Designated Driver

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So, I come home from work and the party’s in full swing. Dan and Amanda have a bunch of their old high school friends over: Eric, Brent, Joann, Kurt, Linda, and Mia, and some others I’m introduced to but whose names I quickly forget. I feel a little put out but remind myself I am a guest living at their house and I should just roll with it. I’m tired and I was looking forward to hitting the sack and getting some much needed sleep, but Mia’s here and I decide to take one for the team. You see, Amanda has been playing matchmaker and trying to get us together for the past few weeks and I’ve been putting her off, but now it seems she’s taking a more direct approach. I excuse myself and go upstairs to change out of my chef’s uniform and take a quick shower and shave. Spending nine hours in a kitchen on a busy Saturday night has a way of permeating my clothes, my hair, and even my skin with all sorts of cooking odors.

As I clean up I find myself eager and, frankly, a little nervous to talk to Mia. I mean, I’ve known her for a couple of years but I’ve never really talked to her, since I was married and she was living with Steve. What can I tell you about her? She’s short, about 5’2″, petite, has nice curves about her hips and chest, cute face, wavy short brown hair, dark brown eyes and an incredible smile, the kind of smile that touches her entire face. And she has a personality that can brighten any room. She’s always been friendly towards me but, truth is, she’s friendly to everyone. I don’t want you to take that the wrong way; what I mean is, she’s a nice person and she’s nice to me. In other words, she’s nothing like Rachel.

I see the grimace on my face reflected in the mirror at this thought. It’s been about a year but ever since I got back I’ve been thinking of her constantly. I guess being back in Neuwunder has brought all of the old wounds to the surface. It would be nice to be able to go at least a few hours without thinking about her. I don’t know why I get so down on myself when I think of Rachel; maybe it’s that I can’t get past the fact someone who once loved me doesn’t anymore. I had this foolish idea that love was supposed to last forever, but Rachel killed that notion when she tore my heart out. I contemplate succumbing to self-pity and crawling into bed to wallow in my misery, but then, I don’t know what, if anything, Amanda has told Mia about tonight and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. I swallow my pain and pull on jeans and a clean shirt before heading downstairs to fish a beer out of the fridge.

I survey the living room full of thirty-some year olds and right away I notice the women are all on one side of the room having an animated but hushed conversation while the guys are (too) loudly discussing sports. It appears Joann has been crying, and Brent is quiet and looking pissed off. I’m no relationship genius but I figure Brent and Joann are on the outs after four years of marriage. I join the discussion about the football draft to blend in, nursing my beer. It no longer tastes good to me, the mood in the room has soured it somehow. Mia and Joann are best friends and my chances of hitting it off with Mia tonight are now approximately zero since she will be tending to Joann and offering emotional support. Dan heads to kitchen to mix some drinks and I go with him.

As he fixes another round of Cosmopolitans for the girls, he confirms my suspicion: Joann is leaving Brent. I have questions but don’t ask, for instance, why is Brent here? I suspect it’s to ruin Joann’s evening, that’s just the kind of guy he can be at times. I notice Dan is making the drinks double size. Amanda walks in and corners me, telling me to talk to Mia. I make the observation that Mia is preoccupied with Joann so now is probably not the best time to hit on her. Amanda sighs and reluctantly agrees before forcing a tray loaded with Cosmos on me and telling me to take them to the girls. I navigate the living room and approach them and, thankfully, they’re not talking about the breakup at the moment so they don’t need to stop when I walk up.

I offer the tray of drinks and everyone takes one. Joann drains half her glass in a couple of gulps and I see her eyes are wet. Mia’s eyes are red like she’s been crying, too, but she sips her drink at a slower pace. Aside from her eyes, she looks good tonight, wearing tight black jeans and a snug black blouse that accentuates her breasts. The top few buttons are undone exposing smooth, creamy white skin. I say my hellos and make a little small talk with the group, mostly about the restaurant. Mia is watching me closely, flashing me her dazzling smile, so I make most of my eye contact with her. I get the feeling she’s flirting with me, but I also think she’s a little wasted Marmaris Escort and I consider that it may just be the alcohol talking. After a few minutes, Joann excuses herself and abruptly pulls Mia by the hand towards the bathroom. I head back to the men-folk wondering where I left my beer.

