The Question
Eternal
THE TOUR
"See you Friday!"
"Okay, can I get a - "
"Oh my God, I can't wait - "
The crosstalk of a half-dozen conversations floats out of the Student Recreational Center, reaching a shadow of a man just as he finds an ideal pool of darkness between two vehicles.
One, a dilapidated hulk, belongs to a freshman who has transferred to another school - last semester, in point of fact. A student who has left the rusted and ruined Dodge Colt behind, right along with his friends - drinking buddies, really, nothing more - a string of misadventures, most of them involving more or less severe flirtations with alcohol - and Boise State University itself, drawn on by the, shall we say in our own sarcastic fashion, "allure" of a military school we need neither name nor give further thought to.
From where we hover perhaps two dozen feet above the chill, rough pavement, this play at ambush is less than frightening. It is, in fact, sadly comical. Although even we cannot discern the particulars of his outline in the muted canyon between the two cars, his posture is that of a stalking animal - but not a particularly formidable one. It is the posture more of a playful kitten than of a hunting bengal.
The other vehicle - a silver late-model Honda Civic - belongs to a pretty and vibrant young woman we shall know as Sam, for that is what her friends call her… and it seems to us - as we leave the parking lot behind to focus on her petite, graceful figure as she emerges from the bright color and laughter of the SRC's arched main entryway - that we should all like to have a friend like Sam.
To say that Sam is attractive is to give voice to the most profound sort of understatement. To an observer less detached than ourselves, the word "goddess" might tumble carelessly from the lips. And although we are not so careless, the sentiment is quite understandable.
We descend now to follow her, to get a better look. We note her long, naturally platinum-blonde hair, bundled into a thick ponytail, as she passes beneath a window and fluorescent light shines down on it; we note, too, the taper of her back under a sports bra and denim jacket, her narrow waist and her perfect hips. As we glide past her, unseen and unheard, we take notice of her arms, which by their tone mark her as an athlete of sorts; we might guess by her present attire and by the feline grace of her movements that she is a gymnast.
We have a good look at her face, now, as she passes under the last window before crossing the border into the parking lot. Her eyes are a particularly striking shade of blue. Her complexion is flawless. Her abdominal muscles are particularly well-developed, as are her calf muscles, whose size and definition are unmistakable even from this angle.
We move along with her, now, across the border between the bright flourescence of the open causeway and the rusty shadows of the parking lot. We detect a slight shift in the way she moves, now, as she crosses this border; her center of gravity lowers by a few centimeters, her eyes begin to flick nervously from left to right and back again; her fingers curl in subconscious apprehension. She is wary, though only we know consciously what it is that awaits her in that pool of darkness between her car and that forgotten hulk out there.
A chill breeze passes around and through us; she crosses her deceptively slim arms over her chest as it catches her hair. Reaching into her sporty little handbag, she withdraws her keys with a bright, cheery jingle. Her fingers blindly sort the keyless entry remote from the small aerosol of Mace, house keys, safety deposit box key, pool key.
The Civic chirps its greeting in answer to her press of the remote. She lowers her arm - and though we know she shouldn't - drops the jumble of keys, remote and her Mace back into her handbag. We can only hope that she's as accomplished at the quick draw as she must be at sports, because though we haven't had a good look at her ambusher, his shadow speaks for a man at least a head taller and perhaps a hundred pounds heavier than our young friend Sam.
Her steps become shorter, more hesitant, now. From our vantage point across the hood from her, we have a far clearer view of the young man awaiting her in the shadow; though hers is an expression of growing puzzlement and upset, his is one of grinning mischief - but there's no malice in it at all.
It seems more likely that we are about to witness a childish - and seriously ill-advised - prank, rather than an attack. If our prankster has his way, that is.
We sense, now, that a great many things are about to transpire in very rapid succession - so let us pay close attention and see if we can make sense of them as they happen.
As Sam takes the final step that will put her alongside her driver's door, her eyes narrow, her throat tightens and her legs widen, knees flexing slightly, lowering her center of gravity. Though she has yet to discern the nature of the threat, she is now absolutely aware of its existence.
The young man, with impeccable timing, if less than stellar judgement, springs from his haunches, spreading his arms wide, and with an expression midway between feigned fierceness and comical surprise, bellows, "BOOGA! BOOGA BOO-"
He is interrupted mid-BOOGA! by that which also set his expression to changing - a slender leg sweeping along and behind his own, rising as it bends behind his. A pair of arms entrap his own, all three slim but surprisingly powerful limbs pulling him away from his own center of gravity and into Sam's - which itself shifts back and away from him as she aims her parallel-bar-trained arms now for the smooth macadam, landing on them with the grace of a cat.
Unable to catch his balance, her ridiculous attacker has no choice but to follow, his own reflexes not nearly as finely honed as hers. His hands mitigate his fall, but not efficiently enough to allow him to push away in time to avoid her counterattack.
