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Debugging
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Debugging
by
S. B. Douglass
1991
This work may be redistributed freely
over USENET and connected networks.
The lecture on AVL-trees was long and I was confused enough that my
attention wandered to the girls in the room. Everyone always complains
about the shortage of girls in CS courses, but there are a few, and some
of them are pretty good looking. Unfortunately, it's one thing to say
that the girls were there, and an entirely different thing to say that I
knew any of them. I didn't.
I had plenty to worry about other than girls. I had a programming
assignment due in two days, and I was stuck; my code didn't work, and I
couldn't figure out why. As soon as the class was over, I ate an early
supper at the dorm cafeteria, then headed back to the computer lab to
work on my assignment.
Half an hour later, one of the girls from the class sat down at the
machine next to mine. I was sufficiently frustrated by the bug in my
code that I only half noticed her for the next half-hour or so. I felt
her presence, I always do when a girl around my age is near, but it
didn't distract me the way it would have if I hadn't been so frustrated.
I did pay attention to her when she began cursing under her breath.
"What's up?" I asked, looking over at her. She was one of the more
studious looking girls in the class, thin, glasses, hair in a ponytail, a
shapeless bulky sweater and worn jeans; we'd been in a few classes
together, but I couldn't remember her name.
"I've just been stupid, that's all," she said, speaking softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I've spent the last day looking in the wrong place for a bug, now I've
found it!"
"So where was it?"
"My initialization routine screwed things up, and I kept looking in the
code to search the tree. What are you working on?"
"I've got my own bug to find," I said.
She wished me good luck, and I turned back to my code wondering if I'd
also been looking in the wrong place. It's funny, but I found my bug in
less than a minute. It wasn't where I'd been looking, and as soon as I
looked elsewhere, my problem was obvious. I fixed the bug and tried my
code, and of course it didn't work; the two bugs that remained were easy,
though, and it only seemed like a few minutes before everything worked.
"Done?" she asked as I pushed my chair back and relaxed.
"Yup," I said. "Thanks."
"Thanks for what?" She asked, looking at me.
"Thanks for jogging my mind; what you said about looking in the wrong
place."
She chuckled. "I think I've got my bug licked too, but it'll take a few
minutes to be sure. Want to stick around?"
"OK," I said. I didn't have anything else to do that evening, and I'm
not the type to turn down even the least romantic offers of female
companionship.
"Did it," she said, about five minutes later.
"Want to celebrate?"
"Sure," she said, standing up and stretching. "How, where?"
"I don't know," I said, suddenly confused. When she stretched, she
looked very feminine, not at all the studious girl I'd taken her for, and
I really didn't have anything in mind. I hadn't really expected her to
accept my spontaneous suggestion.
She grinned at me. "I do, come on, let's go."
I got up and followed her out of the lab and into the chilly fall
evening. She didn't say anything, and the silence felt awkward to me, so
I filled it. "Um, I know we've been in a few classes together, and we've
talked before, but what's I"
"I don't know your name either," she giggled. "I'm Carol Kaye."
"I'm Bill Ambler," I said, and then paused. "Um, if you don't mind my
asking, Where are we going?"
"Almonds and Cream," she said. I'd heard of it, but I'd never been
there. It was an ice-cream place that had a reputation as a nice coffee
house.
Quite honestly, the next hour is a blur in my mind. I had a paper cup of
rum-raisin ice-cream with my coffee, and we talked. I remember watching
her face as she sat across from me in the dim light, I remember our knees
bumping under the small table, but that's about it, except that the ice-
cream was great.
"Want to see me home?" she asked as we got up to leave.
"OK," I said. I held the door for her as we walked outside, then walked
with her for half a block before it occurred to me to ask where we were
going.
"It's a short walk," she said. "Where's your place?"
"I'm in the dorms," I said.
"Doesn't that get to be a drag after a bit?"
"It does, but I can't afford much better."
She reached out and took my hand. "I guess I wouldn't be able to afford
my place if it wasn't for my co-op job last summer."
It turned out to be five blocks to her apartment, an upstairs place over
a store. We talked about jobs while we walked. She'd spent the summer
at an IBM plant in Florida, and from what she said, it sounded like I'd
missed something by ignoring the University's co-op program.
