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A Rose By Any Other Name - Part 2 By Jeremy Spencer
   After the fiasco with my friends at the bar, the rest of homecoming
weekend went by fairly quickly.  Before I knew it Tuesday had rolled around
again and I found myself making my now weekly trek to Pablo's.  Happily I
was alone as I entered the dimly lit bar.  I scanned my eyes from the back
of the room to the front hoping to see my crush, but didn't see her
anywhere.
   Sighing, I made my way to what I realized I was thinking of as "my" bar
stool and sat down, ordering a double scotch on the rocks.  Billy, who
seemed to always be working on the nights I came in, nodded and before long
I was getting ready to toss back my first swallow of the sharp amber
liquid.
   "Hey," I heard a tiny voice say from beside me and I turned, my breath
catching as I saw it was the girl.  Immediately my tongue tied itself in
knots as I tried to think of something suave and debonaire.
   "Hi," I stammered, nearly knocking over my drink in my attempt to wave.
The girl just smiled at my clumsiness.  "How are you?"
   "Good," she said.  "Can I sit with you for a minute?"
   "Sure," I answered as smoothly as possible.  I stood, nearly knocking
the bar stool to the floor as I tried to play the part of true gentleman. I
grimaced, quickly moving behind the girl to pull a stool away from the bar
for her.  I sat quickly and carefully to avoid any further embarrassment.
   "Thanks," she said.  I realized the stool I had pulled out was in use,
and quickly picked my coat up off the seat next to me, holding it in my lap
as I watched the girl sit demurely on the high bar stool next to me.  Her
tan legs peeked out from under the short pleated skirt as she sat there.  I
caught myself staring and shook my head, quickly jerking my head up to meet
her gaze, only to realize she had been watching me the whole time.
   "Sorry," I said lamely, feeling myself blush at being caught looking.
   "Don't worry about it," she laughed.  "And relax, okay?  Getting people
to look is the whole idea of the uniform." She bent at the waist and I
suddenly found myself with the delicious view of her breasts as they swayed
enticingly, clearly unfettered by any hint of a bra or other restraint.  I
could see all the way down her shirt, which was opened to the fourth button
and nearly all of her creamy flesh was visible, all the way to her barely
covered nipples.
   I gulped loudly, trying to will my erection down, suddenly glad my coat
was in my lap.
   "See?" she giggled, seeing the expression on my face.  "Doesn't that
make you want to buy my flowers?"
   "Among other things," I said before I could catch myself.
   "I don't want to talk about that," she answered, her face darkening and
I realized she was thinking of the other night.
   "Shit," I swore.  "Let's start over, okay?" I extended my hand in
greeting, happy when she returned my handshake after a moment's thought. 
"I'm Daniel.  Daniel Parker.  I'm a grad student down at Emerson College
and I think I need to apologize for my friend acting like an ass last
weekend."
   "Apology accepted and it wasn't your fault," she answered.  "My name is
Heather, by the way.  Heather Morris.  I'm just a working girl, trying to
make a living," she sighed.
   "Pushing your petals?" I laughed.
   "It's not like that," she sighed darkly, to my confusion.  What had I
said?
   "What?" I asked.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything."
   "Oh.  It's just...  a lot of the girls here do some other selling on the
side.  They call it pushing the petals."
   Oh.  Oh!
   "Shit," I said again.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it like that."
   Heather looked at me intently for a moment, as if judging my sincerity.
   "I know you didn't," she finally said, nodding her head.  "You're one of
the nice guys and I still need to thank you for buying those flowers the
other night.  It was unnecessary, but still...  thanks," she said, reaching
for her basket.
   "Don't worry about it," I said.  "Consider them a gift." I laughed
shortly.  "They kind of pale beside your beauty anyway."
   Heather groaned and I wondered again if I'd said something
inappropriate.
   "Don't worry about it," she said.  "It's just...  for a minute it
sounded like one of the dozens of bad pick-up lines we get."
   "Really?  Like what."
   "Oh God, we hear them all...  You're the prettiest flower here...  The
girl I want to give a flower to is already holding them...  that kind of
crap.  I just get sick of it and I'm constantly wondering if I'm going to
lose my job."
   "Why?  Why would you lose it?"
   "Because of people like Michelle."
   "Oh, yeah.  She seemed...  a little forward, I guess."
   "Humph," grunted Heather.  "That's an understatement.  If anyone ever
catches wind of her little escapades, the whole group of us flower girls
will get kicked out of here for sure."
