Fighting For Love On Mars - Fiction - Issue #14

Things start to get blurry at this point. Far more people have shown up. It's officially night. Everyone's dancing and drinking and passive-aggressively flirting. Ted and Roy's female companions show up with their friends. Ted leaves with his woman off into the darkness of the outdoors, but Roy is too drunk to care about his woman. The radio's playing some mid-90's country song and everyone is dancing like the white people that they are.

"Dude, lets go have a smoke," Jeff tells me while sneaking up on me out of the crowd, from behind.

"Sure," I answer back.

Walking out the front door of The Beaver Den and onto the porch, you get a sight of the woods and the couples in cars making out and fucking. I was envious. Sex at this time in my life was something that eluded me. I was too fat and weird to be appealing to the women in these cliques despite my fevered attempts to get their pants off.

Jeff hands me a cigarette and lighter, but I never inhale the first drag of a smoke. That's where all the demons are hiding.

"So Leo, did you see that Tiffany's here? Man, she is fine as hell..." Jeff blows out smoke and fans it away with his hand.

"Yeah she is. Gotta love them red heads." I look back through the window on the door and glance over at her. A stunner of a woman if I've ever seen one. She looks like a young Rita Hayworth. Long flowing auburn hair cascading down a moon-round face with vivid blue eyes to shoulders exposed by spaghetti straps. Your eyes can't help but follow her frame which would remind one of a thinner Marilyn Monroe with tits like ripe grape fruits and an ass that would set your hand on fire if you tried to touch it.

"She's single now." Jeff hinted in hopes I would make a move. I'm positive of rejection, though. Tiffany is the chick that everyone puts on a pedestal. Even other women stare in awe.

We both look in the window at her and it's clear to the simplest idiot that those parts of Venus she calls her legs are taking her outside to us.

"Hey guys," Tiffany shouts with a big silly grin wrapping her face. "What the fuck's goin' on?" Her speech slurred, it's very obvious that Tiffany is (to put it bluntly) shitfaced.

"Hey, Tiff," Jeff replies, "Whats up with you?"

"Fuckin' partying, man! Hey Leo, can I have a smoke?" She's 17, so she can't buy her own yet. I give her a cigarette and light it for her. "Thanks, hun," she says with it dangling from her soft, delicate lips.

Tiffany looks up at the sky and blows out the first puff of smoke. "Can you believe what Roy is doing in there?" she says.

"What's he doing?" I ask her.

"He's running around poking girls in the boobs."

Jeff's eyes grow big. "Ah, the Witch Stick!"

"What the fuck is the 'Witch Stick'?" she asks.

"It's where he runs around poking girls. In the morning he'll talk about how he was touching tits." I tell her.

"...okay..."

"Well, that Roy. He doesn't mean any harm." Jeff says. And the truth is that he doesn't. He just wants to touch women but tries to do it appropriately. He fails.

"I need a beer," Jeff states after throwing his just-emptied can toward a random couple making out against the wall of The Den. He left me out there with Her... the goddess of the tri-county area.

Nerved up by our recent abandonment, I try to start a conversation. "So what's been up with you?" I light another smoke as she puts hers out. Talking with Tiffany is like being on stage by yourself. It's far too easy to get anxiety and pass out.

"Oh, nothing. Just waiting to graduate and working." She's looking for an escape. This is my chance to make any moves that I need to make to get her naked.

"So..." I pause, trying to come up with something, "Have you ever been on a tour of the Den?" Such a stupid thing to say in an attempt to get her alone in some shaded corner where no one will know and we can be in peace. The Beaver Den is about the most one-demensional place you can get in these parts.

"Umm... well yeah. It's just two floors and no rooms." She eyes hard for a way out.

"Well what about the secret areas?" I ask. My responses keep getting lamer and lamer.

"What secret area?" She answers. Tiffany sounds intrigued and thoughts pop up in my head about how I haven't entirely lost my chance yet.

"Come on. I'll show you." She followed me off the deck and into shadows.

We walk around the outskirts of The Den. I have no idea what I'm looking for or how to keep up this charade. I point to the area behind the 80 gallon propane tank.

"Shh... It's a secret!" I tell Tiffany, trying to persuade her of my spontaneous and incredibly stupid remark.

"Umm... okay..." she says, looking around for any of her friends that have since either found someone to fornicate with or are looking for such a match. "So what is the big thing that needs to be kept secret at The Den?"

I sense my chance and move into her slightly. She doesn't back away. "This..." I say and make the move. I plant my lips on hers. She tastes like Vodka and Marlboro.

And Tiffany doesn't move away. I start to feel her body. Her back, her legs, her ass, her tits. She's smooth and warm. A small gasp leaps from between her lips, enticing me in further.

Suddenly I'm launched into Heaven. I'm on a sunny beach. There's a slight breeze. Tiffany is laying on a towel next to me, topless and on her back. We're in Hawaii and I'm flying a kite and drinking a Corona. Some kids are making sand castles off in the distance. You can hear them laughing. I'm in a lounge chair, under a big umbrella. Everything is at peace and I am happy. Once again, thank God for booze.

Then she pushes me away. "I need a beer," she tells me.

"Uh, yeah. So do I," is my reply. Unfortunately, it was true. I follow her around the corner to the deck, walk up the steps, open the door, and hear a crash.

The radio flies down from the second floor towards Roy's head while he dances like a jackass to the same music that everyone else is dancing to. The radio misses him by a few feet. Looking up, Dan is standing there, shaking with anger and panic.

"Fuck you, Roy!" Dan yells, "Stay away from Brigette!" Apparently, his Witch Sticking got him in some trouble, and even worse, with one of his best friends. I'm not surprised. No one is off limits when it comes to the Stick.

"Dude... What?" Roy asks Dan. I wouldn't be surprised if Roy doesn't remember doing what he's accused of.

"Dan, you broke the radio!" Five or six people yell out just barely out of sync and pissed about the lack of music. Looking straight forward, Dan projectile vomits so far that some splashes against the bay window showing him a barely lit view. With Dan still shaking, two guys from the adjacent town mentioned earlier grab Dan by both of his shirt's shoulders and throw him down the staircase. He hits the wall that's right before the stairs turn the corner, tossing a little more spent booze onto the window there. He stops his roll. Before Dan can get up, these two big fuckers grab him and drag him out the front door.

"Fuck you..." Dan tries utter as he's being tossed onto the ground just off the deck. Kicks fly towards his stomach while he's down on all fours. I feel bad for just standing there, watching. I mean, here's a person that's supposed to be one of my best friends getting the shit beaten out of him, and I do nothing. But oh well. He really doesn't deserve to be physically hurt. Maybe by Roy, but not from these two losers. One holds Dan in a Full Nelson while the other gut punches him.

About five seconds later, Jeff (Dan's cousin, if you'll remember) runs out and clocks the Full Nelson-er in the jaw, causing him to release Dan and fall to the ground. The other douche takes a swing at Jeff, but misses while Jeff catches him with an upper cut.

Everyone is whooping and hollering for one side or the other, but no one else makes a violent move. Jeff bows to everyone watching; a condescending action, but a deserved one also. The assholes that jumped Dan get up, holler a bunch of threats, and drive off. No one cares.

home | past issues | blog | message board | submissions | subscribe | about us | links