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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Is Life Really That Unfair?
by SecretDCGuy (secretdcguy@hotmail.com)
***
In the spirit of the "Always With Me" series, two 20-
somethings who are each battling their own demons are
thrown together in a club. Ironically, they vaguely knew
each other years before. Now can one night change the
lives of a former cheerleader and the guy who used to be
one of the invisible kids? (MF, rom)
***
Authors note: This story is inspired by the "Always with
Me" series. Here we get a glimpse into the lives of two
of JJ Jenkins and Brian Schaffer's old classmates. It
also involves some characters from that series. If you
want to learn more about their stories, take a look at
my page: www.asstr.org/~Secret_DC_Guy.
***
Steve's First Impression...
If it was really her, life was truly unfair. JJ Jenkins
had been one of the most popular girls in high school.
Any guy would have been lucky to have her. The problem
was that she spent two and a half years dating the
quarterback who turned out to be a fag anyway. Then all
of a sudden they break up after the prom and she runs
away with someone who was just as big a nerd as he was.
Yeah, she and Brian Schaffer had been neighbors, but
really, why did that make Brian better than him.
Thinking about it was depressing.
Most nights he would have been content to be at the
club, being wingman for his best friends and picking up
the crumbs that they dropped. The less attractive friend
was usually more interesting anyway, and most of them
were out to prove something. If their friend could get
laid, so could they. It was amusing how he actually got
more than either of his friends.
But tonight was different. Sitting at the bar as his
friends danced with woman after woman—the main
attraction of the club tonight, he was seeing JJ Jenkins
stirring a drink talking with a bunch of other girls.
Most of them he didn't recognize, probably friends from
college or something, but one of them was Megan—what's
her last name—from the cheerleading team, the one
everyone thought was a dyke. And then there was that
other girl. He didn't know who she was, but she looked
damn familiar.
He wasn't drinking. This Friday wasn't a good night for
that. Instead he had his buddy the bartender slip him
glasses of lemonade from a private stash behind the bar.
Man, life was depressing.
Then she was walking to the bar. JJ Jenkins was coming
towards him. He had heard the stories; he remembered the
wedding announcement; and there was no chance Brian
Schaffer would let her go. But he had to try. When the
hottest girl from his high school sat down to rest while
waiting for drinks, he would have to talk with her.
"JJ Jenkins?" he shouted over the pounding music as he
walking towards her.
"Schaffer, actually," she yelled turning towards him.
A part of his heart fell onto the filthy floor, where
spilled beer disintegrated fallen napkins into mud. She
was still with him. It was just another time he would
not get the hot girl.
"Wait, I know you," she said, looking at him again.
"Steve Michaels! Oh my God! I haven't seen you in years.
What are you doing down here?"
Well, at least she remembered. That was something. He
told her he lived here now, working in a satellite
office of a big New York advertising firm. He told her
how much he loved the industry and how much he loved the
city. He left out the details of being exiled from the
city he really wanted to be in after failing to make a
deadline on his first big project. The introduction of a
new brand of toothpaste had to be delayed. The firm
still believed in him though, so they shipped him off to
DC so he could learn the art of creating political
advertisements. There had to be something more.
JJ was super sweet to him, explaining how she and Brian
had graduated college and had just taken over her
father's company. JJS Enterprises, a firm that took your
property development from conceptualization through
building—no need for another company. Apparently, they
were doing quite well. As she talked, he couldn't figure
out if she was really that sweet of a girl or if she was
taking pity on him. The best he could do was just sit
there and listen.
Sara's First Impression...
Of course, JJ was talking with some guy. She was totally
devoted to her husband, but still seemed to attract all
of the cute guys. Well maybe this one wasn't attractive
in the classic sense, but she liked a bit of a geeky
look. In high school, she had been the good cheerleader,
dating athletes and other popular kids, but she knew
that none of them were really for her. She just couldn't
date anyone like that until after graduation.
The guy she had her sights set on was Brian Schaffer,
whom she knew was JJ's best friend. Often, she tried to
find a way to get JJ to invite her to hang out with her
and Brian. But the offer never came. JJ seemed to be
more protective of Brian than she was with her
boyfriend. Then on graduation night when she was finally
prepared to ask Brian out even though he was actually
dating JJ. That relationship wouldn't last though, JJ
was going to the University of Virginia and Brian hadn't
finished high school too well. He would have to be going
to some local school.
But then, JJ and Brian never showed up for any of the
parties. The next day rumor had it that they had eloped.
It was kind of true. They came back engaged and
announcing that they were going to the same school, the
Capitol University.
That was the worst part. Brian and JJ got out of that
boring town. Actually, it seemed that the area's biggest
export was college graduates. She desperately wanted to
be one of them, and this was the city in which she
wanted to be. She had always wanted to be a nurse, even
though her best subjects were history and government.
So when the chance came to go on a two week summer
program before senior year she jumped at it. She would
have preferred something science related, but there were
other kids who were really good at that too. Instead,
with a group of other kids she had traveled by bus to
Philadelphia, Lancaster, York, and Baltimore tracing the
routes of the Continental Congress as it moved around
during the Revolution. The final stop was in Washington,
DC.
As she and one of the other girls stared out the window
of their hotel, which was just across the river from
Georgetown, she was drawn to the city. Though 'lights
out' was at 9:00 PM she and the other girl somehow
managed to sneak out. They crossed the bridge into
Georgetown and were bombarded with nightlife they had
never seen before. There were restaurants with 20-
somethings in the latest fashions, bars with men in
suits, and the sweet sound of jazz pouring out of an
alley.
An older man, she wasn't sure how old, saw them and
asked if they would accompany him for the evening.
Though he seemed a bit creepy, the other girl jumped at
the chance. They went with him to a restaurant where she
had oysters on the half shell for the first time. The
first one was disgusting, but after five more she had a
new favorite food. The man was even able to get her a
glass of white wine.
At the parties back home she would practically gag on
the pink wine in a box that someone would inevitably
bring. This one was smooth and fruity though. She wanted
another, but the man said no. After dinner, he put them
in a cab back to the hotel. He had been the consummate
gentleman.
Things didn't work out though. Though she was accepted
to Immaculate Heart University on a full scholarship
where she planned on studying nursing, she didn't end up
going. Her father had been an alcoholic for as long as
she could remember and hadn't worked in years. On
Christmas Eve her senior year, he was drunk and angry.
Her mother had planned an early dinner so she could go
to Midnight Mass, but her father wanted sex that night,
so there was a terrible fight.
It culminated with him pulling down the Christmas tree
and burning all the presents in the backyard fire pit.
In the morning, her mother was gone along with her
younger brother and sister. All that was left was a note
saying, "Dearest Sara, please finish high school, then
get out of there. I can't tell you where we're going,
but I will find you when I can." That was the last she
had ever heard from any of them.
Going away to college was now out of the question. Her
father spent most of his time obliterated, and someone
needed to support him. She tried to get him disability,
but he wouldn't even go to the hearings. She was
desperate. When one night after a football game, one of
the player's fathers offered to help her out if she
would spend the night with him, she said yes. Luckily,
JJ had overhead what happened.
That night when the guy came to pick her up, an ancient
looking black man confronted him on the street. After a
quick conversation the football player's father took out
a wad of money, gave it to the black man, got in his
car, and sped away. The black man then came to her door
and gave her the money, saying, "Amos Jones believes
this belongs to you." For the rest of high school every
Friday there was an envelope of money slipped through
the mail slot.
However, after graduation she needed to get out of the
house—to not live with that man any more. So while going
to the community college for her nursing degree, she
worked full time in the men's department of a department
store at the local mall. On many nights after her shift
ended but before she drove back to the efficiency
apartment she shared with two other girls, she would sit
in her car at the edge of the parking lot looking out
over the lights of the valley wishing something would
change.
Eventually, something did—email. As she was finishing up
school, a friend of a friend had started a company that
for a small price would give you internet service and
email. It was a godsend. At first it was nice just to
read bulletin boards about what was going on in the
world, but eventually she began to feel connected with
the world again.
A chance encounter with JJ's mother turned out even
better. When the conversation ended with the requisite
"tell her I said hi", JJ's mother ended up giving her
JJ's email address. From there things began to look up,
as she was able to start writing to an old friend.
Unfortunately, just as it looked like her life was
getting better, everything came crashing down again.
Amazingly, one night her father was sober enough to walk
out of the bar and get in a car. It became a tragedy
though when he hit a car carrying a family of five. The
accident was so bad that everyone involved was killed.
There was no lawsuit, but Sara's life was ruined. She
now had a house in which to live, but was a pariah in
the town.
For almost two years she did little besides go to her
job at a local nursing home, wiping the shit off of old
women's asses, and stay in the house watching TV.
Occasionally, she would go out, but whenever she met a
guy he would bolt as soon as he learned her name. Then
one day there was an email from JJ inviting her to come
down to DC for a girls' weekend. It might not be the
opportunity of a lifetime, but it was a chance to visit
the city of which she dreamed, possibly for the last
time.
So that brought her to tonight, standing with a bunch of
girls who could never understand her while she watched
JJ Schaffer talking the ear off of some cute guy. In a
moment of jealousy and desperation she decided to go
over and talk to the guy as well.
"Sara! Guess who this is?" JJ asked, when she joined
them at the bar.
The guy looked familiar, but at this point it had been
so long since she had had a date, much less sex, she
really didn't care. Instead, it was a matter of sticking
up for her pride. She shrugged and said, "No."
