It Had Been Years (12 page)

Vincent sat at his desk, his cufflinks banged off the desk as he spruced up his touches on the first approach for the next acquisition, and the final words on the events of the day before.  His top button was unbuttoned, a white shirt with crossing alternating shades of blue stripes.   The place, as always, was a
buzz about this deal and that deal,
who
was doing what to whom and with whose money.  The smell of greed filled the air, preying on the dreams and sweat and life of others, capitalism at work.  Vincent thought of Deb, it was too early to call, even if it had been later he would have never dialed the phone, it simply isn’t like him to call a friend to chat.  Unlike
Nadrea’s
day, Vincent’s was flying
by,
she had not crossed his mind for even a passing second since stepping into the street Sunday night. 

Donna checked her email looking for a response from Paul, not a call, not a line, perhaps it was more false panic.  As the day wore on by mid afternoon
Nadrea
had come to the conclusion that she might stop by, dressed to kill and show the moron what a good time he had missed.  Yes, that was it, her job was to become the vile temptress, and leave the boy wanting more, never to be seen again.  So, as the work day ends she headed home, to make the all important decision of what to wear.

She stood in front of her closet full of play and party clothes, no impression of a preppy Librarian.  So what would catch
the
mans
fancy?  Fetish clothes might scare him off, so began the ritual of trying on this and that, strutting in front of her dressing mirror, a quick lift or lower, a twist of the hair here or there.  A tight red dress with matching heels, no not quite right, and so the parade went on from one outfit to the next until she came to the school girl,  short plaid skirt, white blouse that was just a bit too thin allowing the occasional glimpse of flesh through the material. 
Untucked
and wrinkled, her long dark hair in loose pig tails dangling to the side.  “
Ahh
,” she thought to herself, “we have a winner.”   It was on her part a good call, after all what jock not to mention one whose youth is fleeting doesn’t want to do the prom queen?  Time to finish the look, 3 inch black heels that screamed slut, providing height and the leg lengthening benefits while being mostly revealing straps, a white lace push up bra for a little extra cleavage for her barley buttoned blouse and painted on makeup.  Once she had decided to go with the high end school girl routine the musical back drop of modern hits was changed to the classic Alice Cooper tune “Schools Out.”  One piece to go, panties for such small delicate things they always warranted as much serious
thought as the rest of the outfit.  So what would it be a g-string, white silk or thong.  Instead it was a close shave and fresh air.  What boy doesn’t dream of a panty-less, shaved school girl, a gay one, even
the dorks
, and hapless losers wanted what she was putting together.

Not far from the bar Vincent slipped into his fading Levi’s, his oldest, most creased pair of Madden lace ups and a brown T-shirt.  After all it was Thursday and he had plans, not necessarily plans that he knew about, his plans were entirely different.  He needed a second shave for the
day,
he didn’t shave sporting a five o’clock shadow that it would take most men a day and a half to get.  His hairs started the day perfectly parted but his post workout shower let it fall where it wanted after quickly towel drying it.  For all the thought that
Nadrea
put into her choices and for all her intentions his were the polar opposite, not caring what others thought of his look at that point in that day. 

Typically she decided to arrive at things fashionably late, but she decided that only a few minutes after seven would send the message.  Vince was sitting comfortably at the end of the bar drinking a coke by six forty five.  He was talking to the well dressed patrons and Steve was still there but not working, he was just hanging around washing away his day with mineral water, mathematically brilliant, but not exactly a party animal.

At two minutes to seven Vincent began his farewells for the evening and started toward the door, a few minutes later
Nadrea
strolled th
r
ough the door.  She walked right up to him while his back was toward the door talking to one person or another, came up behind him and without waiting for a pause in the conversation
ask
if he was ready for dinner.  “Another night out with daddy?” was Vincent’s response. 

“No, this is all for you. I wanted to change the first image you had of me.”  She said playfully. 

“How by reminding me how hard it was to get laid in high school?  Girls dressed like that left me with blue balls on more than a few occasions.”  He said sharply, she couldn’t tell if he was playing or
not, had she inadvertently hit a nerve.  “So which one are you really?  The sultry librarian or the cock tease school girl?” 

She played with her pig tails and stood turning her feet outward in an awkward school girl kind of way “That’s for you to find out
Vin
.” 

“Not really that interested, but I’m going to have some dinner.  Care to join?” 

She was fuming, not interested, she was sure he was playing, there wasn’t a man in the place who hadn’t noticed her.  “So what is that on your shirt?” she asked no longer in her playful character as she had intended to stay in. 

“It’s a diagram of the molecular structure of Caffeine.”  He said not at all stunned by the question, in fact for the first time in their two short meetings she seemed almost genuine.  “So let’s grab a table.” She said back into her character and standing closer to him as not to be ignored.  Now directly in front of him and adjusting her immodestly buttoned blouse for his benefit.

Vincent just looked her in the eye “Ok babe, well then we had better get going or there won’t be any tables left.”  He said softly moving forward and leaning in as if he was going to kiss her neck before taking a smooth side step to the right and walking past her.  He was frustrating, he was annoying and now she realized that despite her best of intentions and desire to do so it might not be her holding the cards,  but he was without intending to, very much establishing control over her. He walked out of the bar and she followed, he walked like they should both know where they were headed and six blocks later they descended into the metro. 
Nadrea
knew the metro well and couldn’t imagine where they were going.  He on the other hand never thought to tell her, so as they headed into the station, he stepped to the side of the turn style and swiped his card motioning with his arm for her to go through.  Pulled out a second card and swiped it again for
himself
to pass.        

