(A/N: This idea popped into my head when my best friend was talking about weird, kinky things that he does with his boyfriend. I was sorta freaked out about that, but it gave me a fic idea! Enjoy!)
"He's three hours late."
"Oh." Mark comes over to join me at the incomprehensible black box. There is an uncomfortable pause.
"The samples won't delay but the cable-" I offer, but Mark cuts me off.
"There's another way. Say something. Anything," he says, bending over the box. I approach the mic cautiously.
"Test, one, two, three," I say loudly, feeling increasingly stupid. What am I doing here? How did I get myself in such an awkward and embarrassing situation? Jeez, if my friends at Harvard could see me now …
He sighs, frustrated. "Please, anything but that." Awkward silence reigns.
"This is weird," I point out.
"Very weird," he agrees, nodding.
Somehow, this simple retort makes me snap.
"Oh god, what am I doing here? She is so going to pay for this when I get home. I mean, I went to motherfucking Harvard, and yet I find myself trying to tame wild microphones in a freezing empty lot with my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend," I burst out, suddenly furious at the absurdity of it all. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me furtively.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just … do you feel like you're going to go insane? Like you want to go find her and rip of her pretty, curly head?" he asks, approaching me cautiously. I had the odd feeling that I was being cross-examined on the stand. Neverless, I nodded.
"Like hell I do."
He smiles, satisfied. "Honey, trust me. I've seen this before. I like to call it …" he pauses dramatically, "the Tango Maureen."
"The what?"
"You know .. the tango." He does a funky little dance move. I cock an eyebrow skeptically. "Maureen does this kind of thing a lot. She likes to keep you on your toes."
I snort, unconvinced. "Maybe for you, but its different with me.
"Oh yeah? How many times have you been stuck in a fucking weird situation 'cause of her? And then you fear her wrath, yet you keep coming back for more?"
My stomach drops. I unwillingly flash back to a club we were at 3 weeks ago.
------------------------------------------------------------
"Please, honey, just go over there and flirt with the bouncer. Maybe even make out with him a little. I mean, you're so hot, I'm sure he'll let us in!"
------------------------------------------------------------
"I-I think I know what you mean."
He smirks at me. "So, has she did the whole 'puppy-dog-oh-please-Pookie-pout' thing to you yet?"
"Please, honey …" No, it was honey, not Pookie. I am still safe, technically speaking.
"Not yet." I smile bravely at him as I attempt to walk back to the equipment. After all, that's what we're supposed to be working on, and I really don't feel like talking about this.
"But have you ever doubted a kiss or two?" He's desperate, wanting me to say yes, needing to know that he's not the only one.
He's not. I flash back to another occasion.
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Honeybear, what were you looking at?
"I wasn't looking at anyone! Who would I look at while we're making out? You know its just you, baby."
"Um .. of course."
--------------------------------------------------------------
I had been so eager to believe her then, so eager to believe that she wasn't staring at that hot chick in rubber at the bar while were kissing. But now I knew.
"Okay, I am officially freaked out now." He just nodded, satisfied with my much-needed answer. I can detect a bit of pity in his eyes, along with the whole 'been there, done that' vibe. I abruptly remember another instance, and grab his sleeve to keep him from walking away.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Maureen stalked into the club, her wild hair tumbling over her alabaster shoulders, pouring onto her fire engine red minidress. Her legs are shown off in her thin stilettos. I feel all the blood rush to my face and my heartbeat pounding in my ears just looking at her. A man whistles at her. Instead of blowing him off, as she should have, she strikes an alluring pose and winks at him before continuing on to me. I pretend not to notice, and try to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach as I rise to greet her.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Did you swoon every time you saw her?" A sad, wistful look clouds his eyes.
"Every time, so I'd be cautious if I were you." He attempts to walk away again, but now I am desperate, greedy for any information I can get.
"Did she moon over other boys?" I grasp his shirtfront frantically, practically screaming at this poor, heartbroken boy in my quest for knowledge.
"More than moon, trust me." He chuckles sadly as he gently pries my hands from his sweater.
