One Night Stand With The Alpha

Tuesday 18th June 1991 - Marlene

I learned on my first morning that Biata was perpetually miserable, and Elizabeth was like an exhausting ray of sunshine from the moment she woke up.

The three of us sat around the little table in the kitchen eating our breakfast as Biata recited the HOUSE RULES she had written in thick, black pen on several sheets of paper since my arrival the previous evening. There were three copies of the rules; she had gone to the effort of copying them in her meticulous and rather severe handwriting so that we each had our own copy to keep ‘so that there would not be any unfortunate misunderstandings’.

Elizabeth flicked casually through the pages Biata had presented her with as she ate a slice of toast with honey without bothering to put it on a plate. She rolled her eyes, and Biata’s lips contorted into something that probably counted as a smile, and I skimmed through the list of rules until I reached the same one that Elizabeth had just reached: APPROPRIATE UTENSILS AND TABLEWARE MUST BE USED FOR ALL MEALS

I cast a puzzled glance at Biata, who still seemed to be feeling very smug, and gestured towards my copy of the rules.

“Nobody warned me about all of these regulations before I got here. Were we supposed to sign something agreeing to abide by them?”

She laughed - a witchy cackle that was rather grating - and I heard Elizabeth groan. This was clearly something they had argued about before my arrival.

“These are our own rules. You girls probably haven’t lived away from home before now, but luckily you have the benefit of my experience, and I promise you things run far more smoothly when there is a nice, solid set of rules in place from the offset. It’s best not to give any lazy, annoying habits time to develop - it’s always so awkward to confront someone about it when they have been acting inappropriately for months without seeing how ignorant they are.”

Elizabeth groaned again, more dramatically this time.

“Give it a rest, Biata. And I don’t think it is very diplomatic of you to draw these stupid rules up without involving me or Marlene in the process, so stop speaking to us as if they are set in stone. You can’t seriously expect us to agree that we shouldn’t make any noise at all outside of the allotted ‘social hour’ every second Tuesday from 10:30 to 11:30…”

Biata stood up to try and intimidate Elizabeth, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who would back down and she stood up to face Biata.

The women were staring eye to eye in silence for what seemed like an eternity to me before Biata finally conceded and stalked silently away, leaving her half finished bowl of corn flakes on the table.

“Well, that was rude,” Elizabeth breezed cheerily and sat back down at the table, “and in clear violation of rule 21B.”

Her mocking tone made me smile, and I flipped casually through the rules as we finished our breakfast until I finally made it to 21B. I nearly spat out the mouthful of coffee I was drinking as I read it: ALL UTENSILS AND TABLEWARE MUST BE CLEANED BY THE USER IMMEDIATELY ON COMPLETION OF MEAL

“Completion of meal?” I grinned, “is she serious?”

“Apparently not,” Elizabeth giggled and nodded at Biata’s abandoned breakfast things before fishing in the pocket of the trendy bleached denim jacket she had slung over the back of her own chair for a pen.

She drew a ring around rule 21B and an angry looking cartoon face on her set of rules, and then positioned it tactfully beside the dish before tossing the rest of the pages away.

“I don’t suppose you have any plans for the day?”

I couldn’t tell whether that comment was a judgment based on how utterly uncool I looked, or an invitation to spend the day with her, so I gave a casual shrug in response as I began to clear up my own empty plate.

“I don’t know the city. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well… Biata’s allotted ‘social hour’ is technically next Tuesday, but if you’d like to do something together later, I think it would be kind of fun.”

“Something? Like a visit to the cinema?”

Elizabeth giggled.

“I meant going to a club or something.”

“A club…”

I had not considered that might be an option; I hadn’t ever been to a club before. There wasn’t anything exciting and trendy for young people like me in my quaint little hometown, and even if there had been my boyfriend… ex-boyfriend… Theo, would never have approved of it. Not that his opinion mattered anymore - his little tantrum the day before I left made it clear he was not interested in trying to continue our relationship long-distance and… I hadn’t even thought about Theo since I left home, and the way he had been so sure that I would give up my chance to study medicine to stay in that deadbeat town with him made me furious now I thought about it.

“Yeah…” Elizabeth’s voice brought me back to reality, “is that… OK?”

She sounded a little concerned, and I blushed because I realized I had just been standing there silently thinking about my silly argument with Theo rather than speaking to her like a normal person.

“Sounds great. Should we meet at …eight?”

Elizabeth laughed, and I felt my cheeks burning so badly that I was sure they were almost as scarlet as my hair by now.

“I’ll come to your room at eight and help you get ready, if you like… I am guessing this will be your first big adventure in a city, since... ?”

