The Incident at the Dean's Reception

1,347 words

THE INCIDENT AT THE DEAN’S RECEPTION

Rudolfo was not really drunk, although he was careless about alcohol, and he did not always speak discreetly around strangers, especially beautiful women.  Of course, he saw no reason why he should not drink whatever and as much as he pleased, and no reason why he should pay mind to his tongue.  He was out of his father’s house, but still within the reach of his parent’s generous checkbook.  That is to say, his father had urged him to leave, and was prepared to ease the son’s exile with whatever luxuries golden credit cards provide.
    So it was that Rudolfo bade a fond farewell to Lili, Undine and the rest.  There was a wonderful party around the pool of his house near the capital city, and another, with Lotus and Iris and many old girlfriends, at his parents’ lakeside home.  He had promised the tearful females that he would miss them, and so he did.  He knew that he must find someone—or two—to comfort him during his exile. 
      Rudolfo was settling down at Lakeside University.  His graduate studies at the Bernard L. Madoff Graduate School of Business had scarcely begun.  He had been successful in staying out of trouble, he was attending the third party of the weekend, liquor and food were abundant, and here in front of him was the queen of his dreams.
    The beautiful Patti Ann had never been, of course, the queen of anything more than an undergraduate honors seminar, and nowadays she reigned (Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons) over the reception desk of the Business School.  Rudolfo had not noticed her there; he had no interest in the working class.  But when he saw her at Dean Goodfellow’s annual get-together for faculty, staff and students, he recognized that she had poise, breeding, and good looks to match his own.
    She was tall, so tall that the top of his blond head would tickle her adorable chin as they danced.  His face would nestle against the ample convexity of her breasts, and he would inhale the fragrance of her flawless white skin.  Later, when they were alone, as the mutual seduction progressed (and was he not already seduced?), he would disarrange the shining gold hair; he would drown in the depths of her aqua eyes.  Finally, he would use his skill, his tenderness, and his ardor to carry them both to the heights of passion, whence they would plunge into the cool depths of fulfillment.  Wagner, he decided, would provide the appropriate music, and later, perhaps, Mahler.
    Her escort had left her.  The fool, a teaching assistant of business statistics, had slouched off to watch the football game being broadcast in the next room.  These strange North Americans!  How could a man prefer television to the company of this Brunnhilde?  She was alone, and he approached.
    “Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said as she turned toward him.  “I am Rudolfo de Boladorada von Brunnen, and I must tell you that you are the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen.”
    “Oh,” she said, “Hi there.  I’m Patti Ann Mangiamosca.  I’m afraid I didn’t get your name?”
    They began to chat.  The conversation was not profound. On her part, she seemed to prefer talking about, of all things, science.  He did not mind, he told himself.  After all, his obvious charm and handsome demeanor might be superficial, disguising murky depths of villainy.  It was up to him to introduce personal subjects. He assured her of his sincerity, his respectability, his financial standing.  Patti Ann sighed, elevating her enchanting bosom.
    “Sorry, I didn’t hear that last part.  With midterm exams coming up, it’s hard to concentrate on anything but physics.  I shouldn’t enroll for eighteen hours and hold a job, too.  What did you say your name is?”  She was looking over his shoulder, scanning the room.
    “Rudolfo.  Rudolfo von Brunnen.  May I tell you again that you are the most beautiful woman in the room?  Do you like to swim?  I have leased a house with a most adequate pool.”
    “Mmhmm.  Have you seen my date?  I really do need to leave early.”  She shifted to look around him, and the movement stirred the aroma of a familiar scent.  (He recognized it at once, naturally; it was a perfume as famous for its cost as for its fragrance.  He had presented it to all of his girls back home.)
    Rudolfo talked.  He moved frequently, hopping to interpose himself between those aqua eyes and whatever she was seeking across the room.  At one point, he seized her arm as she was turning away, but withdrew his hand quickly when she flinched.  He told her about himself: the summers in England’s Lake Country, his medals for diving. He mentioned his father and mother, the pilgrimage to the waters of the ancestral home in Bavaria, the ranch by the lake in Michoacan, the irrigated acres of tomatoes in Sinaloa. 
    “Your father is a farmer?”  She smiled, and he wondered what she found amusing.
    “No, no, no!  We hire people from your agricultural university to do that for us.  My parents have the house on Lake Patzcuaro, and they keep a pied a terre in Mexico City.  I have a house in the Pedregal, with a pool landscaped to look like a pond in the forest.  Do you know Mexico?”
      “I went to Cancun for winter break, but I didn’t like it much.  Wait a minute.  Your parents live in Mexico.  But, isn’t your accent German?”
      “I prefer to think of myself as a citizen of the world.”
      “Well, Adolph, or whatever your name is, I’m very sorry, but it’s perfectly clear that we don’t have any friends in common, you don’t know anything about astronomy, and I have no interest in your business, whatever it really is.  You shouldn’t waste any more of your time.  But you seem to expect me to know who you are—you’re not a prince or anything, are you?”  A faint blush warmed her cheeks, and was there a trace of mockery in her eyes?  No, surely not.
      Every man, no matter how fortunate his life has been, learns to accept some disappointments.  Beauty must be balanced by imperfections, lest the gods be jealous.  As long as one could gaze upon the lovely Patti Ann, one could ignore her shallow mind, her inability to concentrate on important matters at hand.  Surely, she could be tutored.
      “My name is Rudolfo.” He said patiently. “Mexico does not recognize my family’s titles; we are exiles.  Do you like champagne?”          
      “Whatever.  Here, hold my drink while I go pee.  If we’re both lucky, maybe you’ll find someone else to talk to before I get back.”
      But he was still there, puzzled and annoyed, yet holding his temper in check, willing to give this irritating beauty one more chance.
      “My dear Patti Ann, do you understand who I am?”
      “Look.  I have tried to be polite, and I have been direct, and you just don’t get the message: I really don’t care to know you.  They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince, but I don’t intend to take a chance on you.  Why don’t you, like, disappear?”
      This time, he did.  One moment he was jumping up and down in front of her, and the next he was gone.
Patti Ann sighed.  The silly man had taken her drink with him.  Well, she’d call a cab, if her date wasn’t ready to leave.  As she stepped into the foyer, something damp, resilient and horrible smacked against her cheek.
A few moments later, Rudolfo was smiling vaguely at the teaching assistant and other party goers who crowded into the foyer.
      “Yes, I heard a woman scream, but no one was in the foyer—only this large frog.  Yes, she is a big one, I agree, but not slimy at all. Patti Ann?  Ah, Miss Mangiamosca.  I talked to her earlier.  Pretty girl, I thought.  Never mind the frog; I will be happy to take her away. I collect them, you see.  Please tell the Dean for me, it was a nice reception.”