The Class of '81

[TXExpress]

OOC: Howdy, and welcome to my first thread. The premise is a 20-year high school reunion. The initial characters will be Cutie_Lillie and me, but, as I hope will become apparent enough, there will be plenty of spots for others of the reunited to jump in. I hope for this to be pretty free-form, very improvisational and, above all else, fun.

Enjoy ...

 

[TXExpress]

Getting ready (the preface)

OK ... we got socks ... we got jockeys ... we got casual ... we got formal ... we got ... we gotta be kidding ourselves.

I look down again, for about the 50th time, at the invitation:

"Greetings KENT ZACHRY, CLASS OF 1981: yeah, baby, nothing like that personal touch

"We hope you are able to attend the 20-year reunion of the Central High School graduating class of 1981. We have some great fun planned for you, KENT, and your classmates.

"Registration/reception: Friday, 7 p.m., The Lighthouse Bar and Grill. Dress: Casual.

"Catered barbecue picnic: Saturday, 11:30 a.m., North Central Park. Dress: Casual.

"Reception/dance: Saturday, 7:30 p.m., The Plaza Hotel Ballroom. Dress: Semi-formal (no tie required). thank god; I don't even think I own one

"For those of you who remember the 10-year reunion, we hope this one will be even more special. We can't wait to see you!!!! think you added enough exclamation points there? geez ...

"The Reunion Committee"

The 10-year ... how could I forget it? It's the main reason that I am attending this one alone. OK, look, I needed a bowl. Immediately. No delay. How was I to know it was still filled with punch?

From that day forward, my wife and I never were the same again. We split up three years later, thankfully having no kids over whom to fight.

Also from that day forward, I all but cut myself off from the few people in that class with whom I did keep contact. Flipping idly through "The Record," our low-rent yearbook, I see a few of their faces ...

Randy. My best bud. I miss him. Damned fool always wanted to drive fast. They said he was going 115 at the time of the accident. *sigh*

Marilyn. Why do I hear "I Wanna Know What Love Is" when I see her? Wonder what she's up to? Didn't see her at the 10-year; probably for the best.

Artie. He was the class clown to my class comedian. As defined by George Carlin, the class clown was the one with pencils in his nostrils and ears. The class comedian was the one who put him up to it.

Angel. Suitably named. The only girl who could actually make me listen to The Carpenters. What a tease.

Nancy. I hope she was able to get her dress cleaned quickly enough. I owe her an apology if I see her.

Mark. Nancy's husband; they married right after high school. I DEFINITELY don't want to see him if I can avoid it. Football captains tend to stay surly ...

Amanda. She brought me out of my shy period in a big way. I never knew about that back room in the PE area, nor how nicely it could be utilized. She couldn't have cared less about me personally, but when you're 17 ... who cares?

So many more, but who has time for all that? I have a plane to catch.

I am going, right? I gulp down a quick tequila shot *aaaaaaaaaah* Damned right.

I try on my old letter jacket, just for grins ... mmph ... seems to have shrunk, just like my old 34-waist pants. Note to self: Get new cleaners. Obviously, it has NOTHING to do with turning 38 and living something of a college lifestyle since the divorce ...

Still, I pack the letter jacket, collect the invitation and the received tickets, tuck my airline tickets into my jacket ...

And, to keep the high school spirit alive, fumble through a drawer, grab a condom, and stick it into my wallet.

No ... make that two ...

*slam*

 

[TXExpress]

At the reception, Scene I

Wow. All this, for us? What the hell is this ... a reception or a pep rally? All that's missing is the band.

Which is OK, since I didn't bring my trombone.

I survey the scene at The Lighthouse, a nice, big bar and grill to which most of us have been going since we were in high school. I can tell some of my fellow graduates still frequent the place; they might as well have butt grooves implanted in the chairs they obviously know well.

The one lie I will try to tell others as well as myself this weekend is that I don't need the glasses I'm not wearing. But I have to admit (to myself, of course), it ain't making things any easier. That name tag might say "PHIL" or it might say "QW%&"; I really can't tell.

I wander a bit; the crowd is kinda slow arriving, which is to be expected. A lot of people probably had to travel a lot farther than I did. And, of course, some people of a sex opposite of mine can't go anywhere without calling in The Makeup Brigade.

I mingle a little, but don't see anyone I really knew well. Just a lot of phony, "HEY! HOW ARE YOU? GREAT TO SEE YOU!" lines, then moving on.

Ah, but one thing I can discern ... that is a nice female form across the floor ... and I'm pretty sure she's looking at me. I will delude myself into thinking that, anyway.

Uh, oh. She is walking across the floor in my direction. Now what the hell do I do? To see her name, I would have to squint right at her ... well, her extremely nice chest. I really don't want to get slapped two minutes after having walked through the door.