"Oh, sweet baby Jesus… I think I'm gonna be sick," I groan, clutching my stomach. Suddenly, he strikes a gallant pose, holding out his arm in the tango starting position. I laugh dryly and comply. We begin to dance around the broken down lot. I can only imagine how we look together.
"Where didj'a learn to tango?" he asks; there isn't much else I can think of for conversation topics right now.
"With the French Ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Miss Porters." I reflect back on these happier days, when Noelle was my girlfriend. A girlfriend who never played mind games, never attracted too much unwanted attention, never cheated.
"And you?"
"With, um, Nanette Himmelfarb, the rabbi's daughter at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center." He coughs, embarrassed. I suppress a giggle. Aw. We switch directions, and start tangoing in reverse.
"It's hard to do this backwards," he points out. Anything to get off the topic of Nanette, I guess.
"You should try it in heels," I say through gritted teeth, and freeze as soon as I dip Mark.
In heels.
Oh my god.
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Honeybear, what are those marks on your back?"
We are getting ready for bed. I notice U-shaped bruises dotting Maureen back before she pulls her shirt on.
"Those? Oh, those are just from hanging out with Collins. He always chucks this, um, this weird thing he got from Greece at me.
"But never mind that," she hurries on. I try to pry deeper, but all coherent thought is driven from my mind when she kisses me, pressing into me.
-------------------------------------------------------------
In heels.
Maureen had someone walk on her back in heels. She was cheating on me with someone who was kinky enough to bruise her with her heels
I snap back to the present, and promptly drop Mark.
"She cheated!" I practically shout to the heavens.
"Wow, no kidding. I never would have figured that out on my own," came his irritable reply from the floor.
"No, you don't understand. She cheated! Fucking cheated! On me!" I am babbling incoherently now, my mind numb. "I should just give up right now! What's the point of hanging around?"
"Nuh-uh-uh!" He wags his finger at me. I want to snap it off. "You can't dump Maureen. No one dumps Maureen. You just have to look on the bright side the best you can."
"Yeah, well, either way, I'm screwed," I mutter. My heart tries to reason with my mind. Well, you're already involved. Why quit now? At least you can say you tried, right?
"Welcome to the Tango, soldier. I sincerely hope you make it out alive." He gives me another furtive glance and states matter-of-factly, "I know what you're thinking."
"Enlighten me, Mark. What am I thinking?"
"You're trying to reason with yourself. Your thinking 'Might as well damn myself. At least I'll be able to say I've done it.' Am I right?"
I sigh. "As usual."
He adopts the air of a college professor giving a lecture. "I find the best way to get out is to play dumb. Pretend you don't know where she is late at night. Force yourself to believe her bullshit stories. Ignore the winks she gives to other girls at the bar." I can hear the pain in his voice. He lightens up a little and chuckles wryly as he goes to work on the equipment.
"God, why do we love when she's mean?"
"And she can be such a bitch, too," I add, remembering all the times I had somehow goofed up and gotten punished for it.
"Hey I think it's patched. Try it now."
I lean forward, and say the first thing that pops into my mind:
"My Maureen." It echoes around me, overwhelming me.
"There, patched." Mark laughs suddenly. "You know, I feel great now."
Schadenfreude, much? "Yeah, I feel lousy." The phone rings, scaring me. I glance nervously at him, but he simply gestures at the phone. I pick it up, an odd sense of foreboding swallowing me.
"Hello?"
"Pookie!"
"Hi, Maureen, we-" I stop, my brain processing what just came out of her glossy red lips.
No. No. Nonono. This cannot be happening.
But it is.
"Pookie?" I hiss, casting a panicked glance at Mark. He makes a concerted effort to hid his smirk. "You never called me pookie before!"
She laughs. So wild, so carefree.
"I know, but don't you love it? It's so cute! It's my extraspecial nickname, just for you!"
Why me? Why ME?
"Um .. yeah .. well, the equipment it patched." Somehow, I manage to talk through my shock.
"Aww, thanks Pookie! You're the best! Tell Marky thanks from me too!"
Marky?
"Yeah, sure," I mouth, and hang up in slow motion. I slowly turn to face Mark. Our minds are in perfect harmony as we speak at the same time.
"The Tango Maureen."
(A/N: Wow! That was a long one-shot! Anyway, review and you get a cybercookie!)