8 comments/ 24067 views/ 27 favorites Georgie Girl Ch. 01-03 By: coaster2 Author's Note: This story was edited by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks and appreciation. Any errors are mine alone. Previously posted on another site. ***** Chapter 1 Meeting Georgette My name is John Carter Smith. As I write this I'm a recent graduate in chemical engineering and self-employed. I didn't have to be self-employed, but the job offers and opportunities that I was presented with were all pretty much of the same kind. I'd be a miniscule cog in a giant wheel. I'd be engineering the control valve on a brewery vat, or the ideal viscosity of women's pump shampoo if I'd have accepted what was available. I had higher aspirations than that and I wanted the freedom to explore them. So I never really even considered them. Oh yes, I know we all have to start somewhere, and I shouldn't expect to be designing the answer to cleaning up the tar sands myself. I should be happy to have a job in this economy. Well, I don't see it that way and happily, I don't need to see it that way. I have my own ideas and I have an opportunity to develop them. So for the time being, I'm still working on something creative that I can call my own. Now, about this woman I have fallen in love with. Her name is Georgette desBiens Fulton. She's as American as apple pie, but her heritage, going way back, is part British and part French. Georgette is six years my senior. She's not exactly robbing the cradle, but that's a fair disparity for some people to swallow. How I met her and how we fell in love is an unusual story. I was attending college in San Francisco. I was raised in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where my mother, Marjean, and father, Carter, owned and operated a motel. Excuse me, a motor inn. We were a nice, middle class family living a nice middle class existence. I was a moderately good student with a specific ambition. I wanted to become an engineer. I had a concept for something truly worthwhile and I wanted to try and make that dream come true. More about that shortly. I was also a decent athlete. I skied, both snow and water, and ran some distance races in track. I was pretty good on snow, but probably only college team quality. I had one problem that I didn't realize until I was a junior in high school. I had a moderate learning disability. At first I was thought to be lazy. When I took various intelligence tests, I scored quite high numbers compared to expectations. My school marks didn't reflect my estimated I.Q. My school counselor, however, was a very bright and helpful man. Mr. Farnsworth suggested I do some testing with a research group at the University of Washington who were looking into learning problems. With my parents' support, I spent four days at the Seattle campus undergoing a number of tests. I didn't get the answers until the last day when they reviewed the results and handed me their evaluation. It turned out that I had what they called a "storage" problem. It was in my short term memory and made it more difficult for me to learn complex information and retain it without multiple repetitions. I had been compensating for this problem by going over and over my lessons several times until I absorbed enough to understand. I wasn't conscious of it being a problem. I just did what I had to do to cope. It wasn't possible for them to pin down the cause of the disorder, but I had adjusted to the problem over the years and the research group had no other suggestion than to keep on keepin' on. In other words, continue to adapt with repetition as the best way to learn. There was no drug or magic formula to cure this problem. The best I could do was to refine my study methods to concentrate on getting the core of what I was trying to learn and spend most of my time absorbing that. It struck me that I had been doing that very thing for the last ten years. I think my parents were relieved to know the cause of the problem and in fact, they expressed some pride that I had accomplished as much as I had without anyone's help. That made me feel quite good after years of being told I wasn't working hard enough. I knew my limitations and I could deal with them and they wouldn't prevent me from getting a good education and achieving my dream of becoming an engineer. I chose the college I would go to very carefully. I wanted to get the best education that would give me the best possible chance to achieve my goal. Geary Polytechnic wasn't a big "name" school, but rather a well respected one in the physical and social sciences. It was very lucky that my parents could afford to send me there for the four years it would take to earn my degree. I was beginning my junior year the first time I encountered Georgette Fulton. I had been invited to a sorority mixer by a part-time girlfriend. My studies didn't really allow me the luxury of a steady girl, but Virginia Kane and I had been "hanging out" for the past two years, becoming friends with benefits. I didn't belong to a fraternity but "Ginny" was a sorority girl and hence the invite. I liked Ginny, but she was on a very different path from mine and we had little in common other than the usual rampant sex drive that people of our age featured. She was attractive, but not spectacular. I was happy with our arrangement and she said she was too. Neither of us wanted to get involved in a committed relationship at this time. If we wanted to date someone else, we could without any jealousy or upset as long as we were honest about it. The mixer was an excuse for the female equivalent of a kegger except punch was the only drink offered. I had no doubt some vodka or gin would make an appearance at some point during the evening. Ginny and I had been going out since our freshman year and this was the first social of our junior year, so there were some new faces in the crowd. One of the new faces, at least to me, was Georgette. I was nursing a sickly sweet punch and wishing someone had indeed brought a keg, when a tall, very attractive woman moved toward us. I say woman because she was older than the rest of us. I wasn't sure how much older, but I guessed about five years or so. I wondered if she was a mature student, a chaperone, or maybe faculty. "Hello, I'm Georgette Fulton," she said with a lovely smile. "I'm John Smith, and this is Virginia Kane," I replied, sizing up this formidable female. "I don't recall seeing you here before," Ginny said. "I'm a graduate student and working on my doctoral thesis. I'm seldom around the sorority house. I have a residence nearby." "Oh, I see. So you were a member of Sigma Kappa Tau when you were an undergraduate?" Ginny asked. "Yes. I'm still on the mailing list, so I thought since I was in the neighborhood, I'd drop by and renew acquaintances and make some new ones." "What is the subject of your thesis?" I asked. "I'm working toward a Ph.D. in behavioral psychology. I'm examining the sexual development in educated North American males." "Oh," I said, thinking that her statement was a conversation stopper. "That must be fascinating," Ginny said engagingly while I cringed. "It is. I've tasked myself with doing exploratory interviews with both undergraduates and graduates. Perhaps you'd like to participate, John?" "Uhhm, well ... I don't really have a lot of time. I carry a full schedule in engineering and ... well ... I'm not sure I'd be the right kind of person for you." "Why do you think that," Georgette asked, not letting go of the subject. "Uhhm, well ... er ... I just wouldn't be," I stammered. "Sure you would, Johnny," Ginny piped up. "Thanks," I mumbled, not meaning it. "It's completely private and not time consuming. It would be a big help to me if you'd volunteer." "Go ahead, Johnny. You might not get a better chance," Ginny intervened again. A chance at what, I wondered. "I don't want you to feel pressured, John. Why don't I give you my card and you give me a call in a few days and we can discuss it again in private," Georgette said, obviously aware of the irritating effect Ginny was having on me. "Thanks," I smiled, relieved that the conversation could change to something less challenging. As Ginny and Georgette talked, I had a chance to look the woman over. We were pretty much eye-to-eye and I saw she was wearing something like three inch heels. That would make her about five-foot-ten to my six-foot-one I estimated. She was a