"Of all people, this is Steve Michaels from high
school!" she shouted over the music.
Then she recognized him. He was a nominal friend of
Brian Schaffer and by extension JJ. He was cute and a
bit of a geek, just the kind of guy she knew she should
have dated back then. As they exchanged greetings,
feelings of the failure of the past seven years overcame
her. However, she kept them bottled up inside. She
didn't want to look like the emotional wreck of a friend
who was going to dump her problems on some guy she
hadn't seen in years.
When Steve offered to buy each of them a drink, she
accepted. JJ, on the other hand, smiled and said she
didn't really drink. With a wink, she excused herself
back to her friends. JJ had left her with this guy.
Steve's lament...
He should have known it would come to this. Though it
was obvious that JJ was going home to Brian Schaffer at
the end of the night, he at least thought he might be
able to spend the night talking with her at the bar.
Then when he talked to his friends the next day, he
could tell them that it was a girl he knew from high
school and make up some excuse for not taking her home.
But now when he had just offered to buy JJ and her
friend—what was her last name—a drink, and JJ had walked
away. He must have come off like some kind of prick
trying to seduce a married woman. Now he was stuck
sharing a drink with this girl that apparently he should
have remembered from high school but didn't.
For a few minutes he tried to remember anything about
her, but nothing came. Then he remembered, Sara Parker
was about the most stuck up girl in his class. She only
dated the most popular guys for much of school. The
senior year she stopped dating them as well. Rumor was
that she was dating some college guy. She never would
have given a guy like him the time of day, probably
didn't even notice him. Now though, he was stuck talking
with her while she finished the drink.
At first the conversation was worse than anyone could
expect for a bar conversations. He really didn't know
anything about her, and she probably didn't even
remember him. So at first all they could talk about was
JJ and Brian. That was fine; it was shallow enough that
there was not really a commitment to anything other than
finish their drinks.
That seemed to be one of the hard parts though. This
girl seemed to be taking excruciatingly long to finish
her drink. It seemed that she would only take a drink
when he his attention was on something else. By looking
at her glass, he could tell that she was taking gulps.
There was nothing worse than a sloppy drunk girl.
Knowing his luck, she'd want to come back to his place
and he'd end up playing nursemaid as she worshiped the
porcelain god. Hot though a girl might be, you can't
sleep with her if she's falling over drunk. Then, just
his luck, the damn bartender spills her drink and gives
her some pink fruity thing 'compliments of the house'.
Then of course there had to be an awkward turn in the
conversation—always, an awkward turn. She had been
talking about how surprised she was when JJ and Brian
ran off together and was a little upset that JJ didn't
tell her beforehand. Then she says, "I guess I shouldn't
be mad. JJ helped me out so much when my mother left."
Then silence. He waited for her to say more, like how JJ
helped her, but nothing came.
The worst part was that there may have actually been
something interesting to talk about with her. With what
little he knew, he figured that she came from one of
those perfect families where the mother baked muffins
every Saturday morning. But if she had a screwed up
family life, they may actually have something in common.
College had been hard enough. He was smart, but Columbia
and NYU were far out of the question. Instead, the
closest he could get to New York City was Long Island or
Northern Jersey. He picked a school in the latter to
study advertising, but for four years felt like he was
continuously being taunted by the lights of the city
skyline, a place he wanted to be, but never would get
to. But then after graduation he was offered a job
there. Some alumnus had seen his senior project and
loved it. Suddenly, he had the opportunity to work with
a big advertising firm. Life was going to work out the
way he hoped it would.
But of course, good things never happened to him. No one
from his family had been to college. His father owned a
propane delivery company and did fairly well, so he saw
no need for any more than a high school education. His
mother was a housewife who had gone right from her
father's house to her husband's house. Both of his older
brothers had gone into the service and were serving out
tours overseas.
That's where the problem came in. His father didn't
think that either of the brothers would come back, so he
was the designated heir to the family business. However,
a life of driving a trunk around trailer parks in the
countryside was far from appealing. When he told his
parents he was taking the job, there was a fight. He
ended up storming out of the house he grew up in at nine
o'clock in the evening, and managed to get a friend down
the street to give him a ride to the bus station where
he got the last bus to New York. They hadn't spoken
since.
As the pause became more pronounced, he took a second to
look at her. Her hair was straight. It looked nice, but
was obviously cut so she could get it ready quickly. He
remembered it being different in high school—bangs
curled under and crimped, long blonde hair stiff with
hair spray, basically the same as every other girl back
then.
The way she wore her hair today though was not childish.
There was seriousness in it, as if it was saying she
knew what the world was really like. Washington DC was a
city where people pretend to be serious, but few people
actually are. The city is a game that everyone you met
was playing. This woman in front of him was not playing
that game.
Suddenly, he was getting nervous. Since he had screwed
up his job in New York and been exiled to this city, he
was looking for someone who saw past the façade of
everything being OK. Just from her hair and a few early
wrinkles around her eyes, he could tell that the still
beautiful woman in front of him was the kind of woman he
was looking for. It was ironic that she would be here
for the night and then be gone.
Twenty minutes earlier he had been trying to see if he
could get the most popular girl from high school to give
him the time of day. Now he was having the "getting to
know you conversation" with a different girl from back
then. It had only been 7 years, but it felt like a
lifetime. Now he didn't even know whether to ask about
her life today or about the childhood he probably should
have seen. Still though, he wanted the conversation to
go on. A moment later he regretted asking the shallow
question that begins every meeting in DC, "So what do
you do?"
Her response was so unlike anything he got from women in
the city. Instead of trying to make herself seem like
the most important person on the planet, she was very
straight forward about what she did. It was odd; he
couldn't picture one of the popular girls becoming a
nurse. But here was one in front of him—one who worked
in a nursing home at that. Personally, he hated the
places, but admired someone who could spend entire days
in those depressing places.
Then she asked what he did. It was a hard question to
answer—not because he could not tell her exactly what he
did, down to the most minute detail, but because he was
ashamed that he had gone from big time New York
advertising to making political ads for the hacks
running for Congress and Senate. He said as little as he
could, but she seemed interested. It was as if she
actually found it respectable.
Her demeanor had changed. She was smiling and hanging on
his every word as if she actually found it—or found him—
interesting. Then she asked the toughest question—did he
like his job? There was no way to answer the question
without lying. He hated doing political advertising with
every fiber of his being. But what would she think if he
said he hated it. She would probably ask that naïve
question about trying something else. People from
outside the city always did.
The only thing to do was to not answer the question, but
say something close enough that she would not know he
was avoiding it. So he said, "I love advertising. It
beats delivering propane."
Before she could pry further, he had to turn the tables
on her, so he asked about her life back home. She had to
have a lot of guys up there. And since he was a little
interested, he might as well find out if he had a chance
or not. There was probably no hope in the long run, but
at least tonight could be fun.
She completely changed. The smile was gone, and she was
quiet for a little while. When she started talking about
how busy she was with work, she seemed guarded. There
was obviously something she was not saying. Maybe she
did have a boyfriend—or even a husband; some women do
take off their rings. Maybe she even had kid, or was a
single mother. It did not seem like it was anything like
that though. It seemed to be a loneliness or even
desperation that she was holding back.
Looking at her, he melted. He had always been a sucker
for a girl with a good sob story. Actually, they were
usually easier to get into bed. But it was different
with this girl. He did not want to bed her. It occurred
to him that sex might actually hurt her. Instead, he
wanted to take her home, make her coffee, hug her, and
make all of her problems go away. He needed an idea.
Sara's Lament...
It was a bit awkward after JJ left them alone. The
conversation seemed strained, but for some reason the
guy seemed interesting. She tried to place him in her
mind, but there were a few Steves in their class. Which
one was Steve Michaels?
It was obvious that JJ wanted them to be alone though.
With how JJ had helped during high school, it would be
hard not to trust her. So she decided to just keep
talking to this guy.
He wasn't particularly tall or well built, but there was
something cute about him. Maybe it was how he cracked a
small half-face smile when he made a comment he thought
was funny. Most people didn't think you should laugh at
your own jokes, but she never knew why that was the
case. Maybe it was that he didn't seem to care that he
was away from his friends—that it was just the two of
them.
Or maybe it was his eyes. Even in the dark of the club,
she could see depth in them. They weren't the contact
lens covered shallow pools of color that she saw in so
many people. They were deep with experiences greater
than anyone their age should have had. It was the look
she saw in old men's eyes when they would come to visit
their Alzheimer's suffering wives in the nursing home—
memories and struggles hidden behind soft voices and old
jokes. In Steve's eyes she saw pain. But why?
She had to learn more. One problem though was the drink
in her hand—a Lynchburg Lemonade or something like that.
Because she didn't go out, she didn't have the
opportunity to get a drink with anyone, and she refused
to drink alone. She probably wouldn't have drunk anyway
though. Alcohol reminded her of the pain her father had
caused. But it was rude to refuse a drink though. So
after she had taken it, she held it in her hand while
she listened to him. Then on the occasions when he would
look away, maybe for his friend or maybe for the
bartender to get him another drink, she would pour some
on the floor.
The bartender must have been watching though. At one
point he came up and asked if her if the drink was OK.
She politely said yes, but something must have told him
what she was really doing because a minute later when he
was cleaning a glass and talking to Steve, the bartender
hit the drink with his elbow sending it flying past her.
