Growing Pains

I was sixteen, and had never even kissed a girl. I spent my whole life under the sheltered supervision of my well-meaning parents, spending my free time with extra-credit assignments, music and a lot of self-motivated hobbies. When the opportunity came in March of 1986 to spend some time with some newfound friends to go to a party, I took that chance without hestiation, not realizing what I was getting myself into.

Chris and I were both invited to the party, which was a surprise. Chris is a regular glasses-wearing insecure bookworm, far from being used to social gatherings of any sort outside of debate class and school band funtions. He was my best friend, however, simply because he was honest. Once he opened up to you, you came to realize that not only was he smart, but he had a contagious demeanor that sprouted kindness to those around him.

That night of the party, I dressed myself in some of the newer outfits that I owned at the time. I had a Return of the Jedi shirt. I wasn’t hoping The Force could keep me safe, but it was neutral enough to serve its’ purpose at a party, I hoped. I didn’t know if I should do anything with my hair, but seeing as how most guys might use gel, I decided just combing it in a generic style would work well enough. I didn’t want to be trying too hard to fit in.

I was too naive at the time to know that Jason was trouble. Being the main proprieter of the excursion to Beth's house, he seemed to get off on frightening Chris and me the whole way there, softening us up with dangerous road games on the highway. Mark and Jason were close buddies, and he invited both Chris and me at the same time to something we had never been to before; any place outside of school that our parents weren't supervising.

Once we got to the front gate, I realized that maybe I was making a mistake. I could not yet see past the entrance, but once we drove through I was awestruck at the sheer size of Beth's "house". It would have been more appropriate to call it Beth's Manor. It was a modern-day mansion with a full-sized parking lot, filled with cars of every class.

We parked and walked together towards the front porch, walking up many steps and passing a few Doric columns along the way. Jason's black leather jacket tink-tinkled from the buckles on the waist colliding with the buckles on his sleeves from the sway of his arms after each step. It made me think of clanging chains in an empty dungeon, merely missing the accompanyment of a few rat squeeks and dripping water. His stupid grin didn't make things any easier for me to try and forget that analogy.

"Mitch said this party's been goin' on for a couple days now!" I looked at Mark but said nothing. He started to button and unbutton his flannel, displaying one of his nervous habits when he gets excited. The white shirt under his blue flannel was exposed and de-exposed as Mark dexterously weaved the buttons up and down, in and out of the buttonholes.

I looked at Chris. He was a pale reflection of how I felt. I knew at that moment that I wasn't the only alien thrown into the new and frightening world of high-class party mayhem.

I could distinctly hear music thumping inside the house/inn as we neared the front door. The pulse-pounding thump-thump of the bass playing inside seemed to echo in my head and add more tension to my constricted insides. I started to get lightheaded and lose track of what I was doing. Each step towards the oversized door made my tunnel vision grow stronger. I wondered if I was close to fainting. I fought the urge to stop walking and say I wanted to go home. I had to be a man.

We reached the foot of the stairs. Jason and Mark stepped forward and knocked.

"Be careful, guys." Jason started to grin as he continued to warn Chris and me. His grin made me think of the Big Bad Wolf. I was Little Red Riding Hood, a virgin of the scene about to be devoured by Jason and a big, bad, huge set of teeth known as Beth's House. His crew-length hairstyle made his head a dark brown mane, like that of a wolf, resting atop the aggressive garb that seemed to be custom-fitted with his demeanor. His black leather coat, Metallica shirt, tattered jeans, bone-crushing boots - steel-toed, of course - they all matched his personality.

Jason continued. "There are a lot of loose chicks around. If you don't watch out, you might get laid!"

Jason and Mark laughed uproariously. I failed to catch on to their jovial state. For once, the humor inside me failed to become an accompaniment with the given situation, and the laughter arose unseen above my head to drift away with the wind in the dark night, leaving me cold, naked and vulnerable. Again, Jason read my mind. Why else would he call them "loose chicks," implying that they running about helplessly, waiting for Jason and Mark - The Big Bad Wolves - to come and gobble them up? I started to feel the rock in the pit of my stomach grow heavier. I thought that perhaps my imagination would soon become reality. Perhaps the rock in my stomach would excrete a pure shot of hemlock through my veins, making my body go numb until finally, I died.