   "That kind of sucks," I said.
   "Yeah...  she does, and that's the problem."
   I looked at Heather, trying to see if she was being serious or trying
make a joke, relieved when she finally burst out laughing.
   "Sorry," she giggled.
   "You got me," I confessed.  "Take me away, I think it's time for me to
go."
   Heather laughed with me, pretending to throw a pair of handcuffs around
my wrists, but to my dismay she got up to leave, once again giving me a
long look down her shirt as she stood.
   "Are you sure you don't want...  those flowers you bought?" she asked.
   "Nah, consider the money a donation to a good cause," I said, waving my
hand dismissively.
   "Thanks," Heather said brightly.  She paused for a moment, reaching into
her basket to retrieve a card.  "I'm going to give you this," she
practically shouted, and I wondered if she was speaking loudly for my
benefit or someone else's.  Maybe trying to convince whoever might be her
boss that giving me her card was on the up and up, and not some attempt to
push her petals, as she had put it.  "It's good for two free flowers should
you ever change your mind."
   "That's really okay," I said, but she insisted, pushing the card into my
hand.
   "Take it," she said.  "Just in case."
   "Alright," I said.  "Thanks."
   "You're welcome," she said.  Heather picked up her basket and started
looking over the other bar patrons.  "Sorry," she apologized.  "I've got to
work.  If my regular customers don't see me, they'll start buying from
another girl."
   "I understand," I said.  "It was good to meet you, and it was fun
talking to you."
   "Me too," Heather nodded.  "Don't lose the card," she reminded me.
   "I won't," I replied.  I watched her ass sway underneath her short skirt
as she walked away, feeling my prick once more swell with arousal.  I kept
my eyes on Heather's retreating form until she turned the corner and walked
out of my view.  I decided that one drink was enough for the evening and
stood to go, palming her card as I put on my coat.
   Wondering what she could have written I turned it over.  Her writing was
curvy and hard to read in the dim bar light, but when I finally made out
her words my heart skipped a beat.
   "Call me," she had written, and underneath her short message had
included her phone number.
   Lose the card?  There was no way that would happen.  I slipped the card
into my wallet and practically skipped home, feeling as high as a kite over
my good fortune.
   *****
   Of course all my good feelings and happiness evaporated in a second the
next morning when I walked into the music offices.  Dr.  Bergerud's normal
secretary was a nice middle-aged woman named Estelle, but she had been
replaced - or so it seemed - by a severe woman named Ms.  Janet Parker.
   "Where's Estelle?" I asked when the professor called me into his office.
The new secretary, although my office was only one door down, had
scrutinized me for what seemed an inordinately long period of time before
allowing me into the professor's office, where Dr.  Bergerud sat slumped
behind his desk.
   "She's taking a few weeks off," the professor sighed and I noticed he
looked haggard, far more tired than he normally did.
   "What happened?"
   "Seems she slipped and fell in her kitchen last night and...  no, she
didn't break her hip," he interrupted, seeing my look of concern.  "But
she's in a lot of pain."
   "You seem kind of blue," I ventured, thinking I knew the reason why.
   "Oh God.  Don't get me started.  The Nazi in the next room has been
reorganizing since she got here.  I'm afraid to go out of my office."
   "Come on," I laughed.  "She can't be that bad!"
   "You want to bet?" he countered.  "That woman scares me."
   I shook my head as I left his office, nodding to the new secretary as I
passed.  I was almost to the door of my own office when I heard the woman's
voice call after me.
   "Mr.  Parker," she said, her voice overly loud in the quiet of the early
Wednesday morning.  "You'll see a few projects I put on your desk.  I think
they'll help you out of the mess you seem to be in.  Have them back to me
by noon."
   Mess?  What kind of a mess was I in?  I groaned when I saw the pile of
papers on my desk.  Apparently Dr.  Bergerud hadn't been kidding.  The new
secretary was demanding progress reports and updated student information on
the entire student file Estelle had kept.
   "Are you serious about this?" I asked as I walked back to the reception
area.  "A lot of these students don't go here anymore.  Estelle just kept
them on file for some reason."
   "Then they should be thrown out," she sniffed.  "And you should refer to
her as Mrs.  Larson.  I believe you owe her that courtesy."
   "I'm sorry Janet.  She always asked us to call her Estelle.  And you can
call me Dan."