He apologized profusely and told her he would get her
something special 'on the house'. A minute later he came
back with a pink drink in his hand. He waited while she
tried it—pink lemonade. She was safe. She gulped it down
and ordered another.
It was ironic that even though the only thing they had
to talk about was JJ, she found herself enjoying her
conversation with Steve. The best part was that she
could talk with him about something having to do with
home without him judging her based upon her father.
Apparently, he hadn't been around enough to hear about
it. As she began to feel more relaxed she said that JJ
had really helped her after her mother left.
Suddenly, he seemed more interested, as if there might
be a something beyond a common friend about which they
could talk. But before she let the conversation go any
further, she realized that if she said what JJ had done
for her she would have to tell this guy, who seemed to
at least be a nice guy, about being willing to
prostitute herself to support an alcoholic father.
Eventually she would mention her father and the dead
family. Then the conversation would be over and she
would be alone again.
For a while neither of them said anything. It seemed as
if the guy had something to say to her, but instead he
stared at her hair. Of all the things he could do to
make her self-conscious, that was the most powerful. In
high school she had always took pride in her hair
spending an hour each morning teasing her bangs and
crimping. It took a lot of work, and a lot of hairspray,
but it was worthwhile to have a look that most other
girls didn't have.
However, now it was too hard to do her hair every day.
Instead, she had a simple straightforward cut that was
easy to get ready in the morning and would look just
about the same all day at work. He must have thought she
looked like she didn't care.
But then all of a sudden he began to show more interest,
and actually asked what she did. Back home no one really
cared who you were. Instead they judged you by who your
family was or what group of people you hung out with.
This guy wanted to know about her! Though she was not
particularly proud of her job, she started to describe
working at the nursing home. She described, in as much
detail as she found appropriate, a day in her life
ending with going home and watching TV because she was
so tired. It was a half-truth, but she didn't want to
say that she cloistered herself because of her father.
When she finished, he still seemed interested, almost
fascinated by something. His interest made her feel
happier than she had in a long time. Returning the
favor, she asked what he did.
His answer was reserved, as if he were picking his words
carefully. He told her how he had majored in advertising
and worked for a while in New York City, mentioning
something about working on a project for toothpaste, one
she remembered wanting to try but was too expensive for
her to use on her budget. But then his company had sent
him to Washington to do political advertising. Just by
chance he had ended up in what had to be the greatest
city in the world. Finally, he ended up by saying that
if he was not in advertising he would be delivering
propane.
That's who he was, Steve Michaels of the Michael's
Propane Services family. She could almost have laughed
remembering how in elementary school, she didn't
remember which year, he had farted in class and some
other kid made a joke about how Steve's father collected
his 'gas'. Steve had almost been in tears, but everyone
else was laughing. Back then it was funny to her as
well, but after the last few years she understood how
Steve had felt.
Most times she interacted with other people now, she
wanted to cry. Often, she would have people remind her
that her father had killed an entire family. It didn't
matter that they had been estranged for years; it only
mattered that they shared blood. And it seemed to all of
the town they shared blood on their hands too.
It was fascinating though. How did the son of a propane
delivery man end up in advertising? On top of that, he
was living in Washington, DC making political ads. What
could be better than that? She wanted to ask more, find
out who he had worked for and things like that. However,
before she could ask anything else, he asked her about
the topic that more than any she did not want to talk
about—life back home.
She knew that at some point he would probably realize
who she was, so she would have to say something, but she
didn't want to say anything here. Not in this club. So
she talked about work and how busy she was, it wasn't
really true, but it was true enough.
Steve must have realized that something was wrong
because his smile disappeared. At best she was getting
bored, at worst he realized who she was. The pressure of
the conversation and trying to pretend that she was
somebody she wasn't began to exhaust her. She needed a
way out, so she asked where the rest rooms were. It was
strange though, instead of pointing them out and
finishing his drink, he offered to walk her back. When
he took her hand to lead her through the crowd,
something just felt right. It was as if she had been
holding his hand for years.
As she walked into the ladies room, she was able to give
Steve a quick but honest smile. Just the walk to the
back of the club had been the best thing that had
happened to her since her father's accident. Instead of
being shunned, someone actually touched her. She smiled
back trying to say thank you.
However, in the restroom, reality raced back. She was in
city where she always wanted to be, talking with the
type of guy she should have dated years ago, but all of
it had to be an an illusion. The moment she mentioned
her father, the night would end in disappointment. For a
few minutes she cried. Though other girls stared at her
no one even asked if she was OK. Eventually, she
composed herself and wiped her eyes with a wet paper
towel.
As she left the ladies room, she realized that she was
hungry. When she casually mentioned it to him, Steve
mentioned he knew a good place to get some breakfast.
Though he immediately looked as if he had regretted
asking her, she quickly accepted.
Steve's Wish...
When she said she needed to use the restroom, Steve's
heart deflated. He had been there before. You talk to a
girl for a while; she gets bored with you; she says she
needs to use the ladies' room; and then she never comes
back. You sit at the bar for half an hour and eventually
see her with her friend, but there's always a guy there
too. Usually, they're sucking face. Like all the other
times, he was sure she was trying to get away from him—
in a rude way that all girls thought was polite.
Normally, he would have pointed out the restroom and let
her go. If he met another girl who asked about 'the
woman he'd been talking to' he would just say she was an
old friend from home. That was partly true, so he could
probably pull it off. Tonight, though, he was going to
take a chance. This girl—Sara, that was her name—was
different than the girls he usually met here. She was
attractive, and interesting, and most of all genuine. He
could not just let her go. Instead, he slid off his bar
stool and took her hand saying, "Let me take you there."
Sara didn't protest, instead he let him silently lead
her through the writhing crowd towards the other side of
the club. He pulled her close enough so that they didn't
get pulled apart, but not so close that she would think
he was trying to bed her. When they got to the short
hallway that led to the restroom, he let go of her hand.
If he took her to the door then waited for her to come
out, he would probably seem smothering. That's not how
he wanted to come across. Instead, he let go of her and
looked at her. A sad smile came to his face, a smile of
resignation telling her that he had a good time but he
knew that it was goodbye. Surprisingly though, she
smiled back. Maybe there was a chance.
There hadn't seemed to be a line, so when she hadn't
come out after 10 minutes Steve was convinced that she
was going to linger inside and hope that he would give
up waiting and leave her to her friends. However, just
as he was about to give up, Sara came out of the
bathroom. Her eyes puffy and it looked as if she had
been crying.
He wondered what was wrong. Was it him? Did she have a
boyfriend and feel like she was cheating? He wanted to
know, but with the loud music and cacophony of voices
drowning out every individual, he knew that it would be
hard to get personal here. He wanted to play it cool,
but he wanted to get her out of the club. A walk by the
monuments would be perfect, but that would be too much
for tonight. Instead when she mentioned that she was
hungry, he asked if she wanted to get breakfast.
Immediately he regretted asking. A woman from out of
town would think that he was trying to separate her from
her friends. She would think that he would get her to
his place then rape her—or something like that. However,
instead of declining then running back to JJ and the
other girls, she accepted with a smile.
For Steve, this was uncharted territory. He would now be
responsible for anything that happened to her. When Sara
said they should tell JJ, he almost took back the offer.
In high school, it seemed like any time JJ got into
trouble, or Brian for that matter, things seemed to work
out in their favor. It was as if someone were always
protecting them. JJ would probably extend that to Sara
tonight. I could be a disaster.
When they found JJ and the other girls on the dance
floor, the usual thing happened. JJ excused herself and
pulled Sara to off to the side. Steve could see a look
of concern on JJ's face as they talked, but gradually it
faded. Finally, JJ had Sara breathe in her face and
smiled. He knew that he had just seen the 'poor man's
breathalyzer', and Sara had passed. He had always had
been suspect of it, but seeing Sara pass after how much
she had had to drink, he was sure that it was indeed
bull.
JJ motioned for him to follow as she led Sara to the
bar. She grabbed a napkin and asked for a pen. "Give me
your driver's license," she said. Without think about
it, Steve pulled it out as it was obvious that JJ was
going to copy down his address. However, when she looked
at it, she cocked an eyebrow and said "New York?"
Steve knew the night was over, though he had been in DC
for a while—living in Virginia actually—he had never
gotten a new driver's license. Technically, it was
illegal. He didn't live at his old apartment, but he had
never been questioned about it before. In the DC area
many people kept an old 'legal address' for tax
purposes. He, instead, kept it as a last piece of the
life he had wanted but had lost.
If he explained that he just hadn't had chance to change
it yet, JJ might understand. However, there was no need.
As JJ stared at him, the bar tender came over and said,
"Dude, when the fuck are you just going to change that
shit?" Then turning to JJ he said, "He's legit. He and
his buddies practically keep us in business. He lives
just across the river in Rosslyn." That seemed to
satisfy JJ, and she just told him to write it down.
In a few minutes, he and Sara were in a cab heading into
Georgetown. The familiar lights of the M Street crawled
by in the slow traffic. There was a 24-hour diner on
Wisconsin Ave that he thought would be perfect. Just a
place on the first floor of a former townhouse, it
wasn't fancy or romantic. It wouldn't seem like he was
trying to impress her.
When they got there, there was no wait, unusual for this
time on a Friday night. In a minute they were seated,
and staring at menus. It was always hard to choose
something when he came here with a woman. He couldn't
look like a pig so a full meal was out, but he had to
get something. Finally, he decided on eggs-benedict and
fries. Though Sara kept saying she couldn't choose, she
still said she was ready for the waiter to come. When he
ordered, she asked if what he got was good. After he
said yes, she ordered the same.
