Seth slowly untied the towel, draped it over his shoulder. He stood there in his tighty-whities, grinning.
“Attaboy!” Matt cheered. “Now, do you want to go for the whole kit and caboodle? Or stop here?”
“Oh, what the heck!” Seth stripped off his underwear, stood there in the buff with Matt, proud as a peacock.
Matt gave him a thumbs-up.
“Just think. If your preacher could see you now, he’d call an emergency prayer meeting!”
Seth laughed.
The two of them, friends now, stood naked together, waiting for their dormmates to finish wanking. (Matt, the only person in their communal group to have a private room, didn’t have to worry about a place to jerk. Frustratingly, though, he was under another interdiction from William against engaging in such activity.)
“In the Still of the Night” started playing on the boombox.
Matt fished in his Dopp kit, retrieved his shampoo bottle, then, using it as a makeshift mic, began lip syncing to the song. “C’mon dude,” he said to Seth. “I need some backup here!”
Seth laughed, then joined in.
The guys at the sinks watched in fascination.
Later that morning, between classes, Matt searched out the Dean of Students’ Office, where he filled out a one-page form declaring himself a candidate for one of two freshman Representative positions in the Student Government Association (SGA), elections to take place in one week’s time—on his birthday.
This, too, had been William’s suggestion.
“Are you serious?” Matt had asked. “Like student council? A bunch of kids debating things they have no power to control? No thank you.”
“Power and influence are two different things, dahling,” William had said. “You’re right that SGA has no power. They do have influence, though, because the administration thinks they represent the rest of us. You could make a difference.”
“No one cares what I think.”
“You’d be surprised,” William had said. “Are you a Leo, by chance?”
“You weren’t raised in thefCOC, were you?” Matt had asked.
“No, dahling. Why?”
“Because astrology is a big frowned-upon sin in thefCOC, not quite ranking with sodomy—which we just committed, as an ABOMINATION—but much higher on the ladder than, say, gluttony.”
William had feigned shock. “Heavens to Betsy! And to think that God led those wise men to Bethlehem with a star!”
Matt had laughed. He had also, of course, asked what made someone a Leo.
It had turned out he was a Leo, his birthday being on August 21.
William hadn’t been surprised (about the Leo thing for sure, maybe about the birthday news as well).
“Leos are natural leaders,” William had said. “They inspire and motivate people. They’re self-assured and fiercely loyal. Does that remind you of anyone?”
“Not really,” Matt had said. And meant it.
“Let me tell you about the Matthew I’ve seen,” William had said. “The night of the freshman mixer, all the other kids were hugging the walls. You marched into the middle of the room and started talking with Debbie. There were almost five hundred kids there. You were the only one who did that. Then I joined the two of you. You were obviously nervous around me, but you weren’t intimidated. You even called me ‘Bill!’ Shall I continue?”
“I just don’t see myself that way,” Matt had said.
“Suit yourself, dahling. You do know that Leo means Lion, right? That it is literally written in the stars. Your sign is a constellation shaped like a lion. You’re a lion alright. Only you can decide if you’re the cowardly kind or the ‘king of the jungle’ kind.”
“Well, I did sort of just roar,” Matt had said, referencing his noisy orgasm.
