Curves for Days

by Katie LaRoux

  “Oh, Allison,” Jane sighs, consoling me. “You know what, think on the bright side … a man like Dr. Dardennes actually was into you – you can probably get anyone!”

  Her usual sense of humor actually puts me in better spirits. I let out a fake laugh at first, which then turns into a real laugh as the madness of this situation fully dawns on me.

  “That’s better,” Jane says, smiling. “Let’s try to cheer up. Come on, don’t just sulk in your room.”

  Jane pulls me up from my bed and leads me into the living room. The sunlight from the day shining through the open windows does boost my mood a bit, coming from my dark, closed-off room. We sit on the touch and Jane flips through the TV. We find some crappy reality TV show to watch and laugh at. Jane brings some ice cream out from the freezer and we pig out, real break-up style.

  By the time the sun’s gone down I feel less devastated. A sadness and deep feeling of loss and tragically missed opportunities still gnaws at me and I can’t help but thinking about Dr. Dardennes every couple of minutes, but thanks to Jane’s caring aid I’m not longer quite in pieces.

  “You know what,” Jane says, turning toward me. “Let’s go out tonight. Sure, it’s Wednesday, but who cares? If there’s anyone on this campus who could use a drink right now, it’s you!”

  She’s not wrong about that one.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her, so drained of energy that I hardly want to stand up from the couch.

  “Come ooonnn,” she says, nudging me. She stands up from the couch and pulls me up too. I lift myself up, laughing with her.

  “That’s better,” Jane says, now that I’m standing up and giggling. “You don’t even have to get changed! And now that we know guys like Dr. Dardennes are into you … look out! You might attract a European speedo model while we’re out!”

  “Alright, alright, you win,” I say to her, smiling.

  “Woo!” Jane cheers. “Let’s go!”

  We grab our purses and head out.

  PART TWO, CHAPTER ONE: ALLISON

  Jane brings me to a bar downtown called Sideways. It’s a place we’ve been a couple times before. Not exactly my favorite place, a little too crowded and loud, but Jane insists it’s the kind of place I should be right now.

  “This is the best place to get over guys,” she tells me, raising her voice so I can hear her over the music. “There’s so many of them here, you realize you be torn up over just one!”

  I force a little laugh to respond to her comment. I’m sure that’s right ninety-nine percent of the time – maybe nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine times out of ten thousand! But Dr. Dardennes is that one out of ten thousand or even rarer. I can’t get over him by looking at a rabble of drunk college guys.

  We go up to the bar and Jane buys us both drinks. We finish them quickly and Jane buys another round. She downs her in an instant while I try to sip mine more slowly – I’m not really in the mood to get drunk or anything. But Jane is the type of girl to get really into a place like that. She’s a little tipsy already, now.

  “Let’s dance!” she yells, and then she drags me out to the crowded dance floor.

  I’m really not feeling it at first and try to tell her that we should go back to the bar and sit down. But she’s not having it, convinced that this is just what I need to get over my troubles. It’s the kind of thing she would do to get over a boyfriend.

  But thinking about that fact starts to make me feel down again. This wasn’t just some lame boyfriend I lost. Dr. Dardennes is the smartest, best-looking man I’ve ever seen … maybe, and I’m being serious, in the entire world! How the heck am I supposed to get over that by dancing at some stupid bar?

  I tell Jane that I’m going to the bathroom, and head for it. I go to sit down in a stall just to get away from all the commotion. Sitting here in the bathroom of a bar, the sound of the pounding music vibrating dully through the walls is bringing back all my feelings of loss and heartache. I know I can’t fake a happy face anymore.

  After taking a couple minutes to calm down and collect my thoughts, I stand back up and walk back out into the bar. I’m decide I’m going to find Jane and tell her I want to go home, over any protestations she might lodge.

  I’m standing on the edge of the dance floor, looking across the jumbled mass of people to try to find Jane without having to walk back into all the commotion. Then I see her, dancing with some guy. I roll my eyes at the thought of Jane already finding some frat bro to hook up with, when I look closer and notice it’s Billy.

  She’s been talking about this boy Billy for a while now, almost as long as I’ve been talking to her about Dr. Dardennes. Obviously, there’s no comparison – Billy might be cute for a college boy, he might not even be stupid, but he’s no Dr. Dardennes by a long shot. Of course, that doesn’t mean I should begrudge Jane any happiness she might find with someone that she likes.

  Seeing them together does heighten the feeling of loneliness for me, but at the same time, I’m happy for her. ‘Misery loves company’ isn’t the kind of quote I want to live by. I pull out my phone and send her a text:

  Hey Jane, I’m going to head back home. Please stay out for as long as you want! Don’t worry about me. I see you out there with you know who, so don’t rush home just for me! :P

  I hit send and sigh. Time for me to walk back home, alone, and hope I don’t burst into tears once again once I arrive there.

