The Spring Break from Hell, Part III

Later that evening, after a sullen dinner at New York's famous Stardust Diner (a 50's themed restaurant featuring waiters/waitresses who sing and dance),

...oh, why was it sullen? Because I refused to let Broadway pay for dinner, and I suppose he felt emasculated...

we got back to the dorm, and he said that he was going to go down to one of the practice rooms to "sing off some steam"...

Remember, we met in Drama club, and he was a theatre major in school.

And yes, my dorm had practice rooms. I'm not even going to lie and say that wasn't a major factor in my college decision making.

Anyway, back to lil' ol' me, alone in my bedroom while Broadway was belting out showtunes downstairs to repair his damaged manhood. I went to my dresser and reached deep down into the bottom of my underwear drawer, where I had hidden a lacy white bra and panty set that I had found in the sale bin at Victoria's Secret the month before, and a condom that I had snagged from the student health center- if I recall correctly, it might even have been flavored.

I snuck into the bathroom and donned my lacy ensemble. I sucked in my gut, touched up my mascara and put on some sexy red lipstick purchased just for the occasion. Then I decided that the lipstick was a bit much and blotted it down to almost nothing before applying my usual pink gloss.

I brushed and touseled my hair, applied some glitter lotion to the curve of my breasts (I had read in Cosmo that it makes your cleavage look better), and smiled at the sexy girl in the mirror who would, soon enough, become a woman.

After a quick glance to see if any of my suitemates were lurking in the hallway, I dashed into my bedroom and arranged myself on my bed in a way (probably suggested by Cosmo) that I hoped would maximize my curves while minimizing my, well, less-desirable curves. I had just finished fanning my hair across the pillow and placing the condom in an accessible, yet not too obvious position on my dresser when I heard the door open.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep as I listened to Broadway's footsteps approach the bed. I heard them stop and opened my eyes slowly, trying to feign both sleepiness and surprise.

As Broadway's form appeared in my vision, I glanced up at him in what I hoped was a seductive manner and smiled.

He glared back and sighed.

"Move over. And please cover up. We obviously need to talk."


...


...





Go ahead. Listen to as many types of crickets as you need to before continuing. I'll understand, because I was hearing nothing but crickets and the sound of shame flushing over my cheeks as I pulled myself into as tiny a ball as I could and cocooned myself in my comforter.

Broadway then proceeded to explain how he was sorry for the way he reacted, he was just so shocked because he wasn't ready to take our relationship that far, blah blah blah. All I could really hear was the sound of my own voice berating myself for being so stupid to think that anyone would want to sleep with me and for being so damn needy and for wasting all of that money on my sexy underwear, even if it was on sale...

Yes, even in moments of shame and guilt (hell...ESPECIALLY in moments of shame and guilt), I remain a stereotypical Jew.

Next thing I knew, Broadway put his arm around my shoulders and placed my head on his chest. I suppose it was supposed to be a consolation prize. I suppose I should have been happy for any physical intimacy at all. But all I could do was lie still and try not to cry my girlish tears for the woman I was supposed to become with the man I thought I loved.