Chapter 9: At the Prom and Beyond

Terry

Three months after our ‘Roman Holiday’, as we were now calling it, I was getting ready to be picked up by Lupe. I don’t like to drive, and I have no car, so in that regard, I’m her kept man. It gives me opportunity to look at her when we drive somewhere, and there’s no downside to that.

In a few days, the trust fund would be mine, but Mister Wheeler had given me a hefty advance on it already. This and Lupe’s coaching had drastically changed the contents of my walk-in closet, and this evening would be the first outing of my very own tuxedo, with all the fixings, bells and whistles. I have a pretty average figure, so a suit from the rack worked fine for me, and Lupe picked out the accessories.

We didn’t need a limo because Lupe’s father, in a rare show of parenting, was driving us in his classic, silver Mercedes 280SE Coupe. He and Lupe’s mom had readily accepted me in their daughter’s life, being somewhat unconventional people themselves, and in turn, Lupe’s attitude towards them was mellowing a little.

Sure enough, a three-tone fanfare sounded from the street and I hustled downstairs to meet them. When I saw Lupe standing at the side of the car, I could only gape. She was wearing a shoulder-free, tight-fitting burgundy dress, matching her shoulder-length dark hair and revealing a bit of cleavage. The dress went all the way down to her ankles, but when she moved, a slit opened along her right side, revealing a long, perfectly shaped leg.

“You are stunning, Lupe!” I gushed.

“Only for you, Sweetcakes!” she beamed back. “Care for a ride?”

I suppressed the obvious answer to that, in deference to Mister Calderón, who grinned nonetheless. The car being a two-door coupe, we had to climb into the back through the passenger door, but following behind Lupe was not onerous at all. I managed to slip my hand into the slit in her dress and cup her behind briefly, and she wiggled her butt in response before she sat behind her father.

The drive was rather short — I had picked my apartment for its closeness to Quonsett — and we alighted again with only two or three classmates seeing and ignoring us. After waving Mister Calderón goodbye, we entered the venue ignoring them back. Our popularity was below the freezing point by now, since we had — in their twisted view — caused the downfall of four A-listers.

Edwin Pennington had accepted a plea deal, getting a modest fine — for somebody of his parents’ means — against a full and detailed confession. Of course, being a true and loyal friend, he implicated his three co-conspirators without hesitation, causing the principal to bar them all from the prom and from the graduation ceremony. They also got blistering ‘C’s for conduct, and Mary-Rose dropped to Nº 4 in the rankings. No speech from her at graduation! All our fault, of course. I kid you not. Even some of the teachers were resentful!

Yet all of that was of little concern for us. Our grades were good enough to get into most undergrad programs, and Lupe even finagled a switch from UVA to Penn, meaning we would keep seeing each other for the next four years, hopefully as a couple.

We danced a few dances that evening, and I managed to stay clear of her feet. During the slow numbers, she melted into me, and the world was good! Since we had no friends around, we kept to ourselves until around eleven when we called it an evening, waving unashamedly good-bye to the rest, and receiving angry stares in return. They didn’t know it yet, but it was a final farewell. We had already informed the principal that due to the mobbing we had endured at his institution, we would not participate in the graduation ceremony. I guess, he will not remember us favourably, either.

Outside the venue, a hired car was waiting, with our luggage in the trunk already, and we hopped in for the surprise trip I had promised Lupe. She caught on after only a few minutes.

“Really? Rome?”

“Only appropriate, don’t you think?”

“What, you rented a bunkhouse with the Bauers?”

“All will be revealed in good time,” I assured her.

“I haff ways to make you talk!” she threatened.

“Do your worst, villainess! My lips will be sealed!” I gave back with pathos, looking forward to her special sort of forcible interrogation.

It turned out that my lips opened readily, but I would not talk, could not talk with her tongue in the way most of the trip. Time flies when you’re having that much fun, and before we could move beyond heavy groping, the driver stopped the car in front of 312 Chrysanthemum Drive. We got out and in the light of a half moon, Lupe got her bearings.

“Here? What, in that shed? We’ll get busted for real!”

Meanwhile, the driver had taken the luggage from the trunk and handed me a battery torch.

“Enjoy your stay,” he grinned and got back into the car. Seconds later, we saw the tail lights disappearing around the next corner.