Chapter 2

Clarification. Mom wasn't my mother. She was my grandmother. She's the one who raised me, and spared me from the hell of foster care, adoptive parents, and everything else that occurs when your "real" mom decides to disappear. I mean literally disappear. She left on a date and never came back.

There were investigations of course. All accounts agree that "real" mom had left her date at the bar to go off with some guy. Some guy: it's about the only description that any of us ever got, including the police. I went through the whole thing of being convinced that my "princess" of a mother would come back to save me from my ogre of a grandmother, before I realized that "real" mom wasn't coming back. They never found either her, her car, or a body. Seven years, and that's when "real" mom was legally dead. In time, I grew to love my mom. It wasn't easy, especially when I had to go through the whole grief process when mom lost grandpa, but I learned.

So when I got the phone message about mom dying, right on the heels of Jess walking out, I broke down. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I sobbed uncontrollably, right there on the couch. I wailed, beat my breast, and did all those things that you THINK people in history books never really did, until you find yourself in their position.

And after you finish sobbing, what do you do? I called the lawyer, and found out the date of the funeral and reading of the will. Then I called the college, and requested a few days off. Then I cried again.

I think it was my stomach that finally pulled me out of it. I was hungry, and you can't live on the salt of tears. I washed my face in the kitchen sink, made a sandwich, and ate on the couch, looking at the outline of my TV.

I sighed, and tried to think of something, anything to improve my mood. In a brief moment of inspiration, I flipped on my laptop, cranked the volume to maximum, and played a little music. Unfortunately, the damn shuffle just happened to pick "our song." Crowded House. "Don't dream it's over." I winced as the lyrics floated through. It had been our song at senior prom. The song that had been there for us throughout our marriage.

I was not going to cry again, damn it. I stood up, and let the music flow through the room. With everything gone, the surfaces reflected the sound, turning the cheesy laptop speakers into an auditory feast.

I could call her. Jess still had her cell phone. I could...

What, you gonna beg now? You're divorced, bucko. You really want her to remember you on your knees, begging her to return?

I didn't want that. I suppose I was hoping that Jess would magically about face. I was hoping that she would call, apologize, and swear that she had never touched, uh, crow, or whatever the fuck that asshole's name was. And then, the moving van would be back, and we would get a call from mom, saying there was a horrible mix-up, and she's just fine, oh and are you coming over for dinner this weekend? It's what I wanted, but knew that I would never get.

The song ended, and another old eighties tune picked up. It was easier to deal with, at least. It wasn't specific to us. I stood up, and looked around the apartment. I couldn't stay here. I had to get out. I had to do something.

It was still early, and for a moment, I considered taking a walk along the beach. I checked the impulse. That was Jess's thing. What did I want to do?

I wanted to get drunk, and go dancing.

Stupid, yeah. What guy wants to go dancing? That's a woman thing, and guys do it when they want to get laid. But I enjoyed it. For physical education in college and high school I had taken dance. I only stopped when Jess had told me in no uncertain terms that she didn't like it when I took her out. Correction, she liked it for about a year, and then got pissed off at you when...

I shook my head, trying not to dwell on the past. Yeah, she had liked it until you both met up with her girlfriend, and you, Mr. Studly, decided to go for a three-way. Oh her friend had been willing enough, but Jess hadn't been comfortable.

Nice job on the begging too, idiot.

Moving to the kitchen, I snapped up a bottle of beer. Fuck it, I thought, twisting off the cap. I was going to do what I wanted to do. I was going to get drunk, head on down to one of the little dance clubs on Alvarado Street, and channel some emotion into dancing. I took another swig of the beer, moving to the closet.

I had no "club wear". No problem. I grinned, grabbing up my "History Professor". It was a brown tweed suit, complete with bow tie. I hadn't worn it in years, but looking out of place was not something I truly cared about. Who knows, some gal down there might have a thing for the Indiana Jones Professor look.

It was easy enough to put myself into order, even with the second beer percolating in my system. The wingtips might have been overdoing it a tad, but I was feeling rather carefree.

One twenty dollar rip off of a cab ride later, I found myself climbing stairs behind a Taco Bell storefront, leading up towards a balcony, upon which opened the inviting doors of the local dance club. It wasn't a hugely popular place to go, but with the two local military bases, and the two colleges, it usually had a decent crowd.