dark blonde and her hair was cut fashionably short, displaying a natural curl. Her eyes were blue and her face was quite striking, with slim lips, bright, even teeth, a strong chin and an aquiline nose. Very attractive and distinctive. Her body was bigger than normal and I guessed her weight to be more than a hundred and fifty pounds. She was wearing snug jeans and a cotton pullover top in bright blue. She was a full-bodied woman in every respect, including her breasts and her butt. Yes, she was all woman, well built and very appealing to my youthful hormones. She was also out of my league. I snapped out of my mental meandering when I realized I had missed a question she had asked. "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming," I admitted. That brought a frown from Ginny and a smile from Georgette. "Oh ... what about," the woman teased as if she didn't know. I'm sure I turned beet red at the direct question and my guilt might as well have been written in capital letters on my forehead. "Ah ... er ... oh, nothing much," I stumbled awkwardly. "I'll bet," Ginny said with no change in her disapproving expression. "It's all right, Virginia, I'm used to it," Georgette laughed lightly. I bet she was, too. This was a woman who dominated the people around her, both male and female. "So what were you asking me?" I asked, hoping to rescue myself. "I was asking if you lived in a dorm or a fraternity house." "Neither. I share an apartment with three other guys just off campus. We're all pretty serious students so I don't have to put up with the noise and distractions in a dormitory or fraternity house." She nodded understanding. "I did the same thing, but by myself." "You're lucky you could afford that," Ginny said. "I was. I had an academic scholarship and support from my family. It covered my costs for both my undergraduate and master's living expenses. I've almost used all my time up now, so I'm working hard to keep my doctorate in sight." "So, what's your plan when you are granted a Ph.D.?" I asked. "I'm not completely sure, but I'm thinking I might open my own private practice. I would specialize in social behavior disorders, particularly sexual." "Hence the subject of the thesis," I suggested. "Exactly," she smiled. "Isn't that a very narrow field?" Ginny asked. "Not as much as you'd think. I'm pretty confident that I'd be able to support my practice without having to rely on being a marriage counselor." We chatted for a few more minutes as Georgette asked us about ourselves and what our ambitions were. Ginny was focused on interior design and in particular, geriatric ergonomics. Her special interest was in housing and care facilities design. With our aging population, she was sure there would be a call for her services. I was asked about my ambitions and I hedged my answers, not wanting to sound like I had no clear idea of my future or what I might want to do. Georgette was quite specific with her questions and I could tell she would be good at getting the most out of an interview. She knew how to ask questions and get pertinent answers. I suspected she would be able to recognize bullshit when she heard it. "I have some thoughts about water treatment," I finally admitted. "It's the most valuable commodity on earth and it's in short supply ... just as it is here in California." "I assume you're talking about potable water," Georgette said, showing that she was paying attention. "Yes. There are already companies manufacturing portable systems for desalinization and decontamination. I have some ideas about making a similar system smaller, cheaper, and more portable again. They are only just ideas, mind you, but I want a chance to develop them." "So ... you need a sponsor," Georgette suggested. "Yes, exactly. I've sent out a prospectus to potential investors but so far no responses. I'm not discouraged. I really don't have a finished design for my concept, so that takes priority." There was something about the look in Georgette's eyes that caught my attention. She was concentrating on what I was saying and not just paying polite attention to me. She was genuinely interested in my comments. That was something I didn't expect. "Where do you see this concept being used?" she asked, her eyes focused on me intently. "Third world countries for sure, but I can see applications in North America too. The central plains are full of alkali contaminated water that could be made usable for crops, animals and human habitation. It would make barren land worth something to farm as well as live upon." "How would you power these systems? With a generator?" she asked. Her gaze remained intense and I was impressed that she was so interested in my concept. "For the time being, it requires electric power to run. I'm trying to keep the input power requirements flexible, so it can run off the grid or from battery, solar, or wind power." "That sounds like a very worthwhile objective, John. I hope you get an opportunity to develop your ideas." "Thanks. I've got two more years of school before I'm qualified, but I want to get a head start on my plan." "That's very ambitious," she said. "I think that's a very good plan, too." I cast a glance at Ginny and noticed she had lost interest in the conversation and was looking around the room for an escape route or someone else to talk to. Georgette must have noticed too. "I didn't mean to monopolize the conversation, so please excuse me. Give me a call sometime next week, John. I have some contacts in the venture capital business and I really would like to interview you." Well, there it was, the bait in front of the hook. I help you and you help me. Decision time. "I'll give it some thought, Georgette," I smiled, hoping we had concluded our conversation. "You do that, John. We may be able to help each other," she said seriously. "My apologies, Virginia. I didn't mean to monopolize your boyfriend like this." "No problem," Ginny said, not meaning a word of it. I was pretty sure Georgette picked up on that as well. "Jeez, Johnny, do you think she could have been more obvious?" Ginny snapped as she watched the big woman move toward another group. "Obvious about what?" "Well, duh! I'm surprised she didn't grope your crotch to see what size you were." "Oh come on, Ginny. The only thing she's interested in is getting her thesis done and earning her doctorate. She's way out of my league anyway." Ginny was shaking her head with a look of disgust, possibly mock, but possibly real too. "Just what would make you think she was interested in me for any other reason than her research?" "The way she looked at you, for one. She was damn near licking her lips at one point. Trust me, she was interested in more than just an interview." I shook my head in denial. It wasn't rational. She was clearly a woman who could command much more than a schoolboy to attend her. I rejected the idea immediately. I imagine that would cause you to wonder why I called her the following Thursday. "Uhhm ... Hi Georgette ... it's John Smith calling," I said, very unsure of myself. "Oh, hello, John. So good of you to call. Can I assume you're willing to allow me to interview you?" "Uhhm ... well ... I'd like to discuss it first. Do you mind?" "No ... of course not. Why don't you and I meet at a place of your choice?" "Sure. Some place private ... if that's okay?" "Well then, my apartment is probably best. We won't be interrupted or overheard here." I thought about it for a moment or two before realizing I didn't have a better alternative. "Okay then, your place. When?" "What's convenient for you? I'm available anytime." "Uhhm, Saturday afternoon okay?" "That's fine. How about two o'clock? Will that work?" "Yeah. Two o'clock. It's the address on your card, right?" "Yes," she chuckled softly. "I'll look forward to seeing you then, John." At one-fifty-five on Saturday afternoon I was looking at her card and the imposing building in front of me. It was an unusual structure for this area. It was a stone and brick building and it looked like it had been around since the late nineteenth century. It didn't look like an apartment building at all, but more like a mansion that had been converted. There were four doors spaced more or less evenly along a wide wooden front porch and Georgette's was number three. I walked up the steep stairs to the front porch and turned the tab on the old bell mounted in the door. It was quite loud, so I was sure