A/N - I have a great fondess for horrible puns and I decided to incorporate that fondness into a few "drabbles". This one is set in modern day.
The Politics of College Romance
She was a student in one of the business classes he taught as a graduate assistant. He had been drawn to her from the moment he had seen her, all long limbs and shiny dark hair. He had looked her up on the campus computer system and found out her name was Christine Daae. He let out a snort when he realized she was only in that class because it was a General Education requirement for her degree. She was a music major.
All the more attractive, he thought, those artsy types are always good for a few laughs.
So he had introduced himself .
"Funny," she said, a sparkle in her dark eyes, "you don't look like a Raoul. You don't even look Spanish!"
"My heritage is French," he had replied, leaning in closely to her. "We make better lovers."
Her giggle had been the start of a beautiful relationship.
One night they sat in a local bar discussing her latest professor. Both of them were at the point where they were feeling no pain. He was nursing his third beer and she was on her fifth. He admired any woman who could drink that much and still stand.
"Oh," Christine sighed, "he is just too damn sexy. That voice. Those eyes. Those long fingers." She fanned herself. "Is it hot in here or is it me?"
"Oh, please," Raoul replied. "I heard his face got all banged up in some damn car accident and he looks like a reject from a Wes Craven movie. And Erik with a k – what the hell kind of name is that?"
Christine slammed her beer mug down hard. "Oh don't be such a whiny little fop!"
"A what?" Raoul was, after all, a business major, and had no concept of words beyond "spreadsheet", "five year plan" and "bottom line".
The door to the bar opened and in walked the object of their conversation. All the women in the bar turned to look at him. He smile shyly, unaware of his commanding presence, the animal sexuality he exuded.
"A fop," Christine told him as she stood up, beer in hand. "I need a real man!"
Raoul watched as she – and her beer – sashayed over to that Erik fellow. He actually had the gall to smile at her and take her hand, kissing it like they were in some damn romance novel. Raoul motioned for another drink.
He snorted as his girlfriend flirted shamelessly with her professor. "I guess beauty really is in the eye of the beer holder," Raoul muttered into his empty glass.