   "I would prefer to call you Mr.  Parker, if you don't mind.  And you
will definitely refer to me as Ms.  Parker.  Not Mrs.  or Miss," she
sniffed.
   "Sorry," I said, raising my hands in surrender as I backed out of her
area.  "I'll get right on that paperwork."
   I shook my head as I walked past Dr.  Bergerud's office, wondering how
long Estelle...  Mrs.  Larson would be gone.  I could here the professor
laughing at me as I passed.
   "I told you," I heard him whisper as he gently shut the door.  "She's a
Nazi."
   As the day progressed I had never been so glad for classes to roll
around.  I generally didn't sit in on a lot of the professor's classes,
choosing instead to catch up on the paper correcting assignments I had been
given or to work on my own projects.  This particular day was different,
and simply escaping the glaring face of the new secretary was reward
enough, even if it meant subjecting myself to asinine questions from the
freshmen.
   "What do you say we get a drink?" Dr.  Bergerud asked at the end of the
day.  He slapped me on the back as I let out an overly dramatic sigh of
weariness.  "I think we've both earned it," he laughed.
   "Jesus!  You weren't kidding about the new lady.  How long before
Estelle is back?"
   "I called her this afternoon.  I begged and pleaded.  I promised that if
she hurried back we would both wait on her, hand and foot."
   "Damn right," I muttered.  "She wouldn't even need to do any work, just
as long as Ms.  Parker is gone."
   "That's what I said," Dr.  Bergerud laughed.
   "Well?" I asked.  "When is she coming back?"
   "Two more days," he replied.
   "Well...  that's not too bad."
   "Yeah, but you're not in tomorrow."
   "Lucky me," I grinned.
   "So what about that drink?" he repeated.  I didn't normally go out
except on Tuesdays, but tonight seemed to be a good exception.
   "I'll buy you that drink if you drive," I offered.
   "You're on.  Where do you want to go?"
   "How about Pablo's?" I asked casually.
   "Ugh...  is that the rat hole place you students normally hang out?"
   "Yeah, but they make a great Long Island iced tea," I said, knowing it
was his favorite drink.  It only took a few seconds for him to come to his
decision.
   "I suppose we could go after all," he agreed.  "I'm sure the place isn't
all that bad."
   "It's not," I laughed, thinking of Heather and the rest of the flower
girls.  "I'm sure you'll enjoy the scenery."
   "What do you mean?" he asked.
   "Just wait," I said.  "You'll see."
   The two of us walked down the hall towards the parking lot.
   After the short drive to Pablo's, I couldn't help myself and scanned the
bar as we were seated, searching for Heather's mane of auburn hair.  I
didn't even know if she worked on Wednesdays, since the only days I'd been
there since we first met was my usual Tuesday and the one weekend with my
friends.
   "Looking for someone?" Dr.  Bergerud asked after our waitress brought
our drinks to the table we were sitting at.  He took a sip of his drink
before turning, craning his neck to see where I was looking.
   "Nah," I shrugged.  "Well, I mean I am, but it's no big deal."
   "Oh," he smiled, taking another sip.  "So...  who is she?"
   "What?"
   "Who's the girl?"
   "I...  I don't know what...  how did you know?" I asked.
   "It's pretty obvious," he laughed.  "You should really see yourself when
you don't think anyone is watching you."
   "What do you mean?"
   "Oh, your face lights up and you get...  you get this look in your eye
as if you're thinking about diving into a swimming pool full of naked
women."
   "Professor!" I laughed.  I had known Dr.  Bergerud for my entire college
career, but had never heard him talk so freely.
   "What?" he asked.  "Can't a guy have a fantasy?"
   I sputtered for a moment, unsure of what to say.
   "It's just...  I've never seen you like this," I finally managed.
   "Oh...  I think there's a lot about me you've never seen," he said.
   "What do you mean?"
   "Nothing.  Forget I said anything," he reflected my question.  "But
seriously, who's the girl?"
   "Her name's Heather," I said.
   "Does she work here or something?  Or does she just drink a lot?"
   "She works here.  But I've only really seen her here on Tuesday nights,"
I said.  Dr.  Bergerud nodded.  He knew about the one night a week I gave
myself to unwind.  "And I've never seen her drink at work."
   "Is she cute?" he grinned.
   "Oh man...  the cutest."
   "How long have you two been going out?" he asked, looking around for our
waitress.  I was surprised to see his glass was already empty.  He flagged
down our server as I continued.