she could hear it. She appeared at the window in the door quite quickly and, confirming it was me, opened it. "Hi, John. Come in, please. You're right on time. Thank you for that." "You're welcome. This is quite an unusual apartment. Very unusual, in fact." "Yes, it is, isn't it? I love it. A little bit of luxury that am grateful for." As I looked about, I could see it was Victorian era in design and furnishings. The ceilings were twelve foot, I guessed. The baseboards, casings, wainscoting, and cove around the ceiling were all large and beautifully preserved. The furnishings all reflected the period as well. "I feel like I'm in a museum," I said as I gazed at the living room and dining room. "The Historic Preservation Commission won't let us touch a thing without permission," she said, following my wandering eyes. "Us?" "Yes, this building is owned by my grandmother now. It's been in the family since 1885. It survived the earthquake in '06, but was badly damaged. My great grandfather modernized it and converted it for several members of the family since most of their homes were destroyed. That's why it's quite an unusual configuration. You couldn't get away with this today." "So, it's four townhouses in a single structure then?" "That's right. Each one has a basement, a main floor and an upper floor. All three bedrooms are upstairs along with a single bathroom. This floor is living room, dining room, kitchen, mud room, and a second bathroom. The basement is just for the furnace and storage in my unit." "Amazing," I said as I gazed about the two large main floor rooms. "It's beautiful ... perfect in fact." "Yes. I'm very happy here and lucky there was room for me too." "Do you know the people in the other three units?" "Yes," she laughed. "They are all my family. "My mother and father live in number one, my maternal grandmother in unit two, and my uncle and aunt in number four." "All in the family then," I smiled. "All in the family," she agreed, returning my smile. "Would you care for some iced tea before we start?" "Uhhm ... no thanks, I'm fine. I just wanted to ask you some questions about the interview and get an idea of what you want to know." "I understand. Why don't you have a seat in the living room and ask away." I moved to a large wing chair and sat carefully, not sure of how sturdy these antiques might be. I needn't have worried. It was as solid as a rock. Georgette sat waiting for me to begin. "I was wondering ... about privacy," I began hesitantly. She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you are. Nothing that is talked about or goes on in the interviews or follow-ups is ever revealed. As far as my notes go, you are interview number ... twenty seven," she said, checking the front page of her folder. "So, it's like doctor-patient confidentiality then?" Georgie Girl Ch. 01-03 "Not quite," she said, "Doctor-Patient confidentiality is protected by law. Our conversations are protected only by my commitment not to reveal the identity of the subjects I interview. It's a matter of trust, really. And I want to emphasize that these are exploratory interviews only, designed to help me develop a questionnaire that would be used for my formal testing." Well, that was an honest answer. Now I had to go by instinct. "Okay. Uhhm, what kind of questions do you ask?" "Well, aside from the basics, I want to know about your sexual history and your personal views as they relate to your sexuality." "Won't some people lie? I mean ... so that they don't look bad or maybe ... weird?" "Yes, of course. But there are ways to pull the truth from the fabrications." "Don't you find this hard ... I mean, difficult. You're a woman and you're asking men some very personal questions." She had a slight smile on her lips as I quickly corrected myself. "It isn't easy, but I find once we get into it and the subject begins to relax a bit, the answers come more easily. I usually don't start out with difficult or highly personal questions. You need to have confidence that I'm not going to embarrass you or pass judgment on you." "Has anyone quit an interview? You know, got upset and just left?" "Yes ... a few times. Some men aren't ready for the kinds of questions I ask. Some don't want to reveal their personal beliefs or preferences." I found I was now sitting back in the big chair and a bit more relaxed. Georgette had a way about her that was so direct and open that it gave me confidence that she would be secure with any information she might get from me. I'm not sure why I felt that way, but I did. I decided to take a chance. After all, if I got in too deep, I could always end the interview. According to her, it wouldn't be the first time. "Okay, then," I said. "I'll trust you and will give it a try. I'm not sure why, but I guess I'm interested in the idea to begin with." "Good. I'm pleased. I'll try and make you as comfortable as possible." "When do you want to start?" "Anytime you are free. I'd like to have two hour segments so that neither of us is rushed and we can dig into subjects more thoroughly if we want to." "How many sessions does it take?" "That depends. Some interviews are completed in the first session, some can take two or even three sessions, depending on the man and how open he is willing to be." I nodded. Six hours at most. It was hard to imagine that there would be enough interest in my sex life to talk about for six hours, but who knows what might come up. That's six hours with a beautiful woman talking about sex. It could be very interesting. "Why don't we start next Saturday afternoon?" I suggested. "Excellent. I'll see you here at two o'clock then?" "Sure. Two o'clock. We'll see what happens. "So you're really going to do it?" Ginny asked in surprise. "Yeah. I thought it might be interesting. I can quit if it gets too hairy." "I bet you don't," she said emphatically. "Why do you think that?" "She's got you hooked and you just haven't figured it out yet." "Oh, come off it, Ginny. I told you, she's way too much for me. First of all she's older, and secondly she's clearly from a very wealthy family. Do you see me as a match for that?" "So what am I? On a scale of one-to-ten, where do I rank?" she challenged. Oh, shit. There is no right answer to that question. How far is up? "That's not fair, Ginny. I've told you a hundred times you're a 'ten,' so don't try and make me out to be the bad guy." "Chicken! I'll bet I'm a seven in your mind," she sneered. "No way. Do I act like you're a seven? Do you feel I don't think you're beautiful? You know better than that." She quit the interrogation but, I could see a look of doubt on her face that I hadn't seen before. I was wondering if she might be jealous of Georgette. She had no reason to be, but that was the implication I was getting. "Are you going to tell me about the interview afterwards?" she asked. "I don't know. I'm not sure what the questions are and how personal they might be. I won't lie to you, but I'm not sure what to expect, so why don't you wait until after the interview and we'll see." "I bet you don't tell me anything," she said sullenly. "Then that's a bet you'll lose. I promise I'll tell you at least something about what goes on. Remember, it's in strict confidence, so no one but Georgette and I know what questions are asked and how they are answered. If I tell you, can you guarantee that confidentiality?" "Sure. I won't tell anyone." "Unless of course you get mad at me and decide to get some payback for something I did or said." "You don't trust me?" "I don't have any reason not to trust you, but I have a feeling some of the questions are going to be very ... deep. Something I might not want to share." "Humph!" was her only reply. Chapter 2 The Interview Georgette greeted me at her front door. "Right on time, come in." "Thanks." "Iced tea ... or water?" "Uhhm, water's fine," I said, settling into the now familiar wing chair. She passed me a chilled plastic sixteen-ounce bottle of water and a glass. I placed them on two fancy ceramic coasters. "Thanks," I smiled as she put a glass of iced tea on a similar coaster on the opposite side of the small table and sat in the matching wing chair, almost facing me. "Are you comfortable?" I nodded that I was. "So ... let's start with the basics. Your height and weight?" "Six-one, one-eighty-five." "Date of birth?" "January 23rd, 1988." "Place of birth?" "Wenatchee, Washington. We moved to Coeur d'Alene when