The Reunion

She bent over and ran her hands down her legs. They still felt satiny smooth from being shaved that morning. She pulled the thong away from her lower abdomen and examined her crotch. She kept the auburn bush of her pubic hair trimmed close to just a small tuft above her vagina, as she still loved wearing bikinis.

Letting the elastic snap back in place she took the dress off the hanger and slipped it on. Reaching behind herself with both hands she pulled up the zipper. She missed it when Ed did that and then reached down to give her ass an admiring pat, as he would have. She looked at herself in the mirror and found her daughter had again been correct. Nary a strap or panty line existed. Lastly, she stepped into her black high heels.

Walking to the vanity mirror, she applied a little make-up and lipstick. Taking a step back, she looked at herself, cupped her boobs and adjusted the neckline a little to reveal a little less cleavage. With a hand she brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes and smiled. The reflection she saw appeared cheerful. She picked up her small purse and ensured the room's keycard was in the front pocket. Walking to the door, she took several deep breaths and then left, boarded the elevator, and rode it down to the lobby.

When the doors opened it sounded as if the reunion was in full swing. Sharon walked across the lobby toward the noise of loud rock music and commotion of many people talking. She walked to the door of the ballroom and saw the darkened room was occupied by about 200 people, many of whom it appeared had not been treated well by their 58 years of life. The thought that crossed her mind was, "I can turn around now and be no worse the wiser."

But her daughter's voice screamed, 'You remember why you're going to this, right?'

"Hello," said a loud voice, "What's the name?"

Sharon blinked as she was snapped back to reality. She looked to her left. Sitting at the greeting table was an almost morbidly skinny, dirty blonde woman. Although she appeared to be smiling, it looked as if she had just eaten something extremely sour. "What's the name," she repeated.

"Sharon Marsh," and then elaborated, "Sharon O'Hara Marsh," and smiled pleasantly.

Sharon noticed the woman sitting at the table was wearing a name badge that read 'Tonya Johnson' and was accompanied by a picture of a petite, blonde cheerleader.

Tonya found her name tag and handed it to her. Her eyes flashed from the picture on the index card with the woman standing before her and she swallowed. She smiled and said, "Hi Sharon. It's been ages, how have you been."

"Very good...Tonya," Sharon said as she leaned forward to make it look like she was following the ritual of the high school reunion. "Say, I have a favor to ask," she said and asked, "Can you see if Mike Richards is here?"

"Why sure," Tonya smiled nervously. With a shaking hand she thumbed through her list of names. She saw that Tracy had put a checkmark next to his name. She looked up and said, "Yep, he's here, but I wasn't at the table when he arrived."

As Sharon thanked her, and she walked into the chaos of the ballroom, the Commodores hit, "Brickhouse" began playing. As Sharon scanned the dark, crowed room, behind her back, Tonya was scrambling for the cell phone in her purse. She had to tell Tracy who just arrived.

.....

Across the room Michael saw the redhead looking around the room as if she was searching for someone. People started crowding the dance floor and a cheerful looking former classmate walked up to him and asked if he would dance with her. "Sure," he said with a smile.

As Sharon had begun walking through the ballroom, 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA followed the Commodores. A short mousy guy in a dark suit came up to her and asked her to dance with him. Wanting to be cordial, she agreed. A small spotlight reflected on a disco ball overhead cast a million reflections around the dance floor. She learned three things about her dance partner -- his name was Tommy Zimmerman; he was now a used car dealer and lastly, he had wandering hands.

As they danced his free hand would move from her left hip to her butt, while they talked. She laughed like a good sport the first time and took his hand and moved it back to her hip. When it happened a second time she laughed and said, "Okay Tommy, let's play nice." She moved his hand back to her hip and pinned it there and gave it a quick squeeze, very hard. She forced a pleasant smile and looked around the room. Several feet away was a tall, slightly balding man with rugged good looks, dancing with a woman about Tommy's height. As the pair turned, she saw his name tag bore the name 'Mike Richards'. Seeing that he was taller than almost everyone else in the room, she quickly memorized his appearance, so she could keep track of him.

