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Message-ID: <48953asstr$1093324203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gray Beard" <eye4sex@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} 20th Reunion (MF, rom, nosex)
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Date: Tue, 24 Aug 2004 01:10:03 -0400
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I was talking with Joel Harrelson, and was pondering how thankful I was that
I hadn't married him (not that that had ever been a serious consideration),
when a new arrival caught my eye.  Joel must have noticed that I wasn't
paying much attention to what he was saying, for he said "Well, nice to see
you again", and wandered off, leaving me alone.  I sipped my drink as I
wracked my brain trying to remember the name of the guy who had just walked
in.  Oh yes, Dennis something-or-other.  He looked pretty much just the
same, except that he wasn't the scrawny kid he'd been in High School.

It was funny how many of the guys who had looked mature in school now looked
downright old.  Dennis, who had always looked too young to even get his
learners permit, now looked ten years younger than the 38 he must be - that
we all were.  Meanwhile guys like Phil and Joel looked closer to fifty.

And most of the women looked horrible (God, I hoped I didn't look as bad!).
Jayne, the Homecoming Queen, was especially far gone.  Sure, she was a
success (junior executive, two kids, a rich husband), but she was a good
thirty or forty pounds overweight, her hair was short, spiky, and died a
rather unattractive yellow.  Her earrings were too big, her makeup too
thick, and her clothes too tight.  All those guys who used to jerk off over
images of her back then...  What a thought.

I watched women come up, recognize each other, and hug and squeal - women
who I knew had hated each other's guts in school, and who had constantly
been cutting each other down like the bitches they were.  Now they were all
lovey-dovey, the cats.

As I mused over those attending our 20th High School reunion, a voice
interrupted my thoughts.

"Beth?"

I looked over to see Dennis standing near me, smiling.  He did look
just the same as he did in school, really, except that now he looked good
(and he definitely hadn't then).  I smiled back and said "Dennis, it's good
to see you again."   I stuck out my hand to shake his, and I sensed a real
warmth in his eyes looking back at me.

"I was hoping you'd be here, though I never expected you to remember me," he
said.

It was true that we'd not spent a lot of time together in school, but he'd
been in many of my classes, and he'd moved in circles close to mine.

"Why did you want to see me?"   I was genuinely curious.

He looked around the room for a minute before answering.  "I guess I always
felt you were one of the more real people in school.  I knew I didn't care
what happened to a lot of the people in our class.  You were one of the ones
I did want to see."

"I'm flattered," I said in reply.  "I'm also hungry.  Want to head over to
the hors d'oeuvres table?"

With that, the two of us set off across the room to the buffet, and then to
a table.  I related to him what had happened in my life in the last 20
years - a music degree from Concordia College, marriage to an older
professor, his sudden death of a heart attack three years ago, my career
playing in orchestras and doing private music tutoring.

He then gave the five minute summary of his life: a degree in computer
programming from the U, marriage and no children by her choice, then her
running off with another guy to raise a family, Dennis building up a
successful business developing software for railroad management, and finally
Dennis's selling of his company last year for enough money to retire on.  "I
was done," he said.  "I'd felt the need to prove something after Janet ran
out on me, I guess.  Once my company was a success, though, I started
getting interested in other things, so selling out seemed like the thing to
do."

I was about to ask him about his new interests when an old friend, Carol,
came over fairly shrieking "Beth, Beth, Beth!"  Carol couldn't stop talking,
and barely gave Dennis a glance as she tried to get caught up with me.
After a while, when Carol finally took a breath, Dennis excused himself and
took his leave.  I was sorry to see him go.  It was almost an half-hour
before I extricated myself from Carol - it wasn't until she saw Jayne and
rushed off to see her.

When dinner was called, there was a mad scramble for seats at the tables.
Some people had planned things out and reserved chairs next to friends, but
I found myself standing there with a full plate eyeing all of the full
tables.  I wandered around, trying not to look as out of place as I felt,
when I heard a voice from behind me call out, "Beth".

I turned, and saw Dennis waving me over to a seat at his table.  It was
especially great. since everyone else there was part of the artsy and
druggie crowd I'd spent a lot of time with in school.  I was surprised
Dennis was sitting with them, since he had *not* been part of that crowd at
all.

Dennis was sitting almost across the table from me so I did not get much
chance to talk with him during dinner.  I did have a chance to catch up with
several friends, though, and it was amazing how many of the "outcasts" from
school had gotten degrees, gotten (and stayed) married, had kids, and were
generally happy and well adjusted.  Maybe a couple of our friends who hadn't
showed for the reunion had never gotten it together, but most of us had.

After dinner (which included quite a few drinks for all of us), the band
started up and at least some people started dancing.  Dennis, taking
advantage of the newly-empty chairs, scooted over next to me, and we
resumed getting reacquainted.  His highschool tendency to splurt out stupid
nonsequitors, which I remembered quite well, had been replaced by a very
quick wit that had me in stitches several times.  We watched some of our
classmates dancing, and Dennis was full of catty observations that probably
cut very close to the truth.  I was glad he wasn't skewering me.

