Party Girl

"Yes," she said, her blue eyes flickering in the candle glow. They seemed to stare right through me.

"So you see I'm not dating him, for sure. And what he did to me was disgusting."

Loralie took a gulp of wine and when she finished rolling it around in her mouth she asked, "What do you mean? What did he do to you, I mean, besides forcing you to go to the party?"

I bit my lip. I was ashamed of what had happened to me, but I was more ashamed of myself for feeling so ashamed about it. "He and his frat buddy assaulted me.".

"No. Wait. That's impossible. Trevor wouldn't do that," said Loralie.

"He did."

"He did what?"

"They weren't sure it was me, so they wanted to see my tattoo, to prove I was the girl from the Website."

"You have a tattoo? I've never seen it."

"It's a rose on my breast. They pulled my top down to see it."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. Isn't that enough?"

"Well, yes, I'm not saying what they did wasn't bad. But it's not like date rape or anything."

"Loralie," I whiffed, "what they did is sexual assault."

"But they didn't grope you or anything, did they? So all they did was see your boobs. And I don't know why you'd be so upset, since you, you know, do porno on-line like that and millions of people see you."

"It's not the same. Believe me, it's not the same. I'm a person. Maybe I'm an object when they watch me on-line. But I'm a person off-line, and I was just like any other person when they assaulted me. How would you feel?"

Loralie got up from the table and the candle fluttered. "I don't know. I don't know about any of this. It's all so twisted! It's, so unbelievable. First I lose a boyfriend I've had ever since high school, who I was supposed to marry, and I find out he's really a jerk. Then my roommate tells me he assaulted her, and that she's a porn star! Am I supposed to believe all of this? I just, I can't talk about this now."

"I know it's crazy. I know. But it's all true. You should know by now I'm telling the truth, and that I care about you."

"Whatever," said Loralie. "I'm going to bed. I can't think. It's just too much, too crazy."

"Take your time. I didn't mean to upset you, but I had to say something. I'm in trouble, and I don't know what to think or do either. But I care, Loralie."

I heard her thrashing around in bed late into the night. Obviously I wasn't getting any sleep either. Suddenly everything had blown up in my face, beginning with my job. That's all it was to me, a stupid job. I'd taken it to help me get through school, but now it was threatening my ticket to college, even my relationship with my roommate and my living arrangements. Now I had that stupid "Tiki Party" looming over me like doomsday. And I had no idea what to do about it.

Loralie slid out of bed before me the next morning. Wasting no time dressing, she skipped into the kitchen under the oversized t-shirt she wore with "Las Vegas" dashed across it in pink and black. It was powder blue and I always thought it made her eyes even bluer.

At first I wanted to just curl up in a fetal position under the covers and wait till she left for class. But of course I couldn't hide from her judgment forever, so I got dressed and went in. Loralie had the remains of our "romantic" dinner scattered across the kitchen table and was busy scarfing leftovers.

"It's still good," she advised. "Want some?"

"No thanks," I said. "It's all yours." I went in the kitchen and straight for my morning cereal fix – Captain Crunch, the best. As the crispy caramel-colored bits clattered into my bowl, Loralie continued.

"Let's talk," she said, breaking away from the leftovers and swiveling her chair to face me.

"OK." My face held surprise, though she couldn't see it as I splashed milk on the cereal and the countertop. I can do this, I told myself. I can withstand whatever criticism she hits me with, no matter how immature and condescending it is. So the Captain and I sat down across from Loralie.

"I was thinking a lot last night. And I didn't mean to be judgmental of your, you know, life. It's just that it's so far out there, I just had trouble getting it. Anyway, it's your life and I don't have the right to tell you how to live it."

"I appreciate that, I—

"But I do have a plan," she announced, flashing those baby blues.

"Oh?"

"I want to get back at Trevor for this, for what he did to both of us."
"I like it so far."

"Here's what I'm thinking: he wants you and another girl to, wrestle, or whatever, at the Tiki Island party, right? So, I'm that other girl."

The fully loaded spoonful heading for my mouth stopped and returned to the bowl. "I don't think so," I said.

"Come on!" said Loralie. "It'll be perfect. Now just listen."

"Loralie, you don't know anything about what I do. It's not a game."

