She was drop dead gorgeous and I wanted her. I lusted for her. I might even go so far as to say I would kill for her. Five feet five, one twenty, 36x22x35, hazel eyes and flaming red hair. When she was around I could not take my eyes off of her. She knew what she had and she knew that every man in the building wanted her.
Her name was Constance Frederick and she was a secretary where I work. Under other (and better) circumstances I would have immediately made a move on her, but I couldn't. As much as I wanted her I had to behave myself. The lady was married and I couldn't, wouldn't, make a move on another man's woman. It wasn't a matter of morals, ethics or any of that kind of stuff; it was the simple fact that I could never do to another man what was done to me. It had hurt and three years later it still hurt.
Doesn't make a whole lot of sense does it? On the one hand I say I'd kill for her and on the other I say I would never move on another man's woman. I don't need to make sense. I'm human and have flaws just like all other humans.
It was a Wednesday evening and in a ritual that started long before I started work at Camebridge Enterprises everyone stopped at Antonio's Lounge after work for a drink or two. It was only on Wednesday and even though I'd asked a time or two no one could tell me why it was on a Wednesday instead of a Friday. Friday would have made more sense to me since it was the end of the week and time to wind down before going into the weekend. All anyone knew was that it had always been Wednesdays.
I was sitting at the table (actually three tables pushed together) drinking a PBR and absent-mindedly peeling the label off of the bottle while I watched Constance and Gary from QC dancing to the music from the juke box. They weren't the only couple out there, but my eyes never strayed very far from Constance. I'd never danced with her; I didn't dare. I got hard-ons from watching her sit at her desk and type. I could just imagine what would happen if I ever got close enough to hold her.
As I watched Gary and Constance move around the floor I wished to God that I wasn't the way I was. As the pieces of label began to pile up I thought back to what made me the way I was.
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As quite a few things do it all started in high school. I dated a lot from the tenth grade on, but I'd never had a steady girlfriend. Didn't have time for one. I worked after school as a stock boy at a super market chain. My parents had given me a car for my sixteenth birthday with the provision that they would take care of the plates and insurance until I was eighteen, but gas, oil and upkeep were on me. That meant job. Job meant no time for steady girlfriend. Just because I didn't have one didn't mean that I didn't want one. I even knew the one I wanted, but it didn't look like it was in the cards.
Amber was a cheerleader and while we had known each other since the sixth grade and were friendly towards each other Amber ran with the jock crowd. I was also in the jock crowd, but as in all things there are hierarchies. In football the top level were the quarterbacks and running backs. The second level are the receivers and kickers (if they were any good) and the bottom level were the grunts who fought it out in the trenches. That was me. Right guard. Amber ran with the top tier. She was going steady with the starting quarterback
I doubted that Amber and I would ever get together, but I guess that the Fates decided to play games with us. It was a Friday night and we were playing an away game against Weston. It was the fourth quarter and we were down 24 to 21. We had the ball on their 38 yard line and there were 59 seconds on the clock. We needed to get to their 25 in order to give our kicker his best shot at tying the game and forcing it into overtime.
Our running game had been going good and personally I would have stayed with it, but a pass play was called. The pass was intercepted. The guy that caught it could have just taken a knee and ended the game, but I guess he wanted to be a hero and try to run it back for a touchdown. He headed for what he thought was an open hole and I met him in it and nailed him. The ball came loose, I grabbed it up and took off for the goal line.
Dumb move looking back on it. I could have taken a knee, called a time out and let the QB and running backs try again, but I guess in the back of my mind I was thinking the same shit the guy who had intercepted the ball was thinking. "I'll be the hero.' Or some other silly shit. Anyway, I was on my way to the end zone and as I ran it occurred to me that linemen aren't the speediest critters around and a Weston player was closing on me. I could see that if he got a good tackle on me I wasn't going to make it to the goal line.
Just as I had that thought Mike Barnes, the tight end who the pass had been intended for came up alongside me and without even thinking about it I handed him the ball, turned and took out the Weston player. Mike scored, our side of the stands went wild as I stood up, offered a hand up to the Weston player and then received one of the biggest shocks of my young life. The fans in the stands were chanting:
"Dawson! Dawson! Dawson!"
That's me; Robert Dawson. My teammates mobbed me and picked me up and carried me off the field. That was the highlight of my football career (both in high school and college) and as weird as it may sound it was what put me and Amber together. I didn't know it and I don't think any of my teammates knew it at the time, but the night before the game Amber had broken up with Brad (the QB) after catching him necking with Harlina Collins.
On the bus back to school Amber sat down next to me and asked if I was going to the victory celebration and when I said yes she asked:
"You want a date?"
"With who?"
"With me silly."
"What about Brad?"
"He's yesterday's news. How about it Bobby?"
"Of course I'd love to be your date."
In my mind I saw it as a one shot deal. She no longer had a steady, didn't want to go to the party by herself so she had attached herself to "The Man of the Hour" (Don't laugh. You know damned well you had an ego when you were a teen).
We had a good time at the party and she clung to me like I was her one and only. I thought it was probably to piss Brad off, but I was surprised when I took her home and she asked me what I was doing Saturday.
"I work Saturday."
"I know, but what about when you get off work?"
"I don't have any plans."
"I don't either. Want to get together and find something to do?"
And just like that Amber and I were a couple. On our fifth date Amber and I ended up on the backseat of my car. I wasn't a cherry; Pauline French had seen to that at my eighteenth birthday party. I had no idea what Amber's sexual history was and I wasn't about to ask her, but we both enjoyed it and it became one of our favorite things to do on a date. My car didn't suck up all of my pay so I occasionally was able to spring for a motel room.
Being your typical naΓ―ve teenager I assumed that Amber and I were forever so it took me by surprise when one night she told me that she wanted to date other guys.
"You will still be my main man Bobby; I just want to occasionally see someone else."
I looked at her as all kinds of thoughts ran through my head. Finally I got it together.
"I don't own you Amber so I can't tell you what you can and can't do. You want to date others? Go ahead. Lord knows I won't be in the way. Goodbye Amber."
I got up and walked away from her. Her father came in to where I worked the next day and started to give me a ration of shit over leaving 'his poor baby' stranded.
"I had to get out of bed and go pick her up."