"It's just not fair."

 From the tone of her friend's voice, Claire Davis knew Jan was only half-joking. "What's not fair?" They were in Claire's cramped, one-person dorm room, preparing tuna fish au gratin on rye toast for supper.

 "It's not fair that you actually met a good-looking single guy under ninety on that geriatric unit disguised as an ophthalmology ward." Jan was in the midst of opening a large can of tuna fish. "And while you're spending the summer of '70 making out with this 'Nam vet, I'm stuck on the urology ward with a bunch of old farts who can't pee, and jive doctors who keep coming on to me."

 Claire placed slices of rye bread in the combination toaster/broiler that was a fixture of her room. She was beginning to wish she hadn't told Jan about that afternoon's kiss. "Now don't exaggerate. We haven't been making out. Logan kissed me, once. That's all."

 "Of course you haven't been." There was open, but teasing skepticism in Jan's voice. "After all, you're engaged to Frankie De-Wop-de-do. And we all know making out with a patient would be incredibly unprofessional, especially for a lowly Nightengale nursing student. Just tell me this, will you go back to see him?"

 "His name is DeAngelo," said Claire, referring to her long-time boyfriend and fiancé. "And talk about lowly. We're just summer-relief Nurse Techs, remember? Maybe you get to set your own schedule, but I sure don't. So if I'm assigned to his room, I'll go back."

 "And you're always assigned to his room, right?"

 "Well, okay, I usually am." Claire pulled out the toast and began to spread on mayonnaise.

 "Which means you'll be going back. And when you do go back, you two will end up kissing again."

 Claire tried to ignore the tiny quiver in her stomach. The problem was, her friend might be right. But she didn't want to consider Jan's logic.

Time to change the subject. Besides, she was curious. Jan Williams was short and cute with creamy milk-chocolate skin and a neatly trimmed afro. Guys were always coming on to her. "What's wrong with those doctors? Are they married or creeps or what?"

 "Oh, they're no creepier than most doctors," said Jan, as she piled tuna fish on two pieces of rye toast. "And I think one's single. The problem is, they're all white. And you know how I feel about dating white guys."

 After arranging cheese slices on top of the tuna, Claire shoved the concoction back into the toaster oven and then gave her friend a concerned look. "You've mentioned that before, about not dating white guys. But you've never said why. I mean it's none of my business, but isn't that kind of, well, prejudiced? And I know you're not. After all,

I'm white, and we're friends, aren't we?"

 "The best. But the last time I checked, I wasn't dating you. Although with the luck I've been having with dudes lately, you're beginning to look better and better, child."

Jan gave Claire a lascivious grin.

 "Get away from me, you deviant." Claire waved a mayonnaise covered dinner knife in Jan's direction. "My mama warned me about girls like you."

The toaster went off, interrupting their teasing. The latest rendition of the famous "Tuna Fish Au Gratin on Rye Toast a la Nightengale School of Nursing" was extracted and placed on plastic plates. They opened cans of Diet-Rite soda, then sat on the bed to watch a "Star Trek" rerun on Claire's small black and white TV.

 It was one of their favorite episodes, but Claire sensed her friend's mind was elsewhere. Afterward, they cleaned-up. While Claire put the plates away, Jan looked into the tiny refrigerator. "Where'd you hide that wine I left in here?"

 "It's on the bottom shelf, in the back, behind the bread."

 She pulled out a half-empty bottle of apple wine, filled two tumblers requisitioned from the school cafeteria, and sat by the desk in the room's only chair. Waving grandly,

she said, "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable child, 'cause I've got a story to tell."

 As instructed, Claire sat on her narrow bed and scooted back while trying not to spill any of the wine. She shoved a pillow behind her back and leaned against the green plaster wall to wait for Jan's story.

 "You asked why I'm prejudiced against white guys and won't fool around with them. Well, I'm about to spell it out for you, sordid details and all."

 Jan took a long sip of wine and began. "When I was a senior in high school, I needed an A in honors English, if I wanted to snag a scholarship. No A, no scholarship. No scholarship, no college. It was that simple. I mean my folks are great, although my mother can drive me just as crazy as yours does you." Both girls laughed in mutual sympathy and understanding.

 After another sip of wine, Jan continued. "It's not like my folks don't love me and work hard. Dad's a delivery driver and moonlights as a security guard while Mom's a part-time receptionist. The problem is, I'm the oldest of five kids. So if I wanted to get into nursing school, I had to land a scholarship.

