The maelstrom of scantily clad bodies both beckoned and ignored Samantha as she stood at its edge. The undulating and swaying of body parts acted as one being, oblivious to her presence. But, occasionally a guy would catch her eye, grin, and give her a not-so-subtle lookover, followed by a nod of invitation.      Avoiding eye contact but keenly watching and evaluating, she stood with the clumsy self-awareness of a young child deciding whether to jump into the dark water of a swimming hole. The scents of sweat and cologne surrounded her. This mix of stench and fragrance radiated from the floor, from the ceiling, and from the mass of flesh before her. It wrapped around her making the air heavy. Light and dark swished around in the palpable humidity; reds, blues, and greens dropped into her vision, shifted, and then fell again through the floor leaving new reds, blues, and greens in their place as the lights moved with the sound. The motion and music, the moist mayhem, made her inhibitions seem silly. She moved towards the mass with trepidation, as one steps into dark water at night.       She began shuffling her way into the middle of the stormy dance floor, unable to dive in as her roommate, Liz, already had done. She could only take a step or two at a time and often had to turn herself sideways to squeeze between couples bumping and grinding to the thump thump thumping of the bass beat.  She heard the grunt grunt grunting that went with it and scolded herself for coming to the club. But, now she was in the middle of this confused whirlpool and she felt it moving her body and limbs. *   *   *      "Curt, man, you're missing out on your life!" Curtis dropped his book down to his lap indignantly and looked up at Rich. He was an ok friend, but he didn't understand the world in quite the same way Curtis did. It was times like this, as he watched Rich, standing in front of the mirror in the common room of their apartment, playing with his hair, that Curtis felt it was an effort to live with him. "There's gonna be some hot-bodied babes," Rich said as he flexed his biceps. Curtis chuckled at the face of mock surprise that Rich made in the mirror. "You gonna come?"      "Thank you Richard, but I will find other ways of finding a date." There were dramatic differences between them, but Curtis felt Rich meant well. He didn't mind Rich's attempts to get him out more; he actually pitied Rich's fetish for simple excitement.      "Yea, well, you might not have to sit here alone all the time if you come with me. I might be able to find a girl that'd go for your type."      "No thanks."      "You don't do anything but sit in this room alone," Rich said, as if complaining.      "Why don't you get out a little!"         Curtis considered this truth - he hadn't been on a date in well over a year. The last girl he had gone out with left him in the middle of a concert for some guy on the football team who said he owned a Lexus. They had only dated for about a month, but it was still surprising to Curtis that he never heard from her again. This experience did not make him want to go out and find a similar girl.      "I'm really just not interested, thanks. I have no desire to go."      "Yea, that's what you're afraid the honeys will say to you, huh? Don't worry about it. I'll pick out a nice one for you." Rich grinned and nodded arrogantly.      Curtis responded by lifting his book back to eye level. Richard left, letting the door slam behind him. Curtis could hear the barking and hooting of Rich and his "boys" as they piled into the car outside.      Curtis knew Rich was attractive to women, even though he treated them as objects. Rich, unknowingly, offered that attractiveness, and the promise of sexual experience, as a source of validation and status to women. But, Curtis didn't think it had to work like that.  *   *   *      She was a little embarrassed by what she was feeling. This guy was really cute and he seemed to like her; she felt a school girl's giddiness. "Did you see the way he looked at you?" Liz said, breaking Samantha from her reverie.      "Yea, I guess," Samantha said, eyeing herself in the club's bathroom mirror. But, she couldn't hide her excitement very well from Liz who let out a cackling laugh. They had lived together for two years and Liz was always pushing her to get a boyfriend. "There just isn't anyone who interests me," Samantha would often tell her. And, this was true. But she couldn't help feeling attractive while this guy's eyes were glued to her body and his fingers lightly traced her shape as they had danced. It was fun.      "Do you have a condom?" Liz said, again shattering Samantha's thoughts.      "What?" Samantha said,  standing back from the mirror, looking at Liz primping herself as if she hadn't said anything at all. Samantha's stomach sunk inside of her like a stone settling into the spongy bottom of a swamp.      "Hey girl, you should be prepared. Joe never has one on him. All his frat brothers are the same way. If Mike doesn't have one, you should be ready."      "Ready for what?" she said, reeling from Liz's inference, yet perking slightly from hearing her dance partner's name for the first time. In response to Liz's side-long glance she felt a need to defend herself. "Nothing is going to happen. We're just going to hang out, right? I mean, you've dated Joe. I just met this guy."      "I broke up with Joe six months ago. We're just, you know..." Liz let her sentence trail off as she tore one condom from the strip in her purse, placing the one on top and hiding the others under her mess of make-up containers. "I thought you came tonight because you wanted to be more social."         "Well, I do. But, not like that. I thought we'd just hang out and get to know each other," she said, suddenly feeling foolish.      "Oh, yea, that's a nice thought.You think these guys want to 'get to know us'?" she asked sarcastically.      "Well..." Samantha hesitated.      "Whatever. We're only 2 blocks from the apartment and we're just gonna walk a couple of more to get to Mike's place," Liz said growing impatient. "You should come. He really thinks you're cute and it'll be a good time."      "But, I don't think I feel very comfortable with it now," Samantha said.      "Look, you want to be more sociable, this is how it is. A guy has expectations."      "Not all guys do. I'll find one who doesn't."      "How are you gonna do that?"      "I don't know. Maybe he'll find me."      "Very romantic," Liz said sarcastically. "But, we're here tonight and these two hot guys want to take us out. Come with me - it'll be more fun that way. If you don't like it, you can leave. I'll deal."      There was a pause as the girls stared at each other.      "He's really cute," Liz said slowly, teasingly. "I think you like him," she continued, in a hushed voice, drawing out the words as one did in the grammar school recess yard.      A small smile crept across Samantha's face; Liz squealed girlishly and grabbed both of Samantha's hands, squeezing them together before she let go of one and turned for the door pulling Samantha along behind her.      They left the bathroom and waded back across the dance floor towards the bar. Joe and Mike were standing together talking. Liz ran into another girl she knew and stopped for a second, but she pushed Samantha ahead telling her she'd be right there. As she got close to the bar, she adjusted her halter top and pushed her hair back from her eyes. She was just about to hop up next to Mike when she heard Joe say, "She was hot, but I don't think you have a chance. Liz tells me she doesn't put out for anybody."      Not sure how to feel about that, she hesitated a step short of the two guys. Having decided to pretend she had not heard it, she resolved to lean into the conversation - but then Mike began to speak.      "Maybe she doesn't put out for you amateurs, but I'll show her what a real man can do. By next week I'll have her begging to give it up for all the brothers. I can't wait to get my..."      Joe gave Mike a quick elbow in the ribs to shut him up. He had caught sight of Samantha standing behind him. "Sam! Hey, Sam, you're back," Joe stammered.      The way Mike looked at her resembled how her little brother had looked at their mother after he said his first swear word in her presence.      "Hey babe," Mike drawled. "we were just beginning to wonder..."      "Forget it," Samantha snapped over a quivering chin, pushing away from Mike's arm which was slithering around her waist. She turned and walked away.      "Sam, wait!" she heard Liz call, but Samantha continued on her way out of the club, apologizing to the people she walked into as she began to cry.      I will not be like that, she thought. It does not have to work that way. *   *   *      Stillness seeped into Curtis from his seat. It crept from the carpet into his feet and sank from the ceiling onto his head. Silence seared his thoughts. His reading had stopped and his book lay in his lap like a sand colored stone in the desert; his industriousness had been scorched by the dormant potion of passion brewing within. His stare had stuck to the side of his blank tv set, but he was not seeing. Eleven-thirty passed, then twelve-thirty and one. The weight of fate was constricting around him; a realization was in his mind's horizon and just now coming into reach. He ran short of breath. Quickly, he parted his lips and sucked hard and fast to get a blast of air into his system. His eyes came back to life and explored the room around him with child-like interest.      