Her counterattack is instinctive – without thought of hesitation, she wraps her teen-girl thighs around his neck, clamping down on him with brutal adrenaline power. She drags him toward the light, “crab walking†backward on her arms, and we follow along with them at ground level, taking in the mingled odors of perspiration, the night breeze and fear.
Her pretty young face undergoes a shocking transition the instant she’s hauled her attacker out of the shadow and into the rusty light from overhead. “Billy?†Her mouth is seized – words flee her as she realizes this wasn’t an attack, but –
“Only… joking…†he grunts from between clenched teeth, his hands prying uselessly at the iron thighs encasing his neck and jaw.
“Joking?!†she snarls, enraged, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You think this is a joke? Huh?!†She punches on the pressure even harder, holding back only enough to avoid doing any real damage. “Bet you think you got me good, huh, Billy? Well, now I’ve got you…â€
The truth is that as her fright fades, so does her anger… for the most part. She’s had a crush on this man ever since she was in middle school and he a high school freshman; thus, mischief has been the single most prominent feature of their relationship from the very beginning. But he has, in fact, gone too far this time, and her fright and embarrassment demands vengeance. An eye for an eye – except in this case, we might say a humiliation for a humiliation.
“Yeah…†she whispers to herself as the perfect justice takes form in her mind. “Oh, yeah…â€
He returns to the world gasping, snorting and twitching – returning from the numbed darkness of her leggy embrace hits him hard. She giggles a little, then pats him on the head.
“Aw, poor Billy.†she playfully tousles his hair. “You can’t go taking a nap on me yet, lover boy! I haven’t given you the tour yet!†She rises to her knees and reaches under him. His eyes widen as he realizes what she intends to do –
“Hey, nononononono – “ he shakes his head frantically. She’s a gymnast, sure, but she’s such a little thing! Or so we might infer from the look on his face. We would tend to agree, were it not that we’ve seen younger and smaller women perform similar feats. We’ll content ourselves to enjoy his incredulous reaction, as well as the sight of Sam’s lithe figure gracefully lifting him clear of the pavement, and the smug little smile that beautifies her features in response.
It looks as though Billy knows better than to put up a struggle, although he’s plainly fighting the impulse with everything he’s got.
“So!†she rubs his nose in his precarious position by warming up with a few standing calf raises, causing the muscles in her lower legs to sharpen into little tapered diamonds. “Where should we start, I wonder? Why don’t you decide, Billy?â€
“Um – in… in the car?†he stammers.
She throws her head back with a roar of laughter, finally drawing the attention of a pair of pretty young coeds, who spontaneously join in when they see the couple. “Oh, where were you two a minute ago?!†she demands as they saunter over for a better look.
“What’chyall got there, girlfriend?†the taller of the pair, a pretty young African-American girl named Nicole grins inquisitively at Billy. Her friend, remarkably short, remarkably young and remarkably grown up looking with expertly applied makeup and a shocking figure under a shockingly strategic outfit, pokes at him experimentally with a long-nailed finger.
“Just my boyfriend, Billy.†Sam looks at the younger girl askance – the little girl with the very grownup curves quickly withdraws her finger, but Sam only smiles warmly. “I was just about to give him a tour of the campus, wanna help me show him to the sights?â€
The two newcomers to our little show squeal with delight; Billy only dispenses a sigh of helpless exasperation, and away they go.
“I’m Sam.†She introduces herself, and Nicole and Jenny curtsy their introductions, telling Sam all about their Renaissance Festival fun as they go.
We follow the small group through the floral-scented night breezes, under bright sidewalk lights, past blue-lit emergency phone boxes, past crowds who gasp and giggle and stare.
“Isn’t he heavy?†Nicole asks as she watches Sam carry her human burden along with perfect balance and grace, apparently not the least bit winded.
“I bet I could do that.†little Jenny hints brightly, flexing her little biceps. A passing teenage boy goes slack-jawed and bug-eyed at the scene, and she gives him a little smile and a wink.
“I don’t know…†Sam shakes her head. “He is kind of heavy, but I do gymnastics and track five days a week, sweetie. Besides, he’s so much bigger than you, I’m afraid even if you did pick him up, he’d still be touching the ground…†Jenny gets that petulant, stubborn look of a child being denied a toy.
“If…†Billy speaks up, “If you put me down… ugh… I’m runnin’.â€
“Oh, you just try it, boy!†That makes up Sam’s mind for her. “C’m’ere, Jenny, let’s see if you can handle him.†That gets a nervous giggle out of the girl, who edges up to Sam and reaches out toward Billy, who’s draped over Sam’s left shoulder facing forward.
Billy doesn’t like where this is going, if the expression on his face is any indication. “Oh, hey – “
In this position, though, his options are limited to either remaining docile and cooperative or falling face-first onto concrete. He wisely chooses the former, and one pair of slim but firm arms circle his torso while another release it. In that instant before his weight shifts onto the smaller girl, he is staring straight down at the ground, his feet touching only night sky.