No such luck.

Jason knocked on the door again. Their chuckles subsided with the unanswered door. I was praying to God that no one would open it so that we'd have to go home.

"Shit." Mark's back was to Chris and me, but the slumping of his shoulders and his brief statement told us well enough the indication of his disappointment. Under my total state of duress I was still able to notice how put-out he was, since he was always the one who'd introduce himself in a jolly manner, waiting impetuously for someone - anyone - to open a door for him so that he could make his boastful entrance. He stood now in front of a closed door with no one to open it for him from the inside. No one had to see his face to know it portrayed a pathetic display of pure disappointment. His large frame - one that has tackled many offensive lines - sagged in a blue & black checkered XXL flannel shirt.

Jason, on the other hand, decided to turn the knob. Jason may not be big and strong like Mark, but he used his small size to his advantage. In fact, his size portrayed his cunning abilities to sneak into any given situation unnoticed and forgotten until BOOM! - He'd clump you one on the head! I could see Jason's sharp features even though his back was turned. I could see his sly grin and keen eyebrows. The dark night would only accentuate the creases around the whites of his eyes. His grin would widen, exposing an even display of white, honed teeth. I never trusted Jason before. Now I was scared of him.

The door opened and the music hit me like a brick wall of sound. It reverberated in my body and echoed in my head. The music quickly became distant and tinny, tunneling in synch with my vision. Then smoke. Lots of it.

Memories distort reality. In reality, there probably wasn't much smoke; but to me, in my head and memories, it seeped into everything.

"Run! Leave! Turn back!" All three thoughts entered my head. All sound was left out for a nanosecond, replaced with those single three exclamations. I walked through the door into the alien world of fright and mystery.

Jason and Mark led the way for Chris and me to follow. Each step was a good deal of stress to accomplish. Chris seemed to support a percentage of the extra weight I was carrying inside myself, and I for him. We carried each other through the waves of gesticulating bodies while Jason and Mark navigated our way through the storm.

I was very nervous, though I felt I shouldn't have been. I remember hearing a roaring techno-dance music beat booming throughout the perilous journey while lagging behind the leader of our little pack. Hypersensitivity heightened my sense of smell. I had a strong peripheral view of people, but somehow nothing would come into focus.

Hairspray. Cigarettes. Alcohol. Heat. B.O. Sweat... They came and went as I protruded deeper through the sea of dancers. I doubt I had ever experienced such a dynamic range of distinct odors that came and went as quickly as these ones did. Each one made its brand inside my mind and has stayed forever emblemished in memory. So many smells and indistinguishable bodies and faces...

In my dazed state, we stopped into an offshoot of the main dance room. It was a bedroom of some sort, converted into a lounge room. The door closed and the music became a comfortable backbeat to the accompaniment of the numerous dialogues being spoken. The "lounge room" was stylishly adorned with black leather upholstrey and matching appliances. The couch and loveseats were lovingly adorned with couples (and a triple!) in coupling procedures. The open displays of "free love" cleared my head somewhat. No one was having sex; just a whole lotta (love) foreplay.

"Hey Beth! How ya doin, babe?" I looked to see who Jason was addressing. At the other end, what I thought was a closet door was actually another room. In walked a sexpot bombshell. She looked to be about 20 years old. A little older than me, but not too much older. She was the first person to come in focus during the whole night. A small fraction of my fears dissipated at her sight. I feasted at her features as she walked towards us, trying to subdue my excitement. I couldn't. Although I rarely become physically attracted to someone at first sight, she was a perfect example of an exception to that rule.

She was ageless. Even today she'd be as beautiful as she was then. Most women of the '80's were just that; an '80's fad. Not this woman...

She walked purposefully towards us as her golden hair danced generously about her shoulders. Every step had a command and authority to it, further empowering me with her devilishly emerald green eyes. She had a forgotten martini in her right hand. The ice cubes in the crystal glass jingled softly, like wind chimes on a cool spring day. Her ruby-red nails were perfectly manicured upon her thin, conic fingers, hammering themselves into my thirsty brain. She had long, graceful legs that were shamelessly exposed with a tight and short leather skirt. Her swanky/skanky-like display of such shameless mini skirts seemed not to matter when juxtaposed with her innocent, untucked baggy T-shirt. She looked both relaxed and dressed-up; confident and submissive. She knew she was beautiful and wasn't afraid to show it.