The bouncer looked at me a tad strangely as I flashed my identification, but said nothing, allowing me to enter along with a throng of others. I was definitely out of place, as the general garb consisted of anime inspired t-shirts. I knew I was too old, and frankly, I didn't really give a shit. I tossed my tweed coat to the coat check girl, and gave her what I hoped was a winning smile.

She didn't say anything, but she seemed to be having a good time. I accepted the claim ticket with a quick "thanks" and ascended into the strobe-lit upper floor. The first thing that I noticed was that nobody seemed to be dancing. I wasn't surprised terribly, since it was still early. Not one to completely buck tradition, I headed towards the bar. I had two parts to my plan after all, and it didn't need to be accomplished in any particular order.

"Hey man, what can I get ya?" The tattooed bartender had taken his time getting to me, but looking to the left and right and noticing several attractive girls, I didn't blame him.

"What kinda beer you got?" I asked, thinking traditional.

"Ahh, c'mon man, I got everything back here. Live a little." The bartender's grin broadened as he looked at me, and his eyebrows rose as he stared directly at my bow-tie.

I reached my hand up to my collar, and unbuttoned the top button, pulling the tie loose so that it hung secured only by my collar. I smirked at his challenge, and tried to remember what I had always wanted to drink, but my wife wouldn't let me.

"Kamikaze. Double." I slapped a twenty from my pocket on the bar.

"Now that's what I'm talkin bout," he nodded, immediately slapping two large shot glasses on the bar. His hands worked their magic, rapidly filling the containers with alcohol, resulting in two large drinks that glowed light green in the black light.

"On three." He raised his hand over his head as I took hold of the first drink.

"One..." What the hell was I doing, a part of me screamed. Your mom's dead, your wife just left you.

"Two..." You really shouldn't get too drunk, remember what happened...

"Three!" I raised the glass, splashing the fluid to the back of my throat. It was sweet, with that soft burn that only a really strong drink can produce. I swallowed, again and again, just caught up in the moment.

"WHOOO!" Came the shout from both sides of me in both male and female tones. I slapped the glass back on the bar, and tossed my head back with a sharp exhale. I swallowed again, feeling the burn of the alcohol in my belly. It had been too long.

I reached out and grabbed the second shot.

"On three!" I challenged, to a laugh from the bartender.

On the count of three, I repeated the process, eliciting another cheer from the crowd at the bar. It was fun. That's what I realized. I was having ... fun.

How long had it been? How long since I had just let go and enjoyed myself? Grading was enjoyable, and teaching was enjoyable, but they weren't just pure fun. I hadn't even known anybody here for more than ten seconds, and already I was enjoying myself again.

Oh, yah, you enjoy anything when you're getting drunk, that little nasty imp nettled me again. I bet if you were a woman you'd already be on your back with your legs...

I swallowed another sip, this time of beer. Fuck it. Just fuck it. I wanted to dance and the self-doubts could go fuck themselves.

I went out, and I danced. I was alone for a while, but I didn't care. A few males pointed at me and laughed, and I didn't care. A few couples joined the dance floor, and I continued to spin, twist, and step in the manner I loved. Before I knew it, I was in a huge group, everyone enjoying themselves, and I just wanted to dance.

There's a sweat that comes from a combination of exercise and exhilaration. It runs through you, and seems to eliminate everything that hurts, everything that is holding you back. A sweat that ran through me, soaking my shirt, but taking with it the pain, and the anger. I felt ecstatic. It was then that I felt a woman dancing up behind me.

I had never really danced with a woman like this before. I mean, I had danced with my wife, but there always had been a little bit of awkwardness between us. I knew I was a better dancer than she was, so I always held myself back, letting her set the tone and pace. And that pace had always been a formal one, one that allowed her to control the motions.

This woman was right behind me, and I could feel her breasts crushing into my back just below my shoulder blades. I couldn't see her very well in the press of bodies, but I could feel her hands on my waist as she sought my rhythm and settled into it. The movement was blatantly sexual, and I felt my body responding. The combination of alcohol, adrenaline, and sweet female contact had an instant effect on my anatomy, and I was struck by the urge to turn around and embrace this woman.

I didn't of course. I just enjoyed the moment, feeling her body against my back as I continued to move. My eyes closed, and I felt my head swirl with the heat, and the scent of perfume. I was really getting into the moment when I felt a pair of buttocks crush against my semi-hard erection.

