Behind me, the party rocks on. The music blares through the closed glass of the sliding doors and the lights flicker in time with the beat.
Leaning over the rail of the balcony, I wonder about the dual nature of my surroundings. The valley in front of me is rather quiet this late at night. The shopping center a hundred feet below is dark; it's parking garages empty. A half-mile to my left, the freeway is full of light and noise, even on the small side of midnight. Finishing the circle, the golf course on the western valley floor is even darker and quieter then the empty mall.
My cigarette burns, a glow of fire in the mist of the light rain that has been falling since shortly after sundown. The white that comes out of my lungs is half smoke and half the steam of my warm breath meeting the evening chill.
My poetic pondering is interrupted by a blast of Black Eyed Peas. The sliding door opens and closes behind me. Heather's red hair and green eyes materialize out of the dark by my side.
"You doing your look at the world and sigh bit again, Paul?"
"Yeah, I guess. I had really been looking forward to tonight. Dee getting called in to work kinda messed it up. I mean, I understand that's the way her job goes. I shouldn't complain. The money she makes pays most of the bills. But it's been a while since we got a chance to do this together and..."
"Hah! I know that tone. You two were planning something and I'll bet I know what. Hell, a few months ago I'd have been all over trying to snatch up that invite. But that Peterson project is kicking my ass. I'm exhausted. I need to get some sleep."
"So you and Melissa are headed home then? Hey, I'll walk you out if you want, but I promised Chris I'd help clean, so I'm staying."
"Well, actually...I'm heading home, yes. But I don't think Mel is ready to go yet..."
I follow the sweep of Heather's hand and turn to look through the glass into the living room. Melissa dominates the middle of the dance floor, a guy on either side of her, grinding to the music. She sure doesn't look like she's ready to go. At least, not ready to go home. As for those two guys? I'm trying hard not to laugh. They should go put the effort into scratching lottery tickets. Their chances would be better.
"You think they have any clue how hopeless their pursuit is, Heather?"
Heather stifles a cough as the beer she is drinking starts down the wrong pipe. "Nope, I don't think they have the slightest idea, Paul. Nor will I spoil my lover's fun by telling them... so don't you do it either. Would you do me a favor and make sure my girlfriend makes it home alright?"
Heather's fingers run through my hair and she pulls my head down to give me a quick kiss, then backs away and looks deep into my eyes.
"Please? For old times sake?"
She knows how hard I find it to refuse her anything when she looks at me like that.
"Sure, I'll get her home. Damn. You taste good, Heather. I miss those old Saturday mornings when you, Dee and I would all wake up together."
"Me too, sexy." The sigh that follows her words makes me think she even means it. "Give my old roomie a kiss from me when she gets home in the morning, okay? And make sure my current roommate doesn't start any trouble she can't handle?"
"Will do, Heather. I'll get her home safe and sound, I promise."
"Thank you. Goodnight, Paul"
I watch as Heather goes back inside, the music and noise washing over me as the door slides open and shut. She walks through the dancers to squeeze Melissa's shoulder and whisper something in her ear. Melissa looks out at me and smiles. Then she turns to continue tormenting the guys she's been dancing rings around. Heather waves at me again and disappears in the direction of the front door.
I keep my eye on Melissa as the party winds down. Leaving is definitely not on her mind. Watching her is equal parts humorous, erotic and sad.
Humorous because the guys she is dancing with both seem to think they are the one she is going home with tonight. The joy that is obvious in her expression is contagious, her smile a celebration. Her brown hair flounces about like a shampoo commercial, luxurious in its soft fall about her shoulders. You can't help but smile. Her face looks almost innocent in the purity of her enjoyment, and the guys both think they are going to corrupt that innocence.
Erotic because of the raw sexuality emanating from beneath the façade of naivety. Her childlike joy notwithstanding, Melissa dancing is far from innocent, especially from the neck down. The rhythm of the music must be wired directly to her clit. Pure desire; ultimate abandonment to the beat. You can't watch those hips shake or her breasts bounce without being stirred.
Sad because I want her just as much as those guys do, but I have no more chance of fulfillment than they. Oh, I'll get a kiss goodnight. However, when it comes to more than a kiss, I have no appeal to her. My wife wouldn't mind and I doubt Heather would either. But Melissa sees men as a game she plays only with her clothes on.
Finally, the party shrinks to a few stragglers. I do my best to fulfill at least part of the promise I made to Chris. I help clean, piling empties in the garbage and pouring abandoned drinks down the drain while I watch Melissa's victims make their last ditch efforts, this time on the balcony where I sought solitude earlier. As the two of them begin to edge closer to her, she runs out of room to retreat. When she is backed into the corner, I realize it's time.
The taller guy is muttering something about the empty bedroom upstairs when I slide open the door and step onto the balcony. His voice is ninety percent desire. It is the other ten percent that worries me. A mixture of desperation and anger, enhanced by a fear that he's been played for a fool. It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer.
