Chapter One
Michelle Flahrety tapped her toes on the red carpet of the retaurant, getting slightly impatient at how long her boyfriend, Jim, was taking in the bathroom. Was he servicing himself again?
"Typical," she groaned to herself, then laughed a little at how angry she sounded, when really, she loved Jim. More than anything in the world. It was like something out of a teen movie, she had just been an object of Jim wanting desperately to lose his virginity. Only it turned out that she really loved the guy. They had been going out for over three years, three long years over which Jim had had time to become better in bed, and for her to mature a little.
If she had had a conversation with Jim four years ago, and then Jim today, it would have been totally different. Sure, the guy was still a klutz, still had terrible timing, but at least he wasn't a horny eighteen-year-old who had gotten caught fucking a pie anymore.
It kind of reminded her of this one time, at band camp...
***
"Kevin, you idiot!" Chris Ostreicher hissed as his friend peeked his head into the garbage can, "What the hell were you doing taking the ring out of the box anyway?"
Kevin looked up from the can sheepishly. "I was making sure Jim didn't blow his wad on something too expensive." He smirked playfully at his flustered friend. "He's been known for that."
Jim bit his lip and his face turned red. Jim didn't want to say anything, as he was sure he would scream in frustration. It was supposed to go well. He was to meet his friends in the men's room, take the ring, propose to Michelle, and have his three best friends and father come out for a celebration right in the restaurant. It was supposed to go flawlessly. If Kevin hadn't been a butterfingers, he and Michelle would have been engaged by now.
Jim's father guided Kevin from behind him. "Try skimming the edges."
"I can't see!" Kevin insisted.
Oz sighed, gazing at Kevin with pitty. He turned to Paul Finch, the eccentric, yet confident oddball of the group, who was sitting on the counter. "Finchy, your turn."
Finch grimmaced, then sucked it up and reached his hand into the can. "You guys are buying me a lifetime supply of soap."
Despite himself, Jim laughed. Finch had been known to be too squeamish to go inside a public restroom, let alone reach inside a trash can filled with God knew what. But when it came down to being a good friend, Finch got an A. Kevin and Mr. Levinstein ran their hands under hot taps, glancing at Jim nervously. Oz put his hand on his friend's shoulder. None of them knew how the night would turn out.
Jim's always helpful dad gave him an assuring warm smile, despite the doubt he felt inside of him. "Jimmy, I am so proud of you," he said, as he always did, "My son... finally going to tie the knot."
Jim looked at Finch, who was rooting around through the trash. "Maybe," Jim said with a gulp. "Maybe."
"YES!" Finch cried triumphantly from the can, "I GOT THE RING!"
Jim sighed with relief and watched, the nervousness that left his body making him shake, as Finch rose from the can. The young man looked scarred for life. Suddenly, his ear twitched. He heard the door open, and while he could not see beyond the tall wall, the shock of red hair and the petite figure definately belonged to a woman, more importantly, Michelle. "Guys!" he whispered urgently, "It's Michelle! Hide!"
Oz, Kevin, and Jim's dad looked at Jim, then each other, then dashed wildly into a bathroom stall, slamming the door. Finch followed their lead and ran into the handicapped stall. Jim glared at the door, as Finch had run off with the ring in his hans. With his luck it would fall down the toilet.
"Jim!" Michelle asked softly as she rounded the corner, "What's going on with you?" Her concerned yet playfull voice made Jim want to melt inside. "You've been in here for ten minutes!"
"Well," Jim started, stammering, "I have a, er..." He trailed off, wishing that what he had was an explanation.
Michelle cocked an eyebrow, then, to Jim's surprise, she began walking around the men's room as if it were her own bedroom, spying everything carefully. A man who was standing at the urinal turned away from her, shocked, and she oh-so-casually leaned to him and whispered, "If I were you I would see a doctor about that." The man, flustered, zipped up and left the room. Michelle giggled. "Jim, you have to stop masturbating!" she scolded.