Now was the awkward part, he would have to make some
kind of conversation with her. At first it was easy. She
asked question about Washington and told him how much
she had wanted to come to the city. Though it meant
talking about his life, it was easy to talk about it in
depersonalized terms. He could tell her about the things
he did, but not tell her about how it affected him or
how he felt about anything. He even mentioned how
beautiful the Monuments were at night.
However, after their food came and he began to eat, the
conversation began to strain him. There was not much
more he could say, and the questions were becoming more
personal. Finally, when Sara said how lucky he was to
live in the city, he let slip, "not so much really."
After asking why he was there if he didn't want to be
there, he knew he would have to say something.
He stayed silent for a minute trying to compose his
thoughts enough to figure out how to nuance the story.
Since he had come to DC, he had learned how to do that
well. However, when he looked in her face, he knew that
would not be enough. This woman was genuine, honest, and
real. She was not the typical DC person who really cared
about nothing. Instead, he knew he would be honest.
While she ate her food, he explained about college and
how more than anything he wanted to live in New York
City and feel the bustle of Manhattan. He told her about
his father and the argument where he broke ties with his
family. Then he told her in honest detail how he had
screwed up at his firm and had been exiled to
Washington. Finally, he told her about how lost and
alone he felt since then.
He was ready for her to dismiss him as a 20-something
failure. But instead she gave him a sad smile, and said,
"I used to believe that someday each of us would end up
where we needed to be, but now I just think that most
people just end up trying to survive where they end up."
Then she said it was time for her story.
Sara's Wish...
At least for tonight, Sara was where she wanted to be.
The lights of Georgetown seemed to be brighter and even
more vibrant than she remembered from that one night she
had been there in high school. She was even grateful for
the heavy traffic as it meant that she would get more
time to see everything. And it meant she would get to
spend more time with an interesting guy. That would of
course change when he figured out who her father had
been, but at least for now he seemed to be pretty nice.
The restaurant he took her to was amazing. Kind of near
where the lights of the heart of Georgetown began to
taper off, it was obviously a neighborhood place. It was
almost like a pancake house squeezed into a townhouse.
There was no décor to speak of, but the place had some
kind of charm to it. Even the menu was simple but
everything looked delicious. This had to be what the
real Washington was like.
But she needed to know more, so she kept asking Steve
about what he did when he wasn't working. Everything he
talked about seemed so interesting. She wanted to live
it too! He had to have about the most interesting life
she had ever heard about. But the more he talked, the
more she realized he described everything in a detached
manner. It was as if he did so many things but didn't
actually live them. To her it was heresy! How could he
live here and not drink in every moment?
When their food got there he began to eat, but she kept
asking him about things, probing for anything more
personal. Eventually, he looked strained, and a sad look
came across his face. In a moment, she could tell that
this wasn't where he wanted to be.
Then he started a story. He told her about his dream of
living in New York—which she couldn't understand—but
having to give up his family to have it. Then he lost
that dream too. Now, like her, he was alone. He would be
able to understand how she felt, if anyone could. When
he finished his story, it seemed as if he was waiting to
be dismissed. She couldn't do that though. At least for
tonight she had to hold on to him. She had never thought
she would find anyone who could understand what she was
going through back home. She would have to be honest and
tell him about herself, but it was a chance she would
take.
When he finished, she said something stupid about living
the life you get not the one you wanted. Then she
started her story. He looked surprised when she talked
about her drunk father and her mother leaving. When she
mentioned about having to almost prostitute herself in
high school, he called the guy a bastard.
He smiled about JJ helping her out. However, his face
went blank when she started to cry and tell him about
her father's accident and how she had been treated
afterward. Finally, she timidly told him about how she
had gotten back in contact with JJ. She finished and
waited for him blow her off.
She was almost euphoric when he said, "I'm so glad I got
out of there. Everyone up there are bitches and
assholes. You didn't fucking do anything but the piss
ants go and blame you. Fuck them, you needed to get out
of there." He understood; he really understood.
Well, maybe he partly understood. He was right that she
needed to get out of there, but he didn't understand not
having a way to do it. As bad as Steve's father may have
ended up being, he was at least good enough to let him
get a start out of that area. Neither her father nor her
mother gave her that opportunity. From the moment her
mother left, there was no question that she'd be going
to college locally. And where she grew up, if you didn't
get out right after high school, you would probably end
up staying. With a gentle sigh, she said "if I only had
a way to do that…"
For a moment, there was silence. Looking across the
table, she could see that Steve was thinking about
something. Though she didn't know what it was, she
couldn't think of anything good that he might be
thinking. Though he may have been able to overlook her
father, with the last phrase she had told him that she
was just another Valley girl—born there, grew up there,
lives there, going to die there—with nothing at all to
recommend her.
Then questions came like a barrage. First Steve asked if
she was serious that she always wanted to live in
Washington. When she said yes, he asked her if she was
going home the next day. When she said that she was
planning on going home the next evening, he smiled and
said "okay, so for tonight you're out of there. Tell me
whatever you want to do in the city and I'll do it with
you."
The offer was unexpected, and sent her mind into a
whirlwind. First, there were so many things she wanted
to do in the city, and on top of that how many of them
could you actually do at night, or on the weekend for
that matter. But then, there was this guy on the other
side of the table who she vaguely knew of from high
school, who she had only ever talked to this evening,
who could have dismissed her for any of the other
reasons so many people had done in the past few years,
offering to give her what might be the greatest gift
anyone had ever offered—to have one night in the city of
her dreams to do whatever she wanted.
She tried to stop her mind from racing, but before it
settled down she blurted out, "I hear the monuments are
beautiful at night."
A few minutes later, Steve had paid the check and they
were in a cab headed back down M Street. In a few blocks
they turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue, then at a big
traffic circle they headed south past some university
and a hospital. She was almost ready to pass out with
excitement when he pointed out that they were driving
past the State Department. Finally, the taxi pulled over
across the street from the Lincoln Memorial.
For some reason it seemed natural to let Steve take her
hand when they crossed the street. There was no
excitement, as there had been in the club, but there was
also no awkwardness. Instead, something felt natural—as
if she had come down to the city just to see him. JJ was
an afterthought; and the people back home barely
registered in the deepest part of her memory. Right now
it was just her in the city she was supposed to be in
with the man she felt she needed to be with.
They crossed the street and walked past some haggard
looking men standing at booths with POW/MIA flags
hanging limply on a still night. Vietnam veterans
waiting to the quiet hum of generators, hoping that
someone would remember their lost brothers. She thought
of an old Charlie Daniels song, Still in Saigon. She
might not know exactly how the person in that song felt,
trapped for years or maybe decades in a place of sadness
and despair feeling alone, but given where she had been
just yesterday she could understand a little bit.
They walked a few more yards, then stood in front of the
Lincoln Memorial. Though the outside was mostly dark,
even from the ground she could see the giant statue of
the Great Liberator. He sat there a giant symbol of
freedom, which is what she felt at this moment.
Something –she didn't know what—told her that Steve was
going to be the person to lead her away from all of the
pain that their hometown had caused her.
When she turned to look at Steve, she'd expected that he
would be looking at the monument too—taking in the power
of the scene. Instead he was looking at her with a smile
that showed a complexity she had never seen in
somebody's expression before. The smile was caring, and
it was tender. However, she could also see pride in it,
the pride of a conquering hero.
At first it sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps, he
didn't really understand. Perhaps, he was only there
because he needed some distraction from tonight, some
distraction from his life. But when he softly asked her
if she wanted to go inside, she was reassured and said
yes.
Standing before the giant statue of Abraham Lincoln made
her feel insignificant, though not in a bad way. Before
her was a man who had conquered problems that most
people probably had seemed insurmountable. He had failed
at many things.
He only became president because of backroom deals. And
then when he took office he pulled the country through a
bloodied war. Compared to what he went through, even the
ostracism she felt at home was something that could be
overcome. Steve led her around the Memorial explaining
various things to her.
First they read the Emancipation Proclamation, and then
he showed her how it looked like General Grant's face
was carved into the back of Lincoln's hair showing how
intertwined they were in bringing freedom to the country
and in a sense to themselves. What neither one could do,
both did together.
It was Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address that had the
greatest effect on her, though. In fact, it was only
eight words that put things into perspective –"With
malice towards none, with charity for all…" It was time,
time to let go. Time to let go of the anger she had
towards her father, time to let go of the resentment she
had to the people who shunned her because of who her
father was, time to let go of the pain from her mother
leaving, and, more than anything, time to let go of the
hopelessness that made her feel like she would be stuck
in the Valley for her entire life.
She would get out. She would take that little bit of
confidence Steve had seemed to see in her and prove to
him that he was right, and show she could get out of
there. He might not know it, but he really was the best
man who would ever come into her life.
A few minutes later, they were sitting on the stairs
looking out over the plaza below.. Steve was once again
explaining things about the mall and about the Vietnam
Veterans Memorial to the left and the Korean War
Memorial to the right, then straight ahead the
Washington Monument and the Capitol beyond. He said how
beautiful the sunrise was when it made the white dome
look orange and then blazed behind the monument. He even
alluded to maybe staying out all night and looking at
the sunrise, which she had no interest in.
