Chapter 42: Happy Birthday To You, Too

Over Sunday breakfast, the girls asked me if I knew what our dinner plans were. I said that I hadn’t heard from Ian yet, but that I was sure that I would, soon. Megan went off to shower after we finished eating, and just as I was putting away the last plate (Cheryl had washed, and I had dried, since Megan had cooked), my phone rang.

“Hey, Ian,” I said, picking up the phone. “How are you?”

“I’m g-g-good,” he replied. “Are we still on for d-d-dinner?”

“Of course! When and where?”

“I’ll c-c-c-come and pick you up at 5:30. I’ve made reservations.”

“Ok.”

“Oh, and there’s a d-d-dress code. You need a t-t-tie and jacket. I assume the g-g-g-girls will know what th-th-that means for th-them.”

“I’m sure that they will. I’ll pass that on. See you in a bit, my friend.”

He was quiet for a few seconds.

“Th-th-th-thanks, John. See you.”

I hung up the phone, just as Megan came back into the kitchen.

“That was Ian,” I told them. “He’s made reservations for tonight. He’s coming to get us at 5:30. He didn’t say where we were going, but wherever it is, there’s a dress code. I have to wear a jacket and tie. He said that would be enough info for you guys to know what you should wear.”

“Shit,” Cheryl said. “He must have booked us someplace classy. Why does he want us to go out with him, John? Do you know?”

I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. And I have no idea, from what he said, if he’s taking us out or if we are all paying our way. If there’s a dress code, Cheryl, I may need to borrow some money from you.”

“Yeah,” Megan agreed. “That goes for me too! I’m kind of short this month.”

“Don’t worry,” Cheryl laughed. “I’ll make sure you can both eat!”

All in all, I think Sunday was a productive day. We all worked - and knowing that the other two were working encouraged us to keep going at those times when each of us wanted to kick back for a bit and relax. We all knew we’d have time to unwind that evening, and Monday - and the start of another week of classes - was coming.

Around 4:00, the girls quit work and went to shower. Apparently a dress code that said I had to wear a tie meant that they had to wash their hair. I ducked into the bathroom when they were done, so that I could have a quick shave. I hadn’t bothered with that first thing that morning - and even if I had, a jacket and tie doesn’t go well with five o’clock shadow.

When I came out, both of them were in Megan’s room, talking about outfit choices. I had just pulled on socks and underwear when Cheryl appeared, clad only in thigh-high black stockings and a black thong.

“Tell me that’s not what you’re wearing tonight,” I joked.

“Why?” she asked, twirling for me. “Is it too modest?”

I hugged her, then ran my hands down her back to her ass.

“Nope. Not too modest at all!”

She giggled, and went to the closet, then pulled out a dress that looked vaguely familiar. When she pulled it over her head, then turned, lifted up her hair, and asked me to zip her up, I recognized it. She’d worn it the night she and Megan and I went out for dinner, during the sex slave weekend. It was a gorgeous green cocktail dress that hung down about halfway to her knees - just below the tops of her stockings, in fact. She’d gone braless that night, and was apparently doing the same thing tonight.

There was a tap on the door, and Megan breezed in. She was also wearing a dress that I recognized, and from the same occasion. It was a classic little black dress, with a plunging neckline. It reached almost to her knees, but had a long slit up the right thigh.

“Can I borrow some earrings?”

“Sure! Which ones do you want?”

“I was thinking of your silver pendants. Is that ok? Or were you going to wear those?”

Cheryl shook her head. “Nope. I’m wearing my diamond studs.”

I cleared my throat. They both looked over at me. I was still only in socks and underwear.

“Sorry, John,” Megan said. “Do you want some privacy?”

“No, I’m ok. You’ve seen me in less than this. But I was wondering ... did you choose those outfits on purpose?”

Cheryl grinned at Megan. “Told you he’d remember.”

Megan sighed. “Ok, you were right. I’ll give you the money as soon as I have it.”

I felt my eyebrows go up.