He is a big boy, though, and too wide to rest on the little girl’s shoulder. “Ugh, well…†Jenny complains. “I can’t carry him like this.â€
“Too heavy?†Sam asks sympathetically. “He’s pretty close to 200 pounds, you know.â€
“Oh, it’s not that; not at all.†Jenny shakes her head, her loose strawberry-blonde hair brushing Billy’s leg as she gently lowers him onto his hands. “He’s just too big. I can carry him piggyback, though.â€
Billy looks around quickly as he comes to rest on his behind, gathering his legs under himself to run – but finds himself staring at bare legs on three sides and realizes he’s going nowhere they don’t want him to. “Crap.†he declares with resignation.
“Don’t.†Sam warns, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips. She nods at Jenny. “Okay, you can carry him as far as the M.U., but then you have to give him back, okay? I wanna show him off, remember.â€
“Okay!†Jenny smiles down at the young man trapped between the three of them. “All aboard!†Another girl, a tall redhead in a basketball jersey and very short shorts, stops to watch as Billy reluctantly complies.
“Hmmm…†the redhead strokes her chin thoughtfully and snags a small, nerdy boy, complete with thick spectacles and baby face, who has foolishly stopped to gawk alternately at the gorgeous six foot redhead in the tiny white Daisy Dukes and the spectacle of a tiny girl carrying a huge jock on her back.
“Hey!†the diminutive dweeb squawks as the flame-haired amazon hoists him up unto her shoulder by the back of his shirt and takes a few loping strides over to the three girls and their prisoner.
“Dayumn!†Nicole blurts. “You go, girl!†Billy and the new guy exchange pained looks as the growing assembly resumes its trek.
“Hi, I’m Lucy.†The amazon introduces herself, shaking hands with each of the three other girls in turn. She turns to smile mischievously up at the boy on her shoulder. “What’s your name, cutie?â€
“M – M – M – “ the boy stammers, thoroughly discombululated.
“Mmmmmmmm?†she prompts, then licks her lips, smiling even more broadly as the blood drains from his face.
“Oh, that’s just mean.†Billy observes.
“Shush!†Sam and Jenny scold him in chorus. The lights and buzz of the Memorial Union loom in the distance.
“Mallory!†the smaller boy blurts, flushing with embarrassment. Lucy laughs up at him, covering her mouth daintily and rocking dangerously on her feet.
“Ouch.†Billy mutters, earning glares from Nicole, Lucy and Sam, who swats his ass, making him jump.
“Hey, ladies.†A voice pulls alongside them in the form of a young African-American man on a skateboard. He eyes the group with curios eyes and a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you drop these losers and get with a real man?†Sam and Nicole eye his Thrasher t-shirt and long, baggy shorts, then exchange glances.
“Well, honey,†Nicole sashays over to him, cocking her head to one side, measuring him up. At five foot nine and about one seventy, he’s a perfect match to her five foot six, one twenty. “I think I’ve got a better idea.†Swiftly and fluidly, her foot stops his skateboard dead, throwing him forward and into her waiting arms. “Why don’t you join the party, ‘real man’?â€
“Whoa!†he gapes, then notices his skateboard sliding away. “Hey, my – oh.†Sam catches it easily, flips it into the air with one practiced kick and catches it one-handed like a pro. “That’s sick, yo! You skate?â€
Sam nods. “Since I was little. My big brother was pro for awhile.â€
“Um… hello?†Mallory squeaks. “Could you, uh… put me down?†Billy nods eagerly.
“Nope!†all four girls sing out in chorus, then laugh as if they’ve just heard the best joke ever.
The crowds thicken, shocked male faces and amazed female faces staring up at the three men, admiring the four young women. We hear laughter, and the buzz of the crowds rises a bit in intensity as more young people take notice of the spectacle entering their midst.
We notice activity in the crowd, a bustle of sorts beyond the gawking and milling about of a few seconds ago – let’s scout ahead through the moving bodies and see if we can’t get a clearer idea of what’s going on.
The warm night breeze takes on the smell of fast food, aftershave and perfume as we sail easily through the brightly-lit huddles of students. And now we see what this new activity is – a few girls in the crowd, of varying sizes and builds, have taken hold of their boyfriends, male friends and random strangers. Whatever Sam has started is clearly infectious. We note with interest that few, then none, of the young men being drawn into this developing event are fighting back. Sam has taken Billy back from Jenny, who looks more than a little disappointed to give him up; she’s obviously psyched up by the novelty of this whole thing, as do Sam, Nicole and Lucy.
Lucy takes notice of the smaller girl’s pout. “Hey, little one, I’ve got a present for ya.†she smiles, and lowers Mallory into Jenny’s arms.
“Hmm.†Jenny considers her new prize, then plucks his glasses from his face and deposits them into her astonishing cleavage, ignoring his objection and contemplating his new and improved appearance. “Hey, he really is cute! Can I keep him?â€
Lucy nods, smiling. “Sure. He’s too small for me, anyway. I would’ve just thrown him back… eventually.†She gives Jenny a wink.
