first time he had ever been kissed by a girl. But he did not tell her this.

"Want to go to the game this Friday night," Donna asked him.

They were sitting in the fifth row of the theater. She was sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs. Her arms were around his neck and she was playing with the label on the back of his T-shirt. He had his hands on her sides.

"Sure," George answered her, "I haven't been to any of the games yet. It will be nice to do something different for a change."

"George, you're a freshman at LSU and you tell me you have never gone to any of our football games? I don't believe that. Why not? What's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me. I've never been to a football game in my life, or a baseball game, or a basketball game, or any kind of ball game. I don't like playing ball. I'd rather play chess. To me chess is a whole heck of a lot more brutal than any sport I can think of."

"Oh, come on," Donna said mockingly. "I've played chess before and it don't seem all that vicious to me."

"You might have played chess, but do you know the strategy behind the movement of the pieces?"

"No, not really."

"Well in football there's a rule against piling on, but in chess if you don't pile on the pressure you'll lose. Again in football you cannot hit a man when he is down, but in chess if you don't hit him when he's down, then he'll win the game. In boxing you cannot hit a man below the belt, but in chess if you don't hit your opponent in his weak spot, then you'll lose. In any sport you're expected to conduct yourself with sportsman like demeanor, but in chess if you're not totally, ruthlessly brutal, with your opponent, then you'll lose the game. I can't think of any sport that is more violent than chess. In sports you merely attack a man's body. In chess you attack his ego, his pride. There's nothing more brutal than that."

"I never thought of chess that way. I always looked upon it as just a complicated board game."

"That's how most people look at chess. When I was in high school I was called a geek by a lot of the other students. They laughed at me because I preferred to play chess than play ball. But I didn't . . ."

"George, I don't think you're a geek. I think you're a kind, sweet, gentle soul. And I'm not just saying that. I like you George. I'm falling in love with you George. I'm sure of it."

George lowered his eyes momentarily. When he looked up she was leaning forward, her face only inches away from his. An autumn breeze caught her long brown hair and blew it in his face. She brushed the hair aside and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she quickly kissed him again openmouthed, her tongue darting into his mouth.

He kissed her back. She broke the kiss and said jokingly: "I don't believe that I could fall in love with a geek."

"OK, let's go to the game together. Who are we playing?" he asked changing the subject. He doesn't know what else to say. He has never been in love before.

"I don't know who we're playing this week, but I want to buy you a new LSU T-shirt for the game. One that matches the one I have. That way we can go to the game as a team ourselves. Would you like that?"

"Yes, I would love it." He wrapped his arms around her hugging her. For the first time in his life George was happy.



As he is walking up the stairs to her apartment he notices a used condom on the top step. He thinks how disgusting it was.

"If they must have sex outside of marriage, why don't they dispose of their whoredom properly?" he says to himself as he steps around it.

He knows that Donna would never do such a thing. She's not a tramp; she's a nice girl. He had hoped he would have been able to eventually introduce Donna to his mother. But now, because of what he has done, he can't. He can never introduce the two of them. Why couldn't his mother accept it when he told her about Donna? Why couldn't his mother be more understanding? Why did that bitch have to force him to make a choice?

But he is glad that Donna did not come with him to New Orleans as he originally wanted. He didn't want to leave her on campus by herself over the Thanksgiving holidays, but she insisted he go alone. She told him that it would be better if he just told his mother about their relationship for right now. Later there would be plenty of time for her to meet his mother.

He knocks on the door to her small apartment. After several minutes, she opens the door to let him in. She is still in her negligee; she is rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She invites him in but he hesitates; he can see her areoles through the sheer material. George has never seen a woman dressed in a sheer negligee before.

"You're not decent. I'll wait outside until you're dressed," he says, turning his head and looking away. His mother taught him that it is degrading to a woman for a man to look upon her if she is not properly dressed. People would think that she's a tramp if he comes into her apartment and she is not properly dressed. He does not want to destroy her reputation.

"George, you woke me up. Come in. Don't be so modest; I'll put on a robe."