I talk with the guys about the last World Series, the NFL season and even hockey. I’ve been out of the loop so I’m not too integral to the conversation and also I’m thinking about Mia. She’s like that, you know, she gets in your mind and you can’t help but think about her. A half hour later, Brent leaves and although he’s plastered, I don’t worry about him – his house is just down the street and he walked over. I go searching for my beer and wander into the kitchen to find it sitting on the counter at room temperature, next to Kurt and Linda, who are going at it. He has her pinned against the stove, their mouths locked in a wide open kiss, their hands pawing at each other’s body, her leg wrapped around his body. Linda has her hands on his ass, squeezing mightily. Usually the more they drink, the more publicly affectionate they become. I don’t say a word; I walk past them and retrieve my beer. They don’t seem to mind.

I take a sip of warm beer as I wander back into the living room and the crowd has thinned to just the core group. Mia, Joann, and Amanda are huddled together on the couch while Eric and Dan talk music over by the stereo. Amanda sees me coming and peels Joann away from Mia and heads for the bedroom, leaving Mia alone. Gee, now looks like a good time so I walk over to her. Her face lights up and I’m feeling better about my chances already. I sit in a chair next to her, but as I open my mouth to something charming and witty, something that will make her want to take me home and make passionate love to me, the Clash’s London Calling starts blaring from the speakers and Dan and Eric are high-fiving each other and pronouncing it the best song ever. Fucking hopeless, now, to try and talk to her. Mia motions to my beer and I hand it over. She takes a healthy swig before handing it back, and makes a face because it’s warm. I lean into her so she can hear me over the music. Our knees touch and I catch the scent of her hair; she smells nice. She leans in too, and exposes some cleavage in the process.

“Sorry, I orphaned it a while back and I hate to waste anything,” I yell over the din.

She laughs and puts her hand on my arm, and I’m getting a warm feeling inside – I think she really digs me. Kurt and Linda plop down on the couch, their clothes and hair looking a bit disheveled and the song ends. Mercifully, Dan turns the volume down, but before I can say anything to Mia, Linda asks me about my trip. Apparently, Amanda didn’t give them the memo about letting Mia and me have some alone time. I sit back a little bit, but our knees are still touching. In fact, Mia’s pressing her knee firmly against mine. I give her a smile, searching for a way to get Mia alone without sounding too obvious, but now Kurt jumps in. Eric and Dan sit in chairs opposite me and join in the conversation. I catch Mia’s eye and she gives a private smile, and takes my beer and finishes it off as Amanda and Joann come back.

Everyone wants to know what it was like, being at the South Pole. I’m feeling self-conscious talking about it because I know some guys use it as a cheap ploy to pick up women, and I don’t want to use any cheap ploys on Mia or seem like I’m using a cheap ploy; I want her to like me for me. But, everyone is pressing me for information, including Mia, so I tell them.

You see, when everything with Rachel fell apart, I wanted to put as much distance between me and her, so I figured I’d go to the bottom of the world. An old friend from cooking school told me about it a while back so I thought, why not. I filled out an application, submitted my medical and dental forms, and was hired. The following October I stepped off a military cargo plane and onto an alien world where the temperature was -60F. Fortunately, the cafeteria was in the newly constructed station so I spent my 60 working hours per week in a thoroughly modern and well heated kitchen. My sleeping quarters were also in the station so I rarely had to venture outside, except to walk over to old station which we used as dry food storage. Time passed quickly and the following February I spent two weeks vacationing in New Zealand on my way back home. All in all, not a bad way to get away from your problems.

Anyway, I tell them about my trip, answer their questions, and promise to show them pictures. Their curiosities satisfied, several people start making noise about leaving and a big discussion ensues over who is fit to drive and who isn’t. The serious side of me kicks in and I’m sizing up everyone to see if they’re sober enough, and in my professional opinion, none of them are. Except me, of course. I don’t mind being the designated driver. In fact, I was hoping I could Marmaris Escort Bayan drive Mia home, but five people would be more of a bus service. Dan offers to drive but, in reality, he’s blitzed, too. Some start performing sobriety tests on the others and they’re all failing miserably and laughing about it. I do the math and the logistics and I figure how to get everyone home safe and sound, and maybe get some alone time with Mia.