 "Well, that was the situation when Mr. Perkins came into my life. He was a skinny white guy and the only one at my school who taught the honors English Lit. course I absolutely, positively, had to ace. It didn't take long to figure out I was in trouble. I mean, I'm no brain, but I've always done okay if I bust my butt. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pull an A in English."

 Jan got up and refilled her glass. "You know how it is. English, especially English Lit, is so damn subjective. I really tried, I even told Perkins about why I needed to pull an A. But at the end of the first term, he gave me a damn C+."

 Claire expressed her sympathy, but passed on the offer of more wine.

 "So I arranged to have a conference with him right after school," said Jan, as she sat down. "I played it straight and tried to explain my problem. But when I finished, he just looked at me, and suggested that I might benefit from some personal tutoring at his place, for about four hours every Saturday, either morning or afternoon. He said that if I did what he suggested at our sessions, he was sure I'd have an A at the end of the year."

 "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" There was a note of incredulity in Claire's voice.

 "Right on, child. If I wanted to make an A under the good Mr. Perkins, I had to spend every Saturday, for the rest of the damn school year, under Mr. Perkins."

 There was a strained silence until Claire asked, "So what did you do? I mean, did you report him or, or what?"

 "Well, I'm here talking to you in the quaint old dorm of the world famous Nightengale School of Nursing. So what do you think? I did the 'or what' of course."

 Claire couldn't think of anything to say and just shook her head in sympathy as Jan continued. "However, I should point out in defense of my virtue that I did manage to negotiate my visits down to only once every other week. I mean, I might be cheap and go down for grades, but I'm not easy."

 After another silence, Claire asked, "Was it terrible?"

 "You mean having to ball Mr. Perkins? If you don't count not being able to sleep the night before, then feeling sick that morning and dirty afterwards; no, not really. He was a single white dude and a teacher, but other than that, not really a weirdo. I never asked, but I guess he was somewhere in his mid-thirties and not really that bad looking, either, for a white guy. Have I mentioned that he was white?"

 "Oh, yes."

 "Thought I had. Well, there was a story going around school that his wife had wised-up and left him the summer before. I guess by the time I came along, he was horny enough to risk doing it with one of his students."

 Jan finished her second glass of wine. "It wasn't like I was some sort of pure virgin. I had already done the dirty deed with a couple of dudes from school. Both were okay,

at first. But then they got real possessive. You know the type. So I dropped them."

 Claire didn't know the type. Frankie was the only person she'd gone out with since back in high school. But she nodded.

 "To tell you the truth, actually doing it with Perkins wasn't all that bad. Like I said, he was no weirdo or anything. In fact, he taught me a thing or two, especially about oral sex."

 Jan grinned at the startled look on Claire's face. "That's right, child, he even performed the big "C" on me. That's cunnilingus not cancer, in case you haven't figured it out.

 "What really bugged me about making it with Perkins, was that I 'had' to make it with Perkins. What I mean is, being forced to putout for that damn A just about freaked me. If he'd come on to me like any other guy, I might have been interested. Older guys aren't really my thing, you understand. But like I said, he wasn't that bad looking and doing it with a teacher might have been a trip."

 "How did you explain to your parents, I mean about being away all those Saturdays?"

 "Told 'em I had to go to the library to bone up for English. What else? That way it was only half a lie."

 Jan got up, finished off the bottle of apple wine, stuffed it under some papers in the overflowing wastepaper basket, and sat back down. "Anyway, every other Saturday, I'd get up early, make myself pretty, then head over to the Perkins Passion Pad, home of Perkins the Pervert.

 "He'd let me in, take my coat, and offer me some coffee. The guy was a fiend for coffee. There'd always be somebody like B. B. King or Aretha Franklin on the stereo and we'd talk for a few minutes before he'd suggest we adjourn to the bedroom. I swear, that's what he'd say almost every time, 'Why don't we adjourn to the bedroom?   He had a big bed, at least queen-size,. Once in there, he'd give me a big kiss and start taking off my clothes. When he had me stripped buck-naked, I'd get under the sheets, satin of course, while he undressed.

 "He was a funny looking guy with his clothes off. Of course, most guys are when you come to think of it. Still, Perkins looked funnier than most. He had almost no body hair, real white skin, knobby knees, this little beer-belly, and --."

 Claire grimaced and broke into Jan's graphic description. "I think I get the picture."

 Jan sshrugged and continued. "Anyway, he'd fool around for ages, you know, doing all that foreplay  shit, before getting serious. I'd close my eyes then and try to  shut off my mind, or pretend I was in some porno flick. At first, it would almost worked. But when he went down on me, I'd go wild. It was so damn good I couldn't help myself.

