I’m fairly certain, upon graduation, my parents are giving me their BMW which is why they decided to let me drive it to the gala. But it also could be because dad came home with a new Mercedes-Benz. I don’t know where they got the money for one luxury vehicle let alone two, but picking up Charity in some nice wheels and then playing chauffeur to the Park Avenue Armory made the night all the more special.
Charity was wearing a tight fitting black dress that ended just above her knees and started just under her shoulders, her hair done up in curls. Charity is skinny but the dress accentuated her curves while giving her more of a backside. As I pulled away from her curb she expressed how happy about this fact a couple of times.
The exterior of the Park Avenue Armory was alive with searchlights waving to and fro which stood as the parking spot for valet to whisk your vehicle away to its lot. Most of the students showed up in stretch limousines in suits and dresses one can only purchase at the fine stores along 5th Avenue. My suit was a collection of pieces purchased at H&M, paid for with my own allowance.
I pulled up to the space between the searchlights and almost instantly a valet in a red blazer and black pants opened Charity’s door. I got out, crossing the front of the car, and handed the keys to the valet who handed me a ticket and then proceeded to follow my path to the driver’s seat and then pulled away.
“So fancy.” Charity said, slipping her arm under mine. We then strolled up the cement stairs to the black doors that lead inside to be greeted by several glass doors, dim lights, and loud music.
Past the glass doors was the hall containing red flooring and several paintings of men I didn’t recognize in both directions. I was about to ask if Charity wanted to take a look at them but she began pulling me towards another set of black doors deeper inside. There was a staircase leading down with a paper that read “bathroom.”
Inside the new black doors was a hall that appeared to expand the entire block but couldn’t since the armory only took up half the block going inwards. There were no decorations, only strobe lights and more paintings of dead white men in gold frames. A table deeper on the right side housed food and what looked to be champagne but that can’t be since we’re all underage. But this is high society so to hell with the law, is the message they were sending.
Charity led me onto the dance floor by squeezing through the crowd for a big enough space we would fit in. The sound changed but the rhythm remained. Our bodies moved in unison as Charity grinded me for several songs until a relatively slow one came on. By then she needed something to drink.
At the table, it being champagne was confirmed. Charity took a glass filled with some name I couldn’t pronounce, handing me one as well. We toasted, sipped, locked eyes, kissed.
“Hey bro glad you could make it!” Todd said with a hard clap on my shoulder. We slapped palms while I said “you remember Charity, right?”
Todd nodded and the two of them shook hands. “You look spectacular in that dress. Best looking chick in here.” He said to her but not loud enough for his date to hear. I didn’t recognize her- probably not a student at Wentworth High.
“Sara meet Chase. Chase, Sara.” Todd said. She and I shook hands while Todd continued. “She goes to NYU. Med student. Her father is the Rays’ team doctor.”
“I hate baseball but I’ll take the inheritance.” Sara and Todd laughed while he and I slapped palms once more then they were off.
“High society.” Charity said as she sipped her champagne and rolled her eyes. “How do you deal with this five days a week?”
Shrugging, I said “I count the days till I don’t have to anymore.”
We danced some more then drank some more. The third trip to the table I saw Novak in a crowd with a girl I didn’t recognize but seemed to be mingling just fine. While I was eyeing him he was eyeing Denise. Tracing his sight to her I could see she was eyeing me with a guy I did recognize- the newest male model from the Ambercrombie & Fitch ads plastered around Times Square.
My eyes found their way back to Novak who was now looking at me. He still appeared to be pissed about the outcome of his time on the mound but at the same time, seemed to be burning a hole through Charity’s back as well.
I took Charity’s hand and led her back on the dance floor where the music was interrupted by the dean tapping on a microphone.
“Hello seniors.” He said, and that got the crowd going. Once they were hushed the dean continued. “Tonight is a tradition for Wentworth. It marks your coming of age. Come June all of you will be graduating, going on to bigger and better things, making us all proud.”
“More like taking a job mommy and daddy have lined up for them while still acting like high school kids.” Charity whispered.
