by David Berens
“Ugh,” Becky grunted, “well, it’s not going to happen again. I have a plan.”
Samantha looked at her with obvious suspicion on her face, “now, girl, don’t you go and do anything stupid.”
“I got this,” Becky winked at her and walked out of the coffee shop.
***
Later that evening, Becky began to formulate her plan. She emptied her backpack of all the school and gaming materials. Instead, she rolled up a length black rope, a rolled up section of newspaper, her training gloves, and a can of black spray paint, placing each into her pack. She put on a pair of black spandex tights and a black exercise bra – sleek and silent. For fun, she used some dark charcoal and made her face look like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s did in Predator. She was ready for anything. As the campus went dark, she made her way across the lawn, staying in the shadows toward RayRay’s dorm. – The Colony at the Hive.
The Colony was one of the more modern dorms with a streamlined, minimal look, a giant grayish beige block. RayRay was on the third floor. After dark, the dorm was locked to all but those who lived there with security key-card access. Becky’s plan was simple, wait for someone to open a door, rush up and catch the door and sneak inside. The door in the rear of the building was perfect. There was a huge bush on either side of the entryway. Becky crouched down behind the one on the left, toward the door opening, and waited. After about an hour, she wondered if she’d made a mistake… no one was coming in or going out… literally… no one. But, just as she was about to give up, a group of guys… drunk guys… came stumbling up the walk. She raised up on her haunches, ready to pounce.
One of the guys, pulled his wallet out and began trying desperately to slide the card into the slot to open the door. Too much alcohol had him fumbling like an idiot. He dropped the card three times while his buddies just swayed back and forth waiting.
“Dude, what the hell?” a slim blonde guy in the group said, “I gotta piss.”
“Gimmemmmee a mminutte,” the guy with the key card slurred.
“Screw it,” the blonde guy started unzipping his pants.
He lurched to the right, but then suddenly veered back toward the bush on the left. Oh, God, no, Becky thought. Leaning back and arching the spray incredibly high and hard, the guy began showering the bush… and Becky… in hot, sticky, rancid, yellow urine. Becky ducked her head, but it was no use. It just kept coming and coming. Geezus, dude, she thought, what are you a freaking camel?
“Oh, man,” the guy said, “that feels sooooo good.”
The other guys laughed and naturally, seeing him go, they began unzipping and walking toward the bush. Oh, hell no, Becky thought. The stumbling dude with the keycard suddenly got the door open and Becky jumped out from behind the bush.
“What the…?” one of the guys yelled.
She ran toward the door, knocking down the guy who’d peed on her and shoved the guy with the keycard out of the way. Ducking inside, she ran down the hall toward the elevators. Tapping the button over and over again, she looked back toward the door. The drunk guys looked as if they had forgotten she existed… which was fine with her. Her urine-soaked shirt reeked. She gave half a thought to telling the dude he should probably get checked for diabetes, but then thought maybe he’d just had asparagus for dinner. Mmmmm, beer and asparagus. Ugh.
The elevator dinged and she jumped in. The door closed and she started ripping off her tights and her dripping wet sports bra. She started to pull her thong down and then realized she wasn’t alone. There was a guy standing there and he scooted back quickly out of her way.
“Holy crap!” he said bumping into the back wall of the elevator, “what the fu…?”
He interrupted his sentence and lifted his nose into the air. He sniffed and then crinkled his face into a frown.
“Did you take a bath in piss?” he asked, “and what the hell is on your face.”
Becky jerked the backpack up to cover her bare chest using her hand to cover the tiny triangle of underwear. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped. The guy was stunningly handsome. Thick brown hair flopped over the side, just enough muscle to bulge through his shirt without looking like he was wearing his little brother’s clothes, and blue eyes… oh, so, blue… And then she realized she was still standing in front of him almost naked.
“It’s a really, long, story…,” she backed into the corner of the elevator car.