During the same dance, Michael learned his partner's name was Cathy Carlson. Cathy was of average height and build. She had short blonde hair and was dressed in a green skirt, white blouse, and yellow sweater to match their school's colors. She had moved to Indianapolis after graduation and had become a schoolteacher. She was now a Principal at a Middle School. She asked what he did now, and he said he had retired from the Navy and was now living in Idaho. "Idaho, really," exclaimed Cathy, "That's quite a ways, away."

Sharon danced with several other former classmates before she was finally free to approach Mike. He was standing a table near the bar sipping a beer. When he saw her, he smiled warmly and said, "How are you," and held out his hand.

She smiled in return, blushed and said, "Hi Mike. I'm Sharon," brushing the unruly auburn forelock from her eyes.

Michael said, "You've had quite a busy dance card," to which she agreed. Just then 'Open Arms' by Journey was struck up on the speakers by the D.J. Michael said, "I hope you don't mind if I ask for a dance. Then afterwards, I'd love to buy you a drink."

Sharon accepted, and Michael took her hand and led her out onto the crowded dance floor. As they danced, she stared intently up at him. She could hear her daughter saying, 'You remember why you're going to this, right?'

As they began their dance, Michael thought to himself, 'Why in the world is Sharon Marsh here? I never realized she was part of our high school class.' She kept looking up at him with alluring, jade green eyes that were tinged with sadness. "Sharon," Michael asked, "You're looking at me as if I know you."

She blushed again and apologized, "I'm sorry. I guess after forty-years I didn't think you'd recognize me. I was Sharon O'Hara in high school." She continued by saying, "You stood up to some bullies for me, a couple of weeks before graduation."

'Oh, my God,' he thought and said, "Wow, Sharon! It's amazing meeting you here."

As they slow-danced to the classic by Journey, Michael searched his memory then he remembered. Steve Thompson and Tracy Smith had been harassing one of Cloverville's other outcasts. Steve had backed her into a corner and was verbally abusing her, unmercifully. She was a foster-kid, in the trailer park outside of town and Michael had heard that her dad had killed her mother in a drunken rage and that he regularly beat her. Sadly, she was one of the cheerleaders' favorites targets for harassment.

Michael made the decision to put a stop to bullying and fought Steve. Much to his surprise he bested the football player, before the Vice Principal stepped in. He gladly accepted the week of detention for his act of chivalry. Unfortunately, he never saw Sharon after that, that is until today.

Michael exclaimed, "You certainly have changed," then reddened with embarrassment, realizing what he had said.

She brightened when she saw that he recognized her. Flashing a winning smile, she replied, "Don't worry yourself about that. Thanks for the compliment, 'cause I could say the same about you." She then added, "You're the reason I came to the reunion."

Michael was stunned, "Really," he said and asked, "Why?"

"Because no one had ever stood up for me before," she said adding, "I wanted to thank you."

Michael again blushed, as he replied, "You're very welcome."

They spent the rest of the song chatting about nothing and then returned to Michael's table. He asked her what she would like to drink. "A chardonnay," then indicated she would be right back, pointing that she needed to go to the lady's room.

As Michael got her glass of wine, he wondered at the coincidence, and he also wondered if she knew who he really was. He hoped that he would have the chance to ask her. As he was sipping his beer, he saw Sharon storming out of the door to the lady's powder room, almost knocking down a couple of ladies in the process. He could tell she was angry about something, by the look on her face and her quick, clipped steps. Exiting the restroom in her wake was a distraught Tracy Smith and another woman.

She walked up to him and snarled the question, "Do you have a car?"

Surprised at such a dramatic change in her demeanor, he replied, "Yes. Why?"

"I'm hungry. Let's get out the hell out of here," she spit, through gritted teeth.

She hooked her arm in his and began dragging him toward the exit. As she did so, Michael asked, "What about your wine?"

She stopped, let go of his arm, took the plastic cup of wine, and downed it in one large swallow. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand that was holding the glass and set it back down. She then looked at him, clearly still fuming and said, "Better? Good. Let's go."

As they were walking toward the exit, Michael shouted over the din of music, "Sharon, what happened in there that's got you so upset."

She looked over her shoulder at him with tears streaming down her cheeks and said loudly, "I'll tell you in your car."

