8 comments/ 38166 views/ 16 favorites Too Young, Too Soon, No Chance By: Dinsmore I've explored this theme before: first love and where it leads or doesn't lead. I'm convinced that in most cases it ends, as it should for all sorts of good reasons. My first love in college was a striking brunette who, I was firmly convinced, would someday be my wife. We parted during our sophomore year. Geography was a factor but there were other issues involving two young people "finding" themselves. I had a chance to chat with and even meet with her several times when we were in our forties. We had spouses and children and lives of our own. She was still a stunningly beautiful woman. During a very brief period we exchanged emails, chatted on the phone, exchanged pictures of our families---even introduced each other to our respective spouses and went out to dinner as a foursome. It was all above board. There was no hanky-panky. We quickly realized that most of the things that each of us valued as mature adults---our career choices, politics, world views, geographic preferences, and basic values---were not remotely in synch. It would have been absolutely impossible for us to have found any common ground on which to build a reasonable friendship---let alone a stable marriage. She has chosen to live virtually her entire adult life in a house a block away from the one in which she grew up. She transferred to a university close to home after her sophomore year because she missed her family and friends. I have never even visited the place I grew up since leaving decades ago and have lived all over the country and the world thanks to the military and a corporation---by choice. She and I got absolute closure twenty-five years later which was good for all involved. Still, the idea of two young people who once thought they had found their soul mate, separating for whatever reason and then finding each other again years later has a great deal of allure for me as the subject of fictional prose. I've dealt with the concept before in Too Young for True Love and Going Home. I decided to go back to the well one more time. Those previous works were somewhat idyllic. It would probably be more realistic to assume that the two people had changed---grown up---and would have to get to know each other all over again. One would hope there would still be that spark of attraction which would give them the reason to try, but also, realistically some struggle. A final caveat: many people in this story have very successful lives and make a lot of money. If that offends you please look elsewhere for entertainment. I forgot another point: no ass fucking and just a little stroke right at the beginning. "What are you doing down there?" she whispered. He really wasn't sure. Exploring, getting the lay of the land, figuring out the anatomy? Trying to decide if he was going to 'go all the way', hoping that if he did, the cheap rubber from the gas station wouldn't break? There wasn't a lot of room in the back seat of his ancient Galaxy. This was only the second time in his eighteen years he'd ever been in that back seat with a completely naked girl. Same girl, two nights running. Damn she had a hot friggin' body! Playboy perfect tits, hard, full bubble butt...cute! Also, he was pretty sure, dumber than a stump. She had to be dumb. This was their second back seat foray together. The first time they had crawled into the back fully clothed and she'd been naked in under fifteen minutes. This time he had suggested that she just strip in the first place since she was going to end up that way in short order. She'd calmly replied, "okay," and quickly removed her blouse, shorts and panties. She wasn't wearing a bra---absolutely didn't need one. Like him, she had just graduated from high school and was working a summer job prior to whatever the next stage in life would be. He was a lifeguard at the resort pool, she worked in housekeeping; she was a maid. She came to the pool on her day off during the period reserved for employees. It was a pretty short period; none of the guests at the resort had any interest in mingling with the help. Most of the employees were female and young. There were a few guys working as busboys, in grounds maintenance and in low level kitchen duties. He was among a very small handful with more elite status: life guards, tennis instructors and the like. He'd chosen her for two main reasons: she was fucking hot in that little bathing suit and after talking to her for a few minutes he was pretty sure she'd fuck. He hoped so since he sure as hell never had, even though he hadn't let on to her that he had no more idea what he was doing then she did. He was a lot more scared then he let on. Scared that he'd knock her up; scared that he'd screw up. *** What the hell is he doing down there? Is he going to fuck me or not? She had tried to come across as experienced and confident. She desperately wanted to get laid. The first guy she had ever gotten in a back seat with had chickened out when he found out she'd never done it before. He got all mushy and, in retrospect, kind of sweet about it, but in the end, he wouldn't fuck her. Damn! What's a girl got to do to get laid in this town? Now this one was apparently having second thoughts. Had he figured out that she was a virgin? She was sure he wasn't remotely; that's why she had chosen him.... Well, he also had a hot fucking bod and was beyond cute. She wanted the first time to be with a boy who knew what he was doing. She absolutely could not head off for college still a virgin. *** He'd had a finger in a teen twat a couple of times. He'd never gotten a hand job but had endured one attempted blowjob. That hadn't been great. The girl in question had choked and gagged---and cried afterwards, not to mention leaving wounds on his dick from her teeth. He remembered that stupid, 'facts of life' chat he'd had with his dad: 'son, never sleep with a woman that you wouldn't marry and if she lets you sleep with her you wouldn't want to marry her.' What a crock of shit! There was no way in hell he'd marry this girl. Hell, marriage was something way out there in the future. She worked as a maid, for Christ's sake; not even sharp enough to get a job in the dining room or one of the shops where the smart babes worked. No, he'd picked her because she came across as an easy fuck...well, there was also that amazing fucking body and those perfect tits. No, he'd get married someday---to some sweet college co-ed from a nice family. Not some tramp who worked as a friggin' maid. He so desperately wanted to get laid. He was sick and tired of being a virgin; he was absolutely convinced that he was the only one with whom he had graduated from high school who had never gotten a piece of tail. Fuck! Damn, just roll the fucking rubber on and stick it in her. What's the worst thing that could happen? You could cum before you even get inside her. She'd tell all the other little hotties what a loser you are. Something could go wrong; the rubber could break. You could knock her up and then---oh fuck! Shotgun wedding time. No scholarship to State. A job at a sawmill. Living in some broken down shack with a half a dozen grubby little rug