In general, Mark didn't much care for clubs. He did enjoy being with other people and he liked a drink the same as the next person but still, there was just something about the combination of very loud noise (he couldn't bring himself to describe it as music) and a very crowded space just wasn't his scene.
Despite his general dislike for them, most weekends Mark still found himself in a club, usually accompanied by Pete - his room mate and friend of many years. He didn't resent that Pete usually convinced him to come to one of these places he didn't like, far from it. The reason Pete wanted to go was to pick up women, which he invariably succeeded in doing. Mark on the other hand was not accustomed to success in that department and he desperately wanted to learn.
The night everything changed for Mark actually started with the pattern very much following its usual shape. Some drinks and dancing, followed by Pete insinuating the two of them into a small group of women. In tonight's case, two very attractive blondes.
No matter how hard he tried though, Mark could just never seal the deal. It didn't take long for Pete to settle on which of the two he was going to put the moves on - Jennifer, Mark thought her name was. In the scenario Pete always laid out beforehand, this would free up the other girl, in this case Jennifer's friend Rebecca, for Mark to work on.
The trouble was that tonight, as with almost all the nights in the past, Mark felt overwhelmingly awkward. So much so in fact that he found it difficult to quantify or compare the feeling. To him, it was like going into an exam that everyone else seemed to pass really easily but he failed over and over again.
While Pete and Jennifer were clearly getting along very well - hands were moving on each other by now - Mark couldn't resist the enormous urge to believe that Rebecca didn't like him and would like nothing better than to just get out of here so she could be away from his feeble attempts to flirt with her. Moreover, he couldn't shake off a nagging feeling somewhere inside him that the very idea of what they were doing was somehow beneath them, should be somehow offensive to Rebecca and Jennifer. Not that Jennifer seemed to mind.
Pete often tried to convince him that it was all in his head, that girls did like him. He was fit, attractive, smart, funny - the full package. But Mark couldn't help feeling these repeated reminders were just a good friend's way of being kind, of trying to encourage him to find a way out of his obvious nervousness. In reality, he didn't ever really feel like he was any of those things.
The feeling of inadequacy on this particular night was just too strong for him. At one of the many uncomfortable lulls in the conversation between he and Rebecca, Mark slipped to the restroom and returned to say he wasn't feeling well and would take an early night. Rebecca smiled politely. Mark thought there may even have been a little hint of sympathy in her smile, as if she knew exactly what was going on in his head. If anything, this made him feel even worse about himself. Pete on the other hand shot Mark a hard glare and told Jennifer he'd be back in a second, just wanted to see Mark out.
"What the fuck are you doing?! You got it on a fucking platter! And she's fucking gorgeous!" he said, exasperated.
"I'm sorry Pete, I'm just not feeling it. Hey, I'm not going to screw things up for you am I?"
Knowing his friend so well, Mark could sense the disappointment, frustration and probably mostly concern on Pete's face.
"Aw, fuck it man. I mean, no. I think this Jennifer might be a total fuckin' nympho man, you should hear some of the stuff she's saying to me already," he replied, a smile breaking out a little, a forlorn hope of convincing Mark to stay. "Come on Mark, give..." he went on, but Mark cut him off.
"It's OK Pete, I'm just a little tired. I'll see you later, OK."
No further words were needed. Pete gave Mark a knowing look of understanding before they went their separate ways.
As he made his way the short distance to their apartment building, Mark couldn't help but brood. Although he hadn't often done something like this - left his wing man in mid-flight so to speak - tonight's latest failure was particularly hard for him to take. He really did like Rebecca.
It wasn't just that she was incredibly attractive - a tall, leggy blonde with an amazing ass and quite remarkable breasts, who didn't need to wear a lot of make-up to accentuate her beautiful face - but those parts of their conversation that hadn't been unbearably awkward had actually hinted at someone he was really interested in. She had an interesting job as a research scientist at the University and they had shared hatred of at least a couple of movies and bands.
Even worse, he couldn't shake the feeling that she probably did think he was interesting as well. He had gotten the sense that it was almost as if she had been willing him to be better at talking to a woman he'd never met before in a nightclub than he actually was. This was the source, he thought, of the hint of sympathy in her face when he cried off.