"I wasn't--"
"Because if you're feeling dissatisfied, well, you know those yoga classes I've been taking?"
Jim's eyes widened.
"I could, you know, do some different moves, like, look at this!" Excitedly, she lifted her leg and pulled it over her head. "Wait a minute," she muttered... She lowered her leg. "The top has to be off first." She casually unbuttoned her blue sweater and unhooked her bra. "Better?" she asked as she pulled her leg up again.
Jim nodded nervously, but the smile on his face, and the, er, smile in his pants, grew and grew.
"Lose the pants," she said matter-of-factly.
"E-excuse me?" Jim asked, stumbling backward.
"Well, I mean, you wanted kinky, you got kinky!"
Jim bit his lip. Michelle obviously did not see the occupied stalls, let alone the obvious three pairs of feet in one of them. However, there was no point in hiding his excitement, as it showed in his crotch. So, sighing, he lowered his pants, revealling his red boxers and his pitch-tent.
The door opened again. The man whom Michelle had freaked out earlier walked in with an official-looking man, probably the restaurant owner.
"That woman shouldn't be here! And she verbally assaulted me!"
Michelle, who's back was turned to them, pivotted around to see the two men's jaws hit the floor. They both stared at her bare breasts. Michelle ghasped. Before she could button her sweater, an older woman walked into the room.
"The woman's room was so crowded," she excused, before she saw the show in the middle of the room. She gasped, but couldn't bring herself to leave.
"Jim, what is going on?!" Finch demanded, emerging from the wide stall, the ring box in his pocket.
Michelle pulled her sweater over her chest. "Paul?" she asked in disbelief, awed at his formal shirt and dress pants. Not typical Finch attire.
"Are you okay?" another voice asked, and suddenly, Jim and Michelle and the rest of the crowd were joined by Oz, Kevin, and Jim's dad.
"What are you guys all doing here?" Michelle yelled, her cheeks as red as her hair.
Jim's head was hung so low in embarassment he was about to hit the floor.
"Michelle," he began barely a whisper, "I love you."
Michelle nodded as she buttoned her top. "I would hope so."
"I mean, I really LOVE you," he said, his voice getting louder but losing substance, as if he was getting more nervous. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he told her with a smile. "Uh, Finch," he whispered to his friend. Finch, on command, thrust the black velvet box into his hand. Jim gazed up at his quiverring girlfriend as he fell to his knee. "The rest of my life starting now," he said now with the most confidence ever. He popped the ring box open, and before he could put it on Michelle's finger, she scooped it up.
"Yes!" she told him, smiling radiantly from ear to ear.
The small crowd awwed, despite Michelle's obvious absense of a bra and Jim's missing pants.
"Uh, we should wash that," he warned her before she could slide it on her finger.
***
Heather sat on the counter in the small townhouse she shared with Oz, listening intently as Oz recounted the events of the night before and munching on a bowl of penuts.
"And he proposed to her in a mens room without his pants on!" Oz repeated hyperly for the fifth time since he had begun the story.
"How incredibly romantic," Heather said sarcastically with her seductive smile on her face, stroking her fourth finger that bore her school ring, trying to draw Oz's attention to it. Perhaps he could get an idea for the future.
Oz suddenly clapped his hands, as if recalling an important detail. "One more thing!" he began excitedly, "Jim said he wants you to sing at the wedding!"
Heather squealed with delight. She did not have a particularily special voice, but it was a good enough alto voice that she stood out from her old high school vocal jazz band. Besides, she loved to do it.
Impulsively, she slid off the counter and gave her boyfriend a hug. "I love you!" she gushed.
"I love you too," he replied with a surprised chucke.
The couple had been saying the l-word since the end of high school. It was a thing Heather was used to. Now almost 23, Heather began wondering if there was a word, an action, something that was higher than that word.
The only one she could think of had just been expressed last night from the pie-humping nerd to the band-geek who had made him his bitch four years ago.
That was something she couldn't exactly see Oz doing.