"Well," she said, awkwardly stopping by the outside door. "Here we are.
Want to stop in and look around?"
"Uh, sure," I said, warily. I wanted to go in with her, but I didn't
know what she had in mind.
I followed her up the steps to a tiny landing. "I've got the apartment
with the view of the alley," she said, unlocking her door. "It's
cramped, overheated in the winter, and the view is lousy, but it's cheap
and private."
She turned on the lights, revealing her room. The wall by the door was a
kitchenette; brick-and-board shelves lined two walls, holding a sterio
system and a jumble of books, and the fourth wall was bare, save for a
poster and two heavily draped windows. The floor was bare hardwood, and
other than the kitchen table and chairs, the only furnishing was a bed.
"Just one room?"
"Yup, not counting the bathroom, which reminds me, mind waiting while I
unload some coffee."
I took off my coat while I waited, the room was warm, and then I took a
turn myself.
When I got out of her bathroom, she was lying on her back in bed with her
head on her hands. "Stick around a while," she said. "You've been fun
company, and I wouldn't mind talking a bit more."
"OK." I said, and sat on the floor next to the bed.
"Come on," she said, "relax, the bed's big enough for two, and a whole
lot more comfortable than the floor."
"I don't know," I said nervously.
"Afraid I'll seduce you?"
"Uh," I said, failing to avoid sounding nervous. "Oh hell, yes, I guess
that about says it."
I stood up, and she rolled out of bed and stood opposite me, with an
angry look on her face. "Damn it," she said, and then drew a calming
breath. "Why is it that guys in CS always seem to be either all over a
girl or scared shitless of her."
I felt pretty bad as she let me out of her apartment. Somehow, I don't
know how, I'd missed something. I'd upset her, and worse yet, I was
pretty sure I'd missed an important opportunity. As I walked home,
miserable and alone, I cursed my inept social skills and wondered if I
would ever manage to make it with a girl.
By the time I made it back to the dorm, I realized that I needed to
apologize to Carol for running out on her, so I stopped into the public
computer cluster in the dorm to see if I could find her E-mail address.
I found a reasonably private machine where nobody was likely to look over
my shoulder, connected to the computer we shared for our class, and tried
the finger command to see what her login name was. I found her on my
third try, listed under "C. J. Kaye" with the user id "cs3cjk". Here's
the electronic mail I sent her:
% mail cs3cjk
Subject: I'm sorry
Carol, I feel really bad about running out on you. I guess
I'm easily intimidated by girls. Were you really trying to
seduce me? That's how it looked from my point of view. If
you weren't, I really screwed up the evening by running out
on you. If you were really after me, I guess I did just as
badly. I've always dreamed about having a girl really want
me, and now it looks like I've had the chance and blown it.
I really am sorry.
Yours in failed romance,
Bill Ambler, cs3bwa
Thursday after lunch, I went to run off a good copy of my programming
assignment to turn in on Friday, and I found E-mail waiting for me.
From: C. J. Kaye <cs3cjk>
To: cs3bwa
Subject: Re: I'm sorry
Bill, thanks for the apology, but I screwed up too. I'm no
master of the romantic arts myself. I've been badly burned
by guys who were too pushy, not date-rape, technically, but
definitely bad sex. I need to take control of my sex life,
I need to be in charge, and I'm afraid I've made you into a
victim by a foolish effort on my part to turn the tables on
my past.
Carol, cs3cjk
I read her note, and reread it, stunned. What should I do? How should a
guy react to a girl who quite openly admits that she was trying to seduce
him? I was at once intrigued and terrified, but I ended up deciding to
be as open with her as she'd been with me.
% mail cs3cjk
Subject: How about a date?
Carol, your frank reply to my note seems to offer an answer
to my dreams, but it scares me. I've never experienced bad
sex, only mediocre sex, and that was a long time ago. I do
want to ask you out, but I'm afraid I'll let you down again
and I haven't got the faintest idea what to expect. Should
I ask you out?
Bill Ambler, cs3bwa
I didn't get an answer to my E-mail, and when it was time for class
Friday afternoon, I was afraid to face Carol Kaye in class. As I walked
into the classroom, though, I was surprised to see her smiling and
gesturing towards an empty seat beside her. I was nervous, and the way
she looked at me made me even more nervous, but I couldn't ignore her
invitation.
