Building Friction (Part 12)

The day at school dragged. The students were in a state of restlessness that goes hand in hand with a typical Friday, and were even less cooperative than the first day I arrived. As the day wore on, my enthusiasm over the impending evening at the rapid dating event dwindled. I had purchased an awesome dress, one that Steph referred to as "The Morticia Addams dress" and I was looking forward to wearing that, if nothing else.

I returned home to an e-mail from my webmaster, reminding me of what they were expecting me to write about the event, an e-mail from Matt saying how much he enjoyed the previous night and a handful of other e-mails from readers. I tried to answer all of their questions and then prepared myself for my evening out.

Not knowing what to expect when I arrived that night, I made an all-out effort to look my best. I soaked in the tub, washed my hair with the expensive shampoo and conditioner that Malory had given me, shaved in all of the appropriate places and did a mini-facial. I rubbed my body down with sweet-smelling lotion, fixed my hair in a French knot and carefully applied come-hither make-up.

The dress was a slinky black number, full length with long sleeves and a deep V-cut in the front. I donned my best black lace push-up bra, adjusted my tits to their ideal and then decided to go with garters and thigh-high stockings. While they wouldn't be visible, just knowing that they were there gave me an extra boost of feeling sexy. As an added perk, I decided against wearing underwear, mainly to avoid a panty line, but also to feel the smooth fabric against my skin.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I had to smile. I would have fucked me.

I arrived at the hotel and headed for the bar where the event was supposed to be held. There was a table set up where I needed to give my name and pay my fee, after which I was instructed that I was early and that I should just have a drink and relax. I surveyed the room and saw that aside from myself there were only two other people who had gotten there early, both men in their late 30's or early 40's, both of whom watched me with careful intent as I went to order a drink.

The woman in charge of the event was a boisterous gal, her head encircled with frizzy curls. She handed me some information on how everything worked, gave me a basic run-down on the score cards and slapped a name tag across my left boob. She giggled when she did it, looked over at the men who were watching us and then looked back at me.

"Yessir!" She happily exclaimed. "You are going to be a popular one tonight!" Then she scuttled off to greet new arrivals.

Reading over the information let me know that the women were assigned to numbered tables which the men would be circulating. The time limit was set at 3 minutes, during which time we were supposed to make small talk, then determine if the person was someone that we'd like to know more. Should we make that decision, we'd write down their assigned number on our card, and at the end of the night they would count up all of the interested parties and pass along the info that we had provided, mainly our phone number or e-mail address.

I sipped at my rum and coke and watched the people as they began to steadily filter in. The majority of them were in their 30's and 40's. The women all had that divorcee look and the men looked like either like socially retarded losers or professionals who'd waited too long to settle down. Both genders were staring me down. I was the only woman who appeared to be under 35, so the women were eying me with thinly veiled irritation over my age advantage. The men all just kept their eyes on my twins.

My stomach nearly dropped out of my body when I saw the latest addition to the room walk in. I wasn't the only one to notice, as the rest of the women all stopped talking and simply stared. Geoff stood at the entrance to the bar, sidelined by the hostess. He was wearing a dark business suit and vividly colored tie. His eyes locked with mine and were filled with something that I'd never seen in them before. Panic.

After the hostess had slapped on his name tag, he made his way towards me. I turned my back to him and prayed that he was only interested in placing a drink order, but knew I wouldn't get that lucky.

"I swear to you, I had no clue that you were going to be here," he greeted.

I swiveled around on my stool and stared hard at him. His face was the picture of sincerity. He held up his open palms and shook them. The website had wanted me to be secretive about my doing a piece on these types of events, so there was no announcement for it in any of my columns. Steph was one of the few people who knew that I was going, but I had sworn her to secrecy and secured it by promising that I would fill her in on all of the juicy details when I was finished. Despite my gut thinking otherwise, there really was no way that Geoff could have known I would be here.

"OK. I believe you. But what the hell are you doing here anyway?" I motioned the bartender over towards us so Geoff could order.

"You'll laugh. You'll have a great laugh at my expense. So I don't know if I want to tell you." He climbed onto the stool next to me and ordered a beer.

"Oh, I think you owe it to me, don't you?" I sipped nervously at my drink and tried not to make eye contact with him.

"My mom paid for 6 months of these things." He had barely gotten the mom part out and I almost sputtered my cocktail all over the bar. "See? I told you you'd laugh!"

"Your mom? You honestly didn't strike me as a Mama's Boy." I turned towards him a little and waited for his answer.

"I'd like to think of myself as a Good Son," he said, prompting more laughter from me. "But enough about mocking me. Why are you here? I thought you had Pet Store Boy now."

"I have my reasons. And I still have Pet Store... dammit! I still have Matt." I corrected myself as quickly as I could, but internally kicked myself for messing up.

It was Geoff's turn to laugh, which he did loudly, prompting more glares from around the room. You could just see everyone mentally calculating that the only two younger people were going to end up with each other. I laughed at that thought.

"I'll have to guess that it's for a piece then. Whether or not you have Matt, this doesn't seem like your scene." He took a swig of his beer, then mockingly shook it in my direction. I had to stifle a giggle and narrow my eyes at him.

"Yes, but they don't know and you can't tell them, OK?"

"Fine. But you can't tell people that I come to these things because my mommy wants be to meet a nice girl and doesn't know that all it's ever done is helped me score middle-aged pussy." He took another swig of beer.

