Mark the Virgin
Summary: Oneshot. The day Mark met Maureen was a day that he'll never forget.
Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, would I really be posting about it here?
Thank You, Jonathan Larson
Mark shyly walked down the street, filming as he went along. His camera caught the faces of the many people he passed, most of them oblivious. Through the viewfinder, he saw stranger after stranger, an average New York City surrounding.
Then, a face came onto the screen. It was a woman's face, and he had dark, wavy hair, and bright red lips. Worst of all, though, she was staring right at him.
Embarrassed, he looked up from his camera. She was still watching him, now smiling. He cheeks turned red, and he turned to go on a crosswalk.
Happy to not see her again, he walked towards the subway station. Going down the steps, he heard a click click click follow him. He glanced behind him, and was startled to see that girl again. She smiled, and he turned back around quickly. Coincidence, he told himself.
Mark got his ticket, and went to stand on deck. He looked around him, happy to see that she wasn't there. He turned to look back at where the train would be, and gave a startled squeak. The girl giggled.
"What train is yours?" she asked.
He looked down, and fumbled with his ticket. "Um," he said, trying to read it, though his hands were shaking, "374 F."
"Me too!" The girl shouted, drawing unwanted attention, "It's destiny. I'm Maureen," she stuck out her hand.
He wiped his sweaty palm on his coat, before grabbing hers. "Mark," he said, "I'm Mark."
The train pulled up, and the doors slid open. Dozens of people got off, while dozens more got on. Maureen tightened her grip on Mark's hands, and pulled him toward the doors.
"C'mon," she said, "we don't wanna miss our train."
Once inside, she plopped into the sat next to him. She crossed her legs in his direction, and watched him.
"You know," she said, "you're cute."
He begged to Got to not blush, but did anyway. He cleared his throat.
"Thank," he said.
After a moment of silence, she placed a hand on his thigh. He immediately began to tense up, and she laughed. Bun instead of removing her hand, she left it where it was.
Her other hand somehow found its way around his shoulder. He was beginning to become very nervous, but soon the train screeched to a halt.
He stood up immediately and walked off. The confused Maureen followed.
As they walked past the bathrooms, she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the Ladies room.
"Am I allowed to be in here?" he asked, looking at a punk girl at the sink. She just rolled her eyes, and applied more mascara.
"Why not?" Maureen asked him, pulling him into the first stall.
Once the door was latched, she grabbed his neck, pulling his face to hers. Their passionate kiss lasted about thirty seconds before she started fumbling with his zipper.
They stayed close and hot while they were in the stall, only interrupted when someone knocked. Then, Maureen shouted at them, "If the stall is rockin, don't come knockin!"
Now, however, Mark felt like he was in heaven. Well that was if haven was a dirty bathroom in an East Village subway station.
When they parted, Maureen simple zipped her pants, pulled on her shirt, and left the stall. Mark quickly got reoriented with himself, and walked out, too. She was at the mirror, fixing her hair and applying more lipstick.
She looked at his bewildered reflection. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" she asked.
Mark looked down, embarrassed. "Um…"
"Don't lie," she laughed, "how was it?"
"Great!" he couldn't help but shout. She grinned, and turned to face him.
She pointed to a number on the wall. "That's me," she told him, "call if you want more practice."
She strutted out of the bathroom, leaving an embarrassed young man scribbling a phone number onto his hand. He ran after her, but looked around the lobby. She was nowhere to be found.