The party

The directions were simple: go north on Duncan Street, and the party's at the 10th house on the left. At least they seemed simple, but Rock got confused by the mixture of condominiums and houses that were all exactly the same size. They were each two stories tall, no more than twenty feet wide and painted white, with black tile roofs.
They were packed together on tiny lawns, like the houses Rock remembered from the Hill in St. Louis. He counted ten, but no one answered when he knocked. Rock thought he might be a little early and decided to walk around the neighborhood for a while.
After his thirty-minute walk, during which Rock noticed every house was constructed and decorated the same as the ones on Duncan, he walked by the house and knocked again.
A slightly overweight but otherwise lovely, young brunette answered and invited Rock in. There were five other women in the front room, all of whom Rock assumed were students at the local college a couple of blocks away. It almost immediately occurred to Rock that he had never seen any of these women, though they seemed pleased he was there.
"Wait minute," Rock said. "Are we on Duncan Street?"
"No, we're not," the brunette said. "Duncan's a block that way. Are looking for the party?"
"I was, yes. I was looking for a party."
"Well, great, we're going there in just a minute. Why don't you come with us?"