Dormant Desires Pt. 02

Dormant Desires * Part 2 of 3

It’s been well over a decade since I last took a shot of hard alcohol, and yet just looking at this tiny glass of clear liquid, I can already feel that horrible, involuntary shudder that is sure to come as soon as I swallow it. It’s obviously not an enjoyable sensation, and clearly one of the main reasons why despite drinking somewhat regularly, I would never normally choose to take a shot of anything. But after the reaction this dorm room full of boys just gave me simply for agreeing to take it, there’s no way I would ever back down now from drinking it.

Raj (holding two full shot glasses to my one): “You ready?”

Me: “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Raj gently moves one of his shots of Jack over to clink my shot of Tito’s, and then the two of us take our drinks, with him gulping his pair down in rapid succession. Sure enough, once the vodka has cleared my throat, I give off a shake and a mostly stifled gag. The room cheers like crazy.

Chris (I’m sure noticing my reaction): “How long has it been since you took a shot like that?”

Me: “Probably since my early twenties, as I’m sure you could tell. But anyway, do you think I could get like a normal drink now?”

I see a number of boys in the room have started making themselves mixed drinks from the three large bottles of alcohol I supplied for this seemingly impromptu dorm party. Chris asks me what’d I like and lists out the somewhat limited options of mixers, and I decide on a vodka lemonade. I politely ask him not to make it too strong, and I can see that he follows through, adding a very reasonable amount of liquor to my drink. He hands me the plastic cup and then asks if I’d like ice, and when I say I would love some, he hustles out of the room and comes back with a cup full of ice for me to add. To say that he’s a polite kid is an understatement, and I have to say that his exceptional manners just make me want to fuck him even more.

I’ve never been someone who’s attracted to the bad boy or asshole type of guy. You can see that in my almost-certainly-soon-to-be-ex-husband Gary, as he’s the exact opposite of an asshole and the only man I’ve been with over the last two decades. To be clear, his niceness was certainly not the reason our marriage fell apart. But my attraction to someone who’s eager to please feels stronger now than it’s ever been, probably because I’m so badly craving some sexual attention. After never getting any of that from my husband, it’s all I want to get tonight. And so with every polite gesture this college freshman makes to me, I rationalize it as even more evidence that it’s only a matter of time before he ends up with his head between my thighs, asking me if I’d like him to keep licking away, while I respond by simply pulling his face back into my vagina.

But anyway, as I begin sipping on my Tito’s and lemonade, the party starts to kick into gear, as at this point I’m pretty sure everyone has a drink in their hand. I’m sitting on the one couch they have in their dorm room, and Raj comes down and sits next to me.

Me (looking at Raj’s shirt again): “So what is the story with your shirt? Why does it say BALLS DEEP?”

Raj: “Oh it’s just a dumb shirt from my old tennis team in high school. It was something our coach would always say when he wanted us to aim for the opponent’s baseline. So we ended up making these shirts.”

Me: “Ah, you used to play tennis?”

Raj: “Still do. I’m actually on the team here.”

Me (speaking to Raj but looking over at Chris now):

“Oh wow. Is Chris also on the team?”

Chris (joining the conversation): “I’m actually on the soccer team.”

Me: “Oh, double wow.”

I hadn’t realized it, but apparently I’ve been hanging out with a bunch of Division 1 athletes this whole time. No wonder they all appear to be in ridiculously great shape! I then look over and see Trevor, who I had briefly met before, and is a hulking black specimen of a man-child.

Me: “Trevor, I assume you’re on the football team then?”

Trevor (just polite as can be): “Yes, ma’am.”

Me (to Chris’s roommate): “And what about you, Ethan? Do you play a sport too?”

This other kid whose name I don’t know: “Ethan’s not an athlete, he’s a Mathlete!”

Ethan (annoyed): “Shut the fuck up, Dave. I’m not a Mathlete.”

Kid whose name is apparently Dave: “Sure you are. All you engineers are basically Mathletes, don’t be embarrassed.”

Ethan: “Mathletes are an actual thing, like people who do mathematics competitions and quiz bowls and shit like that. I’ve never done a math competition in my life. Just because you dumb fucks always come to me for help with your high school level calculus homework, that doesn’t make me a Mathlete.”

Me (smiling): “You tell ’em Ethan.”

Ethan (very politely to me now): “Anyway Becca, to answer your question, no I don’t play any organized sports, but I do run pretty regularly. Dave doesn’t do any sports either, in case you were wondering.”

Dave: “Not true my friend. I enjoy hunting pussy, which is the world’s oldest sport.”

Chris (laughing): “Oh god, don’t ever use the phrase ‘hunting pussy’ ever again. That’s god awful enough on its own, but even worse considering someone’s mom is here!”