He knew, again, that he was right. *   *   *      "I saw that waitress at the club last night," Rich said. He had woken up at two o'clock in the afternoon, just as Curtis had been leaving for lunch. Curtis didn't mind Rich coming, until they arrived at the restaurant and he realized Rich was not hung-over enough to be quiet. "Ain't she hot? See what you're missing out on, Curt?" Rich was craning his neck to get a better look at the waitress who had just put the menus on their table. "Hey, you see the way she looked at me?"      "Yea," said Curtis, looking up briefly from the menu. "You've got something hanging out of your nose."      "Oh shit," Rich exclaimed as he put a hand over the bottom half of his face. Then he saw Curtis chuckling as he looked at him. "Oh, shut up! She smiled at me! And, I think she's kinda hot!"      "Right, what are you gonna eat?"         "I'll take whatever she's serving!"      "So, you're gonna go hungry? I'm gonna have a sandwich and some fries." Curtis pulled a newspaper from under his chair where he had stashed it on the way in. He began to look over the front page.      "What's eating you? She's hot - look at that ass!"      "She's a waitress, Richard! She's sees guys just like you a hundred times per day walking in and out of here leaving her lousy tips."      "What? Like you could do any better? I've sure got a tip for her! Here she comes."      "Hey guys," she said with practiced pep. "What can I get you?"       "Yea, I'll have some..."      "I'll have a turkey club," Curtis interrupted Rich. "And some fries, please."      "Right," said Rich glaring at Curtis. "And I'll take..."      "Oh, I'm sorry, but I'll take a Sprite too please," added Curtis.      "Is that all?" asked the waitress looking up from her pad, meeting Curtis's eyes.      "That's all," said Curtis, noticing a smile creeping across the waitress's face.      "Anything for you?" she asked Rich.      "Just a water," he replied while glaring at Curtis.      "I'll get that for you." the waitress said and turned away. Rich's eyes followed right with her, never moving above her waist.      "You dog," Rich said. He looked at Curtis, just as he opened up the paper, appearing very interested in something on page two. "You dog! You like her, don't you? Told you she had a great ass!"      "I haven't noticed."      "Yea, well forget it," said Rich. "I'm gonna work my charm on her. She stormed out of the club last night. Apparently some guy rubbed her the wrong way. But, she'll be with me tomorrow night."      "If you work your charm on her, Richard, the poor girl will have to get therapy for the rest of her life."        Rich was about to respond to Curtis when the waitress reappeared with a tray of drinks, and he was quickly distracted by her presence and his scheme. "Hey, uh..." Rich was leaning close to the name tag on her button-down blouse as she leaned forward to put the drinks down. Curtis looked up to see that he was taking a bit more time than one needed to read, "Samantha."      "Um, Sam. Sam, how are you?"      "Hey," Samantha said glancing over at Curtis. "Here's your Sprite."      Curtis dropped his paper down momentarily to say, "Thank you."      "Yea, thanks for the water too," said Rich. Then Samantha turned and went back into the kitchen. Rich's eyes followed her as she went. "What are you doing?" he said to Curtis.      "Reading a great little story here about the overpopulation of deer in the..."      "Yea, shut the hell up. I mean, what are you doing? You've hardly even looked at her!"      Finally Curtis looked up from his paper. "Looked at who?"      "Don't play games with me!" Rich whined. "You know who I'm talking about."         "Oh, our waitress? Yes, she seems nice."      "Well, I'm gonna find out just how nice she is. I'll be getting some of that for sure, as long as she's not all signed up for the convent or something."      "Richard, if all women who found you repulsive were aspiring nuns, religion would have a much stronger foundation in this country."      "What?" Richard barked, sitting back. Then he leaned into the table with two fingers extended from his hand pointing towards Curtis, "Man you are so full of..."      "Here you are," said Samantha, reappearing with a tray. She set Richard's water down in the middle of the table, then put Curtis's food down in front of him. "How's that look?"      "Oh, beautiful, thank you," he responded. His mouth opened to say something more, but Rich started before him.      "Say, Sam, I've got two VIP passes to the HotSpot dance club for tomorrow night. I saw you at the little local club last night, but I thought you might want to come with me to a high class place. It's the biggest party in the city."      