   "We're not.  Not really."
   "You're not even dating and you're mooning over her like this?" he
laughed.  "This girl has you whipped."
   "Does not," I answered.  "We're...  I'm going to give her a call later.
She gave me her number last night and I was kind of hoping to see her."
   The professor nodded sagely as I told of how we had met.  I paused as
our waitress returned with another drink for the professor.
   "Do you know if Heather is working tonight?" I asked.
   "I don't know any Heather," the girl answered, shrugging her shoulders.
   "Oh.  She doesn't really work for the bar.  I mean, she's not a
waitress," I explained, as she appeared ready to turn and leave.  "She's
one of the girls who sells flowers.  I've seen her around on Tuesday
nights, but I don't see her right now."
   "I don't know," the girl said.
   "Can you find out?" I asked.  The girl sighed but nodded.
   "I suppose," she said, shaking her head as she walked away.
   It wasn't but a few minutes before I felt a pair of breasts press up
against the back of my head.
   "Anything I can help you with, honey?" a sultry voice whispered in my
ear and I saw Dr.  Bergerud's eyes widen as he caught a glimpse of whoever
was behind me.
   "I don't think so," I started to say, but was cut off as I turned my
head and found my face pressed between the twin mounds of this unknown
woman's cleavage.
   "You just stay right there, and Michelle will give you anything you
want," the voice continued.  I pulled away quickly, blushing as she laughed
at me.
   "Hi," I finally managed, the image of Michelle on her knees giving a
blowjob to my friend crystal clear in my mind.  "What do you want?"
   "I heard you were looking for Heather, and thought maybe you wanted a
real woman."
   "No, I'm looking for Heather," I said as both Dr.  Bergerud and Michelle
started laughing at me.  "What?"
   "You're cute," Michelle said.  I looked at the professor, expecting him
to be mildly outraged, but to my surprise his embarrassment appeared not to
mirror my own.  Instead a thoughtful look flashed over his features as if
he was going over something in his head.
   "What are you selling?" he suddenly asked.
   "Roses," Michelle answered.  I was suddenly forgotten as she walked
around the corner of the table, presenting her basket of flowers to Dr. 
Bergerud.
   "They're nice," he said.  "What else are you selling?" he asked, rather
more loudly than I thought was necessary.
   Michelle noticed immediately too.  She bent over and began to whisper in
his ear, softly enough so that I was unable to hear her words.  As she bent
at the waist to speak into his ear her skirt rode up her thighs, higher and
higher until the very bottoms of her panties peeked out from under the
skirt's hem.
   "Is that what you were looking to buy?" she asked, and I could only
imagine the view Dr.  Bergerud had down Michelle's loose shirt.
   "What I could really use right now is a sloppy wet blowjob, but your
prices are kind of high," Dr.  Bergerud said, his voice easily audible in
the suddenly quiet bar.  I saw an older couple two tables over turn at the
sound of his voice, shocked expressions on their faces.  Michelle jumped
back as if she had been slapped.
   "What?" she stammered, looking around nervously as she realized she was
being watched.  Her hands went to her skirt as she pushed it down under the
guise of smoothing the bunched material.
   "I want you to suck my dick," he repeated loudly, grinning as the
previously confident girl looked around in confusion.
   "Shut up," she hissed before standing up straight.  "I don't do that
sort of thing," she huffed loudly, now playing to the crowd.  Grabbing her
basket of flowers the thoroughly cowed Michelle stalked away, shooting
daggers back at us as she moved to a table at the far end of the bar.
   "Need a refill?" Dr.  Bergerud asked me calmly and I stared at him as he
sat there sipping his drink, seemingly nonplussed by the entire situation.
   "I'm good," I said.  "What was that all about?"
   "I was just trying to get rid of the little tramp," Dr.  Bergerud
chuckled.  "Seems like it worked, don't you think?"
   "But...  what did she say to you?"
   "Oh, she just mentioned as to how if I happened to wander into the
bathroom there was a possibility she might be willing to perform some... 
favors for me.  For a price."
   "And?"
   "As pretty as she was, I thought her asking price was a bit too steep."
   "Wow.  Well...  thanks.  I know Heather has a problem with Michelle. 
She's mentioned being worried about all the flower girls losing their jobs
if anyone finds out about those...  extracurricular activities."
   "It was no problem," he laughed.  "Now why don't you tell me about
Heather."
