Universal Fantasy
He stepped out onto the balcony. Every apartment in the complex had one, It was a major selling point. Having your own balcony must be one of those universal fantasies; a replacement for the white picket fence, He'd never used his for anything but smoking. No chairs, or against regulation barbecues. Just the ashtray. There was no romance to it. Even when Jean joined him, they'd never kiss because she'd complain of his cigarette breath.
He lit his Camel, and tried not to think of Jean. He was no more successful this time than any other. She was out of town for two weeks. Her dance troupe had been hired to do a scene in a movie. They were an amateur group, at most performing at local festivals and talent shows. But somebody recorded them one night, and put it up on the internet, where they were discovered by an up and coming director. He flew them out to LA to perform in a scene.
Garret was as excited and pleased as Jean was. He assured her that while he'd miss her, he thought it was a great opportunity. It wasn't until she was gone that the misgivings started. He tried calling her on monday, but she didn't answer the cell. No problem, she was probably on set, maybe dancing at that very moment. He smiled at the thought. He'd first met her dancing at a club and was mesmerized by her. It was what she'd loved most in the world, and had started taking lessons when she was five.
"I thought I'd have a career in ballet. That is until these," she'd push her breasts together and up, "showed up."
His sympathy was only half-hearted at best.
Now, though, he imagined her dancing in front of that director. The swaying of her body that had first drawn Garret to her. The look on her face that he'd failed to duplicate, even in their most passionate sessions. Then, he'd think of the director deciding that maybe she should dance alone. Maybe he didn't even need a dancing scene, but had just been enamored of her, had to draw her to him. He'd take her to dinner. She'd be flattered. A small town dancer with a Hollywood director. Universal fantasy.
He stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another. That was the scenario that he couldn't help but imagine all week. It would creep into his thoughts at work on Tuesday. He missed his exit on his way home on Wednesday. Thursday, the feeling of dread made him toss out his lunch after a couple bites. Finally, Friday morning, he awoke from a dream version of it. Her legs wrapped around the director's waist while he grunted into her. And then she turned her head to look at Garret where he stood watching, and unable to tear his gaze away. Then she smiled.
He awoke angry and far more aroused than he was comfortable with. He knew that he had to purge himself of the dream. All day long, he tried to figure out a way to do it. He could fly out there for the weekend. Surprise her. It would be sweet. Maybe he'd even propose. She'd like that; knowing how much he'd missed her. It wouldn't be like checking up on her. It would just be...
No, that wasn't going to do.
By the end of the day, he'd come to realize that the only thing worse than not trusting her would be if she knew that he didn't trust her. No trip to California. Instead, he made a trip to the bar. His plan was that if he was overflowing with alcohol, there'd be no space in him for anything else. He knew it wasn't a good plan, but after two drinks, he had already redefined good.
It was close to 11 when the woman entered the bar. Most everybody was dressed in casual shirts and jeans, and thus everybody's eyes followed her across the room to where she sat down next to Garret. She wore a red cocktail dress that displayed everything to good effect. She ordered a shot of vodka, tossed it back and nodded at the bartender for another. When she'd finished that one as well, Garrett offered to buy her next. She favored him with a smile that let him know that he wasn't entirely wasting his time.
"A gentleman? she asked.
Garrett shrugged, "Not really."
"Good. A gentleman would be insufficient for my needs this evening," she gave his knee a squeeze. Universal fantasy.
In Garrett's car, she informed him that this would be a one time thing. Don't expect to see her again, cause really, she didn't do this sort of thing. Her fiance had just broken their engagement to be with another woman.
"And you want to hurt him?"
"How would this hurt him? No, I just want to forget him, at least for a little while." For a moment, she looked stricken, like she'd said too much. Then she leaned over and licked Garrett's neck. They didn't speak the rest of the ride.
Now he stared down at the quiet courtyard. It was late, and the shouts of the college boys had even receded into the past. He was only wearing a pair of boxers and his legs were covered with goose-pimples.
"One more," he decided and lit yet another cigarette.
The woman stepped out beside him. She helped herself to his pack, and leaned in close to light her cigarette off of his. She took a drag, and blew it out, enveloping herself in the haze. Her eyes glanced over him with disinterest, as if she didn't even recognize the man she'd been fucking a short time ago.
"I thought you were asleep," he noted.
"Just dozing."
He nodded. "Feeling any better?"
"Not really. You?"
"No."
They stood there side by side, staring at the sky and wondering when the night would end.