I was nine." "You've lived there until you came to San Francisco to go to college?" "Yes." "Your parents are both still alive?" "Yes." "Your grandparents?" "Yes, both sets." "Any chronic illnesses or permanent disabilities?" "Not physical ones." "Explain," she said looking at me carefully. "I have a minor learning disability. It's called a storage problem with my memory." "Short term or long term?" "Short term." She nodded her head knowingly. She had obviously heard of it. "What was your grade point average in your sophomore year?" "Three point six." "You've done well to overcome your problem. You must have found a way to adapt quite early on. Engineering courses are very demanding." I nodded. "Yes, I was diagnosed when I was sixteen and discovered I had been adapting all along by going over my lessons several times. It was slow and methodical, but it allowed me to progress." "Good for you. Congratulations," she smiled genuinely. "How do you manage during lectures?" I pulled out a small digital recorder. "It has a two hour capacity. I have two of them. The other one has four hour capacity." "Are you recording this session?" "Yes. I do it out of habit so that I can review and remember more easily." "There isn't any test at the end of the sessions," she grinned. "I'm just looking for honest answers." I nodded and put the small device back in my vest pocket. I did not shut it off. "So, now that I have the basic information about you, I'm going to ask you some questions about your sex life. How and when it started, frequency, number of partners ... that sort of thing. Are you comfortable?" "Yes, I think so. Go ahead." "Can you remember your first sexual experience? I don't necessarily mean intercourse." And so it began. Who was my first "conquest?" How old was I when I began to masturbate? What did my parents tell me about sex and my interaction with females? Did my grandparents and/or parents talk about sex openly? It took me a while to get completely comfortable and not embarrassed about the directness of the questions, but over the next hour it became somewhat easier. I had to search my memory for some of the answers and I had to search my genuine feelings for others. When the clock showed a few minutes past three, Georgette called a halt to the interview. "Let's take a break and relax. It's been pretty intense for you, I can tell. Are you okay so far?" "Yes. They aren't easy questions to answer, especially when I'm trying to answer something about my feelings or beliefs. I'm not sure I've told the absolute truth about some things." "Don't worry about that. It's natural to find that my probing is going to hit some sensitive areas. Just be as honest as you can and over time the facts will reveal themselves in one way or another." We sat and chatted about college life for a few minutes before Georgette suggested we get back to the interview. "Okay, now I want to ask some more personal questions. Don't be offended, please. They are all part of a pattern of knowledge that I am building. I'm not trying to upset you." I nodded, not knowing exactly what she might be alluding to. "I met Virginia, or Ginny as you refer to her. Is she your current girlfriend?" "Sort of," I said. "We aren't in a committed relationship. We can and she has, dated other men." "So, you have intercourse with her then?" "Yes." "How often?" I shrugged. "Maybe four or five times a month, sometimes more." "Does she have intercourse with other men?" "I guess so. I don't ask her about her dates." "How do you feel about that? You've implied that you don't date other women, but she dates other men." "It doesn't bother me. I don't date other women because I find I have to spend quite a bit of time keeping up with my classes, so I either don't have the time or the energy to chase other women." "If you did have the time ... say during the summer ... would you date other women?" "I haven't lately. I go home and work at the inn with my parents, so I keep busy there too." "If the opportunity presented itself, would you have sex with another woman?" "I'm not sure. Probably not." "Why?" I shrugged. "I guess I'm a one-woman-man. Or at least, one at a time." "But it doesn't bother you that Ginny isn't a one-man-woman?" "I don't think so." "You've told me that she and you are sexually compatible. You both enjoy vaginal, oral and anal sex on occasion. Is she a possible candidate for a life mate?" "No, I don't think so," I said almost immediately. "You answered that very quickly. What are your reasons?" "It's probably not one single thing, but a collection of little things. We can get on each other's nerves some times." "How so?" "Well, you didn't ask me, but she does talk about the other guys she dates. It makes me wonder if she talks about me." "That's not a little thing, John. Does she have women friends that she hangs out with?" "Oh sure. I know several of them. I've probably met most of them. She's from Nevada, so most of her girlfriends are from college." "How do they react to you?" "Okay, I guess. I don't see them coming on to me, if that's what you mean." "Are they comfortable with you being around when they are with Ginny?" "I don't know. I usually disappear when they show up in numbers." "It would be pretty unusual for Ginny not to talk about you to her friends. It's really a matter of just how much and what about." "Well, I haven't had any negative feedback, so I guess it's harmless talk." "Where do you have your private moments with Ginny?" "Mostly my apartment, her sorority house or sometimes when we are in her car." "I notice you rode here on your bike. Do you have a car?" "No, can't afford it right now. I'm hoping to buy one for my senior year. I'll be doing some field trips, so I'll need something to get me back and forth. If it didn't rain so much, I'd get a motorbike, but that's not practical around here." She sat back, tapping her index finger on her lower lip. I wondered if she realized just how sexy she was. I sure as hell did. I found myself slouching most of the time to hide the erection that came and went during our time together. I was pretty sure she had noticed, but I wasn't going to make it obvious if I could help it. "So, getting back to Ginny, what are the things that tell you she wouldn't be a candidate for Mrs. Smith?" "Our interests are different when it comes to things other than sex and food. I think differently than she does. I guess that's the potential engineer in me. I'm much more interested in world affairs and politics than she is. I like to problem solve and she gets frustrated easily by problems. She's very bright, but doesn't have much staying power when it comes to solving puzzles or problems." "Do you think she would be a faithful partner in a marriage?" I looked at Georgette, wondering where that question came from. I gave it some thought. "I'm not sure." "You have doubts about her?" "Every once in a while I catch her in a little lie that wasn't at all necessary. Little things like where she was or why she was late at one time or another. I don't understand why she would need to lie. We aren't committed to each other. But ... the truth is ... she lies. I think that's a deal-breaker for me." Georgette was nodding. "Did you tell her you knew she wasn't telling the truth when you discovered it? "No ... I didn't. I guess I just wanted to keep the peace and not get into a big fuss over what were small things. I couldn't figure out why she'd bother." "Let's move on to other things, then," she said. "I want to ask about your ideal woman. See if you can describe the woman that you would most like to have as a life partner. Describe her physically first, then tell me about her personality." Oh-oh, another question fraught with danger. How do I describe someone who looks exactly like her? "Is it something you haven't thought about before?" she asked. "Most men have an ideal woman in mind. Often a movie star or the like." "Uhhm ... well ... in some ways, I change my mind now and then. It kind of depends on the latest influence." "Okay, well tell me who the latest influence is then." Oh, shit. "Uhhm, actually ... it's you," I stumbled. "Oh," she said, blushing deeply. "Sorry ... didn't mean to upset you." "No ... you didn't upset me. Just surprised me ... with your honesty." "Oh ... well ... I guess I didn't hide my appreciation for you very well. You are a very beautiful woman." "Thank you, John," she said, still blushing from