“What?” Cheryl said, trying to look innocent. “I said you’d recognize these dresses from that night. Megan said you wouldn’t. She said guys don’t remember shit like that. So I bet her fifty bucks you’d remember.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Normally, Megan would be right on that. Guys generally don’t remember shit like what girls wear. But that night ... that whole weekend is burned into my memory. I could tell you what each of you wore every single moment from the time you arrived at my place Thursday night until we went to sleep on Sunday.”

I checked Cheryl’s closet, hoping I had a jacket there. I did. And yes, it was the same one I’d worn that night, too. I pulled on some dress pants and a white shirt, tied my tie, and slipped the jacket on.

Ian arrived at precisely 5:30. I don’t know how he does that. He’s never a minute early, and never a minute late. I buzzed him up, and then opened the apartment door and let him in. He shook my hand, then got hugs from both girls.

“You b-b-b-both look lovely,” he said. “If you’re ready, let’s g-g-go. I have a c-c-car waiting for us.”

He turned, and led us back into the hallway. I followed, with Cheryl holding my hand. Megan locked up.

Ian didn’t have a car waiting for us. He had a limo. Ok, so it wasn’t one of those obscene behemoths that you sometimes see driving down the road, the ones that look like a cross between an armoured car and a school bus. It was just a big, black car. The driver got out, came around, and opened the back door for us. It had two bench seats in the back, one facing frontwards, the other facing backwards. Megan and Cheryl both looked my way, but climbed in, silently. And yeah, that activity showed some leg. They took the seat at the back, the one that faced the normal way. I followed, and Ian got in beside me. The driver shut the door, walked to his side, and started the engine, and off we went.

“Ok,” I said. “Where are we going? And what’s with the car?”

Ian looked at me.

“We’re g-g-going to the Q-q-queen’s Inn.”

“Wow,” Cheryl said. “That place is really pricey! My parents took us there, once. Remember, Megan?”

Megan nodded.

“P-p-please d-d-don’t worry about the c-c-c-cost,” Ian said. “You are all my g-g-guests.”

“But why, Ian?” I asked. “What’s the occasion?”

He hesitated for a minute.

“It’s my b-b-birthday,” he said, finally.

“Ian!” Cheryl exclaimed. “Happy birthday!”

“Yes!” Megan added. “Happy birthday, Ian.”

“But, if it’s your birthday, shouldn’t we be taking you out?” I wondered. “Not the other way round?”

He shook his head.

“No. This. This is the way it should b-b-be. B-b-because, you see, this is the first t-t-time in m-m-my life that I’ve had friends to g-g-go out with on my b-b-birthday.”

I didn’t know what to say, and obviously the girls didn’t either, because there was silence for a few seconds.

“I’ve n-n-never had friends,” he continued. “It’s a long s-s-s-story. B-b-but b-b-boarding school was awful. And it was worse b-b-before that. Then I c-c-came here, last year. And I met you, John. And you were ... you were nice t-t-to me. You were a friend. Right from that first d-d-day. And then a few weeks ago, you introduced me to these t-t-two b-b-beautiful women. And they were nice t-t-to me, t-t-too - which never h-h-h-happens. And so t-t-tonight, I want to celebrate that. And thank you. All of you. I’ve never had anything to celebrate, b-b-because I never had anyone to celebrate with. Now, I d-d-do.”

At that moment, the driver pulled up in front of the restaurant. He got out, and came around to open our door. Ian and I got out, and the girls followed us, flashing us as they climbed out of the car in their skirts. Yes, I looked. And so did Ian. I know, because he blushed, and started to walk inside before his embarrassment at having checked out the girls’ legs was too obvious. But Megan caught his arm.

“Wait,” she said. “When you came and picked us up, I thought we were just going out for a nice dinner together. I had no idea it was your birthday. If I had, I wouldn’t have just hugged you. So, happy birthday, Ian.”

And with that, she laid a kiss on his lips that would have given a dead man an erection. Cheryl stepped up when she was done.

“Happy birthday, friend,” she said, but friends don’t kiss each other like Cheryl kissed Ian.

