Chapter 4 - The Booby Prize
After several windy days in a row, the lake by the office was sprinkled with leaves. With fall only a couple of weeks away, some trees were starting to lose their leaves, and the wind had accelerated the process
The breeze was lighter today, but it still stirred the pond's leafy cover and caused ripples in the few open areas, making it hard to catch sight of the fish. Instead, I watched Anita looking out over the lake, constantly brushing errant strands of hair back behind her ear, her navy skirt flapping against her knees. She looked thoughtful. There were only three days of her internship left, and perhaps she was as disconsolate at our working relationship ending as was I.
I hadn't mentioned seeing her at Gabby's, and she hadn't asked how my evening went. She knew I was making myself at home at the club, and wouldn't pry.
I'd also not said anything about Ann's note, or my embarrassing attempt to recover it. I didn't care if she knew, and I might use it as an amusing story one day, but I didn't want her to feel that I was always looking to her for direction. Besides, she'd probably hear the whole story from Tiff.
After a time, she turned to face me, her pensive expression yielding to a smile. "I have good news."
"What's that?" I asked.
"My boss has been really pleased with my progress this summer, which is all thanks to you," she said. "She's going to have HR make me an offer next summer."
"Not really thanks to me," I objected. "I only showed you a few things I've learned. You're the one who writes the code."
Anita shrugged. "Equal parts, then. Maybe we'll work together next year."
I grinned. "That would be awesome," I said. "I just wish this wasn't your last week."
Anita nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But we'll see each other, and I do think I'll be back. It's too early to be certain, but I feel good about it."
~~~~~
Throughout the rest of the week I found myself contemplating Ann's note. After I'd copied her number to the phone I'd kept the original paper in my purse as a reminder to call - not that I'd be likely to forget.
As I said to Tiff, I'm not exactly shy, but I'm uncomfortable talking with someone until I've already done it. In programming terms, that's known as deadlock. To the rest of the world, I think it's a catch-22. It would be self-destructive if it induced any more than mild anxiety. Fortunately I
am
able to make myself open up enough for the discomfort to pass.
But it's stressful, and calling a girl out of the blue was up there with making first contact with someone.
Even though we'd danced together.
Even though she'd made the next move, with the note.
Even though I'd felt her finger lightly brush my skin when she dropped it between my breasts.
Waiting until I next saw her at Gabby's seemed cowardly, and she'd probably resent my not following up on her invitation, especially if we were interrupted again. So I had to call her. I
wanted
to call her, except for the part where I didn't.
Every day I decided I'd postpone the call until the next, until it was the weekend, and I was running out of time.
On Saturday morning, I drove over to the coffee shop. Cyndy and Heather were at the counter. They both greeted me warmly, and Heather, who was every bit as pretty as I'd remembered - stunning, really - introduced herself. Either Cyndy or Dylan had told her about meeting me the previous Monday, and she was clearly ready to accept me as a friend.
Cappuccino in hand, I left the shop to sit at an outdoor table, thumbed my phone on, then selected the number I'd entered and pressed call, forcing myself not to hit the cancel button.
The phone made a single ring sound before clicking. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Ann?" I asked. "This is Kayla. From the club. You gave me your..."
graze of finger against the surface of my breast
... "Uh, you gave me your number. I wondered if you'd like to grab a coffee later."
"Oh, hey, I can't," she said. I felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. "And hi! Thanks for calling. I'm going to a party this evening..." Her voice trailed off. I hadn't noticed how deep her voice was. Surprisingly so, for her small frame.
"That's fine," I said. "Maybe another time?"
"I'm just thinking," Ann said, "do you want to come with? I have a plus one, but I'm going with my roomie, and she has her own invite. It's a tradition for the end of summer. Kinda sorority, but unofficial, since there's alcohol."
"Mmm," I said, dubious. "I don't know if I'm up for a frat party."
"No frats," Ann said instantly. "Boys can be plus ones, but no frat antics, monitors to prevent drink spiking, and a cash bar instead of kegs. It's a safe space, as much as it can be. Alex and I are Ubering. We can meet you there."
"Hmmm," I said, without the doubtful tone. "Okay. Why don't you let me pick you both up?" No need to pay for an Uber. I can be your DD."
"Well, sure, if you don't mind," she said. "And that way you'll have to come back with me..."
I chuckled. "Yeah, I'll bring you back, as long as you're not planning to stay past midnight."
"Nah, that would be fine," Ann said. "I'll text you my address."