And yet ... I have to know ... so I begin to leer ...

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Mandy the Waitress

Mandy spys a man without a drink in hand across the room and knowing her duty glides over to him to take his order.

"Excuse me sir, but would you like a drink?"


She extends out to him a tray she had been carrying in front of her chest. It was full of small glasses, with either punch or a champange cocktail.

"If you don't like any of these, I can take any order you like. Sir?"

She tries to get his attention as he stares with a suprised look at the tray.

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is bright red

Oh my god ...

I don't need my glasses to see that a) my attempt to be even a little bit subtle while staring at her chest failed miserably, and b) even behind a tray of drinks, it was a chest worth staring at. I never was a judge of such things, but, pushed up as they were in that cocktail waitress outfit, they had to be 38s, easily.

I smile dumbly, then look into her eyes. They are a sparkling brown, perfectly highlighted by her honey-brown hair. And, having already been caught staring, I decide to look down again while taking a glass of champagne, this time to really get her name.

"Uh ... er ... thank you ... Mandy, is it? Sorry; no offense intended."

Geez ... was she even old enough to be in here? I'd bet a year of someone else's salary that she was 23, tops. But, man, what a sight.

So, shifting gears, even though it was early in the evening, I try to liven things up a little and dig out of the hole I have begun.

"So, Mandy ... what time can I get you off? I mean ... what time do you get off? Of work, I mean ... oh, Christ ..."

I am as red as her skirt. And wishing that hole went all the way to China.

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Mandy the Waitress

Mandy rolls her eyes, at being asked that by an old geezer for the umpteenth time..

"Sorry, sir, not allowed to fraternize with the customers."

And with that, she wisked off to a pack of more stupified wondering old geezers who had just walked in with pouches that come from years of nursing beer cans in barcoloungers while watching Monday Night Football....

 

[TXExpress]

Kent wipes the figurative blood from his nose ...

Well ... I guess I've been put in my place.

Back to geezerdom ...

The room is starting to fill a bit now, and I still can't make out who half these people are. Screw vanity; I'm wearing the glasses tomorrow night.

I think I will skip the barbecue. I have no family to show off, and I sure as hell don't want to get trapped in a three-legged race with someone when I wouldn't want to be within 30 yards of them in the first place.

Geez, am I getting that surly in my old age? No wonder no one will give me the time of day.

So I step backward, inching toward the bar, when suddenly ...

*oof*

"Oh, wow, I am so sorrry ..."

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Marilee Anne, the ex-ugly one

*Oooofh*

Almost spilling her drink Marilee Anne turned in anger towards the oof who just bumped into her.

"Hey!"

(a very noticable change in tone came over her voice)

"HEY? Aren't you..ah.. Kent? Yes, Kent from biology class? Don't you remember me? Marilee Anne?"

Now Mariliee Anne did NOT look like she did 20 years ago. Whereas some of the women there had put on a few pounds and started to have the fumpy matronly look, Marilee was stunning.

She was the ugly girl in school. The one no one noticed. Many even stepped on her in the hallways..

But after growing up a bit, moving to the Los Angeles and gettinga private trainer, not to mention a good plastic surgeon..

Well, lets just say you couldn't call Marrilee 'ugly' anymore..

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... amazed

"Marilee Anne?"

Good GOD. I had skipped over her picture in the yearbook like a prison escapee fleeing the cops. I literally wouldn't give her the time of day, for fear of my watch face shattering. But now ...

"Uh ... yes ... Kent ... yeah, that's it. regaining composure Geez, I am so sorry about the drink. Can I get you another?"

In truth, I can't take my eyes off her. She could be drinking unleaded gasoline for all I know. Her dress hugs curves that sure as hell weren't there 20 years ago. Her eyes ... hell, they may be colored contacts, but who cares? And her hair is shoulder-length and all but glows with radiance.

She may just be here to break hearts and exact revenge, but I am willing to volunteer to find out.

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Marilee Anne

Standing kinda awkwardly with glass held high as Kent wipes the front of her dress.. maybe just a little too long...

Laughing "OH! My.... it's ok, Kent..... really!"

She tries to take a step back away from his waving arm which, with napkin in hand, is literally painting the front of her...

"I think you got a little of your drink on yourself too." She blushes slightly noticing the wet stain on the front of his pants.

"I'll just go to the ladies room and take care of this"

She giggles to herself as she saunters to the bathroom. Walking away from Kent she provided a view of hips swaying like palm trees in the Southern California breeze.

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... blushing?

"Huh?"

He looks at his glass ... still full.

He looks at his crotch ... uh, oh.

Of all the days to wear khakis ... not only is any bulge instantly recognizable, but now ... this.