Michelle Flahrety tapped her toes on the red carpet of the retaurant, getting slightly impatient at how long her boyfriend, Jim, was taking in the bathroom. Was he servicing himself again?
"Typical," she groaned to herself, then laughed a little at how angry she sounded, when really, she loved Jim. More than anything in the world. It was like something out of a teen movie, she had just been an object of Jim wanting desperately to lose his virginity. Only it turned out that she really loved the guy. They had been going out for over three years, three long years over which Jim had had time to become better in bed, and for her to mature a little.
If she had had a conversation with Jim four years ago, and then Jim today, it would have been totally different. Sure, the guy was still a klutz, still had terrible timing, but at least he wasn't a horny eighteen-year-old who had gotten caught fucking a pie anymore.
It kind of reminded her of this one time, at band camp...
***
"Kevin, you idiot!" Chris Ostreicher hissed as his friend peeked his head into the garbage can, "What the hell were you doing taking the ring out of the box anyway?"
Kevin looked up from the can sheepishly. "I was making sure Jim didn't blow his wad on something too expensive." He smirked playfully at his flustered friend. "He's been known for that."
Jim bit his lip and his face turned red. Jim didn't want to say anything, as he was sure he would scream in frustration. It was supposed to go well. He was to meet his friends in the men's room, take the ring, propose to Michelle, and have his three best friends and father come out for a celebration right in the restaurant. It was supposed to go flawlessly. If Kevin hadn't been a butterfingers, he and Michelle would have been engaged by now.
Jim's father guided Kevin from behind him. "Try skimming the edges."
"I can't see!" Kevin insisted.
Oz sighed, gazing at Kevin with pitty. He turned to Paul Finch, the eccentric, yet confident oddball of the group, who was sitting on the counter. "Finchy, your turn."
Finch grimmaced, then sucked it up and reached his hand into the can. "You guys are buying me a lifetime supply of soap."
Despite himself, Jim laughed. Finch had been known to be too squeamish to go inside a public restroom, let alone reach inside a trash can filled with God knew what. But when it came down to being a good friend, Finch got an A. Kevin and Mr. Levinstein ran their hands under hot taps, glancing at Jim nervously. Oz put his hand on his friend's shoulder. None of them knew how the night would turn out.
Jim's always helpful dad gave him an assuring warm smile, despite the doubt he felt inside of him. "Jimmy, I am so proud of you," he said, as he always did, "My son... finally going to tie the knot."
Jim looked at Finch, who was rooting around through the trash. "Maybe," Jim said with a gulp. "Maybe."
"YES!" Finch cried triumphantly from the can, "I GOT THE RING!"
Jim sighed with relief and watched, the nervousness that left his body making him shake, as Finch rose from the can. The young man looked scarred for life. Suddenly, his ear twitched. He heard the door open, and while he could not see beyond the tall wall, the shock of red hair and the petite figure definately belonged to a woman, more importantly, Michelle. "Guys!" he whispered urgently, "It's Michelle! Hide!"
Oz, Kevin, and Jim's dad looked at Jim, then each other, then dashed wildly into a bathroom stall, slamming the door. Finch followed their lead and ran into the handicapped stall. Jim glared at the door, as Finch had run off with the ring in his hans. With his luck it would fall down the toilet.
"Jim!" Michelle asked softly as she rounded the corner, "What's going on with you?" Her concerned yet playfull voice made Jim want to melt inside. "You've been in here for ten minutes!"
"Well," Jim started, stammering, "I have a, er..." He trailed off, wishing that what he had was an explanation.
Michelle cocked an eyebrow, then, to Jim's surprise, she began walking around the men's room as if it were her own bedroom, spying everything carefully. A man who was standing at the urinal turned away from her, shocked, and she oh-so-casually leaned to him and whispered, "If I were you I would see a doctor about that." The man, flustered, zipped up and left the room. Michelle giggled. "Jim, you have to stop masturbating!" she scolded.
