Lisa, Part 4: The Party
That night, we decided to go to a Christmas party in
Malibu. My friend, Ray, was throwing the party. He threw it
each year and I never missed it. You see, Ray was an underwear
model, and he usually had all of his male and female modeling
friends show up for his party. I enjoyed hanging out with the
"beautiful crowd." Models get certain privileges not given to
the common folk. We usually ended up going out dancing when the
party wound down. All of the clubs would let us right in, and
when we stopped at a restaurant, they usually sat us in the
window with no waiting. Also, when I was out with them, I never
had to buy drinks -- more than enough rounds were usually bought
for the table or provided on the house.
Lisa was reluctant to go at first. She told me that she didn't
like "stuck up models," and that she spent more than her fair
share of time with guys who needed their ego stroked. I
persuaded her that Ray wasn't like that (he wasn't), and that she
would have fun. She grudgingly agreed to go, but only if I
promised to make it up to her if she didn't have a good time.
Lisa went home to shower and change, and I called Ray to let him
know I'd be bringing a date. He tried to talk me out of it,
telling me that the female-to-male ratio at the party was already
nearly 2-to-1, that the likelihood of my getting a gorgeous date
at the party was "virtually guaranteed," and that he didn't want
to have to dance with more than his "fair share." I told him a
little about Lisa, that at this point I was enthralled with her,
and that at this point no "normal gorgeous woman could possibly
measure up." Ray and I had been friends since high school, so we
could kid around like that with each other. Ray sounded dubious.
"I don't know that I could date a woman whose arms are bigger
than mine," he said. Ray's arms were huge, and Lisa's arms by no
measure were bigger than his. "Hey, what can I say?" I asked.
"I may be in love." He told me that my "bitch" would be welcome.
Knowing Ray's sense of humor, I gave him a warning: "By the way,
whatever you do, please don't call her a bitch."
"Why not?" he asked.
"It just . . . pisses her off, that's all. Just don't do it," I
"Okay, I won't call your bitch a bitch. Alright with you?"
"Just consider yourself warned," I said.
I stopped by Lisa's apartment to pick her up. She met me at the
door and closed it behind her. She was wearing a sheer, scoop-
neck satin-style black dress that went to her knees. I could see
a distinct line down the center of her chest, and thought how she
looked incredible in anything she wore. She had on black satin
high heels that showed off her shapely calves to perfection. Her
emerald eyes shone bright, like beacons. Again, I smelled apples
and strawberries, and a woody-musky cologne that I couldn't quite
make out. But it was quite alluring. Luckily, the long stem
rose that I had stopped to get matched her outfit exactly. She
smelled it, and ran it down over her lips, chin and neck. She
smiled at me. "Ah, to be a perfect red rose in the winter," I
said in jest. "Remind me later," she joked back. I just wanted
to go back into her apartment and cuddle, but I knew we were
going to be late to the party.
On the way over, we talked about our favorite musicians (I liked
blues, jazz, and classical, but she seemed to prefer heavy metal.
I could handle Aerosmith, but passed on Def Leppard. I made a
mental note to try to drag her to a blues club sometime). I let
her choose the radio station, and waited until Led Zepplin came
on, whom we both liked. We also both agreed that Barry Manilow
bit the big one. We both enjoyed ballet, and we both hated
opera. She hated sushi, which thrilled me to no end. I always
considered sushi bars to be the yuppie version of goldfish
We also both agreed that Bob Dole came off as less of a jerk when
he appeared on Saturday Night Live *after* the elections. Lisa
was a business student at UCLA, so when we tried to talk about
the economy, her comments went right over my head. All the
while, as we talked, I was trying to keep my eyes on the road,
and not to think about the incredibly heady scent of apples,
strawberries, wood and musk drifting my way. As we rode there, I
placed my hand lightly on her thigh, and she covered my hand with
hers. Her thigh was like sculpted marble under the satin-feel
dress. "Eyes on the road," she said, as I glanced her way.
We made it to Ray's house, and the party was well underway. The
house was on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean, with a huge
bay window and a perfect view of the coast. As we drove up the
driveway, I could hear the music blaring out of the house, and I
saw some people standing on the steps at the side door, smoking a
joint. I parked the car, got out, opened Lisa's door and held
out my hand. She put her right hand into mine and lowered her
right leg onto the driveway, revealing that splendid calf. She
stood up and squeezed my hand slightly. Then she gave me a peck
on the cheek. I did the same. Her emerald eyes shone and her
brunette hair glistened. She looked magnificent, and as far as I
was concerned, I was arriving with what was far and away the most
beautiful woman at that party. "Remember," she said, "if I don't
have any fun, you have to make it up to me."