her breastbone to her cheeks. I don't think I'd ever seen a woman blush quite so dramatically. "I can't be the first guy to tell you that, surely." "No ... not the first. But ... now that I've got to know you a little bit, I know it was sincere. You don't throw compliments around freely." We were at an awkward point. I wanted to get back to what we set out to do that afternoon. "Why did you ask me that question about my ideal woman?" "I was trying to find out what values you had. What you thought was important, both physically and mentally, in a woman you would be interested in." "Well, I guess we've covered the physical part. I admire women who are tall, but not skinny, who could be athletic. I want to be seen with a woman that everyone can see is a woman." Georgette laughed. "You mean with big tits and a round ass?" "You said it, not me," I laughed along with her. "There's nothing unusual about that, John. That's kind of a universal wish that a majority of heterosexual men hold. So, I'll do as a physical model of your latest ideal woman?" "Without a doubt. I may not be changing my mind any time soon, either." "Okay, what about personality?" she asked, still chuckling at the last comment. "Well, you already know what I'm interested in, so I'd like a companion who at least is interested in some of the things I am. It doesn't have to be a one-to-one match all the way down the line, but at least a good portion of our interests should be shared." "Very logical and common. Not as easy to achieve as it is to describe. The other thing to remember is that some personality traits are more important than others. They aren't all weighted the same. What do you consider the most important?" "Hard to answer that," I said, thinking about the question. "Sometimes it would be intelligence, another time it would be honesty, and again it would be affection. If my mood swings back and forth as things occur in my life, then my partner has to be able to cope, just as I would to her shifts in mood. I guess you'd call that adaptability." "Yes, and that's really important too," she agreed. "Life doesn't go along in a straight line, day after day. It's full of dips and rises, some small and some large." We took another break at that point while Georgette refilled her iced tea and I took a small swig of water from the bottle. Conservatively dressed, she was wearing a knee-length navy blue skirt and short sleeved pale green blouse, buttoned up the front almost to the throat. Her black leather flats might have been slippers. There was very little sign of makeup and I once again realized just how naturally beautiful she was. "Just a few more questions to finish up, John. I was wondering if you had any thoughts of the frequency of intercourse that you would expect from a steady girlfriend or spouse?" "I'm only having sex about once a week right now, but I think I'd be happier with three or more times per week if I was in a permanent relationship." "How would you react to a woman that you fell in love with who didn't want sex with the same frequency as you? Perhaps she would be satisfied with less, but also might want more." "Well, if they weren't in reasonable balance, I could see that leading to frustration and might cause the breakup of the pair. It might also lead to cheating. One of the partners trying to compensate for the lack of sex from the other." "So, before you made a commitment, you would want to know just how sexual your partner was then?" "Yes, that's right. I know things can change over time, so you can't predict that an individual's sex drive is always going to be the same." "That's very perceptive of you," she said. "Women often find their sex drive decreases after childbirth, or as they age. Some men can't perform as well as they age. Weight gain and physical conditioning always play a role. Then there's job stress and a whole host of other pressures that can contribute to changes in sexual interest." I understood what she was saying and I had to agree that all those factors could play into how a relationship developed over time. "I think that's enough for today, John. You've been a super subject and if you can stand it, I'd like to do one more next Saturday. Would you agree to that?" "Sure. It's been interesting for me too. I think I'm finding out things about myself that I'd never really thought about." "Wonderful. I'm pleased to hear that. So I'll see you at the same time next Saturday?" "Sure. I'll be here." She saw me to the door and waited as I walked down the stairs to my bike. I unlocked it and looked up and saw her still standing at the door. I waved and she returned it as I mounted up and rode away. I had a strange feeling about the past two hours that I couldn't identify. Perhaps it was the sexual attraction of Georgette. Perhaps it was something else altogether. It only took me a few minutes to ride back to the apartment and, as I locked up my bike in the covered shed in the back, I remembered my cell phone and took it out of my pocket before turning it on. There was one message waiting for me and it was from Ginny. She wasn't feeling well and begged off our date for tonight. It wasn't a huge deal. We were going to go out to our usual pizza place for dinner and then back to my apartment. I would be on my own until Sunday afternoon. Two of my roommates were heading for Reno to have some fun, while the third was on his way to Los Angeles with his girlfriend to attend a USC football game. One of the few times I had the place to myself and Ginny had bailed. Just my luck. Georgie Girl Ch. 01-03 I decided to have my evening meal at Hashimoto's, my favorite Japanese restaurant. A Bento Box sounded just right, along with an Asahi beer. Ginny didn't like Japanese food, especially sushi, so I would take advantage of my freedom that evening. I decided to go early to beat the usual Saturday night crowd and I was seated just after six o'clock. I ordered a beer and told them not to rush my food order. I would probably have another beer during the meal. I did have that second beer and as usual, the food was excellent. They had never disappointed me. It was after seven when I walked out of the restaurant and almost immediately walked into Ginny. She was arm-in-arm with a guy I didn't recognize and she had a look of shock when she realized it was me. "Evening Ginny, glad to see you're feeling better," I said, nodding to the guy, and then walked to my bike. I didn't turn around to see the after effects of my encounter, but I imagine it caused her some upset. I was pissed. I had caught her in another of her little lies. Why bother? It wasn't like I didn't know she was dating other guys. All she had to do was to say she had another date and that would have been the end of it. Why lie? It put a sour note on what otherwise might have been a quiet evening at home watching TV or reading or even studying. In my head, I knew our time together was coming to an end. It was about trust, or the lack of it. As nice as it was to have a willing bed partner, I couldn't see us going any further. She didn't respect me, so it was time to part. I would look after that the next time I talked to her. Of course, that did raise the question of who might replace her. I hadn't been looking, so I didn't have any likely candidates. Perhaps when word got around that I had broken up with Ginny, I might get a few feelers from other girls. I wouldn't know for a while, though. Chapter 3 The Last Thing I Expected The more I thought about Ginny's lie, the more pissed I became. It wasn't like we were going out every weekend. I wasn't monopolizing her time. If she didn't want to be with me, why didn't she just say so? I could have handled that a lot better than what she was doing. I don't exactly know why I did what I did next, but I did it. I picked up the phone and dialed Georgette's number. I took a long-shot chance she would be home on a Saturday evening. If not, I could call her tomorrow. I thought, for some reason, she'd want to know what happened. I was surprised almost into silence when I heard her soft voice answer after the second ring. "Hello?" "Hi, Georgette. It's me, John Smith." "Oh, hello John. I didn't expect you to call this evening. Is there a problem?" "Uhhm, no ... I mean ... yes. I just thought you'd want to know. I caught Ginny in another lie tonight. I was supposed to go to dinner with her and she begged off saying she wasn't feeling well. I ran into her on the street a little while ago with another guy. I think maybe it's time to end it." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, John. She really doesn't understand how hurtful that is. Did she say anything?" "No, I didn't give her the chance. The next time I talk to her I'll let her know we are done." "I understand. Still, I feel bad for you. You two have been together for quite a while." "Two years," I sighed. "We met at freshman orientation. That's when it began." "I'm sorry about that, John. I'm sure that ruined your evening. We should talk about it when I see you next." "Wouldn't you know she picked the one night in the month when I'm the only one in the apartment for the weekend." "I don't know what to say, except I'm sure you'll find someone to replace her. You're a nice guy and girls are always looking for guys like you. Ginny may just have given a rival a clear shot at you," she chuckled. "Well, I can hope, can't I? Anyway, I'm not sure why I called you tonight and I'm sorry if I interrupted your evening for something so trivial, but I appreciate your talking to me. Thanks, Georgette." "You're welcome, John, and it wasn't any imposition at all. I'm glad you did call." When I hung up, I felt better for some reason. Perhaps because Georgette had confirmed my decision to dump Ginny. Just talking to her was a tonic. I flicked on the TV and sat down to begin channel surfing. I found some reruns of Big Bang Theory and settled down to laugh at Leonard, Raj and Howard while I ground my teeth at Sheldon, The Insufferable. Please tell me there aren't any real people like that. I was about half way through the second episode when my buzzer rang. I couldn't think who that would be unless Ginny had decided to come up and apologize. I hoped not. I wasn't ready to face her. "Hello?" "It's Georgette, John. Can I come up?" "Uhhm, oh ... sure. Come on up," I stumbled, pushing the door release button. I opened my apartment door to wait for her to arrive. We were on the second of three floors and there was no elevator, so she would be walking up the stairs at the end of the hall. "This is a surprise," I said as she approached. "I should have called, I guess," she apologized. "I didn't think. I just felt you could use some company tonight." "Come in, please. Let me take your coat." She was wearing the same clothes as she had during our afternoon session except that the next two buttons on her blouse were undone. She slipped off her shoes and left them by the hall closet. Again, with almost no makeup and little if any preparation time, she looked amazing. "Can I offer you something? I have some white wine and beer in the fridge." "What's an apartment with four guys living in it doing with white wine," she laughed. "A couple of my roommates' girlfriends are wine drinkers, so we have to keep some on hand for them. We might even have some red." "I'll have some red if you have it, or white if you don't, thank you." I moved quickly to the kitchen and checked the cupboard for what I hoped might be there. It was. A bottle of Napa Zin that was drinkable, if not vintage. I took a wine glass down and opened the bottle. I grabbed a mug and took a cold Anchor Steam out of the fridge before hustling back to the living room. "I must say," she said, looking around, "for a bachelor pad, this place is very neat and clean. I wouldn't have expected that." "Ah, guilt by association," I grinned as I passed her the glass of wine. "Not all of us are slobs. Actually, I'm a bit of a neat-freak, so I tend to clean up the place when I'm on my own. The three guys I live with a pretty good, in fact. This definitely isn't 'Animal House.'" "Cheers!" I said as I raised my mug. "This is a very nice surprise. I was settling in for an evening of sit-com reruns when you arrived." "So was I," she admitted. "I didn't expect to find you at home when I called. I was sure you'd be out on a date somewhere." She shook her head. "I don't date very much at all." I was about to ask "Why?" when I thought better of it. She didn't volunteer the information and so I chose to let her decide what I should or shouldn't know. There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Georgette spoke. "How are you coming with your studies so far this semester?" "Fine. I haven't run into any problems I couldn't get help on. I think that I've become accustomed to what I need to do to get by living here and going to school." "You said you went back home to work with your parents during the summer. What do you do there?" "I'm kind of an all-around handyman nowadays. Like my dad, I can do most electrical and plumbing repairs myself, so that saves them money on upkeep. I can work on the reception desk and fill in for mom or dad when they need a day off. Summers are the busiest time, so my being there is a real help. It keeps them from getting worn out." "You said you had an older sister and a younger brother. What do they do?" "My older sister, Mallory, is married and lives in Boise. They have a daughter and son, with another child on the way. My brother, Jared, is only sixteen and his duties are pretty much confined to cutting the lawns and picking up the trash. I'm trying to teach him some of the necessary things about maintenance and repairs, but I don't think it's in his blood to be much of a handyman. He's into photography and art and girls." "So you've become the necessary spare part during the summer," she grinned. "Yeah, that's me ... the spare part. I don't mind though. My parents are paying for my education and I owe them a lot for that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them." "Sounds like you have a close-knit family." "We do," I admitted. "I was thinking the same thing when you told me about your living arrangements." She nodded and smiled. "I'm very lucky. I live rent-free. My father is semi-retired and as he and my mother age, I want to be nearby to make sure they can cope. My grandmother is surprisingly spry for her age, but she's a little bit hard of hearing, so it's important we keep an eye on her too." "Are you an only child?" "Yes, unfortunately." I could see a wistful look in her eyes as she spoke. "I'll bet they're hoping for some grandchildren," I said before realizing just how uncalled-for that comment was. I was about to apologize when I saw her nod with a slight smile. Once again, there was an awkward pause. I had stepped into an area I didn't belong and didn't know how to retreat. "That was an unwarranted comment," I said. "I apologize." "No need, John. I know you didn't mean to offend. And you were right. My parents are waiting patiently for grandchildren." "But you don't date often, you said." Once more, I had wandered into a place I didn't belong. "Sorry," I said immediately. "Didn't mean to get so personal." Again she smiled. "It's all right, John. I don't mind your comments. I know you well enough that it isn't invasive or rude. You are curious about me, though." I nodded and sighed. "True. You are a bit of an enigma." "Let's leave that for another time," she said, still smiling. No harm done apparently. "Sure. I'll let you decide what you want me to know." We talked for over two hours. I told her about my growing up in Northern Idaho and she told me about growing up in San Francisco. I found she was easy to talk to and, as I had already discovered, an intent listener. We had a lot of values in common and although we didn't talk about it any more, I knew she didn't approve of Ginny and gave me the feeling I would be better off with someone else. When she decided it was time to go, she gave me a hug at the door and thanked me for my hospitality. I thanked her for coming over and spending the time with me. I genuinely enjoyed it. I was surprised at the unexpected familiarity, but pleased by it as well. I promised I would be on time for next week's session and we parted. Ginny didn't call on Sunday and I suspected she was trying to avoid me and a possible confrontation. It was the first time she would know she had been caught in a lie. I wondered what her story would be when she finally called. I got the answer to that on Thursday afternoon. She was waiting for me where I left my bike. "Hi, Johnny. Are we going to get together this weekend?" she asked boldly, showing no signs of regret or concern. I wonder if she knew how irritated she made me when she called me "Johnny." "No, I don't think so, Ginny. In fact, I