She would go home tonight but not to JJ's place. On the
same night he'd explained all his troubles and
disappointments to her, Steve had forgotten or was
ignoring all of them, she didn't know which, and was
giving her a wonderful gift. She knew where she was
going. She would say thank you in the best way she
possibly could. She was going home with him.
Quietly, she slid herself towards him. Against her arm,
his felt warm like the morning on a summer day that you
know will get hotter. Gently she slid her arm between
his and his body, their elbows locked together. She took
his hand, and their fingers intertwined like a couple.
Then gently she laid her head on his shoulder. She could
feel the shudder go through his body. Was he excited?
Was he nervous? Or was it something she could not figure
out?
She enjoyed the tender touch for a few minutes with
neither saying anything. She listened to his breath, as
she felt her own. She felt content, safe, and wanted.
Though she had never felt like that before, for some
reason the feeling was familiar. But as much as she
liked the feeling, she would not let it last. It was
time to show Steve how grateful she was—it was time to
give herself to him. When he asked her if she wanted to
walk to the Washington Monument she saw her opportunity
she slowly pulled herself back slightly and looked him
in his eyes. Then she said, "No. I'm ready to go home."
It was cute how he looked confused, but it was also
revealing because she knew that if he hadn't felt the
same way she did he would have just let her go. However,
he stammered about whether he should get her a cab back
to JJ's. She wouldn't let him be disappointed for more
than a moment though. Instead, she smiled, put her hand
behind his head, and pulled him towards her.
Then she kissed him the best she could, trying to show
thankfulness for the wonderful night he'd given to her.
It didn't matter how long the kiss lasted, but at the
end she just let it trail off. Then smiling again, she
said, "I'm not going back to JJ's, I'm going home with
you."
Steve's dream...
When he was a boy, his mother had always said he had a
lost puppy complex. That he wanted to find somebody who
was hurt and help them. She didn't really know that most
of the people he was friends with or the girls he tried
to date were all people that might have a hard luck
story, but could maybe help him get to a different place
in his life. Honestly, he didn't really like helping
people—at least not at this point in his life. He
thought too much about his own failures to really care
for anybody else's feelings. However after hearing
Sara's story, he couldn't help but want to help her.
Really, how could people be so mean? In high school he
hadn't known her mother had left, or that her father was
an alcoholic, or that some ass hole tried to make her
his whore. Admittedly, he hadn't really known her at
all, but at least you'd think something like that would
come around as a rumor. But somehow she had the strength
to keep it a secret.
That was amazing. Even more amazing was that somehow she
was able to stay sane in the town of simpletons who, for
some reason, wanted to take out their anger and hatred
of her father on her. Though typical of the people
there, it just wasn't fair – – not at all.
When Sara finished her story, he couldn't contain
himself and cursed the people of the town up and down.
Then absentmindedly he told her she needed to get out.
In a moment he realized there probably wasn't any way
she could do it –at least not alone. He knew she
couldn't make that much money, nurses rarely did. But
maybe he could help.
It crossed his mind how beautiful it would be to wake up
next to her in the morning. How perfect it would be to
sit at his table with her on a Saturday morning, him
reading the newspaper in warm-up pants and a T-shirt,
while she sipped her coffee wearing one of his button-
down shirts and a pair of his boxers. But he put the
thought out of his mind. That was too much. Things like
that didn't happen to him, women like that didn't happen
to him. Tomorrow he would wake up still a 20-something
failure and she would be gone from his life. Well maybe
he wouldn't quite be a failure.
While it wasn't fair that he had been exiled to
Washington after one failed project, maybe his job was
something he could make the most of. Tomorrow he would
wake up alone, and yes he would be disappointed. But
there was always the day after. He could find a club to
join; he could volunteer; he can even take a free course
at the Smithsonian. Just in the little time he had spent
with her Sara showed him that no matter how bad things
are you can still keep going. He would do that because
it was the least he could do to thank her.
But just moving on from his problems wasn't what he
wanted to do to say thank you. There had to be something
more. And then he realized that there was something
simple he could give her tonight. It might just be for a
few hours, and it might not be everything she wanted,
but tonight he would give her the city. Whatever she
wanted, he would give to her. Wherever she wanted to go
he would take her. When he asked her where she wanted to
go and she said she wanted to see the monuments at
night, he didn't think twice. He paid the check and then
got them a cab.
The ride to the Lincoln Memorial felt like a disaster.
He babbled nonstop about everything they passed. He even
said the most boring thing and pointed out the State
Department to her as they passed by. But for some reason
it didn't seem to bother her. Instead, Sara seemed to
hang on every word he said like it mattered. Could it be
that she was actually interested? Could it be that she
was excited to be with him? Probably not, but at least
he would enjoy the time he had with her.
Soon enough they were standing in front of the Lincoln
Memorial looking up at the gigantic statue of a man
whose life seem to fall apart so many times, but who had
kept going no matter what. He wasn't a particularly good
lawyer, he only served one term in Congress, he lost a
Senate race to Stephen Douglas, but somehow he
persevered. And he became president –perhaps the best
the country had ever seen. Though he had been there
numerous times, even a few times at night, tonight was
meaningful. He could and would persevere and get back to
a place he wanted to be. It might not be New York City,
but he would find a way to put himself in a better
place.
As they walked around the memorial he started to babble
again. He read the Emancipation Proclamation word for
word and even pointed how you could see Ulysses Grant's
face in the back of Abraham Lincoln's hair. But Sara
seemed to be enjoying herself. Though he felt foolish,
she didn't seem to notice. It was as if in a short
period of time they had formed some kind of connection.
It was something that led to people who felt like they
were in terrible situations to take each other and build
a bubble around themselves—pain on the outside, but
inside together protected from everything that wanted to
destroy them.
He looked at her and wanted to kiss her. He wanted to
consummate this bond by holding her and telling her how
he felt, seeing if she felt that connection also. That
would be too much though. Tonight had been wonderful and
made him feel like, at least on a small scale, good
things could happen to him. But she couldn't happen to
him. She was just too beautiful, too strong, too
perfect.
A few minutes later, though, Sara amazed him again. As
they sat on the steps of the Memorial, he was surprised
to feel her pull herself towards him, to intertwine
their arms, and to take his hand, not like a sympathetic
friend but like a girlfriend. And then there was an
awkward silence. He really didn't know what she was
thinking
After a few minutes he couldn't bear it anymore. The
feeling of her next to him was so good, so much of
something he had wanted for such a long time, that he
couldn't let himself fantasize that tonight was
something more than it was. It was him saying thank you
in a small imperfect way. It was a brief window of time
when he would give her a little bit of something she
wanted before he sent her back to JJ. To break the mood,
he made a crack about staying out to watch the sunrise
over the capital. He hadn't meant it seriously and was
obvious Sara hadn't taken it seriously either.
Trying another approach to get out of the situation he
asked her if she wanted to walk over to the Washington
monument. He was devastated when she said she wanted to
go home. It was over before he had really gotten to
enjoy it. So he asked her if she wanted him to get her a
cab back to JJ's. It was the least he could do.
Then something happened that was unexpected and amazing.
As he felt ready to break down and cry, Sara leaned in
and kissed him. It wasn't a long French kiss, their
tongues did not dance, but it felt like a kiss between
two people who genuinely loved each other. He thought he
knew where it was going, but still he felt greater joy
than he had ever felt before when she said she wanted to
go back to his place.
In tender silence they walked back to the street and
found a taxi. He gave the guy his address across the
river in Arlington, Virginia, and off they went. Instead
of going back through Georgetown, the driver took them
over the Memorial Bridge towards Arlington Cemetery.
With Sara again curled up next to him, her head on his
shoulder, it struck him that this wasn't one of the
famous ways out of the city. This was the way commuters
went home.
For some reason it seemed appropriate. This didn't feel
like it was going to be a one night stand it felt like
it could really be something more. Though he dare not
even have the fantasy, it struck him that someday he
might be driving this after a day of work going home to
her.
They pulled up in front of the Safeway on Wilson
Boulevard, and hopped out. After paying the driver they
went around the side of the building to the entrance of
the high rise apartment building in which he lived. As
they passed the front desk the middle-aged African-
American woman who worked the evening into the night
gave him a knowing look. He had brought women back here
before and she probably thought this was just another
screw. How wrong she was. Or at least he hoped she was
wrong.
He always kept his apartment clean in case he brought
somebody home, so he wasn't nervous about whether Sara
would think he was the typical bachelor slob. Instead he
was nervous to have her there at all. He was showing her
another part of his life, and he was still afraid she
would decide she didn't like it. But it was in for a
penny in for a pound so they say. It had really been her
decision to come here so she would probably be forgiving
of anything that was wrong.
Though he was sure they would end up in the bedroom, he
still thought it proper to at least give Sara a tour of
his relatively large one bedroom apartment. He even
decided it would be nice to tell her about some of his
stuff like the college pennant he had hanging over the
bedroom door. She really didn't seem interested though,
but not in a bad way. More so it seemed like she was
impatient, wanting things to move on as quickly as
possible. For a moment he thought she might be nervous,
but that didn't seem right. It seemed more like she too
knew where things were going to go, like she wanted the
same thing he did, and didn't want to wait any longer
for it.
Without a word he led her to the couch, and they sat
together in the middle. This time he was the one who
turned and kissed her. There was no resistance. Though
it started tenderly, the kiss became more passionate
when he opened his mouth, hers open too, and she
willingly let him lay her back on the couch. With him on
top, they started grinding like teenagers. Like they
were going as far as they could afraid that someone
might come into the room. But no one would. Instead they
did it because they were starting from the beginning.