"No, listen! I know. I'm not going to wrestle. I'm just going to go with you. All I want to do is give Trevor the surprise of his life by being there. We'll wear those pretty masks I saw in your drawer and—

"What were you doing in my drawer?"

"Listen. I was just looking for something."

"For what?"

"Marissa! Stop it! It doesn't matter. Listen to me. We'll wear those masks and no one will know who we are. Then right when we're suppose to start the show, I'll take mine off and give Trevor a get-lost-you-jerk speech and tell him that if he tries to hurt you again in any way, we'll go to the police and tell them everything. Well, what do you think?"

I just sat there for a moment. "Look, Loralie, just last night you were telling me what Trevor and his pal did to me wasn't a big deal and calling me a 'porn star.' Now you want to strap on a bikini and a mask and go to a frat party with me, where the guys are expecting us to get naked and wrestle? You don't get it, girl. It's not your kind of scene. And it's not mine either, by the way."

Loralie looked at me hard and I couldn't tell if she was about to hit me or about to cry. "So," she said, "can I go with you?"

Saying no to that puppy-faced princess was what I should've done but also what I couldn't do. So I told her I'd think about it. I wasn't against tripping around with her, that might've been fun, but under the circumstances, I knew she was way over her head. Frat guys like that, especially drunk, partying frat guys, saw girls like Loralie as dessert and, in her case, with a cherry on top. But by her plan we weren't going to let it get that far. She was just going to surprise her ex-boyfriend and maybe make him jealous by letting his mates freak out over her in a skimpy bikini. And then she'd tell Trevor to go to hell.

Maybe it might work, but I knew things could get out of hand easy at a party like that and we'd be on our own off-campus at his father's lake house. I didn't want to take responsibility for Loralie, and I still didn't think she was "old" enough to take responsibility for herself. I guess it would've been an easy decision for anyone else. But I knew there was absolutely no chance of me getting one of the other Website girls to go with me. We worked for real money, and this gig wasn't paying. And I didn't know any of them well enough to ask that big of favor anyway. There was no one else, so like I said, it should've been easy to let Loralie come along. But it wasn't, 'cause I knew that if I brought her I'd risk my own ass to save hers, if it came to that.

Through the week, as the days counted down to Saturday, we spent a lot of time together. Loralie asked lots of questions about what it was like to work the Website, and I didn't mind answering because the more I told her the more she seemed to comprehend I wasn't some morally bankrupt slut carrying tons of STDs. I told her we were tested every six months, and that I was clean, of course. She said she knew that – she'd seen the lab form on my dresser. I think she even started to empathize with my situation, that is, my not being born wearing a tiara with a rich family to send me to college with a convertible and a credit card.

Finally I gave in. Both of us stayed pretty cool about things right up to Saturday morning, just hours away from the party. By then we'd done some bonding, maybe because we both knew that all we had was each other, and we'd have to work together to pull this thing off. Loralie had come a long way those last few days, and I was proud of her.

We hid behind snacks and jokes until it was time to get ready. It seemed pretty stupid that we spent any time at all making ourselves look good, but I guess we did it out of habit, or just to have something to do while the clock counted down. Just after one o'clock we came out of the bathroom in the new suits we'd shopped for that week. Loralie didn't want to risk wearing her fluorescent green one, thinking Trevor might recognize it. And all I had were the two stringy ones I wrestled in, which wouldn't stay on, giving me a good reason to get a new one. Loralie's was an electric blue two-piece, and mine was sunny yellow. We wrapped sarongs around them and admired the look for a few moments before leaving the apartment.

It was a steamy summer day just made for a pool party. And it could've been a gorgeous day for us too if we hadn't been going to "Tiki Island" to meet with a bunch of over-sexed frat boys who'd undoubtedly behave even stupider than usual after sucking down keg after keg of cheap beer. I tried to drill it into Loralie's blondeness that, once we got there, she needed to do her thing and get it over with as soon as possible so we could get out of there. She said she understood.