“Okay, okay!” I say loudly to be heard over the laughter. “I’ll drive. I’ve only had half a beer in the last hour and a half so I’m the only one who’s sober. Plus I have a van which everyone can fit in.”

Why does a divorced guy with no kids drive a minivan, you ask? I bought it for catering jobs. And to pick up soccer moms and their broods – very sexy.

Dan agrees with me and after a brief half-hearted argument everyone is on board with the plan. I hadn’t thought through Joann’s situation, though, and Mia tells me she’s staying at her place. I feel a bit deflated, but I really shouldn’t have expected Jo to go back to her house after she’s decided to leave Brent. I put on my best face and go upstairs to get my jacket. I decide to brush my teeth, just in case, but I know it’s just wishful thinking. Goodbyes are made, and as I leave, Amanda grabs me and whispers in my ear that they won’t wait up. I give her my best ‘I’m-really-disappointed-in-you’ frown and walk outside.

Kurt and Linda pile into the van first, taking the third row in back. Mia helps Joann into one of the middle seats and sits next to her. Jo’s not looking too good and I begin to worry she’s going to barf in my van. Eric climbs into the front passenger seat and we’re off. I stick to my original plan of dropping Eric off first, then Kurt and Linda, and finally Mia and Joann. It’s semi-plausible in that Eric lives to the south and the rest are all on the north side of Neuwunder. In reality, it would make the most sense to drop Eric off last, but nobody seems to notice.

I get Eric home safely and turn the van towards Kurt and Linda’s, who are suddenly feeling frisky in the back seat. The passing street lights give me brief glimpses in the rear view mirror of them locked in a fierce kiss, their hands roaming. I divide my attention between the road and them and soon see Kurt’s hand on Linda’s breast. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about the situation as we have about a 20 minute drive ahead of us. I wonder how far they’ll take it. A few minutes later and Kurt’s hand is gone and I relax a little, but then I see it’s up under her shirt. I check Mia’s reaction in the mirror, and although she can hear them kissing, she pretends not to notice and looks out the side window instead. Jo has fallen asleep. The van is quiet except for the sounds of necking.

I miss Eric, he never stops talking.

I decide to ignore Kurt and Linda as best as possible but I can’t help but sneaking the occasional peak. We’re waiting at a stop light and I hear the faint sound of a zipper being lowered and clothes rustling. I tell myself I only imagined it, but when I check the mirror, I see Linda’s arm moving rhythmically up and down in Kurt’s lap. As I continue watching she lowers her head. The middle seat blocks my view but I receive confirmation of what’s happening from the wet sounds coming from the back. Kurt leans his head back, closes his eyes and moans softly, making Mia turn and look at them. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and I realize the light’s been green for some time now. I drive on and the light turns yellow as we cross the intersection. The road noise masks the sex sounds, but only a little bit, although I’m sure my mind is making it worse than it really is.

Each time I check the mirror, Mia is sneaking peeks at them and now I’m feeling more embarrassed – I should have said or done something earlier and stopped them. I don’t want them completing any transactions in my van, and not with Mia watching. I concentrate on getting to their place faster but I can’t speed in this part of the county. The sheriff’s department out here is notorious for handing out speeding tickets, even if you’re 5 miles over. It’s all rolled in with their effort to crack down on drunk drivers – they’ll pull you over for the slightest infraction and administer a field sobriety test. After an agonizing 10 minutes, I turn into their apartment complex and Linda sits up while Kurt zips up his jeans. I stop in front of their building and they climb out. We all say goodnight and they walk to their door, groping each other and laughing.

I pull away and it’s quiet in the van and as we sit at a stop sign waiting to turn out of the parking lot, I, and then Mia, burst out laughing. I laugh so hard I have to put the van in park and wait for it pass. I hear Mia undo her seat belt and she climbs over the console to sit in the front seat, and as she climbs over I feel her breast brush against the side of my head, at least Escort Marmaris I think it was her breast. In my more youthful days, I would have claimed I got to second base. She buckles up and looks at me.

“That was weird.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m sorry, if I had known it would lead to that, I would have stopped them.”


“I don’t know, turned on the interior lights?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “I don’t think that would have stopped them.”