Beth had a stylish air - like that of a classy, high-end hostess. She knew parties. She knew who was the boss of it, and she used her power with merely her commanding presence. But as she advanced methodically towards us, her appearance became less of an impact to me. I realized her green stare was under the influence of one or many things. It sapped my attraction and enthusiasm. She was undoubtedly attractive, but nothing like she was twenty feet away at a first glance.

Beth spoke, and her voice was soft; Gaelic. There was a poetry to her vocal rhythm. I think it was the drugs. "Oh... Jason. Hey... How's Mark doin'?"

"Good, Beth. He's right next to 'ya, babe."

I used to think Jason's reference to every woman as "babe" was amusing. But it had become at that moment a loathing statement that I didn't rightly respect. I would had said something if it hadn't been for the fact that Beth still had a strange spell on me. It seemed as if reacting to anything Jason said or did at that moment wouldn't matter in the long run.

"Hi, Beth," Mark said. "You look good as always." Mark started to blubber. His face turned red from his complimenting her, but Beth didn't seem to notice. In fact, she seemed to not even hear Jason or Mark's statement.

She looked straight at me.

Maybe it's my imagination, but it seemed as if her eyes ignited somewhere inside when she looked at me. An awareness of some sort crept into them. Perhaps an idea or memory demanding to reach the surface of her conscious state (or the drugs wearing off...). Damnit - she was beautiful. Even when she was stoned, she was amazing to see.

"Who's this?" Beth asked. She seemed to be clearing off a grogginess that was clouding over her as each second passed.

"Oh, that there's our buddy! He's-" Jason cut off his speech as Beth lashed out at him with cat-like quickness, spilling some of her forgotten martini onto her arm and the expensive carpet. Wind chimes sang.

"Ah, shit." Beth sounded monotonous and without honest concern over spilling her drink. Jason's expression turned form the suave Wolf to the bright-eyed surprise of a young child. "I was talking to this young man in front of me here. Please don't interrupt me." Jason swallowed and apologized.

"So... Who are you?" Beth's eyes began to pierce through me. She wasn't as enamored as we were to originally believe. I was lost for words. I couldn't even remember my damn name! Of all things, I started to think again of Led Zep. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

I looked to see how Chris was fairing when I realized that he was left behind somewhere in the dance room. I hoped he was fairing all right. I visualized him falling behind as his imploring eyes begged for a lifeline. Then, he'd drown from the crushing waves of music and dancers, all swallowed up, never to be spit out again.

I myself began to feel a little better. It felt good to see a small young lady like Beth be able to catch Jason off guard the way she did. Jason never backed down from anyone. It seemed as if he had met his match with Beth, either because of her authority financially or because she had an unseen cunning edge - or both. She faked her drug-induced stupor to a certain extent to make us believe she was easily persuaded, but instead Jason found himself persuaded by her actions. I felt respect for her; or was it just wishful thinking? (I was probably just a little horny.)

The seven other people in the room gathered together into a small circle. It was a hodgepodge of different styles of dwellers. One couple were of a Gothic vein; all black leather clothing with black eye shadow and white face powder. A death-like haunt followed them to the circle, with their cloaks dragging solemnly behind. Had The Crow been a movie back then, I'd have associated them to it.

Following them was a triple of two guys and a girl. The girl had a George Straight shirt and tight jeans on. Her light brown hair was slightly disheveled from the two pairs of hands that were coursing through it just a few minutes earlier. She looked a little woozy as she sleepwalked into the forming circle. Two cowboys crossed their arms over her as they sat down next to the Vampires. One cowboy still had his white hat on. He grinned at me as his beady eyes beamed with perversion. The other cowboy was gaunt, silent. He made me think of a very young Clint Eastwood. He admittedly looked good dressed like a cowboy, as if he belonged.