“Oh, I think he’ll do.†The smaller girl gives the boy in her arms a peck on the lips. “Contact lenses are gonna be a must, though.†The new arrivals – half a dozen couples, now, perhaps more – have come within speaking distance.
Let us take a moment to rise above the crowd, to take this sight in in its entirely. Under the white floodlights of the Memorial Union’s grass-and-flagstone courtyard, 11 women stand loosely assembled, examining and critiquing the prizes they’ve collected. Below us, blondes, brunettes and redheads; long and curly, silky and flowing, short and neat, ponytails, pigtails; dark and lovely skin, light and creamy, bronzed, tan-lined; surfer girls, skater girls, raver babes, hippie chicks; all have taken up the diversion of the moment and taken up the nearest man and taken to the strange, roving party.
We descend back toward Sam and Billy and their new friends – Billy has gotten the attention of Nicole’s toy – Tyrell, his name is. “So, uh… college is looking pretty good from here.â€
“Yo, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!†Tyrell grins.
“Oh, yeah…†even Mallory agrees, though without his glasses his attempt to make eye contact with either of the other two doesn’t quite work. “Okay, now where are we going?â€
The group is indeed on the move again, a ripple of giggling traveling back through the crowd from Sam’s relayed whisper starting with Nicole, passed to Lucy, then to Jenny and on back. “Oh, you’ll see.†Sam winks at the other girls before adjusting Billy on her shoulders, who rolls his eyes.
The hour has grown late; the night breeze takes on a thread of chill as the crowd approaches a cluster of houses at the edge of campus… two residential houses. And between them… the Alpha Delta Pi sorority.
“Oh, what… the…†Mallory has seen it before Billy or Tyrell, who crane their necks trying to see where they’re going.
The rest of his thought is drowned out by fully two dozen female voices raising cheers and whoops of laughter up into the night sky. These are redoubled as more girls – and their male companions – come around front from the house’s backyard.
The young men in the group take notice of the sight being welcomed onto the front lawn, and – to the man – begin to edge away back toward the back of the house.
Not soon enough, or fast enough, though. Some of them are jocks, like Billy – but the women here are gymnasts, track girls, cheerleaders… a man here, a man there – eventually, all are enfolded and pulled skyward. Within seconds, not a male foot touches the ground at the Alpha Delta Pi house.
The cheers and laughter are enough to bring one of the neighbors out of his house, a burly giant of a man at six foot eight and over three hundred pounds. “HEY!†he bellows. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KIDS THINK YOU’RE DOING?!â€
His name, amusingly enough, is Bob Tallman. Bob likes to think he’s a mellow, easy-going guy. For the most part, he’s perfectly justified in thinking so. But all this racket is more than even Bob can tolerate, especially this late in the evening. He hasn’t quite caught on to exactly what’s transpiring here, but he will in a second or two.
He moves like a slow train – not at a terribly impressive speed, but looking for all the world like no act of God or Man could slow him down until he gets just where he’s going.
As it happens, though, it’s neither an act of God nor of Man he’s heading toward – it’s a redheaded girl, all wicked smile and long, long legs in short, short shorts. “Well, hello there!†Lucy purrs up at him.
“What… “ he trails off, finally sorting out what he’s seeing, and not even close to believing it yet. His narrow grey eyes widen as he runs a distracted hand over his cue-ball scalp, feeling a sort of detachment come over him as his brain tries to reconcile the real with the unreal.
“Hell yeah, Lucy, git ‘im!†a girl with a thick Georgia drawl hollers, laughing.
“Uh?†Bob Tallman hasn’t quite put himself together yet before luscious Lucy jumps up to give him a quick but impassioned kiss, then half-tackles him, dropping just low enough to throw him over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Whoa!â€
“Ooh!†she bounces easily on her toes. “I’m gonna get a good workout out of you, honey!†She trots back toward Sam, who’s just setting Billy on his feet.
He looks around, hope written on his face. “Well, we’re here! Ha ha, good joke, baby, you really got – oh!â€
Time for Sam’s grand finale, we sense. The energy in the air has built to a climactic pitch, practically crackles around us now. Little Jenny can sense it, and sets Mallory on his feet now, her arms draped around his neck, waiting to see what the next move is – as Sam stands waiting, each young woman follows suit, looking to her as well. Those few girls holding their men on the house’s front porch, guessing at the form the finale will take, walk their men out onto the lawn.
And now it happens. Slowly, almost in perfect unison, each woman squats down slightly, taking each man under shoulder blades and ass, then straightens her legs. Then… straightens her arms, some with more difficulty than others.
A dozen teenage female faces beam in triumph. A dozen male faces stare around at each other in a silent admixture of horror and exhilaration. We sense this just as we sense the brew of hormones and pheromones rising off this strangely silent assembly, a scene that evokes images of ancient ceremony, an offering to the mistress moon to whose pale embrace we now ascend, leaving the mortals below to their secretive – and not so secretive – delights.
Let us thank them for the show, and bid them, now, goodnight.
