Jay was searching, he mused, for her truest essence as he stared, dumb, into Mara's deep green dilated eyes. His large hand moved cautiously to touch hers, freckled, and their pupils danced, Jay's cocked head swaying in between the single 40-watt hall light and her hazy gaze. He caught Mara's sinful palm, gripping her at the smooth tips of her fingers with increasing interest and abandon. She squeezed his other hand, his red plastic cup - 16 ounce - and at that they kissed, sloppily and hastily so that no one leaning in the doorway, due to one intoxicant or another, might notice. A well worn party tape blared, pulsing speakers behind the door, crack of the nearest bedroom.

"So,...you want...to get out of here?...," Jay asked, stumbling over the phrase, attempting nonchalant and achieving horny. "Yeah," she stammered, peeling her back off the hand-printed white drywall, a head-rolling push from her pale neck and a finishing bounce from her denimed thigh, "...let's go." "Outta here," Jay responded, as these two, newly-met, drifted with focus on their own clutching fingers past other couples in various stages of Milwaukee-laden flirtation.

To the porch they bounded, drunken, down the steps of 202, that infamous ground floor apartment at 202, where an old Coke machine delivered nothing except liquids served on-tap, plastic handle sprouted from the side of the red and white cooler like a budding barroom, ready to unfurl at the slightest excuse. Jay's eyes followed the bobbing head of autumn red hair, leaving behind the back room din of a gaggle of unlucky drunken boys maligning women, "that bitch, she's pissing me off", voices loud enough to be heard across the valley and up to South Hill.

Stepping gingerly along the broken concrete, no broken backs, to West Campus. U-Hall 5, Mara's domicile, was just next door to the fraternity, Jay's home. Hand-in-hand at the corner and looking both ways, Mara tugged at Jay's T-shirt until he kissed her.

Before Jay could get his now groping hands around her shoulder blades, she sensed a lull in fumes and broke for the opening, parting Hill-bound traffic for the other side of the street, dragging him in front of an oncoming blue Datsun, if the street lamps were just so, or possibly even dark green. This soon-to-occur vehicular tragedy was apparently grad student, plastered not only on the rear but also front bumpers - Nukes (none), Peace (give), Whales (save).

Its rasta-capped driver knew his place/time, Collegetown 3:00 a.m., only too well, breaking for them instantly, not laying a hand on the horn. Jay would most certainly have ended up a statistic, caught dead trying to get laid. Almost fitting, he thought, waving mock thanks to the driver as he struggled to keep up with the double time pace of Mara's restless Keds. She was showing off, for him, daring him to catch up with her before the afterburners kicked in and...too late.

This time, she didn't need to tug on anything. Jay realized, breathing deep wisps of cinnamon Trident, stale beer, and Pert Plus, that he was overtly interested in this girl. Something in their searching lips sucked him in like a doomed sparrow to a jet engine intake. As he enthused, Jay was suddenly struck -- typical -- by the dread feeling of inevitable loss that often came with his little joys.

rjw, edited 3/26/96