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Life just got more complicated...but in a good way: the 2005 leather and lace halloween party

2005-11-03 - 3:03 p.m.

There's an unspoken law in the universe: for every thing that is inherently simple, complicated shit has to happen around it sooner or later.

And in my case, that simple thing has been the flow of my life.

You're all familiar with my lifestyle: wake up, get dressed, go to class and/or lab, finish class/lab stuff, eat two meals a day somewhere, and hole up in a cafe/my office/home and study until I go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.

No longer.

And now we get into the complication, which itself is complicated. I know, wow factor.

A few weeks ago on a saturday, there was a set of e-mail trumpets heralding a debauched little pre-halloween event. It would be leather, lace, or all black for everyone. Now at first I'd wondered if I had enough time. Always do. But I'd gotten far enough ahead that it seemed alright. So I geared up in my combat boots, tucked in black pants, black shirt, and finished it with my wool trenchcoat (also, of course, black). I had to wait for Brian and Drew (a 1st yr grad student) to show up so I could drive them out there. They both showed up in leather jackets and courderoys (fuck sp). Everyone thinks they act alike, and damned if they didn't look it. Nutty bastards.

So when we got there 30 or so minutes late, many an organism had arrived. Some looked good, some looked meh, some I'm glad were wearing masks. But there, over vaguely near the liquor and makeshift wet bar, was Hillary. See-through fishnet shirt with electrical tapped nipples, leather miniskirt, and looking over in my direction with that smile.

But I should recap since this probably means nothing to you. Hillary was the chick I flirted with at the Dan and Dan party (a.k.a. taking 14 hits, drinking a semi-massive amount, dancing to the B-52's and the Tin Roof Rusted revolution). She'd come dressed to kill with two other women it seemed. There was something lightly impenetrable about it, but then I caught her eye. And before I had requisite liquid courage snorkeling in my happy place, she caught my attention. We talked, we laughed. Mostly I remembered her eyes, this gorgeous shade of blue. She had to go early, but she was damn provocative with her saying she'd see me at the leather and lace party. Oh, yeah--and she was married and had brought her husband. He was at this party too. So I thought, "Yup, married girl I can't touch but looks hot over yonder. Ain't that a motherfucker."

So, flash forward to gother-than-thou party. I was feeling weird also for some reason, so when I passed by to take a look at the other ghouls gathered, I was surprised.

"Auriel, hey," she said, all affable and with that smile at least a few lonely souls must have found salvation in. We proceeded to chat it up about things I can't remember. The 'into me' signals abounded. I was confused. More confused and kinda 'err' when her husband came over, made an affectionate gesture as much to get her attention as to show me she was attached, and then vaguely wandered off when she paid him little or no mind at all. Her attention was focused on me. I figured what the hell.

She asked me if I minded being called Azriel. I'd learn later she had a thing for assigning names to people, for control purposes or some such psychological reason. At the time I was still in weird mode because, well, there's her husband and she's paying me a lot of mind and him none. And thus I got a decent nickname. Turns out Azriel is the name of the angel of death. Ironically it suits me.

For awhile after this I mingled out on the enclosed porch with Bryan, Drew, and some other dude. It was just us and the keg. We'd greet people in completely inappropriate happy ways as they came in. Fun shit. Been too long to remember any of that, but we laughed and joked. Gradually many people got outside, and there was a healthy division of in and out people. And so I would flow from one place to another, occasionally brushing my fingertips along Hillary's back or stomach, and to me the same. Always with that same hungry, sweet smile.

I ended up drinking an absurd amount of alcohol: rum, tequila when the rum ran out, zombies when the tequila ran out, and beer when the zombies ran out. I hadn't been quite that fucked up and still decent for a long time.

Fun-filled activities including seeing Xtian strip for Bryan after Bryan called him out on being too over-dressed. Xtian had been wearing only wrist and neck chains, the thick kind. And so, for the rest of the party, our resident social coordinator was in a set of boxers. Long live flesh.

Another bit was spin the bottle. I'd never actually played this. I thought this was just an invention by a script writer. But lo, I did kiss upon the cheek several people, but Hillary and Sven (her husband), we all kissed on the lips. First time I've kissed a guy. Gotta say I didn't feel anything, but it was fun.

Oh, speaking of which. I got to talk to Sven on a few occasions. Seemed like a good guy. Quiet in that case (which is strange because he really isn't), but a decent sort. There was also talk whatnot with Hillary and casual touching that likely wasn't appropriate but felt nice. We tried counseling somebody who was having a rough time with their significant other. Well let me clarify. She was counseling them and I, lush alcoholic that I am at parties, would try to offer what felt like useful insight. Trouble is I think it came out as nonsense or just blathering. "Azriel you aren't helping," she'd playfully chide before getting back to it. Guess I can't always be Dr. Ruth with a wang. She hates the word wang, by the way.

So inevitably the night wound down, the beer precipitated much mental confusion and discombobulation...and I just got fucked up. I spent my fuck-uping time sitting in a chair on the enclosed porch. Hillary had set next to me, or I'd sat next to her, talking to Kari (a friend of hers) and I think her boyfriend and some other people. I was far-gone, she was unbelievably hot, so surreptitiously I'd rub her outer thigh..just a little...then slowly pull up one side of her leather mini-skirt, just to see what an extra inch looked like. I had a conscious awareness that I must have looked far-gone or idiotic or both. I tried to be casual about seeing where Sven was, but I'm guessing what registered as casual for me kinda wasn't with others. I'm guessing.

It'd be a week later that I'd learn Hillary really liked the attention, seemingly all of the attention I was giving her.

But before I go into that, there was the little matter of trying to get back home. It was sunday morning, 4:30am, everyone had pretty much gone, and I was on the den couch propped up on the arm. There wasn't a chance in fuck I was driving my ass home. Dan (Katie's b/f) thought I might vomit so he was kind enough to leave me a plastic trough. I told him I wouldn't need it but he insisted. He'd gotten fucked up the week previous at the Dan and Dan party, so I guess he sympathized. And now I sympathized.

So I slept for two hours. Randomly woke up at 6:30am. And got my sock and shoes on in the dark. Yes. Sock. I found one black one, but in the ever present darkness and with no discernable way to turn on a very obvious ceiling lamp, I gave up and drove home still kinda not sober. I e-mailed Katie--the hostess--that I'd arrived back home safe, that I hadn't become a wandering drunk vagabond looking for grant money and stopping crime across the midwest.

She was glad, but she also wondered what a sock was doing on the floor.

Oh, and I danced some and did obscene air grinding whatnot toward the general direction of Katie's butt. You know, like in rap videos. It seemed to amuse many. Fuck I hope no one took a picture. And yes: I know someone probably did.

Thus ends the saga of the halloween party: meeting up with Hillary and finding out that, despite being married, she's into me and feels fine with saying it, hanging out with many of the usual folk, and losing a sock...and getting plastered like spackle (sp?).

- - -

But much more would end up happening with Hillary than I thought. Not in the way you think it might...but we've become very close friends--who happen to have a sexual attraction to each other.

And no, I'm not going to have an affair with her. I've almost broken up enough marriages or engagements. That and having a friend to snuggle with and do stuff with regularly...that means more to me than something as destructive and pointless as sex. But like she said once, "if it was another time or place, I think we'd date for a very long time." And if it was somewhere and sometime else, yeah. But it isn't, so.

We've hung out a lot lately, and there's more on that end, but I gotta get my ass out of the lab.

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