As they approached the doors to the main lobby, Tracy Smith, still distraught was there. As they walked past, she begged, "Oh God, Sharon, please forgive me, for what I said. I didn't know. Please!"

With her free hand Sharon flashed her middle finger at Tracy and said, "Fuck you and your reunion, you catty bitch!"

When they walked out the Sheraton into the chilly October night, Michael dropped her hand and put his hand on her shoulder. She was shaking like a leaf. She stopped and threw her arms around his neck and began crying. He patted her back and rubbed it, whispering in her ear that it was okay now and that they were outside.

After a couple of minutes, she released her embrace saying, "Thank you, again," sniffling.

He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and gave it to her saying, "My pleasure. My rental is this way," pointing to the parking area to the left.

As they walked side-by-side, Sharon dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. "Sorry about that back there. Crap like that brings out the worst of my Irish genes."

He guided her to a black Cadillac Escalade. As he clicked the key fob to unlock it, the running boards unfolded from the lower edge of the frame beneath the doors. He led her to the passenger's door and opened it for her. She tried to figure out how she was going to make entering the SUV work with the cocktail dress she was wearing and said, "To hell with it."

She pulled the skirt up exposing a shapely leg to nearly her crotch and raised it to place the stiletto she was wearing on the running board. Michael then instructed her on holding the doorframe hand hold, to boost herself aboard. He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. As he did so, Sharon said deadpan, "Evening wear and SUVs are a bad mix for dates."

Michael laughed, realizing this was the same type of remark 'Becca would've made.

Sharon commented on how roomy the vehicle was and he gave he a quick tour around it. Sharon used the seat lever to recline her seat back a little. "I prefer trucks to cars," said Michael and finished with, "Unfortunately, this was the only truck-type vehicle the car rental had."

Leaning on the console between the front seats, Michael asked, "What the hell happened back there?"

Tearing-up again, Sharon said, "I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me." She then told Michael about being in one of the stalls of the lady's room. As she was doing her business, she overheard two women come in the room talking about someone, then she realized it was her they were referring to.

"What were they saying," Michael asked.

Sharon gritted her teeth to control the anger that was rising within her. She took a deep breath and then continued describing the encounter. As she listened one lady was saying to the other, she was obviously a gold digger and was screwing some sugar daddy, who had paid a bank roll on plastic surgery for her. The other voice declared that she had Google-searched her name and saw that she had married a lawyer. The first voice then declared that lawyer must represent a bunch of drug dealers and other criminals for her to have such a lifestyle.

With tears streaming down her cheeks again, Sharon said, "After I made myself presentable, I opened the door to the stall and walked out. There stood Tonya Johnson and a short fat woman, with the name 'Tracy Smith' on her name tag. In that instant all the emotions from 40-years ago exploded within me."

She went on to describe how they were standing by the sinks and their mouths dropped open, when they saw her.

"I walked over to the vanity next to them and began washing my hands. I looked in the mirror at them and calmly said, 'Hi Tracy'. Your Google search was right, my husband was a lawyer, but he passed away last year. I'm still in contact with his firm though and they have a bunch of young attorneys who get their rocks off on cases involving slander and libel. They'll be in contact with you. In the future I'd be very careful about what you say about people."

She finished by saying with a voice heavy with sadness, "As the anger was building in me from the way I was treated here, I just stormed out of there and here we are."

She put the handkerchief to her eyes, leaned forward and buried her face in her knees and wept. Michael reached across the console and began patting her back to comfort her. In the middle of her inner turmoil, she realized his rough hand was strong and felt very nice, comforting her. After a few minutes, she sat up and thanked him.

"It was my pleasure," he said, "Dealing with obliviots can be hard sometimes."

As Sharon dabbed at her eyes, she responded, "Obliv--whats!"

Michael smiled and slowly pronounced, "Obliviots. It stands for 'oblivious idiots."

He continued by explaining an obliviot is an idiot that is oblivious to the fact they are a moron, or they don't care that they are acting like an idiot.

Sharon nodded. Brightening she said, "Obliviot. I like that term."

Michael said, "I learned it from the commanding officer of my first ship, when I joined the Navy."

