Kurt rocked with the subway, lost in self-pity. Was he that much of a loser? Was he uglier than he thought? Did his breath smell? Or was it just that he wanted what he couldn't have? Did he set his sexual sights above his station? Had he been convinced by the media that he could date a model when his proper place in the sexual pecking order was trying to romance the stringy-haired girl with the lazy eye who always hid off in the corner at the Young Jewish Singles weekly Shabbat dinner?

He'd seen the lust of his life, or at least his month, at a club this evening. The best way he could describe her was to combine the best features of Rosario Dawson and that Dominican chick from "Heroes"; skin like coffee with cream, full lips, glistening black hair, that jaw line above a neck that begged for your lips... He could feel himself getting visibly excited and started thinking about baseball to prevent any unsightly bulges.

He was six-foot-nothing, neither scrawny nor muscular, neither fit nor fat, neither rich nor poor, neither strikingly handsome nor frighteningly ugly. His hair was so light brown it got sort of blonde in the summer. He wasn't even blonde or brunette. He wasn't really anything at all other than extremely, achingly in the middle. The only place he wasn't in the middle was that he was smarter than your average picnic basket. But in that too he somehow failed, being neither brilliant enough to change the world or average enough to fit in. He was in that middle ground where cool people looked at him like a geek and geeks looked at him like a wannabe.

The girl at the club hadn't even looked at him. She'd been dancing with two girlfriends, and when Kurt went up and introduced himself. Her girlfriends talked to him, but she just danced in her own little world, looking everywhere in the club but at him. Her name was Jennifer, her friends Sofia and Tania. He talked to them as a group, shouting over the music, not wanting to single her out, not be so goddamn obvious. Sofia and Tania would answer his questions, even asked him some. They were plenty friendly, but he wanted her and she wasn't biting. He couldn't tell if she was truly lost in the music or if she was truly, pointedly ignoring him. Either way, he eventually gave up.

He'd been at the club with friends and went back to their place to get his backpack before heading home. Tomorrow would be another day at the bottom of the totem pole on the agency's creative team for "Freedom White," a whitening toothpaste that gave half its profits to Amnesty International. His project in the morning would be figuring out how to tell the "Freedom White" story in a 3 inch square rectangle on the product's "environmentally conscious" packaging. It was almost Zen to contemplate a conscious toothpaste box, but that was the approved wording from on high.

Now on the subway, he was pissed he hadn't been more bold with Jennifer. What did he have to lose by moving between her friends and being obviously focused on her, requiring her to reject him rather than give up when she didn't openly accept him? The problem was that it just wasn't who he was. He wasn't that guy. He gave the excuse that he didn't want to impose himself upon others. But he suspected that by not being more shameless with his attentions, he was ensuring women didn't have to be more blatant with their rejections, saving embarrassment on both sides.

Kurt felt a force pushing him to the side, jogging him out of his thoughts. The train was stopping.

The doors opened and he was sure he was hallucinating. Jennifer and her friends got on. Talking and laughing, they didn't notice him, didn't seem to remember him from the club. They took a few seats against the wall, still engrossed in their private conversation.

"What are you waiting for," a voice shouted in his head. "This is too good to be coincidence. God's giving you a second chance. Go for it!!!"

Kurt walked down the wide aisle of the car until he was standing opposite the three. "Sofia, Tania, Jennifer," he said casually, "good to see you again."

It was as if they hadn't even heard their names. They kept chattering on as if he'd never said anything. He wanted to slink away, let the night be over, let these girls disappear. But the more overpowering thought was that for once in his 23 years of life, he didn't want to get home and think "If I'd only tried harder..." Better to curse himself for something he did wrong than something he didn't do at all.

Louder now, "Jennifer, hey." The three stopped and looked at him. In the glare of six headlights, he felt not only like a deer, but like a deer that had been shaved naked and doused with icewater. Yet somewhere within him he found the testosterone to continue. "You were at Static tonight, right?"

Jennifer and her friends eyed him. "Yeah," she said. "And you were the geek who tried to join us."

If Kurt had been armed, he probably would have pulled out a gun and shot himself in the head right there and then. "Gotta give you credit, though," she said, "you were the only one with the balls to try."

It sounded like a compliment, but still Kurt wanted to kill or be killed, just whatever would get him out of this amazingly uncomfortable situation.

Jennifer stood up. With a step, she was pretty much in his face. "But in the light, you're actually sort of cute. Particularly with that much blood in your cheeks, turning them so cherry red."

Kurt stood frozen as Jennifer kissed him on the cheek, then playfully grazed her teeth against it as if she were biting it. She moved around and planted her lips on his. It took a moment for the shock to disperse and the pleasure to register. When it did, he kissed back. She broke the kiss, pulled her head back and peered into his eyes, cocking her head as if searching for something in them. It took a few moments for her to find whatever she was seeking in his eyes, but she did find it, and then her lips were on his again.

Jennifer's hand came up behind his head, pulling him against her harder, and he felt a prick at the base of his skull, like he'd been stabbed with a thumbtack. He tried to pull back, but that only pressed the skin of his neck harder against the point.

The area around where he'd been pricked was quickly growing cold and numb, and the numbness was spreading, especially up the back of his head. He was no longer kissing Jennifer. She was kissing him. Her arm moved down from behind his head and went under his arm, propping him up as his knees went weak. He registered a mild surprise at the fact that she didn't struggle under his weight.

The numbness that crept up the back of his skull was in his limbs, his body wasn't responding. Jennifer's other hand went down to his crotch and started caressing. He could barely feel it. But to the other passengers on the subway, it must have looked pretty passionate.

The subway swayed to another halt. Kurt would have fallen down if Jennifer hadn't been holding him up. "Come on, lover" she said loudly, "let's get you home."

One of Jennifer's friends -- Sofia, Kurt thought, but the fog was deep enough that he couldn't be sure -- ducked a shoulder under his spare arm while Jennifer stayed under the one she was already supporting. The two lead him out of the train while the third followed. "Nawiheeyanawa," Kurt mumbled, the best protest he could muster.

As the girls pulled him across the platform and up the stairs, Jennifer or Sofia would go wide every few steps, swinging her leg out to kick his leg forward and make it look like he was making a feeble attempt to walk. Kurt tried as hard as he could to concentrate on making a protest, getting help. He was being drugged and kidnapped. This only happened in cheap spy movies. It didn't happen to normal people!

Reaching the street, Kurt saw a police car cruising by slowly. "Gawaagamooguhfuguh!" he shouted with as much energy as he could muster. The police car stopped and the driver shined a light on the four of them.

"Whadid he say," the cop asked.

"Sorry officer," Jennifer replied, smiling sweetly. "Our friend had a little too much to drink tonight. We're taking him home."

"Just get him off the street. Okay?"

"''Kay." Kurt could almost swear he saw a flock of butterflies come out of her mouth, the syllable was so laced with cuteness and sugar.

"Ahhhehsouee ayeeouayoo," Kurt said, instead of his intended "Arrest me! Take me to jail!" He tried for a shout, but he'd pretty much shot his wad with the first one that got the cops' attention. This one was just a notch above conversational in volume.

"And lay him on his side with a bucket next to the bed," the cop riding shotgun called out from behind his partner. "He's pretty far gone."

"You got it," Sofia shouted.

"Yup," Jennifer said to Kurt as the cops pulled away, "we definitely have to give you points for balls. But you're going to be a good boy now, aren't you? In fact you're feeling very sleepy."

Before Kurt could argue, he was out cold.