I went to high school with Anna and Race. Looking back I have to say we were actually good friends. Anna was a cheerleader; she was pretty, really pretty, with wavy chestnut hair, and bright hazel eyes, and a smile like sun breaking out of the clouds. She had long legs, and a walk that could stop any guy in his tracks, and usually did. Race was… well… odd even for my school. He was not overly tall, maybe 5'8", and his hair was darker than Anna's. He smiled a lot, like he found the whole world amusing. He looked like he should have been the leather jacket, juvenile delinquent type with a cigarette, but he never smoked. He and Anna were always together, even when she had other boyfriends. I never asked how that worked, though I wondered, everyone did.
I was a stage crew geek in those days. I wore black all the time since it was easier not to have to remember to do that for shows. Stage crew doesn't care about much about appearances in general, but we like things to run smoothly.
I liked Anna; I admired her looks, without really feeling envy. Wistful, sure, who wouldn't like to be cute and popular and desirable? I would, but wasn't. Mostly I was the one everyone told his or her boyfriend/girlfriend troubles to. I could always make Anna laugh, even when she was freaking out about grades or her current boyfriend… I think she changed them every month so I never did understand why she cared what any of them wanted. We'd sit on my back porch, so no one could see she was friends with a geek, and she'd cry about Bill, or Leon, or Ted…and I'd ask if he paid for his own condoms. And she'd get mad, then laugh. I never knew why that was so funny to her. Of course, when she wasn't crying, she was telling me in great detail about her exploits with her boyfriends. I was just glad she wasn't afraid to use condoms. Some of the stuff she told me made me feel shaky and breathless. I was just glad she never noticed.
Race was a different matter. He had the quickest, most twisted mind I'd ever encountered. It was like people made up his personal playground and he couldn't resist moving them around to see what they would do next. Race would come up with the most outrageous ideas… and they always worked. Once he suggested I sit on our English teacher's desk in English, and when he came in, to tell him it was stifling my creativity to sit in the confined space allotted to mere students.
I didn't need the credits to graduate. So I let Race pose me, It wasn't any big deal, I wasn't displaying myself really. I sat on the desk, one foot up so I could hug my knee while I hung back so I stared at the ceiling, not at all sexy, given my black pants, black T-shirt and black sneaks.
Mr. Picot looked at me funny, then asked what I was doing on his desk. I said I felt stifled… and hot. Then I waited to be awarded a year's worth of detention. But Mr. Picot just turned a little pale and told me to stay put. I got an 'A' for the term, shocked me silly.
High school ended blessed be, and I escaped into the wide, wide world. Oddly, Race kept in touch. Letters at first, then email. He was funny in print, witty and amusing and irreverent. I answered him mostly because he always made me laugh. When I got the letter from him saying he and Anna were getting married; I laughed for hours before I realized he meant it.
I was at the wedding of course. I was the best man, which is even funnier when you realize I'm a girl. But Race said I was his best and oldest friend, so there it was. I threw him a bachelor party; we all went to a now dead strip joint, the MouseTrap. I knew the place because one of my paper salesmen always took us there, and I liked the dancers. They were hardworking girls who got paid far more than I did for putting up with stupid men.
Steph was dancing on stage when we walked in. I like Steph; I'd seen her before. She dances like she's the only one in the world who ever had a good time. I like her smile too. She winks at the guys, she smiles at me, go figure. Sometimes, on break, she comes at sits at our table. She steals my coffee and laughs because that's all it is, coffee. I tell her I know the water was boiled at some point and it makes me feel safer.
When I walked in with Race, I beckoned her to the edge of the runway. I handed her a twenty and explained that I was the best man at Race's wedding. Bless her heart, she pulled out all the stops. She displayed herself shamelessly to Race. She stripped with flair and worked up a visible sweat. She took the pole in front of Race and shimmied up and down it until it was slick and wet.
Race watched her in fascination, almost drooling. He nudged me, "Go on ... get up there with her…"
I'd had a couple of drinks so I smiled up at Steph. "He wants me to dance with you," I told her.
She held out her hand and hauled me up onto the stage. I was a bit surprised at her strength. The world looked a lot different with runway lights spinning at my feet and spotlights burning my eyes. Steph and I peeled me out of my clothes, me wiggling and bumping geekily. I moaned when she ran her hands over my breasts, I mean, it felt really good. For a few minutes I forgot I was not exactly a guy magnet, just enjoyed the music and moving and her hands on my skin.
I was having such a good time that it took me a few seconds to realize Steph had pushed me up against the pole and was rubbing herself against me while I was doing my best to have the pole's baby.
The men in the room went kinda nuts. Guys were waving bills at us, and Steph was grabbing them and stuffing them in my bra. For some reason, that struck me as hysterically funny… my plain white boring bra against her pasties… I saw no competition. But the guys in the club loved it and the bouncers had to get us offstage.
The manager came to the dressing room and told me to call him when I wanted to start. I figured Steph put him up to it. When I finally got back to Race, he looked like a cat full of canary. He was a lot more sober than I was, and we laughed like loonies trying to get me out of the club, since we kept being stopped by men who wanted my number.
The wedding was tame by comparison. Race was cool in black leather jacket and riding leathers, and Anna looked sweet in a little cotton dress. Oddly, her maid of honor was a man; a shy, nervous guy I'd never met before. He was very correctly dressed in a summer weight seersucker suit, pale blue with white stripes, pale blue shirt and a red bow tie. Anna told me his name was Evan.
The ceremony went smoothly, the JP was fine with us, maybe even a little bored. After the service, we all went to House of Roy for a meal. The newlyweds were pretty outrageous, feeding each other and all. Then they got silly. Next thing I knew, Ann had grabbed my head and trapped me against her chest. Race was holding my mouth open and feeding me shrimp in lobster sauce. What made it even funnier was Evan. He was the one fishing the shrimp out of the dish and passing them to Race very fussily. I nearly choked to death from laughing. Anna told me hold still so I didn't get food smeared on her dress, but it was pretty hard not to laugh.
I never did understand why they got married, but they seemed pleased. Race continued to write and I continued to answer. We saw each other maybe once or twice a year, when they came up top visit Anna's parents. Anna was always perky and Race was always tall, dark and broody, and I was always fat.
It was a Friday night, my late night getting home. Not from fun, I just never get off work at a decent hour, and Fridays are the worst... probably because I have no life. The phone was ringing off the hook when I walked in.
"Hey sexy,"
I smiled stupidly, then realized Race couldn't see me. "Hey you. How's Anna?"
"She's fussing cuz din-din is ready and you aren't here."