As we walked in the door, I spotted Ray almost immediately,
sitting on the back of the sofa and talking with three incredible
looking women. He saw me, smiled, and came over to us. "Hi! I
was wondering where you were!" He said to me. "And this must be
the amazing Lisa!" He turned and looked at her. "Why, she's
just a tiny little thing!" he said, and wrapped his hand
completely around her upper arm. Her eyes flashed angrily at me.
Ray's attention was momentarily diverted. "What did you tell
him?" she hissed under her breath. "Nothing!" I answered.
"Really!" She didn't believe me. Ray leaned over and gave Lisa
a peck on the cheek, introduced us around, and moved on, ever the
consummate party facilitator.
The party was in full swing when Lisa took me into the bathroom.
"What did you tell him?" she asked angrily. "Nothing," I said,
and put my hand on her shoulder. She shook it off. She glared
at me. "I don't like living in a fishbowl. What did you tell
"Okay, okay. I told him that we had just met the other day, that
you were the most incredible woman I've ever met, that you were
very strong, and that I am totally captivated by you. That's it.
"So, then, what was that bullshit with him grabbing my arm?" She
glowered at me.
"He tried to get me to come to the party stag, and I told him
that I wasn't interested in getting a date here. Oh, yeah, he
also said something about not understanding why I would want to
date a woman whose arms were bigger than his."
"Bigger than HIS?" she said incredulously. "His arms are huge."
"I know. That was what the whole thing was about. Honest."
A silly misunderstanding. We kissed and made up, and went back
out to the party. As I was talking with a few of the women, I
noticed her come up to me and take my hand. I raised it to my
lips and kissed it. "Have you all met Lisa, my date?" I asked.
I was not about to risk any more misunderstandings. I noticed
her glaring at Ray when he wasn't looking, though. Something
told me I had just discovered a weakness: Lisa was the jealous
I don't know why. As far as I was concerned, every other woman
in the room could have just as well disappeared and I wouldn't
have noticed much. The party dwindled as the night went on, and
before I knew it, there were just eight or so of us sitting
around on the sofa, talking. Ray and the others were talking
about their latest modeling gigs, and how important it was to
stay in shape, work out regularly and eat right in their
business. A single pound of excess fat or a pound less muscle
could lose them a job. Lisa looked bored.
"So, Lisa," Ray said. "I hear that you're pretty strong."
I felt her tense up slightly. "Not really," she lied.
"Come on," he prodded. "You look pretty fit. Do you work out?"
"Sure, I exercise," she said. "But it's not my whole life." She
glared at him. She squeezed my hand tightly, and I felt some
pain. I shook my hand a bit, and she let up. I figured that
there was something else going on here. "Hey, anybody want to go
out dancing?" I tried to change the subject. A couple of the
other guests responded enthusiastically, but Ray and Lisa's eyes
were locked. "Dancing is a great workout," Ray said. "I don't
know that Lisa would be interested."
"Sure, she would!" I said, feigning enthusiasm. "Let's go!"
"I could use a good workout about now," Lisa said.
"You're in luck! I have a home gym downstairs," Ray said. He
wasn't kidding. He had a complete gym that any health club owner
would envy. A Universal Machine, Smith Machine, free weights and
a complete set of Nautilus equipment, not to mention the typical
aerobic machines, such as stair climbers, bikes and treadmills.
"I couldn't. I'm not dressed for it," she said. "Let's go
dancing instead." She still had not broken Ray's stare.
The other guests were shifting uneasily in their seats. They
were obviously noticing the tension in the air, too. One of them
"I have a clean set of sweats, just about your size, in the guest
room. Why don't you put them on?" he suggested.
Lisa broke his stare, but I could feel that her hand was still
tense. "Naaah, I couldn't. Let's go out," she suggested.
"Aww, c'mon," he said. "Don't be a bitch."
Lisa looked up, and I saw daggers flash from her eyes.
"Uh, oh. You're in trouble now," I said.
"Where's the guest room?" Lisa said, as she stood up. Ray
pointed it out. I don't know what sparked that behavior in him.
I had never seen him act that way, especially not with a woman.
Ray was a charmer. Handsome, smooth, and always a ladies' man.
I liked going out and partying with him because I could count on
a bevy of incredible, horny women flocking to our side whenever
he was around. The women were always feeling his arms and chest.
He would flex and they would sigh. So what exactly was it about
diminutive little Lisa that made him act like a total jerk?
Whatever it was, I knew that Lisa was about to take him down a
few notches, and it wouldn't be pretty.
I took Ray aside. "Don't do this," I warned him. "I don't know
what you're planning, but you've got her pissed off, and you have
no idea how strong she really is."
"I guess I'll find out, huh?" he said.
"Please, for me," I said. "We're good friends, Ray, and she's my
date. Please, just apologize to her and let's go out dancing."
"Oh, alright," he said.
