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me and sat on the corner of her desk, which was overflowing with what looked like psychology textbooks. A bottle of the liquor that had inspired her nickname stood, open and half-full, next to what looked like a bowl full of condoms. Nice RA , I thought. “So, I have two things that I feel like I need to apologize to you for.”
    “Apologize?” That surprised me too. “What for?”
    “Well,” she said sheepishly, “I should have kept Kathy from going straight in. I knew you and Bridget were up to… something, and that none of you were going to enjoy the interruption.”
    “Not your fault,” I grumbled.
    “Nonetheless,” said Margarita, called Cuervo, “I’m sorry.”
    “No problem.”
    “Yeah, well, the other thing — I wish I’d told you about Bridget.”
    I screwed up my face. “Told me? Told me what?”
    “Bridget is the sweetest person I know, okay?” Margarita’s dark eyes searched mine.
    I nodded.
    She nodded back. “But sexually, she’s…”
    “Well, I know she’s a virgin.” I shrugged. “And I know that’s hard for her, with the whole Catholic thing.”
    “Whoa, there, Ken — trust me here, I know the ‘whole Catholic thing.’ And even for a good — a really good Catholic girl, Bridget’s a case.” When I only frowned, she continued, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Look, pardon my asking, but… Well, you said she’s a virgin, so I’m guessing you didn’t… engage in… full sexual intercourse tonight?”
    I shook my head, trying not to feel sorry for myself.
    “But,” she said, searching my eyes again, “you thought you were going to.”
    “Uh, yeah. We almost did, but Kathy — “
    “It wasn’t going to happen, Ken. Probably not, at least.”
    “What the hell does that mean?” I snapped. “I was… I mean, we were… really close.”
    “So I heard,” said Margarita, the humor re-emerging.
    “Uh.” Suddenly all of the blood in my body seemed to be going into two places: my newly re-awakened erection and my face.
    Margarita walked toward me, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Ken. You’re not… How do I say this? You’re, uh, not the first guy this year to walk out of Bridget’s room bent over at the waist, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Not even the second.”
    “What?”
    She winced. “Three times — that I know off — some poor boy has gone into that room to relieve poor Bridget of her problem. Each one had himself between that girl’s legs, knocking at heaven’s door, and every time Bridget lost her nerve. Kicked ‘em out.”
    “ Three?”
    “Yup. Two of ‘em were in the dorm here, so they talked to me — separately. The other was really smitten with Bridget, brought her flowers for weeks. This was just before Christmas. She never opened the door. And Ken — once that’s happened, she can’t look them in the face again. Can’t talk to them. I’m going to guess that she goes to confession, does contrition, and is too embarrassed to talk to the guy. Girl must have a hymen like a brick wall and a conscience like a labyrinth.”
    “Well… Shit.” The girl had had more sexual partners than I had — she just hadn’t actually fucked any of them. “My… friend, when I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, he said she was waiting for me to… ravish her.”
    “Huh,” Margarita said, canting her head to one side. “And what did you think of that?”
    “I said it was fucked up — beginning your pardon.” Now, for some reason, I was beginning to feel angry. Angry with Bridget. Angry with myself. Angry with Tony, though I couldn’t think why. “If she didn’t want to give it to me, I sure as hell didn’t want to take it.”
    “Good answer.” Margarita the RA smiled, and there was something in the smile that made me blink. “And no need to beg my pardon. I wanted to call you over as you were leaving last night, but I chickened out. And if I hadn’t it would have saved you some… difficulty.”
    I shrugged,