The numbers began to ding and she realized he had punched the third floor.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “I imagine it is.”
This was easily the most embarrassing moment she had ever had in her life… until she realized that the guy’s gaze wasn’t exactly angry anymore. She saw his eyes flit down to her legs and then trace up her body to the bag and then to her face.
“I’m Chase,” he said extending his hand.
Without thinking, she extended the hand with the backpack exposing her breasts for a second.
“Shit, oops!” she jerked the bag back to cover them again.
Chase’s eyebrow arched.
“Sorry,” she said feeling her cheeks go red, “I’ll, um… pass… on the handshake.”
He laughed, “I understand. Here, let me help you.”
Picking up her tights and sports bra, he turned around to look at the wall and handed them to her over his shoulder. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her backpack. The door dinged and she dove out of the elevator. Unfortunately, it was only the second floor, but she didn’t care. She just wanted out of the crazy naked situation!
“Goodbye,” she heard Chase call from the elevator.
Oh, my God, she thought jogging down the fortunately empty hallway. She ducked into the stairwell and quickly pulled on the stinky clothes. Might be disgusting, but at least I’m not buck naked. Okay, back to the plan. Pretty simple now, she just continued to walk up the stairs to the third floor. There was no one around. The hallway was completely empty and the low murmur of a few televisions on echoed down the corridor. She stepped out of the stairwell and made her way to RayRay’s room.
The way The Colony was set up, each room housed two students, however, with all his extra money, RayRay had paid for the other room to be empty. So, in essence, he had a two-room suite by himself. Becky had heard RayRay complain earlier that year that he was having trouble getting maintenance to replace his lock. Apparently, with a stiff shove, it would pop open. She put her ear on the door and listened. She could barely hear the shower running inside. Perfect.
She put her shoulder on the door and pushed. Nothing. She pushed again. Nothing. Damn, had they replaced his lock? If they had, her plan was foiled. She had no other way to get in. From across the hall, behind her, another door clicked open.
“Well, hello again.”
She whirled around to see Chase standing in the doorway. He leaned against the jamb and crossed his arms. Smiling, he laughed quietly.
“You seem to be having a rough night,” he said.
“You have no idea,” she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
An awkward silence dropped between them.
“So…,” he said, “what’s up? You trying to get in there?”
Becky suddenly realized that it looked exactly like what it was… she was trying to break in.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” she blurted, “I was trying to surprise my boyfriend for his birthday.”
“Ah,” Chase nodded his head, a very suspicious look on his face, “so, I guess that’s why you were getting naked? For your boyfriend.”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “I mean, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my friend… who’s a boy. We’re just friends.”
“Uh huh,” he grinned, “and do you get naked for all your friends who are boys?”
She gulped. This was definitely not going to plan.
“It’s not what you think,” she groaned, “it’s just something I have to do.”
Chase held up a hand, “not my business. I’m just wondering how I get to be your friend… who’s a boy.”
“Oh…,” Becky felt her face flush again, “we can be friends. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t get naked for boys. Unless I want to. Er, I mean…”
Chase was laughing. He was so cute when he laughed.
“It’s okay, I know what you mean,” he uncrossed his arms and pulled out his cellphone, “why don’t you call me when you’re through with… whatever it is you’re doing for you friend who’s a boy?”
Her heart fluttered. He clicked his phone on and looked up at her. She looked back at him blankly and then suddenly realized he was waiting for her number.
“Oh,” she blurted out suddenly, “right.”
She gave him the digits and then smiled what she thought was her best smile.
“Okay, well, I’m going to leave you to it,” he nodded toward RayRay’s door.
“Ah, yes,” she said, “thanks, Chase.”
“And, you are?”
“Oh, Becky,” she said, “Becky Patton.”
“Okay, Becky Patton,” he winked at her, “I’ll call you later.”
“Great!” she winced at her overenthusiastic response.