~~~~~
I dressed in a short-sleeved pink tee shirt with a wide neck that was only moderately deep over my black plunge push-up bra. The shoulders of the tee created tension, framing my neck, the rest of my shoulders, and a couple of inches of upper breast, though the push-up bra shaped more of the tight top, black bra straps stark against bare skin. I tied my hair in a tail to keep it from obscuring my shoulders. It was a good look. Beige carpenter pants and low-heeled black shoes kept it casual. I could fit my phone and essentials into the pockets of the pants and leave my purse in the car.
Ann and another girl were descending the last of the stairs to their apartment when I pulled into a parking space. Ann wore a green tee and a short denim skirt. The other girl, presumably Alex, her roomie, towered over her by eight or nine inches. She had brown eyes and copper hair which flowed in waves to her shoulder blades. She was dressed in a navy button-front shirt, jeans, and heels. Ann took the passenger seat, while the tall girl sat behind her. Ann introduced her as Alex, as I'd expected. I gave her a quick smile, then began the drive to the party house.
The party tradition had begun several years earlier, Ann said. A student's uncle had a place he rented out for parties and weddings, and the student talked him into letting her use it at cost, providing her own preparation and cleanup team. The sorority leadership had taken charge and the party was a success.
After that year the arrangements had remained in place, even after the owner's niece graduated. Maybe he liked the publicity, or the contacts. Maybe he just liked college girls.
The house on the property was old, probably dating from the early twentieth century, in huge grounds, well out of town. Arriving, we could hear a bass beat before opening the car doors.
The evening was pleasantly cool, and there were tables and chairs in front of the house. Inside was more seating, and a small tended bar. The music was coming from the back.
Poking my head through the door, I saw that the adjoining room was set up for dancing, with lighting and a tall girl with short-cropped hair doing DJ duty. There were already dancers on the floor; mostly girls, but a few couples.
Ann and Alex ordered spirits, while I chose a white wine, to drink slowly. The glasses were plastic, of course. Uncle Generous might have a good volunteer cleanup crew, but he didn't need to be paying for shattered crystal and the damage and injuries it could cause.
When Ann finished her drink and announced that it was dancing time, I was barely a third of the way through my wine, so I took it with me into the dance room, setting it on a window ledge that I could keep an eye on it. The room might be monitored, but that was no reason to be reckless.
The floor had filled up some. Music and voices were loud. French doors in the back were wide open, letting fragrant cool air into the room. Dancing with both of them was fun, and took plenty of energy. When Ann stated that it was time for another drink, neither Alex nor I objected. I picked up my wine, joining them in the line for the bartender so that I could also get a soft drink.
We took our drinks back through the party room to the outdoors. There was still some dancing outside the French doors, but the quieter music and cooler air made the area also appealing for conversation.
Outside were more tables and a few benches. We found a table, the subdued sounds and lighting from the party room reminding me of evenings at the club. We talked for a while with a couple that Alex knew, then Ann went inside to pick up another drink. This time, Alex and I stayed at the table.
"I'm straight?" Alex said, after Ann had left. Her voice rose in pitch at the end, but I was fairly sure she wasn't asking a question. As a statement, it seemed almost out of the blue. "I mean, if I'd come with Ann, I mean, I came with Ann? but I'm not
with
Ann, if you see what I mean. I'm just saying. In case you need to know?"
I smiled at her. "Thank you," I said. She didn't seem nervous or unfriendly with the word salad. Just oversharing. Maybe she thought I'd assume that she was in competition with me for Ann's time. "Why didn't the two of you come together, though?" I asked. "I mean, you've paid for two tickets between you. You could have been her plus one, or vice-versa."
Alex shrugged. "I got my ticket before my boyfriend slept with the TA?" she said. "So I'm newly single. I honestly don't know whether Ann planned to bring someone. She's fun, but we're not that close."
I usually find the rising voice affectation annoying, but Alex didn't trigger my reflexive dislike. She spoke was if she were thinking through her comment as she said it. On her the habit seemed innocent, as if her boyfriend cheating on her was just something she casually dismissed - along with the boyfriend. "I see," I said. "Sorry to hear about your breakup."
She shrugged.
Ann returned, with a mixed drink. She danced by herself, plastic glass in hand, for a time, before coming over to us. Then she handed her glass to Alex and dragged me into the group of outdoor dancers. I barely managed to set my glass on the table in time to avoid spilling it.
Ann was clearly outgoing, but the drinks seemed to have wiped out what few inhibitions she had. She twerked and twirled before me, touching me, leaned in to brush my lips with hers, turned her head to eye me coquettishly, and generally did her best to arouse me, short of ripping her clothes off. Or mine. And it worked. When we returned to Alex, hand in hand, there was a pleasant warmth in my lower belly.
"Let's find somewhere quiet," Ann said, retrieving her drink from Alex. My own was almost done, so after I'd picked it up, I finished it, and tossed the glass into the trash.