think our time has come to an end." That seemed to be a huge surprise to her. "Why?" "I think you know perfectly well why," I said, looking her straight in the eyes. She couldn't hold my gaze and I could see her getting frustrated. "It was no big deal, Johnny. So I dated another guy. We always said we could ... you know ... no strings." "You lied to me, Ginny, and it wasn't the first time. If you'd lie to me about something like that, what else would you lie about?" I had thrown down the gauntlet and Ginny was quite prepared to pick it up. The argument got quite vocal for a short time. I named several instances when she hadn't told me the truth and she tried to gloss them over as meaningless. She didn't see any harm in telling me what she call "fibs" as the need arose. I disagreed strongly. In the end, I made sure she understood we were done and she left, angry that I had broken up with her for what she thought was no good reason. "Hi, Georgette, it's John." "Oh, Hi John. Are we still okay for Saturday?" "Yes ... absolutely. I just thought you would want to know what happened with Ginny." "Yes ... I am interested." "I guess to make a long story short, she didn't see anything wrong with lying to me and couldn't understand why I would be upset. I think she was putting on an act to keep from having to admit she'd done something wrong. I'd hate to think what would happen to some guy who married her and then found out about her personal values." "You're better off without that, John. I know for a fact you can do better." "We'll see. I don't think I'm going to be in any rush to replace her. It's a lot of work developing a relationship and I'm not sure I'm ready to do that all over again." "I understand how you feel. Are you all right about it, John? I mean, do you have regrets?" "Some. Not many. I know I wasn't in love with her, so it's not like it tore my heart out or anything. On the other hand, we were intimate and we did share things with each other. I guess I'm disappointed more than anything." "Cheer up, John. You'll be fine. You're resilient and young and you'll find someone better, I'm sure of it." "Thanks. I don't know why I felt I had to call you, but I really appreciate your listening to my tale of woe." "You aren't alone ... trust me ... you aren't alone." "Thanks again, Georgette. I'll see you Saturday." "Yes ... Saturday," she said softly. When I hung up, I wondered about her last comments. Was there something there that she was trying to tell me? And why did I feel compelled to call her? Was I developing some weird dependence on her support? I was almost treating her like a psychiatrist. We sat once more in the living room of the lovely fourplex and talked for a couple of minutes before Georgette began our second session. She had dressed differently this time and I was a bit surprised. She was wearing a snug v-necked pullover, a pair of tight jeans and was barefoot, just as she had been in my apartment. Between the sweater and the jeans, she was displaying all her physical assets to their maximum and not helping me concentrate at all. "I wanted to ask you first off about what you consider the most important thing when having intercourse," she began. Wow, right out of the chute. No fooling around with this girl. I pondered the question for a moment before answering. "I think the most important thing for me is to please my partner." "You didn't take much time to answer that question. Is it something you've thought about before?" "Uhhm ... I suppose I have. It's something I believe is my responsibility. Otherwise, I'd be selfish and my partner may not get any satisfaction from it." "How does that manifest itself? What do you do to insure your partner's satisfaction?" "Oh ... well ... foreplay. I don't want to rush anything, so I spend a lot of time on foreplay." "And do your partners appreciate that?" "Most of the time. Now and then Ginny would just want me to get her off, but usually I got good feedback from her." "And was that foreplay oral?" "Mostly. Sometimes I'd add my fingers." "And how did she tell you of her appreciation?" "Vocal. Ginny was pretty vocal." "What about your partners before you met Ginny?" "There was this one girl. She was summer help at the motel. She decided I was available and willing so we would get together when she was cleaning the rooms in the back and spend a few minutes there. She wasn't so much vocal and she used her body to react to what I was doing. She would really respond when I had both my fingers and tongue on her." "How did you keep from being discovered?" "I almost always had something to fix in one room or another. I would let her know where I was going to be and she'd wait until she was in the same part of the inn, then we'd meet and get in on." "Just sex, no emotional involvement?" "Just sex. We were both horny eighteen-year-olds and it was just a way to take the edge off." "Did you ever become emotionally involved with any of the women you were intimate with?" "No. I wouldn't allow myself to get in deep. I didn't want anything to interfere with my plans for college and I didn't want to hurt any of the girls I was involved with." "Do you think you will be able to commit yourself to one woman sometime in the future?" "Oh sure. I mean, I'm not some heartless Romeo that goes around taking advantage of girls. I do have a conscience." "How do you think you will know when the right woman comes along?" "I'm not sure, but I'm certain I will know." The session continued to be intensely probing and yet I had no problem dealing with her questions. As personal as they were, I had developed a trust in her that everything was confidential and it wasn't just salacious information gathering. I could see the point in many of the questions and wondered on several occasions just what kind of answers she got from some of the other participants. We took a break after an hour and she offered me a beer which I accepted. "Anchor Steam," I smiled, "my favorite." "I noticed that's what you were drinking last Saturday so I stocked up," she said holding a glass of red wine. "Is it unusual for you to drink during the interviews?" I asked innocently. "Absolutely, but we are in the home stretch, you've been a terrific subject, and I thought I could let my professionalism slip and bit and we could indulge ourselves. Of all the interviews I've done, this is among the top five. You've been completely open and honest as far as I can tell and I want to thank you for that. It will really help me put the results together for my questionnaire." "Happy to do it. I was pretty reluctant in the beginning, but strangely enough, Ginny talked me into it. Don't ask my why." "Well, I for one am thankful to Ginny." There was another pause as we sipped our drinks. "So, what do you have planned for this evening?" she asked. "Oh ... nothing special. I might do what I did last Saturday and stop in at Hashimoto's for dinner and then head home." "That's the Japanese restaurant near the Panhandle?" "Yeah. It's close to the apartment and not too expensive." "Would you object to some company for dinner?" she asked. Another surprise. "No ... of course not. You like Japanese food?" "Yes, I do. I'm always looking for a new restaurant to try." "Why don't we meet there at seven," I suggested. "Why don't I pick you up at your apartment at seven," she countered. "It might rain tonight and it's no fun riding a bike in the dark and the rain." "Sold. I'll make a reservation for us." I wasn't prepared for Georgette's car when she arrived at the apartment. She directed me to a dark blue BMW that appeared to be brand new. "Holy cow, Georgette, this is yours?" "Yes, my father gave it to me a year ago," she said, unlocking the doors. "This is amazing," I said in awe as I slipped into the cream-colored leather interior. "It still smells new ... and expensive." "I didn't dare ask how much. He insisted I needed to have a car that spoke of confidence and success. I think this will do, don't you?" she laughed. "It's beautiful ... just like its owner," I said without thinking. "It's perfect for you. Elegant, powerful, beautiful. Lucky you." "Thank you, John. I'm glad you like it. I imagine you must have guessed by now that my family is fairly well off." Georgie Girl Ch. 01-03 "Well, I hadn't given it much thought, but this pretty much confirms it all right," I chuckled. "You said you had a part time job. What do you do?" "It's an unpaid