Perhaps they both felt as if maybe they should have
gotten together in high school. Or maybe they both
wished somehow the universe had let them meet while they
were in college. But they hadn't – in a way they had
just met tonight. They weren't 20-somethings, they were
two kids exploring like they never had been with anyone
before.
After a few minutes he felt brave. So trying to take
things to the next level, he slid his hand under her
shirt and gently stroked her stomach inside. Sara
responded to him, obviously wanting to feel his touch as
much as he wanted to touch her. But when he tried to
push her shirt up, she stopped him and coyly said, "You
have to take me to bed for that." Smiling, he pulled her
up and quietly led her to the bedroom.
When they got there, Sara asked him to put on some
music. Though he didn't really like it, he always kept
some jazz music in his CD player alarm clock. Personally
he would have preferred some kind of rock music, but for
some reason it was easier to romance girls when he
played something like John Coltrane. Actually, he
suspected that not that many of the women he met
actually liked jazz, but it was sort of one of those
things you're supposed to do, be romanced by jazz music.
However, she didn't seem bothered by it. Instead, a big
smile came to her face. She said, "You go first."
At first he wasn't sure what she meant, but when she
kept staring at him he realized that she wanted him to
get naked first. It was strange. Most of the women he
met in DC wanted the lights off and to have their
clothing already taken off and on upon the floor while
making out. It was almost as if they didn't want to see
what they were doing and give themselves plausible
deniability—being able to say they got caught up the
moment.
However, it didn't seem that that's what Sara wanted. He
did not make a move for the light, and she did not say
anything about it. So he took his clothing off—T-shirt,
polo, pants, socks, and boxers—and sat on the edge of
his bed.
When he was done, Sara smiled. At first it made him
uncomfortable. He had been wondering if she might be
disappointed in what she saw. Now he knew she wasn't.
But that was harder. He wasn't a stud; he didn't have a
gym body; and moreover, his body still looked rather
young. But then she closed her eyes, and started to move
with the music. Gently and slowly, perfectly in time,
she swayed back and forth. Her hands started on her
face, slid down her neck past her breasts and onto her
stomach. Gently, she caressed her body through her
clothing. It wasn't slutty or particularly provocative.
Instead, it was filled with emotion.
On the surface the dance seemed filled with sadness and
resignation, but he could see that underneath there was
hope. It wasn't just hope though. There seemed to be
some kind of trust, as if with her body she was saying,
"Tonight I give myself to you. Please treat me like you
love me." Before his mind could tell him to stop, his
heart spoke, and he said "I will."
With that Sara smile grew even bigger. Slowly keeping
time with the music and still with her eyes closed, she
gently lifted her shirt over her head. Letting it fall
to the floor she ran her hands through her hair and
gently caressed her bare stomach. Next, she slowly
unbuckled her jeans, unzipped them, and pushed them down
below her knees. She did it gently and elegantly, which
was surprising because of how tight they were. She stood
there in a matching bra and panties for a second, but
then started to move to the music again.
Her hands met on her chest. With a quick flick, her
front clasping bra fell limp exposing her breasts which
were neither small nor big, just average. Even in the
soft light of the bedroom, he could tell that they were
pale. She had not spent time in a tanning salon, and
there was no tan in a can. It was obvious that she had
not come to this city looking for a hook up. She might
not look perfectly sexy, but she was genuine. She was
not Washington. She was real
Finally, Sara's panties dropped to the floor. She stood
there naked in front of him, pale skin and a trusting
smile. He looked over her body and noticed that she was
unshaven. He knew that was getting to be a rarity, since
Cosmo had started publishing articles about how "clean"
it was to be shaven or trimmed. She was natural.
Quickly, he realized he liked that better.
Then she was coming to him. When she got to the edge of
the bed she knelt. At first he expected her to start
giving him a blow job. But instead she started stroking
him. He had been lost in the beauty of the dance, so he
did not realize that he was hard. But as she played with
him, he realized that he didn't want to feel her hands
or her mouth.
He wanted to be inside her. For some reason it seemed
appropriate. She would not be serving him any more than
he was serving her. He wanted to approach this with them
as equals. So he stood up, took her by the hand, and
when they were almost eye to eye he kissed her.
At first it was an affectionate respectful kiss like
they had had on the couch. But quickly it became more.
They could not deny the passion anymore. They both
needed a release, both their bodies and their emotions.
They were two people wounded by life who had somehow
found each other, and that they were going to celebrate.
In a moment they were at the side of the bed. And then
they fell—no floated—onto the bed. Neither made a move
for the covers. They just kissed with their bodies
moving together in time with the music. Though often the
first minutes of a hook up were awkward as two people's
bodies got to know each other, it wasn't then. It was as
if there was a rhythm to their bodies that had always
been there waiting to find the other, and when the match
was made, they fell into perfect synchronicity.
There was some touching, but in general not much
foreplay. That, they had been doing, emotionally not
physically, since they had met at the bar. After a few
minutes Sara rolled on her back, and he slid on top.
With a smile on her face Sara said, "I want you inside
of me."
He closed his eyes as she took him and held him at her
opening. Gently, he slid slowly inside of her wanting to
savor her, every millimeter of her body, a body that he
felt had been created for him, and him alone. She
gasped, though it didn't seem like pain. Instead, it
seemed like surprise. He didn't know what that meant, so
he kept going. Slowly he began to pick up speed. She
felt better than anyone ever had before.
Suddenly he realized they had gotten caught up in the
moment. He didn't know if she was on the pill, and he
wasn't wearing a condom. Normally, he would have quickly
pulled out and asked about birth control. This time,
though, he couldn't do that. In reality, he had only
really known Sara for a few hours, but already he had
respect for her. He would not take the chance of leaving
her with child with him hundreds of miles away.
He stopped, and Sara looked up at him asking, "What's
wrong?" He didn't know how to phrase the question, but
somehow she seemed to read his mind and told him she
wasn't on the pill. He asked her if she wanted him to
put on a condom. She said she didn't know and asked him
if he wanted to. He said he didn't know either.
Finally, with a hint of sadness she said, "I really
don't want you to. But I don't want you to feel like I'm
trapping you if I get pregnant, so you probably should."
He reached into his nightstand drawer, took one out,
opened it, and unrolled it over himself. Perhaps, he
should have felt rejected when she told him to put it
on. However, it was now obvious that she respected him
too. That was enough to keep the passion going.
For a while he stayed on top, alternating between slow
and deliberate thrusts and all out passionate attack on
her body. She responded to each change in rhythm and in
angle with different sighs, moans, and grunts. Then,
when he began to get tired she rolled him over and got
on top of him. She drove her hips back and forth like a
person who did this every day, though he knew she had
not been with anybody in a long time.
Finally, her breathing got heavier, her head arched
back, and she began to grind herself as hard as she
could into him. He could feel her hair rubbing against
his, and it was too much. As she arched her back and
held her breath, he thrust his hips towards her and came
harder than he had ever remembered. First one spurt,
then a second—he felt as if he came so much that the
condom would have leaked. But he didn't care. If she got
pregnant, he'd find a way to make sure she stayed
around.
Sara rolled off with him and looked over with a big
smile on her face. "That was amazing," she said, and
hugged him tightly. Somehow they ended up lying face-to-
face under the covers. But the combination of the
exertion and the emotion was too much. Though he figured
she probably wanted to cuddle, he just couldn't do it.
He was exhausted. His eyes could not stay open.
Sara's Dream...
The cab ride to Steve's apartment didn't feel like it
was supposed to. From everything she had heard, the cab
ride to a guy's apartment was supposed to make you feel
uncomfortable, even make you feel like a slut. That's
not what this felt like as they crossed the bridge into
Virginia. It felt natural, almost as if they were just
going home at the end of an evening. They sat close as
they drove up some road she didn't know, and eventually
came out in front of the hotel where she had stayed so
many years ago.
When they got to Steve's building it was exciting. There
was a 24-hour supermarket on the ground level that they
had to go past to get to the entrance. The building even
had a front desk with an attendant. That was something
you never saw in the town where they grew up. Steve
might not be satisfied with his life, but then he didn't
realize how exciting it was.
When they got to his apartment, it was perfect. It
wasn't messy, but was obvious that a guy lived there.
But she didn't really notice the apartment all that
much, she was focused on Steve. He might not be tall, he
might not be muscle-bound, he may look a little bit on
the young side. But the man she came home with was a
real man. He had opened up to her, and listened without
judging when she opened up to him. She wanted to be
here. She wanted to give herself to him. And she
realized she never wanted to leave.
This is where she wanted to be. Not because it was
Washington, DC, but because it's where he was. She would
never have known it if she had not come to visit JJ, but
this is where she was supposed to be. She wished beyond
hope that this wouldn't be just one night, but if that's
all that was she would take it.
She felt like a schoolgirl when Steve led her to the
couch, where she slid her shoes off and got comfortable.
When they began to kiss she allowed him to lay her back.
His body felt perfect on top of her giving her a feeling
of being covered and protected. This was the body that
was supposed to be on top of her.
It seemed as if the kissing would go on forever, but
when his hand slid under her shirt, she knew it was time
for things to move forward. But she would not do it on
the couch with him, not the first time. She wanted him
to let her all the way into his life. She wanted to do
it in his bed like a couple would. When she told him, he
smiled took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom.