Dave (making a buzzer sound with his mouth): “Eeeerrrrrr. Becca’s not a mom. She’s a milf. Big difference!”

Me (laughing): “Ha, I’m very flattered, Dave, but that term will always just make me think of Stifler’s Mom.”

Dave (looking confused): “Who’s Stifler? And who’s his mom?”

Me (realizing all of the sudden just how young these college freshman actually are, or more accurately, how old I really am): “Oh my god, really? Stifler? From American Pie? The movie?”

Raj (to Dave): “You don’t know who Stifler’s mom is?!?”

Dave (getting defensive): “No. I don’t know. I’ve never seen that movie. Who is she?”

Raj (making me feel better than at least someone here knows what I’m talking about): “She’s the chick from White Lotus.”

Dave: “Oh. The one with the humongous titties? The Euphoria girl?”

Raj: “No, dumbass. Stifler’s mom is the original milf, so it wouldn’t be her.”

Dave (still confused): “White Lotus. Hmmm. Oh is it the chick who was also in the first season of True Detective? She’s got magnificent tits, too.”

Raj (annoyed now): “No, it’s the old chick. The crazy billionaire lady.”

Dave (finally understanding): “Ahhhhhhhh… okay. But oh my god, Becca. You’re waaaaaay hotter than that woman. I would never compare you to her!”

Me (smiling at the absurdity of this whole misunderstanding): “Thanks, Dave. Yeah the reference doesn’t make nearly as much sense now compared to like 25 years ago.”

Chris: “Dave, how have you never seen American Pie?!? You’re literally the horniest guy I’ve ever known, and the whole plot of that movie is just a group of high school friends that are trying to lose their virginity.”

Dave: “Oh wow, is Ethan in the movie? That’s basically his life story!”

Ethan (kind of angry, but not 100% upset): “Fuck you, Dave.”

Me (curious if Dave’s putdown is actually true): “Ethan, are you a virgin? It’s obviously totally fine if you are. I was definitely a late bloomer myself.”

Dave (before Ethan even has a chance to answer):

“Ethan hasn’t had pussy since pussy had him.”

Me (replaying in my head what Dave just said trying to comprehend it): “What did you just say?”

Ethan (still annoyed at Dave): “You really need to find a new line, you use that one way too often.”

Dave (clarifying to me): “I said, Ethan hasn’t had pussy. Since the time pussy had Ethan.”

Me (thinking I actually understand it now): “Oh gross. Is that a reference to Ethan’s mom giving birth to him?”

Dave (giving me a sly wink and a smile): “Ding ding ding.”

Me: “Dave, a little advice. Speaking as someone who actually has given birth, and had to push a nine pound baby down her birth canal, you should try and not bring that image to mind if you can avoid it. It’s not good.”

Yet another kid who’s in the room but I haven’t met yet: “So Becca, what is your son’s name? He goes to school here, right?”

At this point, I take a look down at my vodka lemonade and see that it’s practically empty. I shake the ice around before taking the last sip of the drink. Now, I had told these boys that my son goes to school here. In fact my whole ruse to start up a conversation with them was that I was trying to find him, but was lost. The truth is I really do have an 18-year-old son, but he goes to a different college, not this school. And while it’d probably be easiest to just make up a fake name for my son, I definitely would rather avoid any disclosure whatsoever.

Me (to the kid who just asked me about my son): “Sorry sweetie, what’s your name?”

The kid: “I’m Brad.”

Me: “Brad, I kinda have a dilemma here. I feel like I wanna have another drink, but if I do, I don’t think you guys knowing who my son is will be the best idea. You know what I mean?”

Brad: “Why wouldn’t you want us to know who your son is?”

Me (thinking about the best way to phrase this): “Honestly? Because I’m having a great time right now, but if I have too good of a time, then I could make things really weird for my son. That is assuming you know who he is.”

Brad (I can see the wheels spinning in his head): “Okaaaaaaaay, I think I understand.”

Me: “So would you rather me tell you my son’s name, or would you rather I stay for another drink?”

Chris (stepping in and politely taking my empty cup out of my hand): “Becca, I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say, I would love to get you a refill.”

Me (smiling at the adorable soccer player who is still my personal favorite among all these freshman boys): “Why thank you, Chris. The first one you made me was perfect, so feel free to make the next one just like it.”

Dave (turning to Ethan): “Brad really needs to get a clue. Do you think his IQ is even lower than mine?”

It seems like kind of a mean comment, even with Dave’s history of ragging on people in the brief time I’ve been here. I mean Brad’s question about my son’s name wasn’t ridiculous by any means.

Ethan (kind of grinning and turning to Chris): “Did he really think I’d fall for that?”