While Donna gets a robe from the closet, George keeps his eyes focused on the floor. He does not want her to see him looking at her body. He does not want to give her the impression that he is after her sex. He wants her to like him for himself.

Donna sits on the edge of her bed. She has not yet put on the robe; she is holding it in her lap. "What's so important that you had to wake me at . . . what time it is," she looks at the clock on her nightstand, "7:20 in the morning?"

"I just had to see you that's all. I missed you. I thought about you all during the holidays."

"Come here and sit next to me on the bed. Hey! What happened to your eye; it's all bloodshot."

"I tripped over some boxes in my garage," he lies to her as he sits down.

She touches the side of his face with her hand. He takes her hand in his and looks away. He is very uncomfortable sitting next to the nearly nude coed.

"Are you going to put your robe on," he asks her. He is embarrassed.

"What's the matter?" she asks.

"Nothing. It's just that I've never seen a girl in a nightgown before."

"It's alright. Why don't we go out for some breakfast, my treat?" She gets up and walks across the room to a chest of drawers. She throws the robe over the back of a nearby chair. Her back is to him. She watches him through the mirror behind the chest of drawers as she takes off the top to her negligee. He is watching her. She smiles at him through the mirror and then she bends over at the waist and slides the bottom of the negligee down her legs, presenting her ass to him. She is naked when she stands up and looks in the mirror again. She sees that George is looking away.

"George, I told you not to be so modest," she says to him, "it's not like I'm stripping in front of an audience. I did it for you."

He looks at her. "I've never seen a naked woman in the flesh before." In one glance, he takes all of her in. He can see her naked back, and her very round naked ass staring at him. Through the mirror, he can see her breasts. Years of repressed sexuality suddenly floods upon him. He feels a stirring in his groin.

"Well, you've seen one, you've seen them all," she says to him jokingly.

She opens a drawer and takes out a bra. She watches him in the mirror as she puts in on. He is just staring at her. She takes out a thong, bends over again and slides it up her legs. When she straightens up she turns around to face him. He is still just staring at her.

"George, come out of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you've seen my naked ass."

"No, I'm not. I think you're a very beautiful woman."

She takes a pair of jeans out of a drawer and puts them on. "My breasts are too small," she says as she buttons the jeans and pulls up the zipper.

"I don't think so."

She cups her breasts and adjusts her bra. "Are you saying that because you saw them just now?"

"No." He bows his head and looks at the floor.

She turns around and takes out a T-shirt and puts it on, keeping her back to him. Then she takes a pair of socks out of a drawer and comes and sits next to him on the bed. She puts on the socks and then reaches under her bed and pulls out a pair of shoes. She puts them on. While she is doing this neither of them says anything to the other. George has just been sitting on the bed, watching her get dressed. Then Donna turns to face him.

"George, have you ever had sex before?"

He looks away from her. Then he looks at the floor again. "No," he says almost inaudibly. "I'm a virgin."

"That's great George. That means you don't have any STDs. And since I'm on the pill and can't get pregnant and I don't have any STDs either, that means we don't have to use a condom when we have sex." She puts her arms around his neck and tries to kiss him but he breaks away from her and stands up.

He looks at her incredulously. "Let's go to breakfast," he says changing the subject.

"Don't you want to make love to me?" she asks in a playfully but sultry voice.

"No, not now. I just want to eat breakfast." Never having been in this type of situation before, he does not know what else to say.

"OK, but I'm yours when you want me, baby," she says and then she pecks him on the cheek. "Let's go to that little diner around the corner. I like their rolls." She takes hold of his hand and pulls him from the room.

Neither of them says anything during the short walk to the diner. They find a seat in the back.

"What would you like, my treat?" she asks.

"Just some eggs and sausage. I'll pay for it."

"Let me get it, George. I can afford it; you can't. Remember, I got that trust my parents left me and all you got is that cheap ass scholarship."

"OK," he answers her.