My eyes snapped open to find another woman had joined my little group. She had her back to me, and I took in the tight t-shirt and her long brown hair, done up in a complicated pattern. I reveled in the feel of her lush body as she pressed back against me, moving in a sensual fashion.

I was in heaven, and I didn't think I could last much longer without exploding right there in my pants. My semi had evolved into a full blown erection, and the ecstasy of the moment was rapidly carrying me away. With a regretful sigh, I edged my way out between the two women, who took my action in stride, adjusting to dance with each other. The woman who had been to my back turned out to be a rather attractive woman with light blonde hair. The sight was nearly as arousing as the actual physical contact had been, but I turned, and actually found myself stumbling as I moved towards a small booth in the corner.

I sat heavily, and felt cool air from a vent wash over me, bringing another gout of sweat to drip from my forehead. I wiped my forearm against my head removing the latest sheen. I felt good. Damned good.

"Professor Lyle?" A voice at my ear came across, loud and recognizable.

"Heh?" I turned and saw the face of one of my students. Long brown hair, lovely eyes...

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her face looking both happy and confused.

"Well ya see, Tits ... Uh shit ... Trish," My mouth worked before my brain, and the flash of red across her face caused me to babble. "I'm uhm, getting drunk. Very drunk. Drunk and dancing. Yeah, I am officially celebrating my marriage ending and my mother dropping dead. Really fucking drunk."

"Uhm, yeah." Trish looked embarrassed, and to be honest her expression was one of concern. "You uh ... what's with the suit?"

"I am ... not versed in culb ... I mean, club etiquette," I slurred the word, and knew I was truly wasted.

"It's uhm, original." Trish smiled, her embarrassment fading slightly as she looked at me.

"Well, I must say you look very nice tonight," I tried. I knew I had beer goggles on, but to be honest, Trish did look fantastic, with her hair done up in a convoluted style, and her characteristic tight t-shirt and jeans.

"Uh, are you gonna be all right professor?" Trish asked, her expression a bit intrigued.

"Henry. My name's Henry." I answered her, my gaze dropping to her gorgeous tits again. God I wanted to grab a hold and just massage the hell out of that body before...

"Professor, I think you need to get home." Trish said again, staring at the bottle in my hand. I didn't remember where that bottle had come from, but it was over half empty.

"Want to come?" I admit that the pass wasn't very subtle, and I probably shouldn't have made it. All I could think about was how much I wanted inside her.

"Do ... do you need me to take you home, Henry?" Trish asked hesitantly.

"Need ... I..." I tried to contemplate the answer that would be the right one. She was my student and she was asking...

Oh no, don't you dare. You're almost ten years older than this girl. If the school ever...

I'm HORNY. The thought ripped across my mind as I ran my gaze over Trish again. Those lovely breasts, that lovely ass. She was so sweet, so ripe. I wanted her.

"I would be honored, if you would accompany me to my domicile." I intoned the words formally, and was tempted to bow at the end of it. It had the desired effect however, replacing Trish's expression of concern with a girlish giggle.

"OK, you're fine." She snickered.

"No, I think I need at least two or three young lovelies to escort me home, otherwise I'm likely to forget where I live in my old age." I joked, drawing myself up from a slouch.

"Drunk, but fine." Trish groaned, turning around to leave.

"Hey Trish?" I called to her, unwilling to let it go.

"Yes, professor?" Her voice sounded slightly annoyed and I realized that I might have just blown my chance.

"I want to fuck you." I stated, looking at her evenly. I just didn't care anymore.

"Go home, Professor." Trish shook her head, and walked away towards a small group of students that I recognized from around school. She lowered her head towards them conspiratorially, and there was a general giggle, complete with several glances in my direction.

I had blown it. I knew it. All of the good feelings that had built up in my body and mind crashed down again, and I found myself stumbling down the stairs of the club. I descended to the street: dark and chilly to my sweaty form. I stood there, on the corner, one arm wrapped around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill while I waved at passing cabs with the other.

"Henry?" A familiar voice called to me from the stair, and I turned to see Trish standing at the bottom of the stairs, my tweed jacket in her hand.

I slapped my forehead with my palm, and quickly walked over to her, my hand extended to collect my jacket. She handed it to me unceremoniously, an amused smile on her face.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you." Trish apologized, the smile still there. "I didn't tell my friends what you said."

"Tell them what you want. I don't fucking care." I held the jacket in front of me, before swirling it around and pulling it on in a theatrical flourish. I really didn't care, and the feeling was liberating. It just didn't seem to matter to me.