He started to close his door and then opened it to say, “and why don’t you just turn the knob? He doesn’t even lock it anymore.”
Becky felt herself mentally face-palm. Really? She thought, just turn the knob?
She gave Chase a thumbs-up as he closed his door. Turning around, she listened at RayRay’s door again. The shower was still running. As quietly as she could, she turned the knob. The door clicked open.
Becky tiptoed into RayRay’s apartment and laid her backpack by the door. In addition to the shower noise, she could also hear music playing in his bathroom. Something by some Japanese sounding artist and RayRay was singing along loud and horribly off-key. Becky relaxed. There was no way he would hear her. She walked across the living room to the door to her left… opposite the side where the shower noise was emanating from. She poked her head into the room and found that it was set up as an office with a desk on one side holding a computer that apparently didn’t have a monitor and on the other side a large rectangular table he obviously used for carving. Clay bits and pieces and a few different sculptures – some complete, some clearly in process – were strewn about the table along with various picks and tools. Three empty and crushed cans of Mountain Dew were laying on the floor under the rolling chair by the sculpture table. College students all over the South knew the power of the Dew to keep you up for all-nighters. On the edge of the table sat a container that had a braille label on top of a printed one. In big bold letters under a bright red warning label, it read: Acid Wash. Sculptors often used such washes to clean their finished work of glazes and finishes that didn’t quite take correctly. Becky idly grabbed the lid and started to pick it up. And as the bottle began to lift from the table, she realized that RayRay hadn’t gotten it screwed on straight. It let go and in slow motion, the lidless bottle fell toward the floor. But it didn’t make it all the way down. It clipped the edge of the table and tipped. Acid splashed all over her. She yelped and then slapped her hand over her mouth.
The acid would’ve been a mild one to neutralize bases on the sculptures, but she felt a tingle and mild burning sensation from the spill. Her clothes were once again doused and were holding the acid in contact with her skin. Well, shit, she thought, here we go again.
She stripped down out of her urine and acid soaked clothes – tights, sports bra, and yes, this time, her thong had to go as well – and grabbed a few paper towels from the desk to wipe her skin. She could see her belly button reddening and wondered how serious the burn would be. After wiping down, it got significantly better, but she would take a good bath later to get rid of all traces of the acid.
Naked and exhausted, she resumed her quest. She searched through the office, but found no sign of his wretched, clear-lensed glasses. Damn, she thought, must be in his bedroom. She quietly made her way back through the apartment toward the bedroom where he was showering. The door was slightly ajar, but she couldn’t quite squeeze in without opening it further. She grasped the handle and slowly pulled. If you remember Michael Jackson’s ridiculously successful album and song called Thriller, then you will know the sound that the bedroom door made as she pulled it open. The squeak and squeal was epic. Becky almost expected to have to turn and run. Suddenly, the shower stopped. She heard the shower curtain being pulled back and RayRay stepping out, still singing loudly. Easing into the bedroom, she could see no light coming from the bathroom, which made sense, RayRay didn’t need light…
And there they were on his bedside table. The glasses. She tiptoed quickly over to the table on the opposite side of the bed and picked up the glasses. That’s when the radio clicked off leaving the apartment completely silent… except for RayRay, who was now humming the tune he had just been listening to on the radio. She froze.
RayRay walked into the bedroom and Becky almost made a gasp, or a yelp, or a laugh, she wasn’t sure which she was feeling. RayRay – pudgy, pasty, bouncy, and eww, hairless – was completely naked. Becky closed her eyes. Oh, dear God, she thought, I’m naked with RayRay. She could hear him walking toward the bed and opened her eyes to peek. He was gyrating back and forth as he sang the apparently sexual Japanese song he was singing. The noise that had been trying to come out of her mouth before made another bold attempt and the tiniest squeak came out.
RayRay stopped dancing, “Herro?”
Becky stood as still as she ever had in her life.
“Somebody, here?” he said into the air, his eyes not quite looking at anything in particular.