"I'll take you up on your offer," she said as I sat beside her. "How
about a movie tonight?"
"OK," I said, with a feeling of nervous releif.
The professor arrived before either of us had a chance to say anything
more, so I turned my attention to things academic. An hour later, I'd
turned in my assignment and I was thoroughly confused about the
generalization of AVL-trees into splay-trees, but my mind was on Carol
Kaye, on my graceless exit Wednesday night, and on her willingness to go
out with me.
"Where do we meet?" she asked, pulling on her coat after class.
"Dunno," I said as we walked towards the building entrance. "You
suggested a movie, but I don't know what's playing. Should we meet at
your place after supper?"
"OK," she said as we walked out into the thin drizzle. "Movies usually
start around seven, so six-thirty at my place. See you!"
She ran off through the chill drizzle, and I hurried the other direction.
I had two hours to kill, so I went to the dorm lounge to read the movie
ads in the paper, then ate some supper in the dorm cafeteria before going
up to my room for a shower.
It was still raining when I picked Carol up. We discussed the movies
playing at the campus area theaters as we walked down from her place, and
ended up walking back to campus to see an old movie that was showing in
the Student Union. The Graduate, I'd heard that it was a good movie, but
I'd never seen it before.
The movie lived up to its reputation, but as we watched it, I was
constantly aware of Carol's warm presence beside me. Her quiet feminine
laugh as the clod on the movie screen said the magic word "plastics" was
almost as important to me as the humor of the situation, and as the movie
neared its climax, the fact that Carol held my hand overshadowed the mad
fury of the hero as he stormed into the church.
"Pretty good movie," Carol said as the lights came on. "Want to grab a
snack before braving the elements?"
"Sure," I said, and let her lead the way to the snack bar in the Union
basement. She ordered cocoa, and after I did the same, I followed her to
a table.
We sat and talked for a while as we sipped our cocoa. Unlike our
previous evening conversation, I do remember what we talked about. We
talked briefly about the movie and our classes, and from there, the
subject turned to computers in general. I said that it was really fun
having access to E-mail, and Carol said, almost as an aside, that it was
funny how personal people would get in E-mail, saying things they'd never
say face to face.
"You mean like what you said about sex?" I said, before realizing that I
might be putting her in an embarrassing position.
"Well," she said, and then paused. Her knee was touching mine, and I
could feel her tense up. "Yes, I guess that's an example."
I looked around, wondering who was in earshot. "Want to go talk
somewhere more private?"
"My place?" she asked, sipping the last of her cocoa. "Sure."
We trudged through the chilly drizzle to her apartment, but the weather
didn't matter. Carol did. Our conversation returned to the safe subject
of how E-mail changes the way people relate, but the topic of sex
returned by the time we reached her place.
"Carol?" I asked as we walked the last block to her place. "You said
you'd had a pretty bad experience with sex."
"More than one," she said. "I don't really want to talk about them, but
the general pattern was that I was a bit drunk, the guy was forceful, we
had fun, and then I regretted it later. I got screwed, we didn't make
love, if you see the difference."
"I don't know if my sympathy means anything," I said, holding the door
for her, "but if it does, you have it. Nobody should ever have to have
sex on anyone's terms but their own."
"Thanks," she said, walking upstairs ahead of me. "If you don't mind my
turning the tables on you, what are your terms? Your mail didn't make it
sound like your experience with sex was that rosy."
"It wasn't bad," I said, waiting while she unlocked her door. "I was in
12th grade, and I think the girl really wanted to put an end to her
virginity and didn't much care who she did it with."
"Only once?" she said as I followed her inside.
"No, but just one girl, and only a few times."
Carol took off her coat, then took mine. "So," she said, looking at me
after she put the coats away. "What are your terms?"
"Are you saying you want sex with me?"
"Why not? I've known you for a while, and although I admit I never got
your name until this week, you've always struck me as a nice guy. You're
a hell of a lot nicer than the guys who've screwed me in the past, and I
think it'd be nice to try making love to you."
"Thanks," I said, baffled, "but that's not a very romantic way to put a
proposition."