We found Trevor's house, his father's that is, and pulled into the circular drive in Loralie's candy apple red convertible, very stylish, in our exotic, feathered masks. Mine was a sparkling green and Loralie's ruby red. But despite several cars parked there, no one greeted us. We walked between two huge white pillars to the front door which was cracked open. We knocked anyway, and a guy in a swimsuit opened, saying, "Knock firmly. We like firm knockers." He led us in, probably not knowing we were the entertainment.

Loralie and I walked through the living room, or whatever it was, several times larger than our apartment. Through some French doors we could see a huge, perfectly manicured lawn surrounding a pool full of maybe 50 young, swim-suited bodies, mostly male. The grass sloped down to the lakeshore beyond. It looked like a summer camp. There were a half dozen picnic tables covered by a tiled roof on pillars next to the pool area, and along the beach near the dock some were playing volleyball. Already we could feel the boom-boom of the bass coming from two stacks of gigantic speakers by the pool.

Trevor evidently spotted us as we started across the yard, and met us halfway. He was surprisingly polite.

"Well alright," he said. "Glad you ladies could join us. I know Rosa, but what's your name?"

We hadn't thought of that – a stage name for Loralie. I said the first thing that came to mind, "She's The Babe."

"I knew that," said Trevor, joking. "Very nice. And I like the masks too." He obviously had no clue "The Babe" was Loralie.

"Come down to the pool and I'll introduce you. Where do you want to do the wrestling? I know – in the sand by the volleyball."

We followed Trevor across the grass and into a rising volume of techno-pop dance music. I was already feeling the sun beating against my skin. I guess sun lotion hadn't come to mind because we didn't expect to be in it that long.

So what was Loralie waiting for? She had Trevor all to herself right now. I nudged her and made a face, but she walked on like a zombie. Already I felt "the plan" unraveling. Come on, Loralie!

Then we were poolside, swimming our way through a swirling stream of colorful swim trunks and lei-draped chests. Here and there were icy coolers full of cans and bottles, and mixed aromas – alcohol, chlorine and suntan lotion. Trevor was holding our arms like we were going to run away. He took us over and yelled something to the DJ who handed him a wireless microphone and faded the music.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Trevor said, into a dead mic. He grimaced at the DJ and the mic popped to life. He continued, pausing in places for laughs. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat today. Direct from Enthralled, a Website I know many of you are quite familiar with, we have Rosa Thorne and The Babe, who, for our viewing pleasure, have agreed to demonstrate their wrestling techniques, in the sand over by the volleyball court."

The smattering of laughs gave way to a roaring crescendo of pumped-up frat boys as Trevor escorted us to the beach and simultaneously directed a throng of half-naked guys in baggy swim trunks as they crowded in and jostled for position. Some were already red-faced and brain-dead from alcohol, fried by the blazing sun, or both. "Lor--," I said, tripping over my tongue, trying to raise Loralie's consciousness.

"What," said Trevor. "Are you girls ready?"

"No," I said. "We need to go over some things."

"I'm ready," Loralie blurted. "Give me the microphone," she said, taking it from Trevor. Finally she was going to do her thing. "I'd like to say something to all of you. I want to tell you about your frat brother here, Trevor." "You see," said Loralie, reaching for her mask, "I used to be his girlfriend."

The expectant crowd started babbling. Trevor's jaw dropped when Loralie pulled her ruby mask off. "Loralie!" he said. "It's you. What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here, Trevor? I'm here because you assaulted my friend here and blackmailed her into doing this – this show – for you and your boys. That's why I'm here, Trevor. Now everyone's going to see me naked. How do you like that? Does that turn you on?"

Trevor went for her arm. "Loralie, let's talk about this in private."

"Sure, Trevor," she said, pushing him away. "Let's go talk. There's something you need to know."

Then Loralie let Trevor shoo her back toward the pool and over to the picnic tables. At least she'd made her move. But now I was left there with only a mask and bikini separating me from the encroaching horde of hunks who were expecting to watch two girls get rowdy and naked for them. Some guy yelled, "I'll wrestle her," and another, "It's open season on porn stars."

"Stop," I said. "You have to wait till Loralie comes back." That was a lie, but what else could I say. It turned out to be like scolding an oncoming locomotive. The guys just kept coming. They closed in around me, cheering and jeering and evidently wanting the cheap thrill of terrifying a girl. I folded my arms across my chest but didn't know which was most important to keep on, the bikini or my mask. "STOP IT!" I screamed, "GET BACK."

