Three - continued

"Here's what I know about economics," Katie slurred after a shot of tequila. She slammed shut the door to Harry's room. "Two for one is a great deal."

Katie whipped off her halter top, jumped on Harry and wrapped her legs around him.

"Four boobs are better than two," Leslie giggled.

Harry was in complete agreement.

Inspired by Katie's lead, Leslie untied her halter top, freeing her magnificent jiggling rack. She stuffed a stiff nipple into Harry's gaping mouth.

For Harry, there still was the matter of the economics final to consider. That thought flashed through his head for a split second until Katie started unzipping his jeans. The opportunity to star in his own Penthouse Forum story had to be seized.

"Carpe diem," Harry thought. University had made him into an avowed existentialist.

And so Harry spent the next few hours fueled by tequila shots, writhing in a moist scrum of contorted bodies and twisted limbs. He couldn't wait to tell the guys back home. When the girls took a shower together in the bathroom, Harry grabbed for the phone and called Ronnie Finkelstein, his best friend back home.

"Finkie, Finkie," he whispered into the receiver. "I'm having a ménage-a-trois."

"And you're calling me while you're doing it? Siiick!"

"No, the chicks are taking a shower now. They came knocking at my door while I was studying for an exam...I really should get back to studying now."

"Fuck no, you should jump into the shower with them. I was just smoking a joint with my brother Greg and listening to the new Frank Zappa album." Finkie started singing off-key his favorite track, Dancing Fool. "I'm a dancing fooo-ooo-oool, I'm a dancing fooo-ooo-oool."

Then he abruptly stopped. "Gotta get Greg on the phone...Greeeeeg! Get on the phone now! Harry's having a threesome!"

Greg seized the phone.

"Harry! Do you need help?"

"I'm okay."

"Did you eat 'em out? Drives them wild."

"I guess."

"Fishy?"

"Which one?"

"Are they there now? Are you fucking calling us while they're still there? "

"They're taking a shower now."

"Siiick!"

"It sounds like they're getting out now. I'll call you back when I get rid of them," Harry whispered.

Finkie wrestled the phone back from Greg.

"Is this bullshit like the Ruthie Wise behind-the bleachers-story?"

"Fuck off, Finkie. I was a grade nine pisher then-"

"Ten, you were a grade ten pisher."

"Whatever, I'm a grad student now. Grown up..."

Harry heard giggling and the knob to the bathroom door turning. He quickly, but quietly hung up the phone, then opened a drawer, pretending that he was looking for underwear. The girls walked into the bedroom.

"Were you just on the phone?" Leslie asked.

"No, I swear to God I wasn't."

"If you were, you'd be a real jerk."

"A complete dick-head, I agree."

The phone rang.

"Fucking Greg," Harry thought while feeling like he was falling through the floor. "Why are all my old friends such immature assholes?"