I cringed at his last statement. There was no reason why it should have bothered me, but there was something about knowing that he was going to end up with his suit on the floor of some woman who'd ditched her kids with the ex for the weekend in order to get a sexual refill. I didn't get long to think about it though, as the hostess was ringing a bell to get everyone's attention.

The women were instructed to go to their numbered tables and the men were lined up and told to head to a table and remember that they were supposed to be circulating them in a clockwise direction after the 3 minute bell sounded. After the instructions were given, the men fanned out, some rushing to be at my table first. I could see Geoff across the room, giving me the thumbs-up. I sighed and shook my head.

The first man to sit at my table was one of the professional looking types. "Hi, I'm Chloe," I introduced.

His eyes were on my cleavage. "How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm 27. How old are you?" I sensed this would go from bad to worse, and fast.

"How old do I look?" His eyes remained chest level.

I waved my hand around and tried to get his attention up to my face. "I'm not really good at guessing ages. Why don't you just tell me?"

"I'm an optometrist." He replied. "An eye doctor."

"I know what that is." I shifted uneasily in my seat.

"Look, Chloe? I'll be honest here. I'm not looking for anything serious. I was kind of hoping to find someone to go home with tonight, if you get my drift." He managed to work his gaze up to my face for a moment, then let it drop back down.

"Well, I don't really share those plans. How about you just tell me your name?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.

He huffed loudly. "What's the point in me telling you my name if you're not going to be in my bed screaming it later?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest like an angry little kid.

The men who followed were all similar. One actually came right out and told me "You have really nice tits."  I kept glancing up to see if Geoff was getting closer to my table. I couldn't believe that I was looking forward to talking to him, but he was looking like the only person who might ask me something other than how old I was or bother to look higher than my collarbone.

When he did make his way to my table, he was sporting his trademark smirk. "How've you been making out so far?"

"This is fucking insane! They all just want to know if I'm interested in fucking them later!" I sat up in my chair and ran a hand over my eyes.

"So you wouldn't want to hear that again, I take it?" He smiled broadly.

I laughed. "How have you been doing?"

"See that one over there?" He pointed over his left shoulder to a buxom blonde in her late 30's. "She's actually a lot like you. Very sexually expressive. Even revealed her love of facials. And not the skin care type."

A lump instantly appeared in my throat. I swallowed hard and tried to bite back the overwhelming urge to kick him under the table. "Why would you think that's like me?"

"Well, it's like the Chloe from your writing. This aggressively complex figure that you try to represent. Only it looks like this one would be more receptive to my advances. Should I take her up on them?" He leaned over and stared hard at me.

I shifted in my seat. I couldn't believe the anger surging through me. Where the fuck did he get off assuming that some haggard old tramp was anything like me? And why would I care what he was going to be doing with her later? My heart was racing. His eyes continued to search my face for an answer. They seemed to soften a touch, but I weighed that was just something I was hoping to see. When the bell rang, announcing the end of his 3 minutes, he stood, but paused by the table before moving on.

"Are you OK?" His voice sounded concerned, but I really didn't give a fuck.

"Just go to your next date," I ordered. The next man was standing by him now, shooting him a dirty look.

"Yeah, guy. Move along," the middle-aged wanna-be lothario chirped.

Geoff hesitated, then moved to the next table. There was only one other man after this one that I needed to endure. I fidgeted with my watch and listlessly answered their questions, trying to will time to go faster so that I could get the hell out of this nut house. When the last "date" was up, I stood quickly and began to hurry out of the bar. The hostess sidelined me and asked about my scorecard. As I handed it to her, I could see Geoff approaching out of the corner of my eye. I started to move out the door.

"Wait. Honey, you didn't mark anyone down!" She waved the card in my face. "You need to mark somebody down!"

"She forgot to mark my number down," Geoff said as he sidled up next to us.

"No. I didn't." My voice was filled with ice. I looked the hostess in the eye. "I didn't care to mark anyone down."

She looked Geoff up and down and then gave me the same once over. "I hope there's not a problem here..." she started.

"There isn't. We know each other from outside of here. It's carry-over from something else. We'll be fine." Geoff gave her a smile and looked her in the eyes. With a touch of uncertainty, she moved on.

"There is no WE, Geoff. We would mean you and I. There's only you and my older, sluttier clone. Go make a WE with her." I turned my back to him and tried to walk out. He grabbed me by the arm.

"Dammit, Chloe! Will you let me explain?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

"What is there to explain, Geoff? You don't owe me anything, least of all an explanation of how you're going to score some middle aged pussy!" I tugged my arm free of his grip and took off down the hallway at a fast clip. I could feel tears burning at my eyes. If I could just make it to the women's restroom at the end of the hall, he wouldn't get a chance to see how upset I was. And I could have a moment to try and figure out why I was so damn upset by all of this.

"Chloe!" I could hear him following me. "Chloe, please stop!"

I turned and shoved hard on the door to the women's restroom, almost hitting the exiting woman square in the face as I did. She stumbled back and barely missed it, and I apologized weakly as I threw myself into the first available stall. I leaned against the cold metal wall of the stall and pushed my fists on either side of my pounding head. My heart was beating out of control, and tiny streams of hot tears were sliding down my cheeks.

Why? I berated myself internally. Why the fuck was this bothering me so much?