"I know," she said, looking downcast. "I'd rather set the ground rules
now, not wait until we're in the heat of passion when it's hard to say
no." She paused and looked a bit pained. "I know it spoils the romance
of it all, but these days, you've got to be careful. I've been on the
pill since I learned the hard way that I was an easy lay, and I've had
myself tested pretty regularly to see that I'm not carrying anything
nasty. I'm safe."
"Well," I said, confused. "OK, I guess that makes sense; what a crummy
world this is. Susan and I were both virgins, so I guess I'm safe, but I
can't offer any assurance beyond that."
"That's good enough for me," Carol said, and then paused. "Um, I hate to
spoil the romance more, but I've got to unload after that cocoa."
I took a turn in the bathroom after she was done, and when I came out,
she was looking through her cassette collection. She picked out a tape
and put it on, and I was a bit surprised to discover that it was a
classical recording. I don't know much about that kind of music, but it
wasn't bad.
"I thought some music would be nice."
"It's OK," I said, looking at her. "By the way, you're pretty."
"Really?" she asked, stepping closer to me. "I don't hear that very
often."
I was flustered but the look in her eyes encouraged me. "I guess I'd
never noticed before, but somehow you look, well, sexy."
"Thanks," she said, and then surprised me by giving me a quick kiss.
"You're not bad looking yourself."
I tentatively returned her kiss, and without really intending it, ended
up locked in a very pleasant embrace. We kissed, with her hands around
my waist and my hands on her back. Her hips pressed comfortably against
mine, and after a bit, she began to gently stroke my back with her
fingers. I couldn't easily stroke her through the bulk of her sweater,
but as I held her, I found my fingers working their way through the loose
weave of her sweater to touch the bare skin of her back.
"That's nice," she said, breaking our kiss to press herself fully against
me.
"I like your sweater," I said, sliding my fingers over her skin. I slid
my hand up her back, and was a bit surprised when I didn't encounter any
bra. "No bra?"
"Nope," she said. "They say Albert Einstein didn't wear underwear, why
should I?"
"That doesn't sound like a very good reason," I said. "Can I touch your
breasts?"
"Only if you let me undress you first. OK?"
"OK," I said, and she began unbuttoning my shirt.
I've never had a girl undress me before, and I was a bit surprised by the
experience. Her gentle touch as she undid my shirt was nice, but it was
overshadowed by a sense of passive sensuality. I just stood there while
she did all the work, and the surrender implicit in that fact was somehow
an exciting experience.
She stopped when she'd gotten my shirt and turtleneck sweater off me.
"Your turn," she said, standing in front of me.
I hesitated, then pulled up the back of her sweater over her head. I
ended up pulling her ponytail down over her face, and she laughed as she
tossed it back over her shoulder. "You're beautiful," I said, looking at
the body I'd exposed. She was slim, thinner than I expected, with a well
defined waist, a surprisingly broad chest, small breasts and large erect
nipples.
"Thanks," she said, hugging me.
The feel of her bare nipples against my chest was exciting, and her
crotch pressed against the bulge of my tense penis. I kissed her as I
slid my hands over her back, and then kissed her bare shoulder and
nibbled at her ears.
"You sure you're warm enough?" I asked between kisses, not so much
because I felt any chill, but because it seemed like I ought to at this
time of year.
"Yup," she said, sounding relaxed and comfortable. "This place is
usually a bit too warm for clothing."
Carol slid her hands down my back to the waistband of my jeans and after
a while, she began sliding her fingers under my jeans. "Come on," she
said, breaking our embrace and kneeling in front of me, "let's do it."
She fumbled with my belt buckle a bit, and then gently unzipped my zipper
and pulled my jeans down, taking my underpants with them. "You ought to
try going without," she said as I stepped out of my pants, and then she
briefly touched my erect penis. "It's prettier looking than I expected,"
she said, standing up.
She stood in front of me with an expectant look on her face, and I knelt
in front of her to undo her pants. She didn't have a belt, the silly
high waistline on women's jeans doesn't need belting, but I had trouble
undoing the snap at the top and her pants were snug enough I had a hard
time sliding them over her hips.
She wasn't wearing underpants, and as I slid her jeans down, I could
smell the feminine musk that, I guess, hinted at her excitement. She
stepped out of her pants and then held out her hand to me and led me to
her low bed.