 "Afterward, he'd pull out some grass and we'd lay there in bed and blow a joint or two. That was the best part of the whole day, laying there talking and smoking dope. He was a pretty smart dude, for a teacher."

 She sniggered at her own joke, then continued. "He'd always get around to screwing again, of course. On days when he was super horny, there might even be a third session.  That's when he'd start showing me some off-the-wall shit right out of the Kama Sutra."

 Jan emptied her glass in one gulp and gave Claire a silly smile. "Well, to make a long, boring story a short, boring story, I'll skip anymore gruesome details about our sinful Saturdays. However, before I go tuck myself into my lonely little bed, I want to tell you about my last Saturday with Perkins."

 Claire sat down her empty glass, repositioned herself on the bed, and braced for the finale.

 "What I decided to do was embarrass him in front of the entire school. So on our last Saturday together, I brought over a little bottle of cognac as a present and made sure every cup of his coffee had a double-shot of the stuff.  Then I proceeded to lay some serious loving on that sorry-assed honky. It was the only time I took the lead, and I really got him going, if I do say so myself." A sarcastic smile made a brief appearance, then vanished.

 "Well, in the middle of it all, just when he was about to go outta his gourd, I gave him a hickey to end all hickeys and made sure to put it way up high on his neck. By then it was May and already pretty hot. But  see, I knew he'd have to wear a turtleneck to school on Monday to cover up that mega-hicky."

 Jan's laugh was humorless. "Sure enough, on Monday he shows up in a turtle neck, even though our school wasn't air conditioned. Just before my last class with him ended, I stood up and said that without his help, I'd never have made an A and gotten my scholarship and that I wanted to come up and show my appreciation.

 "You could tell he was getting nervous and he started babbling about how that wasn't necessary, but I kept insisting and finally he said okay.

 "Let me tell you, child, I had on the shortest dress I owned. Most of the time, it would have gotten me kicked out of school. But I was a senior and it was the last day of classes so what could they do to me?"

 Jan flashed an ear-to-ear grin. "So I sashayed my young ass up to his desk, walking real slow and sexy. By the time I got there, I had everyone's attention. Then I leaned over and planted a big kiss on his cheek while I pulled down his collar.

 "Everyone immediately saw the hickey. Hell, there was no way they could have missed it; I made sure of that. It was big and dark and seemed to cover about half his scrawny

white neck. The whole class broke up. I just acted cool, like I hadn't noticed a thing, and kept holding down the collar while he tried to push it back up without looking too obvious."

 Both Jan and Claire giggled. "All that went down during first period. By the end of second period, the whole school knew what had happened. They let us out after lunch, but by then, I was a school legend. Who knows, if I had pulled that stunt earlier in the year, I might have been homecoming queen.

 "Anyway, to conclude this sordid tale, I got my A and my scholarship and admission into this fine bastion of higher education. As for Mr. Perkins, I know for a fact he quit or got fired later that summer. I've heard he's out of teaching, back with his old lady, and selling insurance somewhere upstate."

 After a short struggle, Jan stood up and walked unsteadily to the door. She paused, and turned to face her audience of one. "So that's why, dear Claire, I don't do it with white guys. Mr. Perkins turned me off the breed."

 Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fists and stared at the floor. Her body began to tremble as a torrent of bitterness burst forth. "That sorry bastard made me his whore, his damn slave. I hate me for not saying no. But I hate him even more for making me do it." Tears of rage broke through her protective wall of cocky, street-wise cynicism.

 The room fell silent after the outburst. Jan's trembling body slumped back against the door as she struggled to regain her normal, sassy demeanor. "I suppose it might be possible to meet a white guy who doesn't remind me of Perkins. I mean, for a redneck, this Logan character you made out with today seems okay. But child, with so many fantastic black dudes out there, why bother?"

 Jan tried to grin even as she wiped at her tears. Claire was already off the bed and hurrying to her friend. "I don't know about you, but I need a hug." For a few moments they embraced, one sharing her pain, the other her sympathy.

 "Look, do me a favor," said Jan, as she released Claire and reached for the doorknob. "Before you get into any real heavy breathing with old Logan, make sure he doesn't want to be an English teacher." They both started giggling.

 "I would," said Claire, "but there's not going to be any heavy breathing between us."

 "Bet a Diet-Rite there will be. And when it starts, you better give me all the juicy details. That's just fair."

With her facade of control back in place, Jan winked, and made her usual showy, swirling exit.