She took half a step back and dropped her chin to her chest as she looked down her nose at him. "I don't date customers. Sorry."      "Oh, come on. You're just about the hottest girl I've seen. And, I'll take you out classy. VIP, you know. How about it?"      "I'm busy tomorrow," she said, and promptly turned and walked away.      "Damn, she's hot," Rich said after several moments of silence. "You have to admit, Curt, wouldn't you hit that if you could?" Rich looked at Curtis expectantly.      "You just don't get it," Curtis finally said slowly.      "Get what?"      "You don't get that nobody wants to be treated the way you treat women." he said to Rich. "You 'hit on' them." he said, emphasizing the syllables of that action. "Just listen to that phrase; it sounds entirely unpleasant. It sounds like you're getting beat up. Nobody wants to be hit on, Richard." Curt stopped, letting him try to digest the idea.      "What are you talking about?" said Rich, his face contorted with what Curtis assumed was either insult or disgust. "How else do you meet chicks?"      "By not calling them chicks."      "Oh, whatever. You give me these great,  philosophical lectures, but when it comes down to it, you are sitting around alone and bored. At least I get out and have some fun." Rich stared at Curtis who seemed suddenly very interested in his turkey club. "You're no different," he continued, unsatisfied with the lack of response. "Look at that girl. I know you see the same short skirt, hot legs, and bulging tits that I do. If you could get with her, you'd want to get it on just like I would."      "That wouldn't be my first thought."      "Then what would be your first thought?" he asked. "You're so much better - what would you do so different? Go down on her?"      Curtis stopped to consider this - how would he be different? He looked at this waitress, Samantha. He really looked at her. She looked like she was underwater, submerged; though her eyes did shine like the reflection of a campfire in still water. There was a light in them; as he looked at her from across the room, for this fleeting moment, he longed to stare into them and feel their warmth. Then she looked at him. She met his gaze. It was a coincidence, he was sure, but it was startling. He saw behind her eyes. She smiled. He smiled too, but reluctantly because he had just seen that she was not happy, she was not fulfilled and this made him sad. He drifted back to the daydream he had had last night because in that dream he had known how to make her happy, he had known how to help her fulfill herself, as he wanted to be fulfilled.      "Hey, numb nuts, you still there? What the hell are you doing? I asked you a question. What would you do different?"      "I'm sorry Richard," Curtis said as he fell from his revelations. "But, if you are asking me the question you probably wouldn't understand the answer."      Rich scowled, rolling his head away from Curtis, as if appealing to some other, non-existent source of help with this argument.      "Here you are," said Samantha, stepping next to the table so that her back was still mostly to Rich. "Hope everything was ok," she said to Curtis, placing the check face down on the table.      "It was lovely, thank you Samantha," Curtis said, but then flinched as he feared he had sounded ridiculous. Then, grabbing a wave of self-confidence he continued. "Listen, maybe you would like to have dinner sometime. Maybe I could cook for you or something. I've taken a couple culinary classes and..."      Samantha blushed and smiled. Curtis blushed and smiled.      Gripped by a sensation of falling, Curtis panicked. "Maybe, maybe that's not a good idea. Maybe I could just give you a call sometime."      She giggled. After a second of fear that she was laughing at him he saw the sparkle in her eyes, and then the warmth coming from them, and he laughed with her. "I was hoping you would ask," she said finally, and placed a slip of paper on the table in front of him.      He looked down and saw she had written down her phone number for him. His head snapped back up to meet her eyes. She laughed again.      "So, I'll see you then," she said.      "Yea, I'll see you." And, with that she turned and walked away. Her face was raised as if the sun was shining down on her; and she was lifting her feet a little higher with each step than she needed to, as if emerging onto some unfamiliar but welcoming beach.      "That's some shit, man," Rich said. "Is that her phone number? Man, that's her phone number. That's some messed up shit, man. It's just not supposed to work like that."      That, Richard, is precisely where you are wrong. Return to Writing Ryan's page of Short Stories and Poems! Writing Ryan's main page

Guys, Lady and Gentleman by Ryan Cofrancesco