Free Frog by Stephen Dixon

opening the door to push the lock-button with all those students in the hall waiting for him. Instead he could put a chair up against the doorknob. They’d be quiet; to save time, just take their pants and shoes off and make love on the floor. Carpet seems clean. He could put his coat down. He wonders what such a young strong body like that looks and feels like. He looks at her, tries to imagine her naked. She says “Thanks for reading my paper and everything, but now I must be wasting your time. It’s a rigorous day for you: all those conferences and papers to read and your lecture later on.” “You’re not wasting it.” She opens the door. “Oh, maybe you won’t go for this, but another student and I—my housemate—would like to invite you to a student reading after dinner.” “Listen, maybe I can even take you both to dinner before the reading.” “You’re eating at the club with Dr. Wiggens, aren’t you?” “Right; that’s a must. Sure, tell me where to be and when. I haven’t been to a good student reading in years.” “This might not be good.” “Even more fun. I like to see what goes on at different campuses. And after it, you’ll be my guests for food and beer.” “If he wants to and we’re up to it, fine.”
    She sits at the back of his room during the lecture, laughs at all the right lines, claps hard but doesn’t come up after.
    â€œSo how’d everything go today?” Wiggens asks at dinner. “Great bunch of kids,” Howard says. “Incredibly keen and bright. Wish I had some like them in my own classes.” “None of the girls made a pass at you?” his wife says. “Nah, I let them know I don’t come easy.” Wiggens says “That’s the best approach. Why get all messy in a day and possibly go home a father-to-be with a social disease?” “What nonsense,” she says. “One-night stands with students is the safest sport in town.” They drop him off at his hotel, he goes inside the lobby, waits till their car leaves the driveway and runs to the building of the reading. He’s already pretty tight. He sleeps through most of the stories and poems and the three of them go to a pizza place later. The housemate downs a beer, puts on his coat and says to Flora “Maybe I’ll see you home.” “Why’d he think you might not be home?” Howard says. “He meant for himself. He has a lover who occassionally kicks him out before midnight.” They finish off the pitcher, have two brandies each, he says “This is not what I’m supposed to be doing here according to Wiggens, so don’t let on to him, but may I invite you back to my room?” She says “I’m really too high to drive myself home and you’re too high to drive me, so I guess I’ll stay the night if you don’t mind. You have twin beds?” “Sure, for twins—No, OK,” when she shakes her head that his humor’s bad, “anything you want.” When she takes off her clothes in his room he says “My goodness, your breasts. I had no idea they were so large. Why’d I think that?” “It’s the way I dress. I’m extremely self-conscious about them. They’ve been a nuisance in every possible way.” “I love large breasts.” “Please, no more about them or I’m going to bed in my clothes.” They shut off the lights. He’s almost too drunk to do anything. In the morning he doesn’t know if they even did anything. He says he wants to stay another night. “At my expense, in this same or a different hotel if you can’t or don’t want to put me up in your house. Take you to lunch and dinner and even a movie and where we’ll start all over and do the whole thing right. The heck with Wiggens and his proscriptions.” She says “My