Memory: So. Hawt. (Almost)

Autumn, 1991.
U.N.T. Fencing Team Party.
Somewhere in the vicinity of U.N.T. campus.

On my way to the fencing club party, I dropped by the local beer-gettin' place, secure in the knowledge that my full beard would guarantee that I wasn't carded. I got 2 or 3 sixpacks of beer, and, thinking that the chicks dig sweet drinks, I got a pack of Bartles & Jaymes Golden Wine Coolers. Suh-weet. I was set. I was 19 years old. Off to the fencing team party.

Before I got to the checkout, though, I spied a hottie. But she was different than most hotties: she was actually a hottie who knew my name and would talk to me.

"Sam!" I gushed, wayyy un-cooly.

"Hi, Matt. What're you up to?" Sam inquired. She was tall. She was on my fencing team. She could spend hours in a crouch. She was fit. She was hawt. She had said (and thus had remembered) my name. And when you're 19, that means they Want You.

Play it cool, boy. "Oh, just headed over to the fencing club party. They've got food and such, but it's BYOB," I said, very cool. "They're screening The Duelists and Princess Bride during the party. You know-- 'cause of the fencing scenes and such." Damn. Of course she knows about the fencing scenes, you knob! "Wanna come with?"

She hesitated.

"It's only a couple of blocks away," I prodded.

"Wellllll..." she demurred. "I could drop by for a little while, for my team. After I drop off my friend here." She smiled. Her hair was chestnut. She liked swords, and she was named "Samantha." I was bewitched.

At the party, they had it in full swing. Almost every member of the geek squad U.N.T. Fencing Team was in the living room of a small apartment, watching Princess Bride.

Sam arrived. I had been drinking by this point in the evening. Did I mention that I was about 19 years old? Maybe 20.

After seeing that she had refreshments, I sat down in my comfy chair that I had commandeered in the living room. Sam, finding no place to sit, sat on the floor. I gestured to the front of my chair as a place to lean back against. Between my knees...

Athletes get to feeling comfortable with each other. We help each other stretch. We push each other. We sometimes hurt each other, a little. So when Sam leaned back against the chair between my knees, I knew that I was on solid ground when I began giving her a shoulder rub. Just yesterday, I'd seen her tear a guy up with her épée. I knew that her shoulders were tight, because that's part of the aftermath of time extending one's arm in a fencing crouch.

Back rub: Commence.

It was going well. Her shoulder muscles were melting under my fingers. She leaned back fully into the chair that I was sitting. Her head lolled back, causing secondary (primary) excitations.
The movie was on. The lights in the living room were turned down, to better see the TV. I had consumed 2 or 3 adult beverages. She was warm to the touch. I was giving her a back rub.

I drifted off.

I woke up.

Suddenly.

She was carefully moving away from me. To the other side of the room.

What?

What happened? What just happened here?

Sniff.

Matt, did you just...? Did you just fart? Because if you did, you just farted against the back of that girl's neck...

The smell wafted up.

Good. Gawd. I wasn't sure I could bear the stench. I must have expelled a LOT of gas.

She found her coat.

She left.

A "buddy" came up and said, "Dude! You just ripped a big one! Were you asleep?!?"

I think I saw Sam one other time.

From across the gym.

Oops.