I turned back to the street, scanning up and down for a cab.

"Henry? Are you gonna be all right?" Trish's voice was quiet, but totally audible in the soft rush of engines along the street.

"How could I not? I'm free," I spat out my wife's words, remembering how she had thought it was such a gift. Yeah, the freedom to make an ass of myself. Great call on the drinking, buddy.

"So, it wasn't on his tombstone, huh?" Trish's subject change caught me unawares, and caused me to look back at her with a quizzical expression.

"You ever wonder, Professor? You ever wonder what they're gonna say about you after you go?" Trish's expression was thoughtful, but as she spoke a self confident smirk crossed her features.

"I'm not following..." I began.

"I mean, in a hundred years, is it really gonna matter what you did tonight? What I did?" Her hand was on her hip now, cocked at an obviously seductive angle. "Professor, look, I'm gonna level with you," Trish looked about herself, noting that we were alone on the small patch of brick that lay next to the street. "I came out tonight to get laid."

My eyebrows rose, and I couldn't help it. I snickered, looking right at my student. She was putting me on. Had to be.

"Don't laugh!" Her voice rose sharply, and for a moment, I realized how young she was. "It's not like I ... I don't..." She broke off, before composing herself back into her former confident stance. "Ok, fine. I'll just go back in the club, with my TITS, and you can go home and pass out."

"Hey, Trish ... look..." I raised my hand in an appeasing gesture as she crossed her arms, "I came out here to have a good time, and I just got a little drunk."

Trish nodded, "And I got to thinking, well why the hell not."

Her words shook me for a moment. I stood there, staring, as Trish took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. Her eyes roamed over me and she smiled again.

"Besides, I like the way you dance." Her hand reached out, and her fingers ran along the underside of my jacket's collar, straightening it. "In a hundred years, we'll all be dead."

My mind flashed back to the dance floor, and I realized that it had been Trish dancing up close to me. Trish who had caused that near explosion.

"I haven't been drinking," Her hand lingered on my collar, sliding up and down in a subtle motion. "Why don't you let me give you a ride home?"

I nodded stupidly as she slid her arm into the crook of mine. The touch was unreal, seeming almost a dream as she began to pull me along.

"So, she left you?" Trish asked as the streetlights gave way to the bright fluorescent of a parking structure.

"Can we not talk about that?" I asked, looking into the eyes of this young woman. She was lovely, that was true.

"Sure, kinda kills the mood, huh?" Trish pulled herself a little closer to me, and I could feel the crush of her breast against my arm. Soft, and luscious.

I stopped, and looked at her. My eyes ran over her face, taking in every curve, and every soft imperfection. Heck, even the barely covered zit on the left side of her face looked attractive. I wanted to kiss her, and I ran my tongue over my teeth, noting the slight taste of beer still present in my mouth.

"Uhm, you don't have any Listerine or anything, do you?"

"In the car..." Trish lowered her eyes, and gestured with a toss of her head at an old off-white import. "But your breath isn't a deal-breaker."

Her hand slid up around the back of my neck, and she pulled my head down. She caught me totally by surprise, and my eyes widened as I felt her lips press against mine, hot and hungry. Her hands came around my back, and her eyes closed as she kissed me. After the initial shock wore off, I eagerly returned her affection, my hands clasping together at the small of her back.

I felt her body against me, warm and inviting. I had only held one other woman against me, and Jess had never been this ... enthusiastic. Trish rubbed against me, her body evoking all sorts of semi-familiar sensations. How long had it been since I had been this close to a woman?

It was then that I felt her tongue teasing at my lips. I let my lips part, and allowed her access. She tasted of cola, sweet and bubbly, as she explored my mouth with hers. I tried to return the kiss as well as I could, admittedly a bit clumsily. She didn't seem to care, increasing the speed of her motions against me, and pulling herself closer.

We broke our kiss, and stood there, staring at each other with that particular look. That one look that you give when you know you want to have sex, but are way too nervous to say it out loud. The awkward desire that you hope registers on your face, but not so much that you freak out the other party.

Trish turned her head, looking directly at the car she had earlier indicated. With a quick tug of her arm, we quick stepped towards it. Her keys were soon in her hand, and the door opened to her quick action. She leaned across the seats, popping up the door lock on my side with a motion of her hand. I entered, rolling down the window to allow the cool air to once again blow across my face.