He then went onto describe meeting 'Captain K', as he was called by the crew of the USS Richmond K. Turner, an old steam-powered cruiser. Captain Keith Kleindeinst had sat the newly minted Ensign Richards down for a chat. "'Mr. Richards,' the older officer said, 'there are three types of sailors in the Navy -- the leaders, the followers and the obliviots'."

He elaborated, saying, "'The leaders are the top-10% in any organization -- whether they are officers or enlisted; the followers are the 75% of sailors who do their jobs and are capable of greatness to varying degrees. Lastly and sadly, there are the obliviots. They are the bottom-feeding 15% who feels life owes them everything and blames all their problems on everyone else. They fail to realize they are the problem. They are also their own solution -- if they would just realize they are an idiot. Sadly, they are generally oblivious to that fact.'"

Michael finished by saying, "I've learned there obliviots everywhere. I saw more than a few of them, tonight."

Sharon repeated the phrase and said, "I'll have to remember that one."

Michael smiled and said, "If you're still hungry, I found a place yesterday, driving around town."

"I'm famished," said Sharon relaxing in the leather passenger seat of the escalade and continued, "I'd love some steak and a nice glass of wine."

As he started the big SUV and backed it out of the parking stall, Michael said, "Let's buckle up. This place is about ten-minutes away."

As they drove, Sharon realized this was the first big SUV she had ever ridden in. She liked the leather seating and the commanding view of sitting up above everyone else on the road. After a couple of minutes, she said, "So you were in the Navy, what was it like?"

During the drive, he summarized his 20-year Navy career for her. He had been a surface warfare officer, having served on several frigates, destroyers, and cruisers. He had been stationed aboard a cruise and fired some of the first cruise missiles launched into Iraq, during the first Gulf War. He had finished his career commanding a high-tech guided missile destroyer.

He told her about how he had met Rebecca, when he had been stationed in Norfolk, Virginia and how she hadn't been the typical officer's wife. She had been her own woman and refused to fit into the template of the 'Navy wife'.

They pulled into the parking lot of The Stables, a quaint looking English Tudor restaurant. There were only a few cars present, which was a good sign that they would be seated relatively quickly. Michael parked and said, "Hold on, I'll help you out."

He got out of the Escalade and walked around to the passenger door and opened it for her. He took her hand and instructed her where to place her feet onto the running board. As she was stepping down her high heels missed the running board and she dropped to the ground. In doing so, a wardrobe malfunction occurred as her dress was hiked-up by the seat. It was pulled up to her waist, exposing her legs and briefly flashing the lacey thong and everything below her waist before her heels hit the pavement. "Oh shit," she exclaimed, as her heels hit the pavement and rolling one of her ankles. She would have stumbled to the asphalt in an embarrassing heap if Michael hadn't caught her. Blushing, he looked away as she made herself presentable again.

When she was finished, mortified she looked-up to Michael and noticed he was blushing as well. "Like I said," she quipped deadpan, "SUV's and evening wear don't go together."

As he took her arm and they headed to the restaurant, he apologized. She replied, "Let's see if I can get inside and seated without flashing anything else," more than a little upset.

Hoping to lighten the mood concerning the incident he observed, "It was a nice view," looking straight ahead and trying to maintain his composure.

She shook her head and said deadpan, "Typical sailor," elbowing him in the ribs and began laughing. They strolled arm-in-arm toward the front door, continuing to laugh.

When they entered, Sharon noticed it was a nicely appointed eatery. The lighting was low and romantic and the aroma of good food, very inviting. She excused herself, saying she wanted to freshen up and went to the lady's room, while Michael got their table. When she returned a few minutes later, she saw that he had gotten them a table in the back corner, near the fireplace that had a small fire crackling in the hearth. As she approached, like a gentleman, he rose and helped her into her chair. As she sat, she noticed that iced water had been brought for them. She took a long sip from her glass and then set it down.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "I took the liberty of ordering for us. I was here last night, and they have a great filet minion. It comes with roasted veggies and red potatoes."

"That sounds wonderful," she replied and reaching across the table said, "Here, let's take these stupid nametags off," and removed his.