Though she tried not to show it, she was nervous. But
the way Steve behaved put her fully at ease. When she
asked for music, he put on some jazz. It wasn't her
first choice; she would have preferred rock. But she
guessed that's what people listen to in the city, and it
would be a minor sacrifice to be with him. When she
asked him to take his clothes off first, again he
accommodated her. He was a perfect gentleman—the perfect
person to give herself to.
As Steve sat down on the end of his bed, she suddenly
realized she had no idea how she was going to get
undressed herself. It had been such a long time she had
gotten naked in front of the guy. And then it was a
quick fuck with some guy she had known from high school
just a few days before her father's accident—since then
nothing. However, when she closed her eyes, she felt the
music washing over her body and the rest came naturally.
She began to gently sway to the music, telling the story
of the night through her movements. Trepidation, the
anxiety, sadness, the hope, and now the trust; they were
all there. Through her movements she wanted to tell
Steve "This is who I am. This is what we are. I give
this to you today, tomorrow, and for however long you
want me." It was natural how her shirt came off followed
by her jeans, her bra, and her panties. It was natural
how her hands moved over her body as if revealing
herself to him over and over and over.
When she was naked and ready to give herself fully to
him, she knelt in front of him. She looked at him he
wasn't huge, but he wasn't small either. This was a
man's penis not a boy's, which is the only thing she had
seen before. It was beautiful and inviting. She didn't
know if this is what a wonderful, beautiful cock looked
like, but it was the one she wanted. She was ready to
take it into her mouth, to give him the blow job that
pretty much any guy wanted, but he did something that
shocked her.
He stood up, reached down to her hand, and pulled her up
so that they were and eye level. He looked at her as an
equal. She realized that as she gave herself to him,
Steve would not be taking. He would be giving himself
back to her. Today might not be the last time they were
together. It was possible that he felt the same way she
did.
She let Steve lead her to the bed, they kissed and fell—
no they floated—down onto his bed. On top of the covers
they kissed more. Their bodies slid against each other
in time, working into a common rhythm that somehow came
out of both of them with the same movements, the same
time, the same cadence. They might have been in
different groups in high school. They may have lived
very different lives. But, something made her feel like
they were made for each other and had only been waiting
to find a way to each other.
And then she couldn't take it anymore her body wanted
him; she needed him inside of her. So she rolled onto
her back and gently guided Steve on top of her. Smiling
deeply she took and guided him into her. He started slow
and gentle letting her savor every second. Though caught
in the bliss, she realized that this was dangerous. She
wasn't on the pill and he wasn't wearing a condom.
Though she should have been afraid she trusted that he
was clean. And though the time was right for her to get
pregnant, she didn't care. There was a feeling of
inevitability, that at some point he would do it, why
not just let him do it now.
Suddenly though, Steve slowed down and stopped. Without
saying anything, she knew what was wrong. He was worried
about what had just occurred to her. It seemed as if he
were trying to formulate the question, to find a
dignified and tactful way to ask if what they were doing
was okay. So as not to make him worry how, she said she
wasn't on the pill. When he asked her if he should put
on a condom, she answered honestly saying that she
didn't know. When she turned the question around to him,
she was amazed and happy that he said he didn't know
either.
Neither of them knew where tonight was going or where
tomorrow would take them. But they were both confused
enough to not know if they should take the risk. She
realized that she loved the man on top of her. She
didn't want him to worry or have to change his life, so
she said she didn't want to trap him and that he should
put one on. He looked disappointed, but did it anyway.
Nothing was lost though. After they started again the
passion returned. It wasn't the animalistic passion that
you hear is supposed to be part of great sex. Rather, it
was as if their bodies were saying I love you to each
other. It was as if their bodies were taking each other
together and becoming one. It seemed trite. But it
didn't matter, it was love at first touch.
Steve did so many things to her that she couldn't
remember each individual move. Together they were like a
symphony; him using his body to play hers to make
something beautiful. She didn't know how long it took
but eventually she could tell he was tired. This time
she pulled him down and gently rolled him over so that
he was on his back. And then she got on top, kneeling up
on top of him and feeling him go into her as deeply as
he possibly could.
Though she had never been on top during sex before, her
body told her what to do. She slowly began to rock her
hips and then began to pick up speed. She didn't use
different techniques she just moved as best she could as
best as her body would let her.
After a few minutes she began to feel it, something she
only remembered ever feeling from her hand before. The
feeling welled inside of her and she arched her back
trying as hard as she could to grind herself against
him. At the same time his breathing began to get fast.
As she began to cum, he drove himself inside of her as
hard as he could. As she began to squeeze around him,
she could feel throb after throb after throb. It was
something she knew she'd be feeling again.
Collapsing onto the bed, she rolled over to face him and
realized he was facing her too. They looked at each
other satisfied with what they had received from the
other person, and with the gift they had given to each
other. Though she wanted to hold him all night, she
could see Steve struggling to keep his eyes open. She
knew she should have been offended, but instead she
thought that she had done her job well. As his eyes
closed for what she knew would be the final time that
night, she said, "you need your sleep, good night. But
thank you."
For a while, she stayed awake just staring at him, first
lying next to him and then sitting up crossed leg and
watching him. At some point, she lay down and tried to
sleep as well, but she was too excited. Tonight had been
everything she had ever wanted in a night. There was of
course a fear that it could all be an illusion and that
tomorrow would find her in a cab back to JJ's house, and
then in her car driving back to the lonely empty house
where she hid.
However, something made her feel that wouldn't be the
case. She couldn't sleep because she was excited. She
wanted to know what tomorrow would bring, what Steve
would say when he woke up. She just couldn't sleep.
When she finally looked at the alarm clock, it was 4:30
AM. She didn't know how early Steve usually got up, but
she wanted to have breakfast ready when he did. So she
got out of bed and opened the top drawer of his dresser.
She took out a pair of his boxers and put them on. They
were a little loose but they would be fine.
In his closet she found a button-down shirt that she
thought would look nice, and put it on. In the bathroom
she admired herself. It's not that she looked beautiful
–her hair was messed up and probably smelled of sweat—
but in the shirt and boxers she looked like she belonged
to him.
Quietly, she went to the kitchen and began to look at
what she had to work with. It really wasn't much. There
was almost nothing in the refrigerator but bread,
butter, some coffee creamer, and a bunch of condiments.
The freezer, on other hand, had a bunch of frozen meals.
Obviously, Steve didn't eat at home a lot, and when he
did, his diet was pretty bad. She didn't even bother to
check the cupboards. The only thing she noticed she had
to work with was a well-used coffee maker.
By that point it was about five in the morning, and she
thought there had to be someplace open where she could
get something. On her way back into Steve's room to get
her jeans, she noticed his laundry basket. There were a
pair of sweatpants on top, and for some reason she
decided that they were what she should wear. They were a
little big, but she was able to cinch them together.
Then back in the living room she found his keys he had
used to let them into the building. She slipped on her
shoes, grabbed her wallet, and left the apartment.
When she got to the lobby, the same woman who had been
there the night before was sitting at the desk. The
woman looked friendly, so she thought she'd go over and
ask where she could get something. At first the woman
seemed confused, but then smiling recommended she go to
the supermarket around the other side of the building.
As she was walking out the door the woman called over
and said, "He likes bagels."
The supermarket was pretty small, smaller than the ones
she was used to back home. However, there seemed to be
so many more things. Brands she had never seen before,
vegetables she didn't recognize, it was like a culinary
Christmas she wanted to explore. Instead, though, she
found the bakery and looked at the bagels. She'd never
had one before, it's just something they didn't have
back home, so she didn't know what to get. After
thinking about it for a minute, she decided to get half
a dozen— cinnamon raisin, plain, onion, everything
(whatever that was), egg, and blueberry.
There'd have to be something he'd like in there. Next to
the bagels there was a stand with coupons for
Philadelphia Brand cream cheese. She guess that's what
you had with the bagels, so she went to the dairy case
got a box. On the way out, she decided that she would
get some fresh ground coffee as well.
She was back in his apartment by six. She found the
plate, and quietly arranged the bagels on it. She put on
the coffee and found two mugs and put them by the
machine. She hoped Steve would let her stay for more
than one cup, so she made a whole pot. Proud of herself
she stood back and took in the wonderful smell that made
any room feel like a home.
When the coffee was done she poured herself a cup.
Walking over towards the window, she noticed that the
sun was beginning to come up. As it was a large framed
window that took up the entire living room wall, there
was enough room for her to sit down lean back against
the frame and enjoy her coffee. So she relaxed and
watched the sun come up while she waited for Steve to
wake.
Steve's awakening...
Not even the sweet smell of coffee could make him feel
better. He'd woken up with such hope figuring that Sara
would be right next to him. He thought he would look at
her beautiful face sleeping on the pillow next to him.
He'd watch her for a while and then when she woke up
he'd tell her how he felt. He would tell her that it had
been the perfect night and that he didn't want it to
end, he wanted her to stay, and he even might say that
he loved her. But instead she was gone. At least she
cared enough to put on a pot of coffee before she left.
He took the door from the bedroom into the bathroom and
began his morning routine. However, rather than take a
shower, he thought he'd get a cup of coffee and think
about things first. So taking the other bathroom door,
the one that put him out right by the kitchen, he walked
over to the coffee maker, grabbed the mug sitting in
front of it, and poured himself a cup. It was strange
that he would have left one out, as he always tried to
make the kitchen looked tidy in case he brought somebody
home. Then he noticed a plate of bagels sitting in front
of the toaster. It's not something he kept in the house,
so Sara must have gotten them.