Somewhere I heard female voices talking calmly but they were drowned out by all the guys whose lurid comments weren't even registering now. I was too busy wiggling my ass to keep their hands off it and pressing my arms against my chest as hard as I could to try and keep my top on. Then the guy in front of me came out of his trunks and I really started screaming, I don't know what, just screaming something, anything. The heat and alcohol fumes were scorching my lungs and I was gagging.

Then I felt someone start to de-pants me. That yellow triangle was sliding down my hips when I actually recognized a voice. It was Loralie. She was shouting over the microphone, telling them to get away from me or she'd call the cops. I managed to keep my bikini on but, dwarfed by muscular bodies, I was still defending myself. I glimpsed Loralie looking down from the pool. She had the mic in one hand and her cell phone in the other, taking pictures of the offending guys. Then Trevor took the mic from her.

"Guys, guys," he shouted into it. "Leave her alone. Get away from her." The yard apes acted like they didn't understand, until Trevor got really serious. "Get away from her or get off this property!" he yelled. "Let her out of there or I'll call the police myself – and I know who you are."

"And I've got pictures!" Loralie added.

A little space opened up around me as the rowdy crowd backpedaled and let me pass. I raced through them up the slope to Loralie, thanked her and told her I was OK. She walked me back to the car and we got the hell out of there.

It took us both a few days to recover from the Tiki Island experience. We spent those days talking through a lot of things, comparing more of our life notes and really getting close. I owed a lot to Loralie. I'd underestimated her, big-time. Instead of me saving her butt at the party, she'd come to my rescue and saved me. Who knows what would've happened if I'd gone alone like I'd planned. I'll never forget how I felt when I heard her voice over everything that day, and how she stood up and took charge to save me. Now I knew she cared too, maybe not like I did, but she cared about me. I wasn't a low-life slut to her anymore. She was beginning to understand and accept how different our lives had been, why I did what I did, and to see the choices I'd made as choices she might have made in my situation.

We started doing more things together, and one of them was the "Treefest10K" run to raise money for the environment. We both got sponsored to run, or walk. The 10k was held each year on a road roped off up in the mountains in Los Padres National Forest. It was a drive but it would get us away from the LA heat which in August is unbearable, and we needed the change of scenery.

I think we got about half way along the course, jogging at a good pace, exhilarating in the refreshing cool and pine scent. Then we got winded and started walking. It was still great because the view was so spectacular and we could just take it all in while making quiet but disgusting remarks about the guys we were ahead of. It was great fun, until Trevor showed up.

Loralie had told me he'd called and left messages several times after the Tiki party. She hadn't returned any. I really didn't know how she felt about him now. But there he was out of nowhere in a tank top, running shorts, shoes and those baby socks that don't cover the ankle.

"Hi," said Trevor, walking backwards in front of Loralie. "Remember me?"

"What are you doing here?" she replied.

"The same thing you are, raising money for charity. I passed you guys at the start. I wasn't going to bother you but, there's some stuff I've been wanting to get off my chest. Maybe now's not the time, but you won't return my calls or anything, so."

"I know, I needed some space," said Loralie.

"So maybe you and I can get together when we get back, just to talk?"

"You can tell me now. Marissa won't mind, will you Marissa?"

"I don't mind."

"OK, well, I'm really sorry about what happened, especially to you, Marissa. I'm glad nothing serious happened and all."

"It felt pretty serious to Marissa," said Loralie.

"Yeah, I know, what I was trying to say was it was serious and all but it could've been worse."

"And your point is?" Loralie continued.

"I guess I'm apologizing for getting you guys into that, and for, you know, how we treated Marissa and all. I know it was wrong. I didn't mean it. And don't worry, I talked to those guys and they aren't going to out you, Marissa."

"Out me? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean nobody's going to tell anybody about you being, being on that Website and all. Your secret's safe. I made sure of that."

"Well, at least you backed up Loralie when it counted," I said. The apology seemed real. And I was actually a little amused by the guy stuttering there in front of us as we walked along, who now seemed more like a puppy than Loralie ever had.

"So are we all friends now?" he whimpered.