Well, at least it was earned honestly. Marilee's looks could peel paint, as opposed to the old days, where it would jump off the wall in self defense.

God, what next? I go to the men's room to "freshen up." But, man ... what assets. If it wouldn't get me arrested, I'd use the ladies room instead.

One quick paper-towel-in-water dab later, and I am back on the increasingly crowded barroom floor, searching in vain for Marilee and now getting desparate for another drink.

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Ms. Ellaine Crochity

"Young man, are you looking for someone?"

The voice made Kent's skin crawl. The voice of a Medussa from Kent's sophomore year.. Ms. Crochity...his Algebra I teacher.

"Ohhh, little Kent Zachry. Is that you? Ah, yes, I'd remember that lost look anywhere. You used to look like that when I'd place a test in front of you. How are you, my dear?"

The 'older' woman place a hand on Kent's shoulder and one around his back... a little 'lower' than Kent was expecting..

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... suddenly no longer aroused

"Eeep!"

It's a sound I haven't made in a long time, but that did it. Miss Crochity ... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevil.

My skin is crawling ... except where it is inexplicably being held in place by Miss Crochity. And it's safe to say there will be no further bulges or stains on the khakis as long as I am ensnared in this trap.

"Why ... uh ... Miss Crochity ... how ... uh ... nice to -- OUCH! -- see you."

I am squirming away as best I can, doing a dance hitherto unseen outside the wilds of some ancient jungle. It has nothing to do with the music that, as in all bars, is now being cranked to ear-splitting levels SO THAT ALL CONVERSATION HAS TO BE SHOUTED.

Which, of course, leads to the place growing silent as I yell:

"MISS CROCHITY, PLEASE GET YOUR HAND OFF MY ASS!"

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

The doctor is in.

Marissa Good.

She’d been called a classy broad, the kind you see in a 40s movie. A curtain of long dark hair swept in waves down to the middle of her back, and in her form-fitting red dress she stood alone wearing an air of feigned boredom… and longing. Her green eyes swept the room for something, someone… and came to rest, with a grinding halt, on the man ogling all the women but her.

Well, he’d never noticed her once in high school, why would he notice her now? She’d been known as Mary then… a bookworm who seldom talked to people, always dressed in something baggy… the kind of girl who’s invisible to hormone-charged boys. Her studying had paid off, and now she was a successful sex therapist who hosted a national television show. She’d blossomed considerably, but years of being ignored had made her cautious and aloof. She had no idea why she had felt compelled to be here.

Yes, she was a classy broad all right, but sometimes she wished she were a different type of woman. The doctor could help others, but apparently not herself.

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... quite happy for the distraction

My face has not been this red this often since I fell asleep on that Maui beach that day. Note to self: ALWAYS pack sunscreen.

Still, my outburst causes Miss Crochity to back away. So it at least has that going for it. Which is nice.

Most of the faces by now are turning away from me, trying to suppress laughter, but one set of eyes grabs mine. I've seen them before ... but where? In school, perhaps, but ... TV! Of course. Dr. Good. Or, as we jokingly call her, Dr. FeelGood. Then we high-five and drink beer. Bachelorhood ain't all it's cracked up to be.

"Mary? Dr. Marissa Good? THAT'S YOU? Oh my GOD! I never made the connection."

But then, why should I have? It's amazing how all the high school beauty queens turn ordinary, while all the plain Janes blossom.

And MAN ... what blossoms.

"Please ... help me find a table. Join me in a drink. What'll you have?"

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Marissa Good raises an eyebrow

What is the matter with Kent? He was always so self-assured and now he's acting like he actually *is* back in high school.

I walk over to him, 5'10" in my heels, determined no one is going to make me feel invisible again.

"Kent, nice of you to notice me," (for the first time) "I'd love to join you at a table. I'd like something really cold to drink, maybe a beer?"

I sit down in the chair he pulls out, and cross my legs, the floor-length material opening up on the side where the thigh-high split is, knowing he can see the stocking top.

"And, please, don't ever call me Mary or you'll be punished."

 

[caspai]

Amanda

I walk into the room with all of my old "friends" standing around, acting like they are there to catch up on old times, and not really there to compare tax returns and see who has the most expensive car. Yeah, right.

I have put on the war paint with a vengance, but then, I want everyone to see me. Always have. I have a silver mesh dress on, and looking into the mirror this evening, I had been very pleased to see that it looked as if it were painted on me. It damn well better, as much as it had cost me...

I look around at all of the soon-to-be middle aged men, wondering how many of them even remembered me. See, my hobby in high school had been collecting cherries, and I had had many of them in this room. Thing is, none of them had ever cared to bring me home to meet the mom. Oh well. Their loss.