"All the other times I've had sex," she said as she knelt on the bed,
"I've been on the bottom, and I've felt victimized. "If you don't mind,
I'd like to try something else."
"What?" I asked, kneeling in front of her and holding her hips against
mine.
She rocked her hips, letting my penis slide between her legs before she
answered. "Do you want to try it with me sitting in your lap? I've read
that that's a good way to do it. You sit cross legged, and I wrap my
legs around you."
"OK," I said, and sat down in front of her.
She squatted over my lap, and suddenly, she was down, my hard erect penis
inside her and her legs behind my back. "Ouch," she said with a pained
look on her face, "that sure feels different."
"Feels good to me," I said, enjoying the warm moisture of her body
surrounding my penis. "Are you sure you're comfortable?"
"It's getting better," she said, leaning back with her hands on the bed
behind her.
I looked at her, her slim waist, her pretty breasts, and her hips
pressing against mine. I knew that my penis was deeply embedded in her
body, but I couldn't see any evidence of it. When I looked up at her
face, she was frowning slightly, looking down at where our bodies met.
"Is everything OK?" I asked, leaning back, mirroring her pose.
She looked up at me and smiled. "I guess so, it's just a bit of a
surprise. Like it?"
"It's different," I said. She sounded like she wanted to talk.
She wiggled her hips gently. "You know what? This is starting to feel
pretty nice. Want to play with my tits?"
"OK," I said, smiling at the feeling of her gentle motion in my lap,
"Except I'm using my hands to hold me up. How do I keep from falling
over?"
"Like this," she said, and laced her fingers behind my neck, balancing my
weight as I lifted my hands from the bed.
I slid my hands up her side from thighs to breasts, and then gently
touched her large firm nipples. "Good?"
"Yes," she said. "Do you want to spend the night?"
I was unprepared for the offer. "I don't have any PJs with me."
"So?" she asked. "I haven't worn anything to bed for years, it won't
hurt you."
"OK," I said, and then my curiosity got the best of me. "Is it really
comfortable going without underpants?"
"Sure, more comfortable than going with, as far as I'm concerned. You
ought to try it. Jeans are cotton, after all, just like half the
underpants on the market." She smiled as I gently pinched her nipples
between my fingers. "That feels nice."
I paused to savor the warm tension of my penis inside her and the gentle
softness of her breasts under my fingers. I wondered why she was so
talkative. I didn't want to talk, I wanted to savor where my penis was,
I was ready to concentrate on sex.
"Why are you talking so much?" I sighed, and then fell silent as she
began rocking her hips. I could feel the intense pressure of an orgasm
building within me, and if I'd been able to thrust my hips against her, I
think I'd have come, but I couldn't. I was pinned down.
"Because I want this to be personal," she said. "I don't want a quick in
and out, I've had too much of that, doing it in the dark with the only
sound being quiet grunting. I want it to last, I want to see you, I want
to talk, to touch, I want I Oh!"
She stopped speaking and thrust herself hard against me. The look on her
face was radiant as she leaned back, smiling with with her eyes closed,
not moving a muscle. I stroked her nipples gently, then slid my hands
down her sides to her hips and admired her radiant body.
"Wow," she said, opening her eyes and smiling at me. "That felt good.
Kiss me!"
She pulled herself to me and I hugged her as we began kissing. We dug
ourselves into each other. My tongue pressed between her lips, my penis
expanded in her, and we pressed our bodies against each other as we
rocked. The pressure in my penis was almost painful, but it was the pain
of infinite sexual pleasure, and I wanted it to last forever.
She broke the kiss and leaned back again, and the motion of her hips
around my penis almost sent me over the edge. I couldn't concentrate on
her anymore, and I rested my hands around her neck as she gently touched
my chest.
"Oh!" she said, "this is good! Bill, I'm glad I've got you in me, I'm
glad we're doing this."
"Me too," I said, and then I went over the edge. I don't think I've ever
experienced anything so intense in my life. I'd swear I shut my eyes,
but I distinctly remember Carol's eyes intently locked onto mine, her
radiant face, her breasts, her long arms, and her tight belly. As the
waves of orgasm swept through me, Carol pulled me to her and hugged me,
and we stayed locked together like that for a long time, kissing and
hugging long after we were finished.
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