position. I help look after Nan, my grandmother. She lives next door and is a little hard of hearing, so I keep an eye out for her. She doesn't drive any more, so I take her wherever she needs to go. It isn't too demanding since she's very active for her age." We soon arrived at Hashimoto's and I watched as Georgette expertly parked the car in a single, smooth move. It gave me the impression that a car with this pedigree and performance wasn't wasted on her. It was over our meal that Georgette revealed more about her family. I already knew their ancestors had been living in San Francisco since the mid-nineteenth century. She was born in the unit where her mother and father still lived. She went to school in the neighborhood and then to San Francisco State before doing her doctorate at Geary. Her grandfather, Thomas Senior, saw the potential of technological growth in what was now known as the Silicon Valley. He had been one of the first investors in Intel and Cisco, riding them with his clients to enormous growth. He survived Cisco's interrupted success and still came out a wealthy man, along with his principal clients. Her father had built on his father's success. Georgette's mother did volunteer work with the nearby cancer clinic, driving various women to and from the treatment facilities. Georgette's Uncle, Devon desBiens, had recently retired as a senior partner at one of the oldest law firms in the Bay Area; Cunliffe, Harcourt and desBiens. He too had amassed a sizable fortune and was spending more time traveling the world with his wife, Mary. Not yet sixty, they were determined to enjoy their success while they could. I thought about my parents and hoped that when the time came, they could too. Nanette desBiens, or Nan as almost everyone called her, was Georgette's grandmother and a widow for the past seven years. Her husband, Harlan, had been a successful General Motors dealer and he too had amassed a tidy sum to tide them over in retirement. Unfortunately, he didn't live long enough to really enjoy the fruits of his labor. When Georgette talked about her grandmother, I could sense it was with a special feeling. I think she might have been closer to her grandmother than her parents, but I couldn't be sure. It was clear, however, that the two had a special bond and I thought about my grandparents and realized it was probably true for me and my paternal grandfather. He and I had a lot in common in our beliefs and interests, and like my father, I had inherited his handyman instincts. If I were looking for someone to share an idea with, it would be either Dad or Grampa Smith that I would go to. All too soon we had finished our meal and when I looked around, we were among the last people in the restaurant. We had talked, sipped green tea and talked some more. I had enjoyed every minute of it and I had the sense that Georgette did too. We argued about the bill but Georgette won and paid it, claiming I couldn't afford it on my limited student budget. She was right, of course, but that didn't make me feel any better. I felt I was taking advantage of her and said so. "I'll let you know when you're taking advantage of me," she smirked. As we approached her car, she stopped and turned to me. "It's early yet, John. It didn't rain after all and there's even some moon peeking between the clouds. Why don't we go for a drive?" "Uhhm ... sure ... okay." I was surprised that she wanted to extend the evening. Happily surprised. I hadn't really thought about it, but aside from green tea, we hadn't had anything to drink at all. I didn't really need anything. Being with her was intoxicating enough. "Let's go to Half Moon Bay. It's not far and we can have some fun on San Mateo Road. I love to stretch this car out when I can." "Sure ... let's go," I agreed enthusiastically. We headed down I 280 at well over the speed limit, but apparently without attracting any attention. Perhaps it was because so many other drivers in California also thought speed limits were optional. When we turned west up highway 92, Georgette began to put the BMW through its paces. Within a minute or so I realized she was a talented driver and in full command of this powerful car. "I've changed my mind," she said gleefully. "Let's head down Skyline to La Honda and over to the coast from there." "You're the boss," I said, grinning as she pushed the car into the corners with a skill I admired. "You've had driving lessons, haven't you?" "Yes ... I took some lessons at Infineon Raceway a few years ago. This car would be wasted on me without them." She wasn't driving dangerously and I felt confident in both her and the car and we whistled off the Santa Cruz Mountains down La Honda toward the Pacific. It was fun to watch Georgette having fun. When we got to San Gregorio, she pulled over on the verge and turned to me. "Want to try it?" "Oh ... I don't know, Georgette. I'm not anywhere near as good a driver as you." "That's all right, John. Just drive within your limits and you'll be fine. Let's go up Highway 1 to Half Moon Bay and then up the grade toward I 280 again." At that, she got out of the driver's seat and walked around to my side, opening the door for me. I admit, I was excited at the prospect of driving this magnificent machine. I climbed out and took the keys from her before slipping behind the wheel. I didn't have to make any adjustments to the wheel, seat or mirrors. They all seemed to be about right for me. I turned the key and released the hand brake, checked the mirrors for traffic, and pulled out onto the roadway. It's hard to describe just how different a luxury performance car is from an ordinary vehicle. There was no doubt about it, this wasn't my father's Chevrolet. I took it easy driving up US 1 since there was more traffic than there had been on Skyline. When I turned east and began to climb once more into the mountains, I could feel the difference. Georgette had shown me how to set the transmission and suspension to "sport" settings and I could feel the difference. I didn't drive anywhere near as quickly as she had, but it was much more quickly than I would have driven any ordinary car. It made me feel more competent and in control than I was used to. It was exhilarating as we wound our way up and down the tight curves of the road and back to the freeway. I backed off from speeding on I 280 and we cruised into the city outskirts, merging onto Highway 1 once more before turning off on Irving St. and heading to my apartment building. When I pulled up in front of the building I sat behind the wheel for a few moments, just enjoying the last moments before I got out. "That was amazing, Georgette. What a car! I've never had an experience like that before. When I invent my machine and get rich, this is the first thing I'm going to buy," I laughed. "Good for you, John. We all need to have a goal in mind." Her smile told me she had enjoyed our outing. "Thank you for the opportunity. It was something I won't soon forget." "I've been meaning to ask you, John. Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" "No ... I'm saving my money to go home for the Christmas break. I found a cheap flight from Oakland to Spokane. My parents will pick me up there. I wouldn't want to miss Christmas with them." "Would you like to spend Thanksgiving with me and my parents and Nan? We'd love to have you join us." "Oh ... well ... I don't know. They don't know me and I wouldn't want to impose on an important family occasion." "It's no imposition at all, John. You don't want to spend Thanksgiving alone, and I know my parents would like to meet you and so would Nan ... my grandmother. It would make the day much better since my aunt and uncle are off on one of their vacations. Please come." "Well ... if you're sure it would be okay," I said hesitantly. "I'm sure. We'll expect you, then," she smiled, getting out of the car. "Thanks again for dinner and the great evening," I said, handing her the keys. I really enjoyed it." "So did I," she smiled again, giving me another hug I didn't expect. I watched her drive away before I walked toward the building and up to my apartment. It had been a wonderful evening with a beautiful woman and I was going to think about just how nice it was for a long time. And now, I had Thanksgiving to look forward to. I was a bit nervous about meeting her family, but excited about another chance to spend some time with Georgette. To Be Continued.