Lisa came back into the parlor in a pair of grey sweats, her face
flushed. "Let's do it," she said tensely.
"Look, Lisa, I apologize profusely if I made you angry," Ray
said. "Let's forget this and go out dancing, like you
The guests on the sofa applauded enthusiastically and voiced
"What are you?" Lisa said through clenched teeth. "A girly man?"
she taunted. Her Austrian accent was even worse than mine. "I
pound your weak little body into the ground, you girly man."
"I take your puny little weenie and tie it into a knot!"
I had no idea where this was coming from, but the situation was
way beyond my control now. Having been taunted in front of the
whole group, Ray had no option but to go change into his workout
clothes. A few of the remaining guests groaned that this would
be boring, and left to go dancing. The rest of us adjourned
downstairs to the gym. Lisa stretched, while I passed my time on
the stairmaster. One other guest, an obviously fit woman, began
to jog on the treadmill. Her name was Andrea, a strikingly
beautiful blonde, thin and toned, with almond shaped blue eyes
and Nordic good looks. She was obviously one of the models. The
other two just sat around on the weight benches.
Ray jumped into the room, making an entrance. "Prepare to meet
your doom, young lady!" He was overacting. Lisa stood up,
casually walked over to the Universal Machine and put the pin
down to the bottom of the bench press stack. "I have to warm up
first," she said. Ray smirked as Lisa lay flat back on the
bench. She then grabbed the center of the apparatus with her
left hand and cranked out 15 quick reps. She repeated the
routine with her right hand. "Okay, I'm ready," she said. I
heard the other guests murmuring. Ray's mouth had fallen open.
"Uhhm, let's start with the leg press machine," he said. Ray
warmed up with about 180 lbs on the machine, and he and Lisa
alternated on the machine. It became immediately apparent that
there was a contest in progress to determine who could lift more.
Soon Ray was pressing up some impressive poundages. They both
had made it all the way up to 990 lbs., but they were using every
weight plate in the gym. Ray pressed up his 990. "Well, I guess
that's it," he panted. "There's no more weight in the gym."
"Sure there is," Lisa said. "You get on the machine." Ray
increased Lisa's poundage by climbing on top of the machine and
adding his 200-lb. bodyweight to the total. She easily pumped
out 20 reps.
"Well, that's easy for you to say, but there's nobody else here
around 200 pounds, so I can't match the weight. So I guess the
workout's over." Lisa smiled, and began removing all of the
weight from the machine. "How about if I just press down on the
machine, and you press up?" she asked sweetly. Ray declined.
"What's the matter, don't think you can hack it?" she taunted.
"You don't want to admit that you were outlifted by a *girl*,"
she taunted some more.
"No, you only weigh about a hundred or so pounds. I'll press you
right off the floor," he answered.
I knew what she was capable of doing. "Come on, Lisa, that's
enough," I said. She looked at me harshly. "Lisa," I said
pleadingly. Ray was my friend. She stared at me and I shut my
mouth. I felt the other guests looking at me. I looked at
Andrea, the woman on the treadmill, then shrugged and looked
away. She was smirking.
"You let me worry about that," Lisa said to Ray. "I'll tell you
what. If you lift me off the floor, we'll stop and we can go out
Ray reluctantly agreed, and I sighed resignedly. He climbed back
on the machine, and Lisa stood over it, just inside the frame.
As Ray bent his legs, she wrapped her legs around the bars on the
side and hooked her feet under the lower bar. She pressed her
palms flat against the platform where his feet were. I saw when
she began to press on the platform because Ray's knees
immediately buckled. "Go ahead, press," she said. His face was
getting red. "Admit it, you were beaten by a girl," she said.
He shook his head, and his face got redder. She pressed down
harder, and his knees were against his chest. "Admit it, or I
won't let go," she taunted. Ray's face was the color of a beet,
and I saw a vein popping out on his forehead. He let out all of
the air in his lungs. "Okay, okay, I admit it," he said.
"You admit what?"
"I admit that I was beaten by a girl."
"Now apologize for calling me a bitch."
I rolled my eyes.
"I apologize for calling you a bitch."
"Now tell Andrea that you've had your eye on her all night and
want her to help you recover from this pain."
"Andrea, I've had my eye on you all night and want you to help me
recover from this pain."
Andrea looked up, surprised.
Lisa then let go of the machine and climbed off. Ray rolled
sideways onto the floor, holding his legs. Andrea stopped the
treadmill, went to his side and knelt down. She began to massage
his thighs. Lisa took my hand. "Let's go," she said. "I'll
wash the sweats and bring them back, she called over her
shoulder. As we walked outside to the car, she turned to me.
"You're right," she said. "I had fun."
She gave me a peck on the cheek and squeezed my hand slightly, as
I tried to regain my voice and composure.
End of Part 4
The ShadowSharon Best