Campus Tramp by Lawrence Block

of lined note-paper.
    The waitress who brought them cups of bitter black coffee and orders of scrambled eggs had permanent circles under her eyes and frizzly black hair. She recognized Don and smiled at him, a tired smile that barely got the corners of her mouth lifted before the smile was over. One of the chess players waved lazily to him and the scribbler at the counter gave him a nod.
    “Everybody knows you,” Linda told him.
    “I’m regular here,” he said.
    “It’s a nice place.”
    “It’s a horrible place. But it’s open. The only game in town.”
    She looked blank.
    “The only game in town,” he repeated. “An ancient joke and also the title of an excellent novel by Charles Einstein. Remember the joke now?”
    She told him she didn’t.
    “Well, there was this faro player. Ever play faro?”
    She shook her head.
    “I don’t think anybody ever did. I don’t even know how the devil you play the game, but that’s how the joke goes. There’s this faro player, and he plays at this one game, and it’s crooked. So a friend comes up to him and says, ‘Why do you play here? Don’t you know the game is crooked?’ And the guy gets very indignant and says, ‘Of course I know it. What the hell do you think I am?’ ‘Then why are you here?” the friend asks. And the guy answers, ‘Cause it’s the only game in town.’”
    “Oh,” she said.
    “And that’s about the only reason in the world to eat here.”
    She sipped at her bitter coffee and wrinkled her nose, agreeing with him.
    “Clifton,” he said, “is the only college in town.”
    “That’s not much of a compliment to it.”
    “It’s not much of a school.”
    They talked—about the school, about her, about him, about the Record , about a good many things. Not much time passed, about twenty minutes or so, and they each had a second and a third cup of the bitter coffee. From the conversation she felt he knew quite a bit about her, but she still knew that she didn’t know him at all. There were so many sides to him, so many aspects. All she really knew was that she wanted to know him better and that she liked him very much.
    And that she was attracted to him. Strongly attracted to him.
    “Let’s get back,” he said finally. They stood up and he put on his coat and paid the check. They walked outside and it was colder out now, and she walked very close to him, hoping he would put his arm around her. But he didn’t, and again he let her open the door for herself while he walked to his side of the car.
    They were sitting in the car and he had the key in the ignition. He was about to turn it when he stopped and turned to her instead. He looked at her—a long, intense look, and she returned his stare without saying a word.
    “Linda,” he said. Just her name.
    She didn’t say anything.
    “Linda—would you like to sleep with me?”
    It was very strange, she thought. The question came as a complete surprise, but at the same time she was neither shocked nor startled. She was in fact very calm, and she was not blushing for a change. He continued to look at her and she kept on looking back at him, and for several seconds neither of them said a word.
    Then, very softly and very honestly, she said: “I don’t know.”
    He waited for her to go on.
    “I like you,” she said. “I like you very much and I’m very strongly attracted to you. Is that enough?”
    “Enough for what?”
    “Enough for me to sleep with you.”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s something you have to decide for yourself.”
    She nodded, understanding. “I’m glad you asked me this way,” she said. “Just simple and straightforward, without kissing me or anything like that. It makes more sense this way.”
    “I don’t like to play games. Back-seat seductions are all right in high school but they get boring after awhile. As well as uncomfortable.” He said the last sentence with a grin, and she returned it.
    “I’m … a virgin,” she said. “Does