A soft "good morning" greeted him. Turning around he saw
Sara sitting in his box window drinking a cup of coffee.
She looked terrible and beautiful at the same time. Her
hair was messed up and she looked like she hadn't slept.
On the other hand she was wearing one of his favorite
button-down shirts and a pair of his boxers. A pair of
warm-up pants that he thought had been in the laundry
lay on the floor next to the window. That's what made
her look beautiful—the fact that she had made herself at
home and it looked she belonged there.
He walked over to the window, and gave Sara a kiss on
the cheek. There was no need for a passionate kiss on
the lips. That could happen later. Instead, the kiss was
a good morning greeting to somebody who he hoped he
could do the same thing to every day. When she smiled he
sat down on the other side of the window and faced her.
"Have you noticed how beautiful it is?" Sara asked. It
was obviously a question, but was also a statement. She
was telling him that he was lucky. He was lucky to be
living where he was and to have just by chance ended up
meeting her in that place. "No I haven't," He responded.
"I never really had the opportunity to, until this
morning."
"You do know this wasn't my first time here, do you?"
Sara followed. It never really occurred to him, but now
he realized that she probably knew too much about the
city to have been a complete stranger. When he said so,
she told him that she had been there once before and
started to tell a story about some high school trip and
one night in Georgetown.
She said how some old guy had taken her and her friend
to dinner, and not asked anything of them afterward,
which he decided was quite strange for DC. That's when,
she said, she had fallen in love with the city. He asked
her if it was as good as she remembered it. Smiling she
replied that it was better than she ever could've
imagined.
Then there was an awkward pause. He wanted to tell Sara
how things seemed different this morning. Last night he
was in a bar not drinking because he didn't want to get
depressed about how bad his life had turned out. This
morning he would do anything to help her stay in the
city as long as she would stay with him. But how could
he say that to a woman who for all he knew might've
thought last night was a one night stand. It seemed that
Sara wanted to say something too. But he couldn't figure
out what it was. So they sat there drinking coffee
looking at each other hoping the other would speak
first.
In fact, it was Sara who spoke first. "Steve, I don't
want to go," she said in a matter-of-fact but almost
pleading voice. A smile came to his face. When he told
her that he could help her find a place, she looked at
him quizzically. "Steve, I don't mean I want to stay in
the city. I mean I want to stay with you."
There is the overused saying, the sum of all fears.
However, this was the opposite. He felt that the sum of
every hope he had ever hoped and the sum of all luck
anybody could wish for had graced itself upon him. He
wanted her to stay, she wanted to stay as well. Looking
into her beautiful eyes, he smiled and said, "Then
stay."
In the movies Sara would've flown across the window box,
throwing her arms around him, and no coffee would've
spilled on the floor. However in this real-world she
just sat and smiled. There was no need for a
celebration, holding each other and crying, or
passionate sex on the floor. It was just a statement
that sometime between JJ's introduction and this morning
they had both realized that they were meant to be
together. There would be plenty of mornings for more
passionate things to happen, but those would be other
mornings.
They each had another cup of coffee and a bagel, and
started making a plan. Sara would give two weeks' notice
at work and immediately start selling the house. Then
she would pack up her clothing and whatever else she
needed, and move down. As soon as they could, they would
get a bunch of friends together and move her stuff down
and into storage. Eventually they'd find a new apartment
or maybe a townhouse. But that would be after she found
a job. He was going nowhere, and that made him happy.
Soon enough the phone rang, and when he answered, JJ was
on the other end of the line. A quick conversation
between Sara and her friend brought them back to reality
that at least for a few weeks they would have to be
apart again. As they waited for a cab to arrive, Sara
tried to make herself look pretty. He already thought
she was. However, he thought there was one more thing
that would make this perfect. He went over to his linen
closet where he kept extra supplies, and pulled out a
toothbrush. Returning to Sara, he said, "This is yours."
He couldn't have been happier when she smiled.
A few minutes later, they were kissing in front of his
building. Sara was about to get in a cab and head off to
JJ's house. They had finally exchanged phone numbers and
he felt like they could survive a few weeks apart. When
he asked her to call when she got home, she smiled and
said, "I don't know if I can wait that long."
Sara's awakening...
When there was a rustling in the bathroom, she knew
Steve was awake. She hoped he'd appreciate the bagels
and coffee, but still had a fear that he might have
wanted her to leave. Her fear was doubled when he walked
into the kitchen and didn't even notice her. It was as
if he fully expected her to be gone. She wasn't even
sure if he appreciated the bagels when he saw them.
Quietly, so as not to startle him, she said good
morning.
When he turned around, Steve seemed both surprised and
happy that she was there. It was as if he had expected
her to be gone, but had not wanted her to be. She
probably should have been offended that he would've
thought that little of her, but instead she was just
happy that he was okay with her being there.
Steve came over, coffee in his hand, and they began to
chat. They didn't talk about the night before. It was as
if it was something that was bound to happen. No
questions had to be asked no statements had to be made.
It was what it was—a beautiful night shared by two
people who loved each other.
She was surprised that Steve hadn't realized she had
been to Washington before. So she decided she needed to
tell him the story so he would have some frame of
reference as to why she was so happy to be there.
Finally she had to confess to Steve that she wanted to
stay. She thought saying, "I will love you forever and
never want to leave your side," seemed like a little bit
too much. Instead, she just told him that she didn't
want to leave.
She was deflated for a minute when he said that he would
help her find a place and a job, but then she realized
he probably didn't understand. So, looking at him as
seriously as she could, she told him that she didn't
want to leave him, that she loved him, and she wanted to
stay to be his wife. It almost seemed natural when he'd
told her not to leave.
She was staring lovingly into Steve's eyes after a bagel
and another cup of coffee when the phone rang. She was
pulled back into a somewhat unwelcome reality when Steve
handed her the phone saying, "It's JJ." Her friend was
concerned that she didn't come back and didn't call, but
was relieved to hear that she was okay.
She wanted to tell JJ how happy she was in that she
didn't want to ever leave the apartment, but she was
talked into coming back sooner rather than later. The
girls were going to go out for a late brunch and then
see a museum. Also, she knew that that night she would
have to drive back to her home, though she knew it would
only be for a little while.
Though she didn't want to go, she tried to make herself
look presentable. It wasn't as if people wouldn't know
exactly what happened, but she still had some pride. And
then while she was fluffing her hair in the mirror, the
greatest moment of her life occurred. Steve came up
behind her and handed her a blue toothbrush. He smiled
and said, "This is yours." Now it was official she lived
there.
About a half an hour later the cab dropped her off in
front of JJ's house. Her friend opened the door and
said, "It looks like somebody had a good time last
night."
When she said that it had been the best night of her
life, JJ looked confused. So she thought she'd follow it
up with an even more shocking statement. "Say, in a few
weeks can I have some help moving?"
Steve and Sara Revisited
Hi, JJ Schaffer here. My husband Brian says I get too
involved with other people's lives. He's probably right,
but he also admits that a lot of times things work out
for the best. I guess in a way I am a bit manipulative,
but really do mean it with the best of intentions.
So I guess now that you've heard the story you probably
want to know what happened to Steve and Sara. Well, a
lot of it is really pretty simple. Sara quit her job,
sold the house, and move down with Steve. A few weeks
after that, I went up to my old hometown, with my
husband, my father, my father-in-law, and our old
friend, Amos Jones. Then I rode in Sara's car back down
to DC, while Steve and Brian drove a U-Haul truck. Some
of Steve's friends met us at the storage unit where we
unloaded most of Sara's stuff.
At first it was a little hard for them to live together
because, frankly, they really didn't know each other.
And on top of that it took a while for Sara to find a
job. When she finally did it was at a hospital further
out in the suburbs. But the two of them persevered, and
eventually Steve, his boss, and a couple of their other
colleagues decided to start their own advertising firm.
Steve convinced them that to save on office rent they
should move further out into the suburbs. His ulterior
motive was to get closer to Sara's work.
Though Sara had always dreamed of being in DC and Steve
thought that he was a city guy, really they were the
perfect suburban couple. They made pretty good money and
were able to buy a house. Then they had two girls and a
boy, bought an SUV and a minivan, joined the PTA, and
all that kind of stuff. As far as I know Sara never did
look for her mother and Steve still doesn't speak with
his family, but such is life. Things are never perfect.
All we can ever hope for is our own personal happy
ending. So far I have mine, and I'm happy that I could
do a little bit to help Sara and Steve have one too.
-End-
Author's Note: This story is dedicated to a friend from
high school. Until our last reunion I had not seen her
since graduation. Though she didn't win, senior year she
had received votes as "Most Likely to Get Married
Young". In a rural school, that really meant something.
At the reunion everyone exchanged Facebook invitations,
but didn't really get to check out each other's pages.
When I finally got to hers a few weeks later, I saw she
had never been married but still believed that she would
find true love. Though I'm sure she will never read this
story, I wish her the best in her search.
I always appreciate feedback. If you really like, really
hate, or can see some improvements to my stories, send
feedback to secretdcguy@hotmail.com. I am also looking
for story ideas, so if you have one please let me know.
This is my favorite genre, but I do others as well.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a
trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 82