"I wasn't--"
"Because if you're feeling dissatisfied, well, you know those yoga classes I've been taking?"
Jim's eyes widened.
"I could, you know, do some different moves, like, look at this!" Excitedly, she lifted her leg and pulled it over her head. "Wait a minute," she muttered... She lowered her leg. "The top has to be off first." She casually unbuttoned her blue sweater and unhooked her bra. "Better?" she asked as she pulled her leg up again.
Jim nodded nervously, but the smile on his face, and the, er, smile in his pants, grew and grew.
"Lose the pants," she said matter-of-factly.
"E-excuse me?" Jim asked, stumbling backward.
"Well, I mean, you wanted kinky, you got kinky!"
Jim bit his lip. Michelle obviously did not see the occupied stalls, let alone the obvious three pairs of feet in one of them. However, there was no point in hiding his excitement, as it showed in his crotch. So, sighing, he lowered his pants, revealling his red boxers and his pitch-tent.
The door opened again. The man whom Michelle had freaked out earlier walked in with an official-looking man, probably the restaurant owner.
"That woman shouldn't be here! And she verbally assaulted me!"
Michelle, who's back was turned to them, pivotted around to see the two men's jaws hit the floor. They both stared at her bare breasts. Michelle ghasped. Before she could button her sweater, an older woman walked into the room.
"The woman's room was so crowded," she excused, before she saw the show in the middle of the room. She gasped, but couldn't bring herself to leave.
"Jim, what is going on?!" Finch demanded, emerging from the wide stall, the ring box in his pocket.
Michelle pulled her sweater over her chest. "Paul?" she asked in disbelief, awed at his formal shirt and dress pants. Not typical Finch attire.
"Are you okay?" another voice asked, and suddenly, Jim and Michelle and the rest of the crowd were joined by Oz, Kevin, and Jim's dad.
"What are you guys all doing here?" Michelle yelled, her cheeks as red as her hair.
Jim's head was hung so low in embarassment he was about to hit the floor.
"Michelle," he began barely a whisper, "I love you."
Michelle nodded as she buttoned her top. "I would hope so."
"I mean, I really LOVE you," he said, his voice getting louder but losing substance, as if he was getting more nervous. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he told her with a smile. "Uh, Finch," he whispered to his friend. Finch, on command, thrust the black velvet box into his hand. Jim gazed up at his quiverring girlfriend as he fell to his knee. "The rest of my life starting now," he said now with the most confidence ever. He popped the ring box open, and before he could put it on Michelle's finger, she scooped it up.
"Yes!" she told him, smiling radiantly from ear to ear.
The small crowd awwed, despite Michelle's obvious absense of a bra and Jim's missing pants.
"Uh, we should wash that," he warned her before she could slide it on her finger.
***
Heather sat on the counter in the small townhouse she shared with Oz, listening intently as Oz recounted the events of the night before and munching on a bowl of penuts.
"And he proposed to her in a mens room without his pants on!" Oz repeated hyperly for the fifth time since he had begun the story.
"How incredibly romantic," Heather said sarcastically with her seductive smile on her face, stroking her fourth finger that bore her school ring, trying to draw Oz's attention to it. Perhaps he could get an idea for the future.
Oz suddenly clapped his hands, as if recalling an important detail. "One more thing!" he began excitedly, "Jim said he wants you to sing at the wedding!"
Heather squealed with delight. She did not have a particularily special voice, but it was a good enough alto voice that she stood out from her old high school vocal jazz band. Besides, she loved to do it.
Impulsively, she slid off the counter and gave her boyfriend a hug. "I love you!" she gushed.
"I love you too," he replied with a surprised chucke.
The couple had been saying the l-word since the end of high school. It was a thing Heather was used to. Now almost 23, Heather began wondering if there was a word, an action, something that was higher than that word.
The only one she could think of had just been expressed last night from the pie-humping nerd to the band-geek who had made him his bitch four years ago.
That was something she couldn't exactly see Oz doing.