"See you Friday!"
"Okay, can I get a - "
"Oh my God, I can't wait - "
The crosstalk of a half-dozen conversations floats out of the Student Recreational Center, reaching a shadow of a man just as he finds an ideal pool of darkness between two vehicles.
One, a dilapidated hulk, belongs to a freshman who has transferred to another school - last semester, in point of fact. A student who has left the rusted and ruined Dodge Colt behind, right along with his friends - drinking buddies, really, nothing more - a string of misadventures, most of them involving more or less severe flirtations with alcohol - and Boise State University itself, drawn on by the, shall we say in our own sarcastic fashion, "allure" of a military school we need neither name nor give further thought to.
From where we hover perhaps two dozen feet above the chill, rough pavement, this play at ambush is less than frightening. It is, in fact, sadly comical. Although even we cannot discern the particulars of his outline in the muted canyon between the two cars, his posture is that of a stalking animal - but not a particularly formidable one. It is the posture more of a playful kitten than of a hunting bengal.
The other vehicle - a silver late-model Honda Civic - belongs to a pretty and vibrant young woman we shall know as Sam, for that is what her friends call her… and it seems to us - as we leave the parking lot behind to focus on her petite, graceful figure as she emerges from the bright color and laughter of the SRC's arched main entryway - that we should all like to have a friend like Sam.
To say that Sam is attractive is to give voice to the most profound sort of understatement. To an observer less detached than ourselves, the word "goddess" might tumble carelessly from the lips. And although we are not so careless, the sentiment is quite understandable.
We descend now to follow her, to get a better look. We note her long, naturally platinum-blonde hair, bundled into a thick ponytail, as she passes beneath a window and fluorescent light shines down on it; we note, too, the taper of her back under a sports bra and denim jacket, her narrow waist and her perfect hips. As we glide past her, unseen and unheard, we take notice of her arms, which by their tone mark her as an athlete of sorts; we might guess by her present attire and by the feline grace of her movements that she is a gymnast.
We have a good look at her face, now, as she passes under the last window before crossing the border into the parking lot. Her eyes are a particularly striking shade of blue. Her complexion is flawless. Her abdominal muscles are particularly well-developed, as are her calf muscles, whose size and definition are unmistakable even from this angle.
We move along with her, now, across the border between the bright flourescence of the open causeway and the rusty shadows of the parking lot. We detect a slight shift in the way she moves, now, as she crosses this border; her center of gravity lowers by a few centimeters, her eyes begin to flick nervously from left to right and back again; her fingers curl in subconscious apprehension. She is wary, though only we know consciously what it is that awaits her in that pool of darkness between her car and that forgotten hulk out there.
A chill breeze passes around and through us; she crosses her deceptively slim arms over her chest as it catches her hair. Reaching into her sporty little handbag, she withdraws her keys with a bright, cheery jingle. Her fingers blindly sort the keyless entry remote from the small aerosol of Mace, house keys, safety deposit box key, pool key.
The Civic chirps its greeting in answer to her press of the remote. She lowers her arm - and though we know she shouldn't - drops the jumble of keys, remote and her Mace back into her handbag. We can only hope that she's as accomplished at the quick draw as she must be at sports, because though we haven't had a good look at her ambusher, his shadow speaks for a man at least a head taller and perhaps a hundred pounds heavier than our young friend Sam.
Her steps become shorter, more hesitant, now. From our vantage point across the hood from her, we have a far clearer view of the young man awaiting her in the shadow; though hers is an expression of growing puzzlement and upset, his is one of grinning mischief - but there's no malice in it at all.
It seems more likely that we are about to witness a childish - and seriously ill-advised - prank, rather than an attack. If our prankster has his way, that is.
We sense, now, that a great many things are about to transpire in very rapid succession - so let us pay close attention and see if we can make sense of them as they happen.
As Sam takes the final step that will put her alongside her driver's door, her eyes narrow, her throat tightens and her legs widen, knees flexing slightly, lowering her center of gravity. Though she has yet to discern the nature of the threat, she is now absolutely aware of its existence.
The young man, with impeccable timing, if less than stellar judgement, springs from his haunches, spreading his arms wide, and with an expression midway between feigned fierceness and comical surprise, bellows, "BOOGA! BOOGA BOO-"
He is interrupted mid-BOOGA! by that which also set his expression to changing - a slender leg sweeping along and behind his own, rising as it bends behind his. A pair of arms entrap his own, all three slim but surprisingly powerful limbs pulling him away from his own center of gravity and into Sam's - which itself shifts back and away from him as she aims her parallel-bar-trained arms now for the smooth macadam, landing on them with the grace of a cat.
Unable to catch his balance, her ridiculous attacker has no choice but to follow, his own reflexes not nearly as finely honed as hers. His hands mitigate his fall, but not efficiently enough to allow him to push away in time to avoid her counterattack.