  I leave the bar and walk out into the cool night. It’s even a bit chilly now, and pitch black. The bar in located sort of the on the edge of downtown, an area that isn’t too great but is improving. It had the reputation of being ‘the bad part of town’ years ago, or so I’ve heard from people who have lived around here a long time, but it’s always seemed pretty safe to me anytime I’ve found myself out here. So I start to walk home without any worry.

  I’m walking home down the empty streets, lost in my thoughts. Too lost. I clearly haven’t been paying enough attention to my surroundings because suddenly, too late to react, I hear quick and heavy footsteps behind me and feel a long, strong arm wrap around me and something that feels like a gun pointed painfully into my back.

  “Don’t make a fucking move,” a rough, harsh voice whispers sharply into my ear.

  A wave of fear rushes over my body. I feel totally helpless – something I’ve never felt before. He feels too strong to struggle against, and besides that, that might be a real gun he has pressed against me.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I beg. “Here, you can have all my money.”

  He emits an evil laugh that rings in my ears. “I don’t want your money,” he says menacingly. “I want you.”

  PART TWO, CHAPTER TWO: Dr. Dardennes

  After taking some time to calm down I gather my things, shut off the lights, and head out of my office. I wave goodbye to some of my colleagues as I walk down the hallway – that same hallway Allison walked down just about an hour ago.

  It’s dusk outside. The sun has fallen below the horizon and light pink pastel graces the cloudless sky, the first traces of stars visible if you arc your head far enough up to see them. A gentle breeze caresses me as I walk sadly up the sparsely populated sidewalks to get home.

  I’m renting an apartment in a small building with an ample balcony and a full view of the streets in front of the building. Once I arrive, I sit down on the chair outside my door rather than going inside. I’m not in the mood to venture into my empty apartment and feel truly alone.

  I gaze out at the sidewalks as the streetlights turn on and the sun sinks down lower and lower, the dark night sky and stars progressively replacing the last colorful echoes of the sunset. I unbutton the top couple buttons of my dress shirt to feel more relaxed and at ease, and kick off my shoes, leaving them right on the wooden planks of my balcony.

  After maybe a half hour, maybe an hour of zoning out, night has fully reclaimed the sky, the stars twinkling above me – twinkling like Allison’s wide, innocent eyes – and the streets slowly beco
ming more heavily trafficked by students heading out for a night out downtown. I look at some of the girls walking by – many of them may be beautiful, but I realize that none awaken in me any desire, not even purely physical.

  Could I really be that in love with Allison?

  I leave my briefcase on the balcony and put my shoes back on. I decide I need to talk a walk. I walk down the steps from my second-floor balcony and out onto the sidewalks. I wonder aimlessly, lost in thought, not paying any attention to my surroundings.

  I stop by a coffee shop. The barista is a young woman, probably just about Allison’s age. She’s beautiful, as far as it goes. But again, I’m struck by how little desire, how little regard even, normal beauty awakens in me now. She looks at me coyly as she takes my order.

  “All alone tonight?” She says to me, trying to flirt, seductively biting her bottom lip.

  I’m not in the mood – not by a long shot. I simply nod and leave her a good tip, walking out of the store with the cup in my hand. I’d rather not hang around to drink it inside unless someone I know shows up and tries to talk with me. Or if the barista, or some other woman, comes up and tries to flirt with me – which happens often enough, wherever I am.

  Like I said, I’m not in the mood for any of that at all. There’s only one woman on my mind, and I have to continue to not give in. If we ended up together, and we were found out – and in these situations, you’re always found out – it really would hurt her future prospects, possibly fatally. It’s not fair, but that’s how it is.

  I finish my coffee and toss the empty cup into a trashcan. I continue walking, eyes up at the sky, trying to empty my head of thoughts by gazing at the stars.

  Suddenly I heard a brief commotion – quick, heavy footsteps and the stifled yelp of a woman. It sounds like it’s coming from around the corner. I remove my hands from my pockets, getting read in case this is some kind of mugging. I look around me to get a sense of my surroundings and realize we’re in what some of the older professors and employees at the university think of a ‘the bad part of town.’ Maybe it hasn’t ‘improved’ as much as they say.

  I walk quickly and purposefully up the block and turn the corner, and sure enough see that I feared: some punk struggling with a poor woman from behind. As I walk up to them I notice something that spots me in my tracks for just a fraction of a second – it’s Allison!

  I was mad enough at this thug victimizing a defenseless woman. But now that I see it’s Allison, I’m enraged. My blood courses hot through my body and my fists ball up tightly. I’m invigorated by a powerful feeling of protectiveness. Not only that, but suddenly, in a split-second, something clicks in my head.

  I don’t know if it’s the fact that now I have to save her, or if seeing her in this situation made me understand how devastating losing her would be – but I now realize, forget what I said earlier: she’s mine. I don’t give a damn about the consequences. I’m going to knock this little punk thief’s lights out, and I’m going to make Allison my woman.

  I walk up behind the thief and grab him by the shoulder. I powerfully fling him around – he’s helpless to resist – and once he’s facing my I bright up my right hand and crack with across the jaw with a devastating punch. He falls like a sack of potatoes to the ground, sprawled out unconscious.