When the band started playing a Tom Petty song that had been a favorite of
mine in school, I dragged Dennis out onto the dance floor.  His old
awkwardness was missing, replaced by some very creative moves.  I asked him
about it, and he replied that maybe all of the Grateful Dead shows he'd been
to in the intervening years had changed him somewhat.  The Grateful Dead!
That put Dennis in a different light.  Dennis was turning into the best
thing happening at this reunion!

I was getting very hot and sweaty from the fast dancing, and was going to
beg off on the next song, but when it came on, it was a slow number.  Dennis
looked up at me questioningly, letting it be my choice.  Even though I was
too hot, I went into his arms.  He, too, was hot and moist, but he smelled
good, and I felt comfortable in his arms.  I swear I felt him kiss the top
of my head, but when I looked up, he just smiled down at me.  I had an awful
urge to kiss him, but I couldn't.  I mean, what was I thinking?

The end of the song sped up a bit, making slow dancing impossible.  Dennis
gracefully switched to some jitterbug moves with me, and when the song
ended, I was clasped in his arms, my back to him, my leg out in front.  I
guess we'd looked pretty good.

But I suddenly became self-conscious, and told Dennis that I needed to slip
off to the restroom.  I was way too hot, and it wasn't just the temperature.
What was going on with me? I grabbed my purse and hurried off in search of
the ladies' room.

I went inside gratefully and washed my hands and looked at myself in the
mirror.  In the bright lights, I saw an almost-forty woman looking back.  I
was no teenager anymore - why was I acting like one.  Why did Dennis unnerve
me so?  I got a paper towel and dampened it under the water and carefully
wiped my face, then I combed my hair again.  I straightened my nylons,
readjusted my bra, touched up my lipstick.

I began to feel calmer, more myself, but then I shook my head.  What was I
doing?  I was thirty-eight, widowed, not seeing anyone, totally unattached,
lonely.  Why shouldn't I get excited by a man?  Why shouldn't I have some
fun with Dennis?  Why be so fucking in-control?

I took my hand and mussed up my hair.  I wiped the lipstick off my lips.  I
didn't want to look perfect - fuck, none of us were perfect anymore.  I just
wanted to be Beth, and I wanted to find Dennis, and I wanted to have another
drink, and I wanted to see what would happen.

Only when I came out, I couldn't find Dennis anywhere.  I wandered around,
occasionally falling into conversation with someone, but always begging off.
I had to find a drink by myself.  I checked around the room, on the dance
floor, in the corners.  I even started asking people if they'd seen Dennis,
but nobody had recently.  I was getting frustrated, flustered, angry, close
to desperate.

In fact, I was about ready to scream, when I saw Dennis, coat in hand, about
to head out the door.  I ran over to him as fast as I could in my damned
high heels.

"Dennis!" - I almost shouted.  Oh God, what could I say.  "You can't leave
without saying goodbye".  You can't leave me, was what I was thinking.

Dennis turned, looking downcast.

"Beth-", he blurted, suddenly looking flustered.  "I - the way you rushed
off..."

I came right up next to him and took his hands in mine.

"I'm sorry...," I began, while he said "You took so long..."  We both
stopped.

We were both silent for a minute, looking at each other.

"I was being foolish, and feeling like I was still in high school," said
Dennis.  "We're just here for a reunion, and here I was hoping you'd 'go out
with me' after the dance.  And then when you rushed off to the ladies and
didn't come out, I assumed I'd done something wrong."  He smiled at me, as
if to show how silly he'd been, only I went up on my tiptoes and kissed him,
right then and right there.  I'd never have done that in high school, but we
weren't high school kids anymore.

"Dennis, I was feeling it too, and it was a good feeling.  And it flustered
me a bit too for a while," I whispered to him as I broke the kiss.  "Come
on, I want to dance with you some more, and I still have a drink to finish.
And we can think about 'after' after."

I pulled him back towards the party, and he squeezed my hand as we walked.
People were watching us, but I didn't care.

Drink and dance we did, and talk, and laugh.  It was like the other people
weren't there anymore.  Dennis and I were a party of two.

When "Stairway to Heaven" came on - our school's traditional 'last dance' -
Dennis pulled me into his arms, and we rocked together to the music.  I felt
so happy there.  I looked up at Dennis, and he had a very calm look on his
face as he looked down.  Then he tilted his head and kissed me - really
kissed me.  I pulled my arms from around his middle and snaked them up
around his head and pulled him tighter into the kiss.  Our mouths parted and
our tongues carressed each other, both of us oblivious to the other people
and even the music.  We had stopped dancing.  I broke the kiss.

"Dennis," I finally managed.  "Please tell me that you're not seeing
anyone."  Please tell me that tonight in my room won't be a one-night stand,
I thought silently.

"Well," Dennis said smiling down at me, "I'm seeing a woman named Beth, and
I think we're starting some sort of a long-term relationship, and I'm hoping
our night isn't over yet."  With that he kissed me again, and I relaxed into
his arms.

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