Her counterattack is instinctive – without thought of hesitation, she wraps her teen-girl thighs around his neck, clamping down on him with brutal adrenaline power. She drags him toward the light, “crab walking†backward on her arms, and we follow along with them at ground level, taking in the mingled odors of perspiration, the night breeze and fear.
Her pretty young face undergoes a shocking transition the instant she’s hauled her attacker out of the shadow and into the rusty light from overhead. “Billy?†Her mouth is seized – words flee her as she realizes this wasn’t an attack, but –
“Only… joking…†he grunts from between clenched teeth, his hands prying uselessly at the iron thighs encasing his neck and jaw.
“Joking?!†she snarls, enraged, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You think this is a joke? Huh?!†She punches on the pressure even harder, holding back only enough to avoid doing any real damage. “Bet you think you got me good, huh, Billy? Well, now I’ve got you…â€
The truth is that as her fright fades, so does her anger… for the most part. She’s had a crush on this man ever since she was in middle school and he a high school freshman; thus, mischief has been the single most prominent feature of their relationship from the very beginning. But he has, in fact, gone too far this time, and her fright and embarrassment demands vengeance. An eye for an eye – except in this case, we might say a humiliation for a humiliation.
“Yeah…†she whispers to herself as the perfect justice takes form in her mind. “Oh, yeah…â€
He returns to the world gasping, snorting and twitching – returning from the numbed darkness of her leggy embrace hits him hard. She giggles a little, then pats him on the head.
“Aw, poor Billy.†she playfully tousles his hair. “You can’t go taking a nap on me yet, lover boy! I haven’t given you the tour yet!†She rises to her knees and reaches under him. His eyes widen as he realizes what she intends to do –
“Hey, nononononono – “ he shakes his head frantically. She’s a gymnast, sure, but she’s such a little thing! Or so we might infer from the look on his face. We would tend to agree, were it not that we’ve seen younger and smaller women perform similar feats. We’ll content ourselves to enjoy his incredulous reaction, as well as the sight of Sam’s lithe figure gracefully lifting him clear of the pavement, and the smug little smile that beautifies her features in response.
It looks as though Billy knows better than to put up a struggle, although he’s plainly fighting the impulse with everything he’s got.
“So!†she rubs his nose in his precarious position by warming up with a few standing calf raises, causing the muscles in her lower legs to sharpen into little tapered diamonds. “Where should we start, I wonder? Why don’t you decide, Billy?â€
“Um – in… in the car?†he stammers.
She throws her head back with a roar of laughter, finally drawing the attention of a pair of pretty young coeds, who spontaneously join in when they see the couple. “Oh, where were you two a minute ago?!†she demands as they saunter over for a better look.
“What’chyall got there, girlfriend?†the taller of the pair, a pretty young African-American girl named Nicole grins inquisitively at Billy. Her friend, remarkably short, remarkably young and remarkably grown up looking with expertly applied makeup and a shocking figure under a shockingly strategic outfit, pokes at him experimentally with a long-nailed finger.
“Just my boyfriend, Billy.†Sam looks at the younger girl askance – the little girl with the very grownup curves quickly withdraws her finger, but Sam only smiles warmly. “I was just about to give him a tour of the campus, wanna help me show him to the sights?â€
The two newcomers to our little show squeal with delight; Billy only dispenses a sigh of helpless exasperation, and away they go.
“I’m Sam.†She introduces herself, and Nicole and Jenny curtsy their introductions, telling Sam all about their Renaissance Festival fun as they go.
We follow the small group through the floral-scented night breezes, under bright sidewalk lights, past blue-lit emergency phone boxes, past crowds who gasp and giggle and stare.
“Isn’t he heavy?†Nicole asks as she watches Sam carry her human burden along with perfect balance and grace, apparently not the least bit winded.
“I bet I could do that.†little Jenny hints brightly, flexing her little biceps. A passing teenage boy goes slack-jawed and bug-eyed at the scene, and she gives him a little smile and a wink.
“I don’t know…†Sam shakes her head. “He is kind of heavy, but I do gymnastics and track five days a week, sweetie. Besides, he’s so much bigger than you, I’m afraid even if you did pick him up, he’d still be touching the ground…†Jenny gets that petulant, stubborn look of a child being denied a toy.
“If…†Billy speaks up, “If you put me down… ugh… I’m runnin’.â€
“Oh, you just try it, boy!†That makes up Sam’s mind for her. “C’m’ere, Jenny, let’s see if you can handle him.†That gets a nervous giggle out of the girl, who edges up to Sam and reaches out toward Billy, who’s draped over Sam’s left shoulder facing forward.
Billy doesn’t like where this is going, if the expression on his face is any indication. “Oh, hey – “
In this position, though, his options are limited to either remaining docile and cooperative or falling face-first onto concrete. He wisely chooses the former, and one pair of slim but firm arms circle his torso while another release it. In that instant before his weight shifts onto the smaller girl, he is staring straight down at the ground, his feet touching only night sky.