I glance across the room, looking for a likely vic, I mean, a likely companion for the evening, and spy Kent, sitting at a table across the room. Hmmmmm.....

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... pleased to think of such punishment

"Why ... uh ... Mary? Dr. Good? Where are you?"

She's already headed to an open table as I go to get the beers. I feel like a damned stammering kid. What is wrong with me?

I know the answer. I haven't had any good ... uh ... fun since the divorce. I thought it would open the floodgates. Instead, it's created Hoover Dam. Thank god for the occasional "relief." Oftentimes, ironically, while watching this beautiful lady's TV show, "Good Sex For All." But I sure as hell can't tell her that.

As I get back to the table ... *gulp* ... I see the top of her stocking, encasing one of the shapliest legs I have ever laid eyes upon.

"And, please, don't ever call me Mary or you'll be punished."

Still shaky, but trying to muster confidence, I sit down and hand her one of the beers.

"You mentioned something about punishment? I beamed Just which ones do the Good Doctor Good prescribe?"

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Marissa Good

Now, I know that I can talk about sex in front of millions of television viewers without batting an eye... I can suggest remedies, describe new products, talk about the latest books and therapies, but in real life that's where I run into trouble. Still, I think I can be a good actress.

"Thanks for the beer, Kent," I slide the bottle against my cleavage, trying to cool myself but I swear I can hear something sizzle.

"I have all sorts of ideas for punishment, but don't look so worried... I not into administering pain."

He seems to have trouble getting his eyes up past my legs, and this makes it easier for me to talk to him... if he looks me in the eyes I probably won't be able to carry off the confidence act.

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... headed for trouble, and likes it

Usually, I can't take my eyes off a stacked woman's cleavage. But these legs ... incredible.

Still, I can't help but notice as the sweaty beer bottle leaves a tantilizing trace of moisture as it slides across Marissa's bosom.

"Pain? I think I am already experiencing some!" I begin to laugh, but just then something shiny catches my eye.

Oh my God. It's Amanda. And she is ... hot!

But then ... so is Marissa. And that bird, so to speak, is in the hand. No comment needed about the bush, but goodness knows I'm thinking of some.

My only hope is that Amanda does not begin to turn on the "charms" while I am talking to Marissa. I am a dead man if that happens. Entire Native American tribes collected fewer scalps than Amanda.

"Uh ... where were we?" I stammer to Marissa, thankfully oblivious to Amanda's impending war dance. "I believe we were talking of prescriptions. And pain-free ones at that."

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Marissa Good

*sighs* Here we go again, flashy women turning men's heads... I seem to recall this one's name is Amanda and she was a very busy girl in school.

I slide the toe of my shoe up under Kent's pant leg and glide it over the calf. He's caught like a deer in headlights, nervously glancing from one of us to the other.

I idly wonder where Ted Malone is... Mr. Malone, the English teacher, who taught me a lot more than Shakespeare.

"So, Kent," I lean over and whisper, the fragrance of 'Sensual' drifing over him, "ever used handcuffs for play, or blindfolds, a feather duster, or a riding crop?"

My hand rests on his knee, debating about its next destination.

 

[caspai]

Amanda

Watching Kent watch as I approach, I see him begin to squirm, and smile. I just ~love~ to watch men squirm. Use them before they have the chance to use you, that has always been my motto. Oh ho, so, there is a woman with him. Wait, I recognize her. She had actually been one of the quiet girls in school, hadn't she? Doesn't look very quiet now. Still, she had always been nice to me. I won't compete with her. Not her. Everyone else, well, that remains to be seen. Maybe we can combine our talents and really see this man squirm. Hmmmm...more possibilities for entertainment....

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Marissa Good

I see Amanda size up me up, and she doesn't look very hostile. But poor Kent is looking very uncomfortable. I wonder what she has in mind. I smile at her anyway... can't help it, it's the way I was brought up.

"Amanda, hi," I rise, offering my hand. Kent almost rises with me as I disengage my foot.

 

[TXExpress]

Kent is ... OUCH!

I am doing great, except that a couple of my leg hairs just got caught between Marissa's toes.

But even a less-than-wordly guy like me can see that ... *gulp* ... these women are not in a fighting-over-me mood, but rather in a wrestling-with-me mood. If I screw this one up, I will be in a new realm of self-loathing.

"Amanda? Hey! Please join us! I pull up a chair and summon courage that must be, to use a technical term, from a bottle We were just discussing handcuffs, blindfolds, feather dusters and riding crops. I believe those were the topics, weren't they, Dr. Good?"

The grin on my face can only be described as wicked.

 

[caspai]

Hi sweetie. Boy, you sure do clean up good. Always thought you would. Mind if I join you? I have been following your career, and I find your subject matter to be fascinating.