He shrugged his shoulders and continued to hum and resumed his dancing. He shimmied out into the living room and she could hear him step into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. The sound of a can popping open echoed into the room and she heard him take a few gulps. His footsteps padded across the carpet in the living room and she heard him plop down onto the chair in the office. He was quiet for a second and then she heard him sniffing.
“What the…,” he said, “dammit, Ray, you did it again. Damn childproof bottle.”
She heard him fumbling around and heard a few paper towels being ripped from the roll. He must’ve found the spilled acid wash and was cleaning it up. She tiptoed to the door and opened it as quietly as she could… and stepped into the hall. Two guys were standing near the elevator… two of the drunk guys from downstairs. They looked in her direction and suddenly they were clapping, hooting, and hollering at her.
“Alright, baby,” one of them called.
“Damn, girl,” the other chimed in.
Becky was dumbfounded. Her entire life, she’d lived with being rather plain and was never the girl in the room to garner the attention of any boys.
She waved a tentative hand and that’s when she realized… naked in public again. Dammit, Becky, she thought, I’ve been seen in the nude by more boys tonight than I have in my whole life. Terror shot into her spine as one of the guys raised his hand. He was adjusting his cell phone to capture the moment forever. Before she could think, she took off running down the hall away from them.
“Aww, girl,” one of them called, “come on back. I need to memorize you for my spank…”
She didn’t hear the rest of his comment as she turned the corner. This hallway led past two common rooms, one on the left and one on the right. It was suddenly apparent why she hadn’t seen anyone downstairs when she was trying to break in… they were all right here.
On the right side, gathered around a television, were about twenty guys she recognized as the dance team… no big worry there, they were most likely not into girls anyway. On the other side, to her horror, were another twenty people… girls… circled around a woman holding a Bible. Oh, God, Becky thought, it’s the dorm Bible study group. As the crowd around her began to realize
that she was jogging down the hall in her birthday suit, some began to point and laugh. Some began to pull out cell phones and snap pics. Becky covered her face and ran. She got to the end of the hall… a dead end.
“Shit,” she said to herself, “I mean… really?”
She turned back around to see several of the people milling around in the hall, almost blocking her way. Taking a deep breath, she started running back toward them.
“Nice,” a random voice called, “we haven’t had a streaker at SCAD since 2015!”
The crowd of onlookers seemed to grab onto this idea and start chanting.
“STREAKER, STREAKER, STREAKER.”
Becky tore through the crowd to applause and cheering. She rounded the corner and ran faster. This was turning into a night from hell. And that’s when RayRay opened his door and stepped into the hall. He had clothes on and was tapping a cane side to side. Inspiration hit and Becky jumped past RayRay into his room and slammed the door.
From behind the closed door, in a muffled voice, she heard RayRay say, “what the hell?”
He fumbled with the knob, but couldn’t get it to turn. He didn’t know Becky was holding it on the other side. Crap, she thought gripping the door handle as tight as she could, what now? She looked over her shoulder at the living room. On the couch was a SCAD hoodie. She would grab that, throw it on and get the hell outta dodge. This plan was officially off! The knob turned more insistently and her palms were getting slick with sweat. Her grip was slipping. Suddenly, it turned hard in her hands and RayRay pushed into the room. Becky fell backward and taking two steps in, RayRay fell on top of her.
“Oof, shit,” Becky wheezed as RayRay knocked the breath out of her.
“Becky-san?” RayRay asked.
She squeezed her lips shut, determined not to say anything else. Maybe she could still get out of here without him knowing who she was. And in the next moment, Becky’s night got infinitely worse. Blind people use their hands to feel the surface of objects they want to investigate. RayRay wanted to know who he was lying on top of in his apartment, so he reached up both hands. They landed, to Becky’s horror, shame, terror, embarrassment, humiliation… you name it… right on her breasts. One on the left, and one on the right.