He is a big boy, though, and too wide to rest on the little girl’s shoulder. “Ugh, well…†Jenny complains. “I can’t carry him like this.â€
“Too heavy?†Sam asks sympathetically. “He’s pretty close to 200 pounds, you know.â€
“Oh, it’s not that; not at all.†Jenny shakes her head, her loose strawberry-blonde hair brushing Billy’s leg as she gently lowers him onto his hands. “He’s just too big. I can carry him piggyback, though.â€
Billy looks around quickly as he comes to rest on his behind, gathering his legs under himself to run – but finds himself staring at bare legs on three sides and realizes he’s going nowhere they don’t want him to. “Crap.†he declares with resignation.
“Don’t.†Sam warns, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips. She nods at Jenny. “Okay, you can carry him as far as the M.U., but then you have to give him back, okay? I wanna show him off, remember.â€
“Okay!†Jenny smiles down at the young man trapped between the three of them. “All aboard!†Another girl, a tall redhead in a basketball jersey and very short shorts, stops to watch as Billy reluctantly complies.
“Hmmm…†the redhead strokes her chin thoughtfully and snags a small, nerdy boy, complete with thick spectacles and baby face, who has foolishly stopped to gawk alternately at the gorgeous six foot redhead in the tiny white Daisy Dukes and the spectacle of a tiny girl carrying a huge jock on her back.
“Hey!†the diminutive dweeb squawks as the flame-haired amazon hoists him up unto her shoulder by the back of his shirt and takes a few loping strides over to the three girls and their prisoner.
“Dayumn!†Nicole blurts. “You go, girl!†Billy and the new guy exchange pained looks as the growing assembly resumes its trek.
“Hi, I’m Lucy.†The amazon introduces herself, shaking hands with each of the three other girls in turn. She turns to smile mischievously up at the boy on her shoulder. “What’s your name, cutie?â€
“M – M – M – “ the boy stammers, thoroughly discombululated.
“Mmmmmmmm?†she prompts, then licks her lips, smiling even more broadly as the blood drains from his face.
“Oh, that’s just mean.†Billy observes.
“Shush!†Sam and Jenny scold him in chorus. The lights and buzz of the Memorial Union loom in the distance.
“Mallory!†the smaller boy blurts, flushing with embarrassment. Lucy laughs up at him, covering her mouth daintily and rocking dangerously on her feet.
“Ouch.†Billy mutters, earning glares from Nicole, Lucy and Sam, who swats his ass, making him jump.
“Hey, ladies.†A voice pulls alongside them in the form of a young African-American man on a skateboard. He eyes the group with curios eyes and a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you drop these losers and get with a real man?†Sam and Nicole eye his Thrasher t-shirt and long, baggy shorts, then exchange glances.
“Well, honey,†Nicole sashays over to him, cocking her head to one side, measuring him up. At five foot nine and about one seventy, he’s a perfect match to her five foot six, one twenty. “I think I’ve got a better idea.†Swiftly and fluidly, her foot stops his skateboard dead, throwing him forward and into her waiting arms. “Why don’t you join the party, ‘real man’?â€
“Whoa!†he gapes, then notices his skateboard sliding away. “Hey, my – oh.†Sam catches it easily, flips it into the air with one practiced kick and catches it one-handed like a pro. “That’s sick, yo! You skate?â€
Sam nods. “Since I was little. My big brother was pro for awhile.â€
“Um… hello?†Mallory squeaks. “Could you, uh… put me down?†Billy nods eagerly.
“Nope!†all four girls sing out in chorus, then laugh as if they’ve just heard the best joke ever.
The crowds thicken, shocked male faces and amazed female faces staring up at the three men, admiring the four young women. We hear laughter, and the buzz of the crowds rises a bit in intensity as more young people take notice of the spectacle entering their midst.
We notice activity in the crowd, a bustle of sorts beyond the gawking and milling about of a few seconds ago – let’s scout ahead through the moving bodies and see if we can’t get a clearer idea of what’s going on.
The warm night breeze takes on the smell of fast food, aftershave and perfume as we sail easily through the brightly-lit huddles of students. And now we see what this new activity is – a few girls in the crowd, of varying sizes and builds, have taken hold of their boyfriends, male friends and random strangers. Whatever Sam has started is clearly infectious. We note with interest that few, then none, of the young men being drawn into this developing event are fighting back. Sam has taken Billy back from Jenny, who looks more than a little disappointed to give him up; she’s obviously psyched up by the novelty of this whole thing, as do Sam, Nicole and Lucy.
Lucy takes notice of the smaller girl’s pout. “Hey, little one, I’ve got a present for ya.†she smiles, and lowers Mallory into Jenny’s arms.
“Hmm.†Jenny considers her new prize, then plucks his glasses from his face and deposits them into her astonishing cleavage, ignoring his objection and contemplating his new and improved appearance. “Hey, he really is cute! Can I keep him?â€
Lucy nods, smiling. “Sure. He’s too small for me, anyway. I would’ve just thrown him back… eventually.†She gives Jenny a wink.