I laugh again and pull out into traffic.

“Well, I am sorry. I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable for you.”

“Uncomfortable? No, not really. It was more like, I don’t know, . . . weirdly fascinating, I guess, like a car crash where you know you shouldn’t look but you have this compulsion to, so you do, and once you do you can’t look away. And it was . . . somewhat educational. It was the first one I’ve seen.”

I turn and look at her with my eyebrows raised in mock surprise. Mia giggles and from the glow of the dashboard lights I can see her face turning red.

“Well, at least from that angle, that is . . . you know, live, as a spectator. You know what I mean!” she finishes in an admonishing but flustered tone.

We’re quiet for a few minutes before my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask, “So, what did you learn?”

She blushes again, laughs, and says, “Let’s see. Linda is a real pro at it, very enthusiastic, and Kurt has good staying power.” She pauses.

“Anything else?”

“Kurt’s penis is, by my judgment, about average size.”

“Is that so?”

She nods. The way she said it, average size is not a bad thing, which makes me feel better because from everything I’ve ever read, I’m average size. But then, doubt creeps into my mind. What if she’s only been around larger than average penises and her idea of what’s average is skewed? This thought worries me and we ride in silence for a few minutes.

“Is she going to be okay?” I jerk my head back towards Joann, anxious to stop my thoughts from spiraling out of control worrying about the size of my penis.

“Yeah, I think so. Brent showing up unexpectedly was a real shock, so she’s had a rough night and drank way too much. She’ll be hurting tomorrow morning for sure.”

I don’t ask why they’re breaking up, I don’t want to go down that road and dredge up my own painful memories. I’m feeling good at the moment, better than I’ve felt since, when? The last sixteen months, maybe? Mia is the reason. I feel comfortable, relaxed around her. The nervousness I had before is completely gone, which is a major accomplishment for me. Usually, I’m so nervous around girls I like I overanalyze everything and feel miserable on the first date. Not that this is a first date, per se, but it is an intimate setting, all things considered.

I pull into her driveway and turn off the engine. We sit in the darkness for a few moments, not talking. I don’t think either of us is ready to say goodnight but neither of us has a plan to prolong the night. Finally, I look back at Jo.

“Want help getting her inside?” I offer.

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

We get out and Mia goes over to unlock the front door while I tend to Joann. I shake her gently, telling her she’s home. She mumbles something indecipherable and tries to curl up in the seat. I unbuckle her belt and Mia tries to help me get her on her feet, but Joann is really passed out. Wanting to show off for Mia how strong I am, I decide to carry Jo inside. She’s weighs around 120 lbs. but right now it’s all dead weight. I manage to scoop her up in my arms and out of the van. Mia leads the way, holding the front door for me. I walk in, kick off my shoes and start for the couch before Mia stops me.

“No, let’s put her in the spare bedroom upstairs,” she says, climbing the stairs.

I groan inwardly and follow, my back protesting under the strain, and manage to make it up to the bedroom without staggering. I lay Joann on the bed and Mia starts unlacing her left boot, and I do the same with the right. I figure we’re through, but Mia unzips Joann’s coat so I help get her up into a sitting position and Mia removes it. I’m about to lay her down but Mia tells me Joann will be grateful we undressed her if she throws up in the middle of the night. I hold Jo up while Mia unbuttons her blouse and works her arms out, and before I can say a word of protest, Mia unhooks Jo’s bra and slides it off.

“It sucks sleeping in a bra,” she says simply.

I lay Jo down and try not to look at her chest. Mia is working on her jeans, trying to tug them off. I give her a hand and, as we pull, Jo’s breasts are jiggling with each tug. I pretend I don’t notice.

Mia stands, looks down at Jo and sighs audibly. “Doesn’t she have the most perfect tits you’ve ever seen? I’d kill for a pair like that.”

Just like with a car crash, I’m unable to help myself and I look (for what feels like an eternity), and mumble ‘very nice.’ Yeah, I agree that ‘very nice’ is lame and inadequate but what should I say to a girl I might possibly sleep with soon, if not tonight? Your best friend’s breasts are incredible? Magnificent? Because that’s what they are! Mia’s right – they are perfect, perfect in every way. But no way am I telling her that.

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