The last couple seated themselves by the Goth-rockers. They were an extremely brown contrast to the Type-O-Negative worshippers from apparently excessive visits at the Fake-N-Bake center. The female had gold-blond hair that looked mistreated (perhaps from too much sun - or a facsimile thereof) and split at the ends. Her boyfriend was the predisposed the image of a school quarterback. His Eddie Bauer look matched that of his girlfriend's. They stood fashionably up from the loveseat and walked with their arms over each other. They had such a cliched love for one another that I almost puked with affection.

Beth told Jason, Mark and me to join in the circle and have some fun. I was introduced to all of them, who's names I quickly forgot. I believe my name was as quickly forgotten by them as I was theirs. It didn't matter. I soon realized they were all there for one agreeable purpose.

Three of them (I think they were Chastity (Ms. Goth), Rufus (Mr. Garth) and John (Mr. Varsity)) began to pour a green, plant-like substance into cigarette paper. They licked the papers closed and lit. It didn't take a rocket scientist to find out what ritual was taking place at this moment.

"What kind of music do you like?" Beth asked. I realized that she was looking at me. I searched for something intellectual to state for musical preferences, but nothing came to mind.

"Uh... Led Zep, Pink Floyd." Beth stood up, and walked to the music stand. I sat with the rest of the group, watching Beth as she bent over the CD shelf, looking at her inventory. I was certainly checking out hers.

"Floyd? I love Floyd!" She pulled out Dark Side Of the Moon. "This one's good to hear." I understood what she meant by that statement. She laid down across from me and took a professional hit of the joint that was waiting for her as she took a seat. "Breathe" started to play. The heartbeat was thumping rhythmically. Everyone was breathing an acrid substance in which no one needed to be told of what it was. I realized that my heart stopped beating hard at some point since entering the room. I could only guess when THAT was...

All eleven of us chain smoked. When it came to my turn, Beth asked me if I'd smoked before. I honestly told her no. She told me to breathe slowly and hold it in, otherwise I wouldn't get too good of an effect. I took the joint from Mark in my slightly trembling hands and inhaled. Slowly. A burning heat scythed my insides. Then, I coughed, passing the joint to Mr. Goth.

"That's good. - For your first time." Beth smiled knowingly at me. Her whole face beamed with kindness when she smiled. The joints were passed around ceremoniously. I tolked on each one as it passed my way. Plant-smelling pungency filled the air.

I started telling Beth about Pink Floyd, thinking we could learn information from each other. Jason and Mark looked at me with disbelief as I kept talking. Everyone else in the group just sat there like slugs, oblivious to what I was saying. I thought that maybe I was breathing the joints wrong because nothing was happening to me. I was going to ask for another round when it hit me. The music sounded so much clearer! "Time" was playing, and I could feel myself floating on the carpet!

"Here, have some of this." Beth reached across to hand me the martini she had resting by her side. As she reached across (bending father than required to hand me the cocktail), her T-shirt exposed her breasts through the collar top. They weren't completely exposed, but it excited me nonetheless. I took the martini and gulped it down. I hate martinis. This one tasted good! I started thinking that it was odd to all of a sudden like a drink I always hated. Somehow, that struck me as funny.

I started to giggle. Then I saw the puzzled expressions on everyone else's faces and it made me laugh even harder! Everything that was remotely funny to me folded in on itself and became even funnier! It just kept multiplying until I thought I was going to die of laughter! My mouth was really dry and I needed something to fix the sandpaper-like feeling inside. The music played, and I kept floating...

"Do you have anything to eat? Like some pears? Pears sound really really really good to me know - I mean - NOW!" I never thought I'd want to just eat pears. It hit me that that was a pretty damn funny thing to say! I laughed some more and Beth started laughing, too! Mark began to get a slight case of the giggles as he sat next to me. The rest of the group smiled blandly, but did little more. The bland faces on everyone looked like a bunch of harlequin masks, and that was hilarious!

"I'll get you something then..." Beth stood up and took few liberties in letting me watch her openly as she stood up. I noted that she had very transparent panties. I got extremely excited and was giddy and aroused. She was playing with me; I was loving it. I was stoned, and it was all very funny... Jason started to glare at me while Mark kept giggling. I started laughing at Jason's funny glare - he looked like a puckered prune! Prunes... mmm...

