Prom Night



 By cool_ambo

Always have I given the excuse that I was drunk when caught with my pants down, and that I never knew what I was doing.

But I’ve always maintained for myself that I was fully aware of what I did, after I did it, particularly on this night, which was Rachel’s prom night.

 Next year was to be my prom. This year was hers. This gave me the more reason to accept the invitation to escort her for the prom night.

 The punch that was laid out this year was a bit too strong for me, although I must admit that I could not compare it to another punch mixed on another year since this was my first time to go to a prom. I have seen the chaps replace each cup drained from the bowl with another swig of pure Gilbeys gin. The punch got more intoxicating every time. Consequently, Rachel had to drive us home in her dad’s car as I wasn’t that much good to drive.

 And there I was, staring at her eyes, her body pinning me to the front of the fridge, with that shrill voice over the radio blaring down over our heads……..


There’s a line between love and fascination

That’s hard to see on an evening such as this,

For they both give the very same sensation,

When you’re lost in the magic of a kiss,

Your lips are much too close to mine,


 …..this wasn’t helping the situation any.  So I reached over my head and turned the radio off, only to find her arms deliberately tightening around my waist, and her auburn hair sticking a few curls through my nostrils.

 “Suave!,” I said, “Mom uses this on her hair, too, and never got used to the oily scent.”

 She looked up to me again, and that’s when I felt a needle sticking through my shirt. So I reached around and with some deft maneuvering through the cramped spaces on my chest, proceeded to unpin the exotic blossom which I put on her strapless several hours earlier. Removing this flower was the general purpose we were in that position anyway. I was supposed to stick the flower inside the fridge when these new developments came about.

 I fumbled with the gown and flower. All the while she had her eyes fixed on me, diligently reading what I had in mind at that moment. I really didn’t want to tell her exactly what I had in mind but she cornered me in front of the fridge so I did not really have to say it. I could say, though, that this situation for me is what you may call getting lucky!

 I took my time unpinning the corsage, a move which she saw through my ploy. She asked in the most straightforward manner she could under such a circumstance, “Aren’t you putting more hands than necessary on that flower?” From the seriousness of the stare she gave me, I realized that the question she asked posed more of a dare than a don’t, or whatever. I tried to read between the lines but there were no more lines to read. Besides, I realized then and there the reason why women prefer men who wear neckties……so that they can pull the man’s head down to theirs.

 And as she pulled me down by my tie, I pulled her up by the chin. We ended up under the table. There was so much dinner mess on top the table that we ended up under the table. The floor must have been cold. She didn’t complain. So I never asked.

 In the subsequent months that completed the summer of that year, I learned that this sort of thing could be done under trees, in park benches, in back seats, in passenger seats, in driver’s seats, in trunks, in garages, and in any number of places fit for clandestine making-dos. Never have I heard anybody mention doing it under the table in front of a fridge. Yes sir, she taught me all I know, my cousin Rachel, and she has seen to it that I remember every lesson well.

My Foolish Heart.mp3