A Slap in the Face

I remember one night where I was nearly slapped in the face. It was a Saturday night, and we all had been wandering around campus, hopping from room to room, drinking. I was travelling with a pack of my friends, and, surprisingly, was having a pretty decent time at the various parties, even though I despise dancing. The difference, this particular night, was that Adelle was along. She, too, hated dancing, so at each party, we hung out together on the fringe, drinking and people watching. I'm not sure why she was along with us that particular night, given how much she hated going to parties, but after she had a few drinks in her, she was hilarious. The **** knocked out at least a few of the bounds of good decency that she usually stayed within, and we were having a fantastic time making fun of people, telling jokes, and just generally messing with all the people drunker than us (we were drunk enough that it wasn't entirely obnoxious to be around all the blitzed people). As the evening wore on, our group slowly splintered off, until Adelle and I realized that we were the only people we knew at the party we were currently at. The night had worn sufficiently on that it was getting "dangerous;" we were in danger of getting drinks spilled on us, belligerents getting violent, or pukers losing it right inside the room. After a brief exchange, we decided to take off.

She didn't have to ask for me to walk her back to her dorm, as it was pretty late, and it would have been rude and possibly a little unsafe not to give her an escort. The night had cooled considerably, and the late-summer/early fall clothing we were wearing left us both a little chilly. We talked about the various misadventures of the night, the particularly uncoordinated and the particularly scantily-clad. Adelle joked that if she was cold in her shirt and shorts, the "hoes in the tube tops and minis would be colder than a witch's tit." Being in the **** state I was in, the memory of the gyrating bare midriffs and exposed upper thighs I had seen that night popped immediately into my head. I was also around by the fact and the way that Adelle had percussively spit out the word "tit." Coming from a small, seemingly asexual girl, the mentioning of these sexual images, coupled with a charged idiom, what she said turned me on more than was probably appropriate. She had probably said things more racy multiple times throughout the night, but now it was just the two of us, walking down a moderately-to-poorly lit sidewalk, and such things have greater impact in such surroundings. I glanced over at her, and noticed that the cold had raised goosebumps on her arms, which were folded across her chest. She must have been trying to hide it from me, but I could also see, just above her arms, the two definite protuberances of her erect nipples. I quickly looked away, but I could feel myself growing hard in the heady mix of her words, her body, the ****, and the solitude. We walked the rest of the way to her dorm, only a few blocks, in silence.

As we walked up to the dorm, I just followed her inside. On second thought, it might have been a bit odd for me to follow her into her dorm instead of parting at the doorway, but I was thinking that the escorting wasn't done until she was inside her room. She didn't say anything, so perhaps she was thinking the same thing. I followed her up the stairs, and couldn't help but watch her firm legs and tight little butt as she walked up ahead of me. She was talking to me as we walked, but I was having a hard time paying attention, between the physical distractions and the increasing dizziness accompanying the feeling that I had drank a little too much at the last party. I consciously tried to tune in to what she was saying as we walked up to her door and she unlocked it. She stepped inside her room, turned around, and said "I just don't feel like I fit right, you know?"

I am relatively certain now that she was talking about a sense of not fitting in with her social group, with the school in general, with society in general. I could have played it safe and said something lame, something meant to be consoling but that probably just came out as callous dribble. Adelle would have sighed, pretended that I had said something nice, and bid me good night. I was painfully aware of my cock straining inside my pants, and her still erect nipples poking out her shirt, and was probably not being very subtle about what I was looking at. What I really wanted to say at that moment was "I think you'd fit pretty damn well on me." In all likelihood, I did not in reality say this; I left without saying anything. In my memory, though, the words blurted out before I could restrain them.

Before I or even she knew what was happening, Adelle's hand shot out and slapped me across the face. It was surprisingly stinging. I just stood there, shocked, hardly believing that I had actually said it. She scowled at me, and closed the door. I heard the deadbolt click into place. I stood there a few minutes more, trying to figure out if I had actually said it, or if I was in some sort of drunken dream-stupor. I pinched my arm, and realized that I indeed was existing in the real world, and had indeed just said a very rude and forward thing to a friend of mine. I felt guilty and shamed, and felt overpowered with a need to apologize. I knocked on the door, saying, "Adelle, I'm sorry, damn, I really didn't mean to say that, you know I didn't." There was no reply from inside. I knew Adelle well enough to know that she held grudges with the best of them, and I had gone from close friend to the black list in about three seconds flat. I felt a little sick, and cursed my stupidity. I kept knocking quietly on the door, apologizing, trying not to make too much of a scene in the hallway, but knowing that if I let her go to sleep mad at me, she'd be mad at me for weeks, or even months. Better to smooth it out right away, at least a little, to keep her from stewing about it all night. I got a few weird looks as people walked to their rooms, but I kept knocking quietly, and apologizing through the door. I was about to give up and go back to my dorm when I heard the deadbolt click open. I waited her to open the door, but she did not, so after a few moments I did, and stepped inside the room.

It was dark. She hadn't turned the lights on, but briefly, before the door fell shut, I could see her standing by her desk, facing away from me. The door slowly closed, and the room once again was dark. I could see enough of a silhouette of Adelle to tell that she had not turned around. Being drunk and concerned, I felt an overpowering need to apologize and make it all better. I dropped to my knees, and begged. "Please, Adelle, talk to me -- I'm sorry I said it, I didn't really mean it, please understand."