“Oh, I think he’ll do.†The smaller girl gives the boy in her arms a peck on the lips. “Contact lenses are gonna be a must, though.†The new arrivals – half a dozen couples, now, perhaps more – have come within speaking distance.
Let us take a moment to rise above the crowd, to take this sight in in its entirely. Under the white floodlights of the Memorial Union’s grass-and-flagstone courtyard, 11 women stand loosely assembled, examining and critiquing the prizes they’ve collected. Below us, blondes, brunettes and redheads; long and curly, silky and flowing, short and neat, ponytails, pigtails; dark and lovely skin, light and creamy, bronzed, tan-lined; surfer girls, skater girls, raver babes, hippie chicks; all have taken up the diversion of the moment and taken up the nearest man and taken to the strange, roving party.
We descend back toward Sam and Billy and their new friends – Billy has gotten the attention of Nicole’s toy – Tyrell, his name is. “So, uh… college is looking pretty good from here.â€
“Yo, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!†Tyrell grins.
“Oh, yeah…†even Mallory agrees, though without his glasses his attempt to make eye contact with either of the other two doesn’t quite work. “Okay, now where are we going?â€
The group is indeed on the move again, a ripple of giggling traveling back through the crowd from Sam’s relayed whisper starting with Nicole, passed to Lucy, then to Jenny and on back. “Oh, you’ll see.†Sam winks at the other girls before adjusting Billy on her shoulders, who rolls his eyes.
The hour has grown late; the night breeze takes on a thread of chill as the crowd approaches a cluster of houses at the edge of campus… two residential houses. And between them… the Alpha Delta Pi sorority.
“Oh, what… the…†Mallory has seen it before Billy or Tyrell, who crane their necks trying to see where they’re going.
The rest of his thought is drowned out by fully two dozen female voices raising cheers and whoops of laughter up into the night sky. These are redoubled as more girls – and their male companions – come around front from the house’s backyard.
The young men in the group take notice of the sight being welcomed onto the front lawn, and – to the man – begin to edge away back toward the back of the house.
Not soon enough, or fast enough, though. Some of them are jocks, like Billy – but the women here are gymnasts, track girls, cheerleaders… a man here, a man there – eventually, all are enfolded and pulled skyward. Within seconds, not a male foot touches the ground at the Alpha Delta Pi house.
The cheers and laughter are enough to bring one of the neighbors out of his house, a burly giant of a man at six foot eight and over three hundred pounds. “HEY!†he bellows. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KIDS THINK YOU’RE DOING?!â€
His name, amusingly enough, is Bob Tallman. Bob likes to think he’s a mellow, easy-going guy. For the most part, he’s perfectly justified in thinking so. But all this racket is more than even Bob can tolerate, especially this late in the evening. He hasn’t quite caught on to exactly what’s transpiring here, but he will in a second or two.
He moves like a slow train – not at a terribly impressive speed, but looking for all the world like no act of God or Man could slow him down until he gets just where he’s going.
As it happens, though, it’s neither an act of God nor of Man he’s heading toward – it’s a redheaded girl, all wicked smile and long, long legs in short, short shorts. “Well, hello there!†Lucy purrs up at him.
“What… “ he trails off, finally sorting out what he’s seeing, and not even close to believing it yet. His narrow grey eyes widen as he runs a distracted hand over his cue-ball scalp, feeling a sort of detachment come over him as his brain tries to reconcile the real with the unreal.
“Hell yeah, Lucy, git ‘im!†a girl with a thick Georgia drawl hollers, laughing.
“Uh?†Bob Tallman hasn’t quite put himself together yet before luscious Lucy jumps up to give him a quick but impassioned kiss, then half-tackles him, dropping just low enough to throw him over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Whoa!â€
“Ooh!†she bounces easily on her toes. “I’m gonna get a good workout out of you, honey!†She trots back toward Sam, who’s just setting Billy on his feet.
He looks around, hope written on his face. “Well, we’re here! Ha ha, good joke, baby, you really got – oh!â€
Time for Sam’s grand finale, we sense. The energy in the air has built to a climactic pitch, practically crackles around us now. Little Jenny can sense it, and sets Mallory on his feet now, her arms draped around his neck, waiting to see what the next move is – as Sam stands waiting, each young woman follows suit, looking to her as well. Those few girls holding their men on the house’s front porch, guessing at the form the finale will take, walk their men out onto the lawn.
And now it happens. Slowly, almost in perfect unison, each woman squats down slightly, taking each man under shoulder blades and ass, then straightens her legs. Then… straightens her arms, some with more difficulty than others.
A dozen teenage female faces beam in triumph. A dozen male faces stare around at each other in a silent admixture of horror and exhilaration. We sense this just as we sense the brew of hormones and pheromones rising off this strangely silent assembly, a scene that evokes images of ancient ceremony, an offering to the mistress moon to whose pale embrace we now ascend, leaving the mortals below to their secretive – and not so secretive – delights.
Let us thank them for the show, and bid them, now, goodnight.