   "There's not really that much to say, really," I shrugged.  "I saw her
for the first time here in the bar."
   "When?"
   "I don't know, a week or so?"
   "And...?"
   "And I think I'm smitten!" I answered truthfully, frowning when my
professor burst into laughter.  "What?" I asked, applying the appropriately
hurt expression to my face.  "What's so funny?"
   "You're smitten?" he mocked.  "Smitten?  Who says smitten anymore?"
   "I did," I huffed.  "Why?"
   "Nothing.  Just sounded a bit old-fashioned to this old man."
   "Yeah, well...  be that as it may, I'm smitten."
   "Wonderful," he grinned "I'm glad you're smitten.  Now tell me about the
girl."
   "Heather," I corrected.
   "Fine, tell me about Heather."
   "What's to say?" I asked.  "I bought a couple flowers from her a couple
Tuesdays ago, and I thought there was a spark of something.  I know I liked
her, and it seemed like she thought I was okay too."
   "But she's a saleswoman," the professor pointed out, raising his eyebrow
skeptically.
   "Well, yeah, of course she is," I countered.  "But.  But over homecoming
I came in with Bobby and Pete, and..."
   "They're still in town?" the professor asked.
   "No, they came back for the game.  Anyway, we came in and Bobby kind of
caused a little scene with one of the girls."
   "The one from tonight?" he asked.
   "Yeah," I admitted.  "He...  well, he didn't think her prices were too
high."
   "Ah.." the professor nodded.  "I understand."
   "But anyway!" I said, beginning to get exasperated, wondering if I would
ever get the story told.  "That's not the worst part.  He can do what he
wants, but then Pete got a little too frisky and Heather got pissed.  It
was kind of ugly, so I left.  I went in last night and there she was, and I
did the typical guy thing and apologized for my friends.  She seemed pretty
gracious about it after she decided I wasn't just trying to get her into
bed."
   "Are you?"
   "No!  I mean...  not right now," I grinned.  "I didn't even know her
name until last night, I thought it was pretty cool," I said, reaching into
my slacks and pulling out her card, "when she gave me this." I held it up
triumphantly, just out of his reach.
   "What is it?" the professor asked.  "Looks like a business card."
   "It is a business card," I said.  "And it entitles me to two free
flowers." I explained what had gone on as far as my apology from the
weekend.  "But better yet is this," I said, flipping the card over.
   "What's that?"
   "Her phone number," I crowed.  "She gave me her number.  In fact, she
was adamant that I take it.  And that I be careful not to lose it.  So I'm
careful," I said, putting it back in my pocket.  "I keep it with the rest
of my valuables, other stuff I wouldn't want to lose."
   "By the family jewels?" the professor laughed while I tried to look
horrified.  I'd never heard him talk like this, but I suppose we hadn't
gone out drinking too often during my undergrad days.
   "I was thinking more along the lines of my car keys and wallet," I
huffed.
   "Fair enough," he laughed, tilting his head back to drain the last of
his drink.  "I should be heading out," he said.  "My nerves are soothed
enough, so I think I'm over the force of nature that is Janet."
   "You mean Ms.  Parker, I believe?" I asked, tightening my voice to
approximate the woman's thin, shrill voice.
   "Oh God, don't do that," Dr.  Bergerud admonished me as he put on his
coat and readied himself to leave.
   "Sorry."
   "Yeah, sure you are.  You don't have to put up with her tomorrow."
   "Don't worry though, I'll be thinking of you as I lounge around my
apartment."
   "Sure you will," he laughed.  He reached the door but turned back just
before he left the bar.  "You're going to call this girl, right?" he asked.
   "Of course I am," I said.  "I have it all planned out."
   "What, something like dinner and a movie?" he scoffed.
   "Of course not," I huffed.  Of course, dinner and a movie was exactly
what I'd been thinking, but still...  it wouldn't do to let him do that,
now would it?  "Something much more elaborate than that," I said.
   "Good," he nodded.  "See you on Thursday."
   "Have a good night," I waved, watching as he pushed the door out into
the chilly evening air.  I turned back to my drink, trying to figure out
what Heather and I could do.  I thought about it, but nothing seemed to
come.  Finally, after another drink I gave up and headed home myself.
   I figured it would be okay to do what a large percentage of all males -
and all great jazz musicians - have done for years.
   I would just improvise.
   End Chapter 2
  
Rose2