The Writing's On The Wall
(A Silversmith story)
The minute I entered the gymnasium, I immediately regretted it. The DJ was blasting Limp Biscuit's "Nookie" and I debated on just bailing before I even made it ten steps inside of the door, but for whatever reason, I decided to try and push through and hope that it was just an unfortunate bit of timing. The gymnasium was filled to the brim with my fellow ASU students, all of whom were dressed in Halloween costumes of varying levels of success.
Many of the guys had half-assed it, much like they did back in my hometown of Des Moines, but there were at least a handful that had made the genuine effort to try and put together something impressive or if nothing else original. A couple of them, though, like the zombie Kurt Cobain, seemed like they were in particularly poor taste, even with Kurt's death being nearly half a decade ago at that point. Besides, he was outdone in spades by the guy who was dressed as zombie Buddy Christ, an undead version of the icon from Kevin Smith's then most recent film "Dogma."
I wasn't going for timely, though. I was going for timeless, which is why I was in a Ziggy Stardust costume, reflecting Bowie at the peak of his powers, although I'd just seen him come through with Nine Inch Nails opening for him a few months ago, and he hadn't lost a step. It seemed like most of my fellow students didn't have much of an idea who I was, though, because at least two people said, "Dude, nice KISS costume!" to me before wandering off.
The girls, on the other hand, were all using Halloween as an excuse to put on their sluttiest clothing, if it could even be called that. Lots of them were in bikinis or lingerie, just enough covered so that they were being allowed in, but not so much that they couldn't flash you at half a second's decision if they wanted to. The ones that were going for costumes were going for skimpy and flashy versions of whatever it was they were dressed up as. It felt like there were loads and loads of people dressed up as Neo, Trinity or even Morpheus, since "The Matrix" was all anyone was talking about, although there were a handful of girls dressed up as characters from Sailor Moon.
As I moved further into the gym, Blink-182 launched into "What's My Age Again?" over the PA system, and giant swaths of college kids started thrashing around happily on the dance floor, so much so that I sort of scooted off to one side, heading towards the wall of the building so that I wouldn't get stomped on accidentally.
I remember back then, I couldn't wait to get off of campus. I was spending my second year in the dorms, and the call of having my own apartment had been strong, but I hadn't been making enough money to comfortably move off and do that, so my sophomore year was being spent in the dorms again, and in the spring I'd look at finding an apartment somewhere in Phoenix that was close to the college campus but wouldn't require me donating a kidney to science to be able to pay for the damn thing.
Some friends of mine had said they were going to come to the party that was being held in the campus gym, but I remember thinking that I wasn't sure how the hell I was going to find them among the giant mass of people out there. There had to be two or three hundred people in the gym at least, and the last thing I wanted to do was shove into the middle to try and find Davey and Nicky, just to see them jamming their tongues down the throats of their girlfriends Nancy and Desiree. I jokingly referred to the four of them as Dan-Dan when I was especially annoyed with them.
The Halloween party was free, but since it was on campus, it was also dry, housing only the freshman and sophomores who didn't have an in over at Greek Row or with older friends hosting parties of their own off campus. It wasn't the sort of thing I typically went to - I hadn't even bothered last year - but this year enough people had asked me if I was going to go that I basically got so tired of explaining why I wasn't going go that I changed my mind and just decided to go instead of having to repeat myself over and over again.
To be fair, the girls in their sexy costumes were easy on the eyes. There was a girl dressed as Daisy Duke that caught my eye, and I remember I was thinking to myself, 'There's no fucking
way
those are her real tits,' when I felt a tapping on the shoulder. I winced for a second, wondering if I'd been caught leering, then turned around to see my lab partner from Chem 209, a girl named Taylor, standing there dressed in what could only be described as Little Red Riding Hood meets Victoria's Secret Angel. Her brown hair had to have been in the curlers for hours to get those heavy long rings that she had running down from beneath that red velvet hood, covering a lot of what she had on display hidden, but it looked like she was wearing a black corset and black satin hotpants on beneath it, as well as leather boots that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.
Now, don't get me wrong, I've always thought Taylor was hot, but I'd shot my shot with her before and she'd turned me down, saying she didn't want it to ruin our friendship, and that she enjoyed being able to talk so open and freely with me, something that she was convinced would end if we ever hooked up. She must have forgotten her contacts because she had on large, chunky, black-framed glasses on over her eyes, something I'd only seen her wear a few times because she said she hated how they made her look. I'd told her I thought they were kind of hot on her, and she'd scolded me and told me to stop flirting with her, because it wasn't gonna happen, and if I kept it up, I was only going to make her mad.
She wasn't alone, though, because standing next to her was another girl whom I didn't recognize, although I certainly recognized her costume. She was wearing a Union Jack dress and red knee-high gogo boots, and while her face didn't look at all like Ginger Spice, her hair was a vibrant shade of strawberry blonde that gleamed in the flashing lights within the gym. The dress looked like it might have been a size too small, though, because it was clinging on to her like it was threatening to give out at any moment, and it was especially tight around the chest area, the impression of her stiff nipples visible to anyone who gave even a casual glance her direction.
"Hey Steve!" Taylor said with a wide smile. "I don't think you've met my roommate, Maggie." She gestured to the redhead next to her, who gave me the kind of look that made my knees go a little bit weak, something somewhere between interest and delight, but backed by the kind of intensity that made me feel a bit like an ant underneath some schoolboy's magnifying glass on a hot sunny day.
"Hey there Steve." I was about to reach out and shake Maggie's hand when she leaned in and kissed one of my cheeks, then moved to kiss the other, the entire time her tits were wedged right up against my chest, and I held my breath for a moment, the scent of her, floral and yet also sweet, lingered in my nostrils. Her hand was on my hip, as if she thought I might try to back away from her, but I was almost too terrified to move.
Here's the thing - Maggie wasn't just
pretty
; she was the kind of hot that made you want to not tell your friends about her because of fear that might cause them to swarm your place and prevent you from getting any time with her. She was the level of beautiful where you were certain she'd never heard anyone tell her no for anything in her entire life. Perfect skin, perfect teeth, perfect cheekbones... Taylor was easily an 8 or a 9, but Maggie broke the top of the chart off and just kept on climbing.
I remember thinking that there was almost something
unnaturally
attractive about Maggie at the time, and I probably should've listened to that, but at the time, all the blood was rushing towards another part of my body and abandoning ship on my brain's functionality.
"H-h-hey there, Maggie," I said when I finally found myself able to speak. "Nice to meet you."