  With the threat neutralized, I look back at Allison. She’s gazing at me wide-eyed like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. It’s hard to blame her, because I can hardly believe that we’ve come to this either. But here we are.

  Her eyes begin to well up – tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of confusion, she’s just clearly overwhelmed with emotion. She rushes toward me and buries her head in my chest.

  “Dr. Dardennes, is that really you? Am I dreaming?”

  “It’s me, Allison,” I tell her, caressing her smooth hair, feeling her warm tears seeping through my shirt. “You’re safe.”

  PART TWO, CHAPTER THREE: Allison

  NO WAY!

  I will NOT be his victim!

  I struggle with everything I have. I toss my purse to the ground to free my hands. I try to pry his arm off of me but he’s too strong. So, I give that up and instead reach my arms backward, trying to claw at his face. I feel like I catch him with one good scratch close to his eye.

  “You bitch!” he yells. At least I hurt him.

  I keep struggle, trying to wriggle away from him – but then, suddenly, he’s off of me. It feels like he’s been ripped away from me and I hear a loud crack behind me, followed by a dull thud. I turn around – the thud was him hitting the ground.

  I look up from his downed body. I can’t believe my eyes. I must be dreaming. Is this a hallucination brought on by the shock? Did I die in the struggle and go to heaven? Have I just finally lost it once and for all?

  “Dr. Dardennes? Is that really you? Am I dreaming?”

  I see him in front of me, standing triumphantly over the thug’s motionless body. His hair is out of place from the effort he must have made cracking my attacker across the head. His hair hanging forward over his face gives him a heroic appearance, like a prize fighter after a glorious victory.

  I rush toward him, burying my head in his chest, my eyes full of warm tears. There’s no doubt about it, unbelievable as it is – this is reality. He’s really here, and he really saved me. He puts his arms around me.

  “It’s me, Allison,” he tells me in a reassuring voice. “You’re safe.”

  And I know I am. Wrapped in his thick, powerful arms, I’m in the safest place in the world. After a couple minutes of pressing my head into him, I feel more collected. I lift my head up to look into his eyes. Looking up, the lamp of a streetlight glows behind his head, creating the appearance of a glowing halo.

  Or maybe, he just really is an angel. He sure looks the part.

  “Take me away from here,” I tell him.

  “In a minute,” he replies, taking out his phone. “We need to call the police. We can’t leave this guy out on the street to victimize more women.”

  As much as I want to get far, far away from here, I know he’s right. I lean against him, cradled in his one arm as he uses his other hand to dial 911. Before long, the police are here. The piece of crap is still alive, though they’re hardly able to wake him up after the hit he took.

  “It’s late,” one of the officers says. “So why don’t you two wait for tomorrow to come fill out a report about this. You can just relax for tonight.”

  We both thank the officers, and they take the perpetrator away – hopefully, for good.

  The police car drives off and we’re left alone. I stay wrapped in his arms for a couple minutes, not needing to say anything. Just feeling safe with him, finally, is more than enough.

  “Let’s go back to my place,” he says gently.

  I look up at him. “You really mean it,” I say, not really believing what’s happening, not wanting yet to let myself become overwhelmed with joy.

  “I do,” he replies, decisively. “You were right. It doesn’t matter what other people think. I could go my whole life and never again meet someone like you – in fact, I know I’ll never meet someone like you again. Nothing else matters – I want you to be mine.”

  A warmth of utter joy spreads all over my body. My eyes and smile light up. “Oh, Dr. Dardennes,” I say, swooning deeper into his arms.

  “Call me Pierre,” he tells me. We’re way past formalities now.

  We walk arm in arm back to his apartment building, anticipating mounting with every step. By the time we get there, my legs are so shaky I can hardly climb up the stairs to his second-floor apartment. He opens the door and we walk in.

  As soon as the door shuts behind up, he’s all over me. He’s kissing my lips, then kissing me up and down my neck. The feel of his lips caressing my neck is utterly intoxicating. I let out a gentle moan as I feel myself getting wet between my legs.

  He lifts me up with ease, and carries me in his powerful, bulging arms into his bedroom,
and drops me down on his bed. I giggle in joy and excitement at being manhandled by such a powerful man. He’s looking down at me with animalistic lust and desire in his eyes, and quickly unbuttons his shirt.

  He tosses his dress shirt aside and pulls off his tight undershirt. My eyes just about pop out of their sockets when I get a glimpse of his stomach. His abs look like they’re chiseled out of stone, perfectly round and hard, sculpted deliciously into his body. His wide chest is no less impressive, nor are his arms, now fully exposed with all their bulging, perfectly sculpted muscles for my eyes to greedily and hungrily take in.

  Now I’m dripping wet, more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life. He takes off his pants and underwear, revealing his enormous, rock hard cock. It points up powerfully erect. He crawls onto the bed and begins undressing me, exposing my soft curves.