I’ve never seen anyone blushing as much as Ian was, as he led us up to the front door.

Once we were seated, and had been given our drink orders, my mind began to process what he’d said.

“Hey, wait. How old are you, anyway?”

Ian looked my way.

“You’ve f-f-figured it out, I think,” he said. The girls looked puzzled. “I’ve had d-d-drinks with you b-b-before, so I c-c-can’t just be turning nineteen. B-b-but I’m just in second year.” He paused, and took a drink of his beer. “I’m t-t-twenty, t-t-today. So yes, I’m a year b-b-behind where I should b-b-be. It’s a long story, as I said b-b-before. I’ll t-t-tell you, b-b-but not here. Ok?”

“Of course that’s ok. Hey, I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk about it. I was just trying to figure it out.”

He smiled. “N-n-no. I want to t-t-tell you. Just n-n-not here.”

Dinner was lovely. The food was divine - as it should have been, for the price Ian was paying. And we kept the conversation light - talking about school, mostly. Ian did bring up the Europe trip, again, and Cheryl, again, said I should go. I said, again, that I would think about it. She looked like she was ready to push it further, but I gave her a look. She got the message and dropped it.

After dessert - Megan wanted to get the staff to come and sing happy birthday to Ian, but he looked so mortified at the idea that she agreed to let it go - Ian texted the limo driver, then paid the bill for dinner. Cheryl protested, but Ian wouldn’t hear of it. By the time we were headed out the front door, the car was waiting for us.

When we pulled up out front of the apartment building, Megan asked Ian if he’d like to come up for a bit. It was only a little after 8:00, and as she pointed out, none of us was likely to be productive, so we might as well be unproductive together. Ian agreed, and thanked the driver, giving him a tip and sending him away.

Upstairs, Ian and I claimed the ends of the couch. Cheryl sat in between us, and Megan produced a bottle of Irish Cream from her room and poured us each a glass. Then she raised hers, and toasted Ian’s birthday. After we’d all clinked our glasses, she took the chair opposite us.

After a short silence and a deep breath, Ian began to tell us his story. I won’t tell it in his words. He was became emotional as he spoke, which always aggravates his speech impediment, and it took him a while to get it all out. None of us interrupted. We just let him talk, though as he talked, Cheryl reached over and took his hand gently in hers.

I had known that Ian was an only child, and that he came from a family with money. I am embarrassed to say that, although we’d been friends for over a year, that was all I really knew about Ian. I’m also embarrassed to say that, although I thought of Ian as a friend, I’d never really thought of him as as close a friend as he thought of me, though I was beginning to realize that that was changing.

Anyway, this is the story Ian told us.

Ian’s father was indeed very wealthy. He was a plastic surgeon, and in his mid forties, he had met a woman 20 years his junior, and the two had married. Ian’s mother, as Ian described her, was a trophy wife, and while he felt that his parents had a reasonably happy marriage, he also said that they had little in common, and didn’t spend much time together. Ian had been born when his father was nearly 50, and spent much of his time in the care of nannies and babysitters. Life wasn’t all bad - there were times when he was lonely, but he was comfortable.

School, however, was miserable. Ian didn’t fit in with his classmates. He was smart, so he stood out. And he was younger than most of the kids in his class, since his birthday was in late November, so he was later maturing than many of them. He was also awkward, and the more socially isolated he was the more awkward he became, and the increased awkwardness, in turn, led to increased social isolation. It was an incredibly vicious cycle.

In the house next door to Ian there lived a girl, a gorgeous blonde named Tami. She was a year ahead of Ian in school, and almost two years older than he was, and she was everything that Ian wasn’t. On the Canada Day weekend after Ian finished Grade 9, she had a pool party in her backyard, and invited a ton of neighbourhood kids over. Ian, of course, was excluded. He spent much of that evening sitting in his bedroom, watching the fun from his bedroom window. He wasn’t being a peeping tom or anything. He was just looking on and wishing he was part of the party.