George is in shock. The events of the past weekend and now Donna's wanting to have sex with him are all too much. He does not want to have sex with Donna. He wants to love her, to marry her, and have children with her. Sex should come after marriage. That's what his mother taught him. Only whores have sex before marriage. He eats his breakfast in silence. Donna notices this but says nothing. After his revelation to her that he is a virgin, she only wants to get him back in her apartment and make love.

After they finish eating, George suggests they go for a drive to see the state capital; he has never seen it. He is afraid that she will try to get him into her apartment to have sex. He is confused over how he should respond if she approaches the subject again. So, as he drives, he talks about the English Literature class they have together, the LSU Tigers and their chances of going to a bowl game, a movie they saw together the other night, anything but sex.

He continues to drive around Baton Rouge trying to think of something, someplace to go, always keeping the conversation off sex. After driving around for over two hours, George asks her if she wants to go to New Orleans and visit the Aquarium of the Americas. He knows that she loved to go there when she lived in New Orleans. Donna agrees thinking that she will get him into her apartment later this evening.

When they finish touring the Aquarium it is nearing five o'clock. Donna wants to go to one of the seafood restaurants by the lake in Bucktown and get something to eat. George readily submits. He wants to get back to LSU as late as possible in order to avoid having sex with her. He wants to wait until after they are married. His mother would have wanted it that way.

Dinner is quiet; they spend it in small talk. It has been that way all day. When they finish eating, they stroll together along the Lake Pontchartrain seawall. They sit on a nearby bench and George begins to tell Donna about his mother, about how wonderful she is, about how kind and loving she is. He tells Donna that he just knows that his mother and she will get along fine.

Donna puts her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder and tells him that she hopes so. She does not realize that he is speaking of a fantasy mother, the mother of his dreams. A cool breeze blows up and she suggests they sit in the car where it's warmer. After several minutes of sitting in silence Donna asks him the unthinkable.

"George, I want to go back to my apartment and make love with you."

His reply is instantaneous. "I think we should wait until after we're married. It's what my mother would want."

"Married! George I don't want to get married. I just want to fuck." It was the exact wrong thing to say to him.

"Please, Donna don't talk like that. It makes you sound cheap. It makes you sound like a common whore." It was the exact wrong thing to say to her.

She takes offense at being compared to a whore. "George, I'm not a whore. I may not be a virgin like you but I'm not a whore."

He looks at her in shocked disbelief. He cannot believe what he heard her just say. She's not a virgin! Doesn't she realize what he did for her? Who he killed for her? He wouldn't have killed his mother for a whore! She is talking but he doesn't hear a word she says; his mind is focused on the events of the past weekend. He puts his hands to his ears and screams at her to shut up.

She slaps him across the face and tells him to shut up. That is her second mistake. Her third comes when she belittles his mother for filling his head with imaginary ideas about sex and marriage. Then for the second time this weekend George snaps. He grabs Donna by the throat and squeezes. She fights him and claws at him but his grip is too tight. He does not let go until long after she is dead. When he finally does let go, he can see the imprint of his hands on her neck. She is leaning against the door and there is a distant stare coming from her eyes.

For a long while George just sits and stares at her. He does not know what to do with her. She's not a virgin. She's nothing but a whore and he cannot bury a whore with his mother. She wouldn't like that. He thinks about just taking her out of his car and laying her on the ground. But he vetoes that when a police car drives by.

He turns on the ignition and heads for Interstate 10 and back to Baton Rouge. But he does not stop in Baton Rouge. Instead, he continues to drive on the interstate until long after sunset. By then he is traveling on Interstate 10 over the Atchafalaya Bayou. He pulls to the side and stops on the bridge span over the Atchafalaya River Basin which is near the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge. He leaves the engine running while he throws her body over the bridge and into the water below with the alligators. Then he drives back to LSU and his studies, that's all he has left.

He figures that she will not be missed for a while. Both of her parents died in an auto accident when she was little. Since then Donna had been raised by her maternal grandmother who died last year during her senior year at St. Mary's Dominican High School in New Orleans. The house in Lakeview that she and her grandmother were living in was inherited by an aunt who lives in Baltimore. When she came to LSU she took all her earthly belongings with her.