He was still brooding on this as he climbed into bed alone back at the apartment he shared with Pete, hoping that if he fell asleep quickly and deeply enough, he might not hear Pete and Jennifer fucking in the room next to his when they got back.
As it happened, he had only really just drifted off when he was awakened by familiar sounds from Pete's room. He glanced over at his bedside clock and realized they were only just getting started. Given the enormous lengths Pete went to to ensure the women he brought back to the apartment had a satisfactorily pleasurable - and therefore necessarily long - experience, he decided the best thing to do, given the mood he was in, was leave.
Quietly, so as not to disturb the ambiance in the next room, where Jennifer was moaning very loudly now in between offering Pete both strong praise and fulsome encouragement in equal measure while he, evidently, ate her out, Mark threw on some clothes and headed out the door.
He didn't really have a plan on what he would do, but he knew he needed to get out and soon found himself wandering aimlessly around their neighborhood.
It was a balmy summer's evening, a little before 2am. Their neighborhood was, ordinarily, a nice place to live. Mostly young people, like he and Pete, and all the things they needed to enjoy life. Though there were plenty of bars and nightclubs, it was not what you would call wild, or rough for that matter.
Mark found himself happy for the distraction this musing on the quality of their locale offered until he was brought crashing back to his disappointment by an incredibly striking woman on the other side of the street.
She was walking towards him, and although they were some way apart still, in the dim street lights he could somehow see her incredibly clearly. Her hair was dark, indeed Mark thought he had never seen such black hair before, all light seemed to be sucked into it, and she wore a loose black dress that nevertheless hung sensuously on an obviously shapely form.
Most striking though, even from a distance, were her eyes. Mark nearly had to do a double take and admonished himself for still being a little drunk or asleep, or both. They were the brightest green he'd ever seen and seemed to - literally - sparkle when he looked at her. Like when someone in a toothpaste commercial smiles. He had never seen anything like it before, not in real life anyway.
They were so mesmerizing in fact that when she looked back at him, he was too entranced to quickly look away and pretend he hadn't been looking at her as he would normally have done. The warm and gentle smile that formed on her face startled him back to reality and he hoped he managed at least a weak smile back before finally averting his gaze. He didn't want to seem weird.
They were almost level with each other now, though on opposite sidewalks, so that Mark would soon have to turn around to keep looking at her. He knew doing this would mark him as a huge creep but it still took some effort to keep his head facing forward, his desire not to make the woman feel uncomfortable ultimately winning out.
He was approaching the corner of the block while she was just moving away from it. In the act of moving his head so that he wouldn't keep staring at her, a jolt of movement startled Mark and he stopped dead.
The next minute or so were all a bit of a blur to him afterwards when he tried to put it together.
The dark clad figure, head obscured by a hood or maybe a balaclava.
The woman's scream as the figure grabbed her and pulled at the bag whose strap was around her body.
Mark would never have described himself as a coward, but it was certainly safe to say he avoided confrontation when at all possible. As it turned out, the instinctive part of his brain obviously didn't think this was a situation where it could be avoided.
Having noticed the attacker before he reached the woman - Mark had to assume later the attacker hadn't seem him on the opposite sidewalk in the dim light - he was already halfway across the street to intervene when the woman screamed as the attacker grabbed her.
Later, his conscious mind tried to chastise him for not thinking about what he was doing, about the potential for a knife or a gun or a needle.
But in the moment, he didn't think of any of these things. Instinct took over.
"Hey!!!" he shouted, as loud as he was able. He thought he saw the attacker look towards him but couldn't be sure. Following her own instincts, the woman was resisting the attacker's attempts to grab her bag.
"Get the fuck off her!!!" Mark shouted again as he reached them.
Again, Mark was no fighter, but he probably did look imposing. A little over 6'1, his frame was broad and lean. Although he'd never much been one for organized sports, he did keep himself in shape. He imagined later that this fact probably entered into the attacker's thinking when he decided very quickly to abandon this botched enterprise of his and run back the way he had come.
Briefly, Mark shifted his path to follow the attacker round the corner but stopped.
The woman was standing against the building they were alongside. He could see she was breathing heavily and he didn't resist the overwhelming urge to comfort her.
"Shit... oh my god, are you OK?" he asked, approaching her slowly with his hands help up as if in a gesture of surrender to reassure her.