“Tonight, we raise our glasses to you. May your futures be bright and the light never stop shining.” Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Looking around I noticed one of the juniors standing there with a tray of glasses filled with one can only assume to be champagne. Removing two and handing one to Charity, we raised the glasses and drank as the dean pressed his against his lips.
“Another tradition at Wentworth is the passing of the torch, so to speak. A tray with a box on it is being passed around.”
Seconds later, another junior arrived with a much smaller tray containing a square box. Removing it, I looked at Charity and then down at the box. Inside was a silver watch. A watch I could never afford in my life.
“Never forget your time at Wentworth, and never let an opportunity slip you by because you didn’t have the time to do it. To you, seniors.”
More cheering, and then the dean asked for silence once more. “Dance some more and when you’re through, join me upstairs for a feast fit for a king.”
The music picked up and everyone began gyrating their hips to and fro while I remained stunned looking at the watch.
“Shit like this makes me not want to graduate. Am I right, bro?” Todd said as he and his date danced by us.
An hour later I lost Charity on her way upstairs from the bathroom and when I found her she was accompanied by Denise. “Looking for her?” She said with a smile.
“There you are. This place is confusing. How’d you fair with finding the bathroom?” I asked.
“Piece of cake, Pooh bear.” She said with a kiss to my cheek. She then looked at Denise with a pensive smile and then back at me.
“Heading upstairs?” Denise asked me.
“Yea, I think I’m all danced out for the night. I’m famished. What about you, honey?” I said, looking down at Charity.
“You know me- always hungry.”
With a laugh Denise said “where do you put it all? I’m jealous.”
Denise was in no way shape or form fat nor was there what’s called a “muffin top” present. But, you know women.
As we walked up the red carpeted stairs Denise, finally reunited with her model companion, said “you were at the JV-V game yesterday, right?”
“Yup. I’m always cheering my bubbie on.” She looked up at me with a smile that said she was proud of me. I returned it.
“You two are adorable.” Denise said as we reached yet another set of black doors.
This room was as big as the downstairs room only here there were no strobe lights. But there were more paintings, just not of dead white men.
The junior class stood in waiter uniforms at the expansive table in the center of the room. One walked up to me and said “this way, Mr. Davenport” where he sat Charity and I near the middle.
From where we sat the entire floor was visible. I could see where everyone sat, and with who. The squad was scattered throughout but easily recognizable, especially since their dates were fellow classmates. All except Johnson who was seated with a blonde who may not go to Wentworth but was known in New York. She was the heir to the Weismeister fortune, in the second seat behind her brother.
The Weismeisters are a family of old money who use their name by setting up charities disguised as internships for college students to build their portfolios in the arts, but all they’re really doing is trying to build an army of suits who will obey their commands. So I’ve heard.
Across the table were various roasts and vegetables, breads and wine, fish and soups. There was no way I could sample everything present but my nose and eyes certainly were. By the look of Charity’s growing plate she had an entirely different agenda.
The night ended two hours later and a button or two in our pants lost. Presenting the ticket to the valet he fetched the car while Charity and I waited in each other’s arms, the night air growing crisp, the sky cloudless.
Spotted just before entering a limousine, Novak and I locked eyes. Then, he disappeared. But not before flashing a slight smirk. Weird.
The valet drove up, exited, opened Charity’s door, and then stepped back. I couldn’t give him a tip and felt crummy for it. But that can’t be helped. Entering the car, I put it in drive and took off.
Charity stretched in her seat as far as the seat belt allowed. “What a night.” She said.
“It certainly was. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I most certainly did.”
“You looked amazing tonight, have I said that already?”
“A girl never gets tired of hearing it.” She said with a giggle.
At a red light Charity reached for my hand and clasped it in her lap. Then she did something I was not expecting: she guided my hand up her smooth thigh and under her dress. I could feel the warmth coming from her crotch. Upon inspection she was no longer wearing underwear.
I stared bug eyed at her while watching for the light to change. Her expression remained neutral but her eyes looked desperate. I lightly brushed against her inner thigh. Charity purred while biting her lip.
Within a half hour we were back at her place, her father no longer home. An hour later the two of us were tangled between her sheets, a coat of sweat dusting our brows, breaths of satisfaction escaping our throats.