I nodded shyly; she clearly thought I had been out to clubs and stuff while things were still divided between West and East, and I wasn't going to tell her that I had never been to a club at all. She patted my arm affectionately like a big sister before leaving me alone in the kitchen to cringe about how massively uncool I was compared to her.

At least she didn’t make me feel like a complete loser, and I was actually excited for her to show me whether a proper nightclub was full of impossibly attractive single young people the way it seemed in all the American movies I had seen, or if my friend’s older brother had been right when he told us it was just a room filled with people who smelled like sweat as they danced to awful music played way too loudly on an increasingly sticky dance floor.

The reality was depressingly similar to that overly cynical take on the whole clubbing experience - I waited in a queue with Elizabeth for over an hour feeling really out of place in my tie-dyed lilac t-shirt and cutoff denim shorts until we were finally allowed into a grimy looking ex-industrial warehouse. The music was so loud that the bass-line thundered through me like an unsettling second heartbeat in a way that was probably far less unpleasant to the many people around us who were already blackout drunk or under the influence of the sort of party drugs I didn’t know the street-names of.

Elizabeth seemed to enjoy it, even though she hadn’t taken any drugs and I don’t think she had been drinking before we left home. She was just… a social butterfly; the kind of young woman who came alive around other people, and who thrived in this kind of environment.

It was almost amusing that she had ended up in the same shared house as a woman like Biata… I couldn’t laugh about it, though. As Elizabeth danced freely with a young woman who neither of us had ever even spoken to before I couldn’t stop thinking about how shitty it was going to be for me to be constantly caught in the firing line between her and Biata.

We were all there because the accommodation had been arranged for scholarship recipients, so there was no chance of one of them just moving if we didn’t get along.

She finally noticed that I was standing awkwardly by the wall clutching my half-finished pint of beer, because I had been too nervous to order a vodka or anything strong, and she waved me over while she mouthed something enthusiastically that I guess I was supposed to understand.

I tried to smile, but I was deeply uncomfortable and the idea of smooshing up close to a bunch of sweaty drunk strangers really didn’t appeal to me so I made some stupid excuse that Elizabeth probably didn’t hear anyway and left.

It wasn’t too far from the club to our house, and it was a beautiful summer evening so I decided that I would take a slow walk back and enjoy getting to know the City my own way - quietly, and without strangers rubbing themselves up against me.

If I had decided to do the sensible thing and call for a taxi I would have realized that my keys were missing; probably in Elizabeth’s bag - the bag we had been made to check in when we were finally let into the club - if they hadn't been stolen by someone in the queue or dropped on the sticky dance floor.

In reality, I only realized when I got to the bright red front door of the home and reached instinctively for my back pocket - the one I usually kept my keys in.

I nearly screamed in frustration, but I didn’t want to risk causing a massive argument with Biata, so I silenced myself and decided that I would give Elizabeth an hour to get back before subjecting myself to making a lifetime enemy of Biata by daring to knock on the door.

Elizabeth would probably be back soon, anyway. She would probably remember that she had my keys and come back to let me in.

I turned my back on the door, and the house, and Biata, planning to sit patiently on the step while I waited but when I turned around, there was someone stood waiting for me.

I screamed - it was through shock rather than fear as I looked at the attractive young man who was waiting for me. He was wearing a pair of smart dark jeans with designer sneakers and a tight-fitting plain gray t-shirt which showed off his well toned physique rather magnificently. He looked startled for a moment, and then backed away with his hands raised so that I could see he had no weapon - but that he did have my keys.

“How did you…?”

“I’m sorry - I saw you drop these at the end of the road. I didn’t want to run after you in case you got the wrong impression, but … I guess I’ve managed to do that, anyway?”

He cautiously held out his hand with my keys in, and I relaxed and took the keys with an inward sigh of relief.

“Thank you, sir.”

The man smiled - his hazel eyes sparkled with amusement and he ran one of his hands through his jaw-length sandy blond hair.

“You’re welcome…”

“…Marlene.”

I blurted out my name rather childishly, and he appeared to find my awkwardness charming because he flashed another smile and held his hand out to me again.

“Daniel.”

I shook his hand, and he turned to leave.

That should have been it.

I looked down at the little silver key in my hand, then over my shoulder at the door, and finally back to the man who was starting to walk away.

“Daniel,” I called after him.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back around with an infuriatingly knowing smile on his face.

“I…don’t suppose you want to come in for a drink?”

He paused - apparently considering my offer. I don’t know why I had asked; I knew nothing about him other than the fact he had given my key back, and that his name may or may not actually be Daniel.

The guy could have been creeping on me when he saw me drop the key for all I knew, but Biata was in the house anyway, and I was young enough and stupid enough that I believed that would keep me safe if he had any harmful intentions so… I made him the offer.

And Daniel… he was young enough and stupid enough that he accepted it.