"Come outside," Beth said.

I stood up and cheerfully bid my fellow knights of the Round Circle "fairwell." Everyone acknowledged me, but did little to respond with my enthusiasm, except Mark: he was holding his stomach from the pain of laughing too hard. The door Beth made her entrance from was where I was led to go through. It led through a screen door to a patio. Leading down the patio was a dock that sat directly on the river. I started to walk towards the dock when Beth grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face her. I was still giggling. She stared hard at me again. I got hard in a heartbeat. She whispered in my ear and licked it. Thrumming with adrenaline, I could hardly contain myself.

Suddenly, she seemed very concentrated. "Let's fuck," she said.

"OK."

"Wait here, I'll be right back." I asked if I could go and sit on the dock. She more than obliged.

I started to giggle again. "I'm going to have sex with a megababe!" That, of course, made me laugh. But things weren't quite as funny as they were. I was too busy being extremely excited. Walking stiff-leggedly to the edge of the dock, I laid down and stared at the stars, randy as an elk during rut season.

Laying there, waiting, I acquired the hyper-senses again for the second time in one night. I could hear slight murmurings of voices from the house and the constant drone of the dance music. I heard the water beat against the edge of the dock. I started to feel the winter chill bite across my naked face (hoping to GET naked in the cold air). I turned my head left and looked across the lake. There was another party at the other end. Listening real hard, I thought I could hear music coming from that direction. I know sound carries well across water, but thinking that I could hear music from the other side of the lake made me nervous. I started to wonder why I wasn't hearing crickets or birds chirping. I started to wonder where in the hell Beth was at and what was taking her so long. I started to feel very lonely. I got scared shitless.

It seemed like an eternity had passed. I was freaked out, my eyes open fully in the dark night, listening to the rustling of the trees from the chilly winter air, hearing the thump-thump of the beat and imagining someone lurking in the trees somewhere, watching me. Stalking me. Maybe it was a dark figure that wasn't really human. Maybe it was a strange, silent creature that had night eyes and watched me best in the dark - which is where I was now!

"Oh, man... Where is Beth? I can't have much fun here..." No sooner than I had thought it did it happen: Mr. Winkey was going down. Despite my efforts at trying to wake him up, he kept pulsing down to spite me. The dark figure looming in the trees attacked Mr. Winkey and left me to suffer the penalties. My whole platoon was wiped out. I was left alone in the dark with no one to help me succeed in my mission.

"Oh, man." I was too weary from all of the emotional burnout to be much more concerned about anything. There was no chance of rekindling the fire that burned so shortly (pun intended).

"I'm back." I turned around while trying to shake Mr. Winkey into shape to be confronted with Beth. I was slightly - no - extremely - embarrassed.

"Let's go," she said. I couldn't go. I wanted to go: into the house and out the front door. Instead, I decided to stay. She took her clothes off and stood on the dock, bare assed.

I started to wiggle Mr. Winkey around again. Tried to prepare him for battle against the shores of Beth. I never thought the day would come when a beautiful woman would come to me with No Questions Asked - A Sure Thing. Yet, this was the day that would prove me wrong. Why did I have to be impotent?

I started to fondle her breasts. I squeezed them gently, hoping for an erection. It didn't come. I searched in vain with my hands to find the place on Beth's body that would inspire the little guy to stand at attention. He must have been in a coma, because nothing was working.

"It's OK," Beth said. "It's the drugs. I'm sure you're a regular hispanic spanish fly love machine when sober."

I still didn't want to give up. This was that special time that everyone encounters - perhaps a story to tell my kids about when they get old enough - and it musn't go without a happy ending!

"Let's go back inside." Beth was right. Nothing was going to happen here.

We put our clothes back in order and went inside.

I never told the guys what happened. I left it up to their over-sexed minds to make their own conclusions. I think about that night a lot. I think about what Beth is doing (probably other guys). I thought about going back. But I won't. I had my chance and wasn't able to take advantage of it. I would assume she's now 33 and still beautiful. But I think it's better for me to remember from memory what she was like. It will keep her 20 years old and she'll never be forgotten as long as I live.