Here she was dressed somewhere between a hooker and a catholic high school girl, although most of the time there is very little difference between the two.  She was following a man she barely had met and didn’t really know, like a puppy through the streets of the city and onto the metro with no discernible reason as to why.

“Where are we going?  I thought we were having dinner?”  She barked out in an annoyed tone. 

Vincent just laughed “We are.” 

Nadrea
was not use to being the one who doesn’t
know,
she always knew everything or at least liked to feel like she did. “You said dinner was at 7:00.”  He laughed harder, a deep loud genuine belly laugh, not the polite chuckles of new relationships and marginally entertaining stories.  He didn’t remember he had told her about dinner Thursday, even if he had he would not have actually expected her to show up. 

So from the restaurant they headed to the Gallery Place Station, that sits at the heart of both the red line and the green line and is the second stop on the yellow line that runs from McPherson square to Huntington on the other side of the Potomac unlike the red and green that kept to themselves on the DC side of the river.  In the 10 minute walk to the station not much was said, Vincent walked and
Nadrea
followed.  Even standing and waiting for the green line, the bastard was still laughing at her, still laughing that deep unexplained belly laugh.  She was still not sure why he was laughing but the growing sense of paranoia kept creeping up her panty-less butt.  He had to be laughing at her she decided.  The train approached, the moron was still laughing although with less veracity.  She suddenly felt vulnerable, and her bullet proof confidence somewhat was shaken.  Turning to him, but before she could speak.  “Fuck wit,” pausing to laugh harder again, this time right in her face, he had been laughing nonstop for three minutes the stupid bastard.  “Fuck wit” he said again, “I’ve been called a lot of things, most of them not very nice.”  The train had stopped and the doors
opened,
the late day working crowd and post happy hour people pushed anonymously past them as they got off the train.  Vincent continued “So what is a fuck wit?” he asked between giggles.  Vincent did laugh a lot, mostly at himself,  so once again he was in his classic form and his twisted sense of reality amused himself with something that not only was the rest of the world not in on but neither was his companion for the evening.  He wasn’t doing it to be cruel and he wasn’t laughing at her, he
was simply amusing his idol mind,
Nadrea
was once again just a passing byline. 

Vincent stepped onto the train as she stood there and looked, starting to move forward but not in a very definitive manner.  Every little kid knows not to follow a stranger, something was holding her back, standing on the line by the door,
he
turned and smiled, a perfect movie star smile, bright white teeth, glimmering between his full lips that were surrounded by a handsome unshaven rugged face.  The announcement for the doors began, she quickly stepped on.  “Where are we going?” she asked again.

“Dinner” he said with a smile. 

He was so frustrating she thought to herself.  “No, where are we going to dinner?”   “
Ahh
…a place you should like, it will be half filled with school girls.”  Vincent said coyly.

“Pervert!”
 
Nadrea
said in an elevated voice “besides I fucking hate Chuck E. Cheese!”
PERV!”
  He again laughed that deep belly laugh. 
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
 

Vincent was a highly sexual person, he always had been, he never gave it any thought he just assumed his drives and desires were normal.  In truth
Nadrea
didn’t differ much, both liked it hard and fast. 
Nadrea
liked to dress up, to play although often the play portion of her life was her day time activities, she was most often herself at night,  there she wasn’t acting she was being who she was.  After all was said and done she did like it rough, very rough.  Susie good girl would bore Vincent instantly, he liked it hard and fast and dirty, the more open she was the better, he was personally amazed that the missionary position could still used as a primary exclusive position except by virgins and sexually repressed zealots.  After all what else were you suppose to use the floor and all the furniture for?  Neither of them had mainstream middle American values or traditional tastes.

Nadrea
stood there on the train, Vincent handed her a metro card, she was still a bit shaken and uncertain,
he
sensed it. “Look, I’m headed to “Thirst T’s” up by the University, You’re welcome to come” Vincent paused
“ if
not no big deal.”  He offered her an easy way out, provided her with a way to get back to where they started
no harm, no foul.  Looking up through her overly dark and thick eyelashes suddenly comfortable and back in form she replied “I’d love to come.”   She again sounded like herself, playful and sexual,
Nadrea’s
body language shifting back to confident and sure.  Vincent laughed a light laugh “I bet you would!  I hear a lot of school girls have the same problem.”  He was laughing and this time she finally understood why, he still had a seventeen year old jocks locker room sense of humor.  She took a seat next to him and at one point leaned into him as the train started, he was solid and his shoulders were like cannonballs.  She began playfully preening taking out her pig tails setting the scrunches that held her hair in place between them on the seat, without thought she intuitively pulled it back into a pony tail, he picked a band up off of the seat gently brushing her skirt that was laying draped on the space between them and handed the band to her.  Looking at him with those dark telling pools of sexuality that were her eyes, “Sorry, but pi
g tails go with this out
fit.” she said in her best Hollywood sex kitten tone.

“Suit yourself, but if you’re going for authentic then next time you should wear scuffed shoes and carry a book bag.”  Could he really be that dumb she thought, dangling a shoe off her toes in true school girl fashion.  This time he pretended not to notice, he did of course, he simply wasn’t obvious about it.  As the metro reached their stop he stood and headed toward the door.