rats and a fat, pregnant wife who couldn't cook and never cleaned up the broken down shack. He moved up and kissed her. His fingers began to explore her juicy little hole. Her breathing increased and her hips began to undulate. Sooner than he had expected, she came. They kissed again; he fondled those amazing, hard, perfect titties. Her hand fell to his cock. Wordlessly they reposition. She spit on her hand and his raging hard on. Maybe she'd suck him off? Nope, no such luck. She was going to jerk him off. Pretty damned well, he had to say. It didn't take that long. Two hands now and---oh, yessss! Thank God she'd caught most of it on her hands. He wordlessly handed her his underwear to wipe off his spunk. They kissed again. They held each other. He was careful not to get his deflating cock near her pussy. He didn't believe that old 'a girl can get pregnant in a swimming pool' adage but he didn't want to take any chance of anything leaking in there. *** Well, that was kind of fun. He had very talented fingers.... much better than that other boy. Damn good kisser. She had faked it then. . . didn't have to this time. This certainly wasn't the era of candid discussion between eighteen year-olds of the opposite sex. She wondered why he hadn't fucked her but sure as hell wasn't going to ask. She knew she excited him. Her hygiene wasn't an issue; she had made all of the appropriate preparations---even flossed and gargled...and douched. She'd trimmed her pussy hair. Fuck! Or, in this case, no fuck. He didn't ask her out again over the two weeks before the resort would close for the winter. He hadn't avoided her or ignored her. He always said hi; they'd chatted a few times about nothing at all. They'd never really gone on a date---just a short trip to the local lovers' lane to park---twice. She realized she couldn't remember his last name---didn't even know where he was from or where---or even if---he was going to college. Fuck it! She'd never see him again. *** Oh, well, he thought to himself as he shoved the last of his meager possessions in the trunk of his old Ford. I'm certain to be the only virgin freshman at the gigantic state university three hours away. Maybe his fortunes would improve there. Thirty thousand students and more than half of them girls. He had visited the campus in the middle of the state as part of a group with the guidance counselor back in high school. Jesus, it was big! Really big for a kid who had gone to a consolidated junior-senior high school with barely 1,500 students. He had a scholarship. He'd had good enough SATs and high school grades to get a scholarship to a private, prestige school but then he discovered that those schools had all sorts of expenses that weren't part of the official tally. Getting a full scholarship to State wasn't really that difficult. His parents were of modest means and in addition to his academic performance, he had some athletic ability. Fortunately the terms of his scholarship did not mandate his participation in sports. He'd have to see; he wanted to do well academically. College sports programs could take up a lot of time. The acceptance paperwork from the university had contained some sort of numerical code indicating his admission status. He had called the admissions office but they had not been willing or able to tell him what the number meant. He was pretty close with his guidance counselor. He asked him one day prior to graduation what it meant. He had not had to look it up before answering. "Are you sure you really want to know, Dennis?" Dennis had nodded. "Okay, you're a big boy, you can deal with it. You're not the first student from here with that code by a long shot. Hell, it's more the norm than the exception. This is a small, very rural school system in a designated poverty region. As a result, that code indicates that you may have some difficulty adjusting to the environment at a huge, modern, nationally respected state university. In spite of the fact that our graduates do as well or better---statistically far better---than the average freshman at State, I still see that damn code all too often, particularly with kids from farms as opposed to the small towns." "So, I'm some sort of freak who is expected to fail?" "Oh, it's not that bad. Look, it just means that you're going to receive 'special handling.' That includes early registration and an assigned faculty advisor or 'baby sitter' looking over your shoulder. You'll be provided tutors from day one before they have any idea if you can do college work. You'll live in a special dorm---nicer than the regular ones---which includes a fulltime, live in, resident advisor who is a significant cut above the typical RA. "Your professors will give you extra attention which isn't such a bad thing. You won't be shoved into any eight hundred student lecture halls---you'll be assigned to smaller classes with a far more favorable ratio. You actually have more ability to tailor your degree program than regular students get. You get a chance to take some fascinating seminars with top professors---for full credit---that regular admissions aren't offered. "You'll get your hand patted by some well meaning assistant dean, who will frequently give you one of those irritating 'oh, you poor boy' looks. You're essentially a social experiment. Ten years ago, almost no one who graduated from here ever went to any college, let alone State. A few went on to technical school; most just went back to the farm. That's changed dramatically in the last decade---those eggheads at State just haven't figured it out." "How do I get my status changed?" "You don't and you sure as hell don't want to let on that you know. Dennis, you're one of the brightest kids to have ever graduated from this school. Now you're going to be in 'special ed.' Four years from now when you graduate Summa, they'll all pat themselves on the back at how well their little social experiment worked. Do you want my advice?" "Sure. " "Milk it for all it's worth. Enjoy the perks. You'll end up with a better education than 95% of the entering freshman class. You'll have contact regularly with professors in a one-on-one environment that regular students don't get. Smile and act humble. Dennis, you're more than capable of doing Ivy League level college work. In this program you're going to have the opportunity to get that quality of education at a state school. Don't blow it off or fail to take advantage of every opportunity offered. I don't need to be telling you this; I know you well enough to know what you are capable of. Someday down the road I'll buy you a beer and we'll laugh about it. Just go with the flow and enjoy yourself. " *** As he watched the regular registration cluster-fuck a week after his own 'special' registration, he was damn glad he hadn't had to endure it. Ten thousand students representing the freshman class, half of whom wouldn't be back for a sophomore year, milling around an over-filled fieldhouse. There were too many students and not enough dorm space. The local rental economy couldn't handle the overflow. Dorm rooms were doubled up. Trailers were brought in. Cots were being set up in a gym. He chuckled as he returned to his own dorm room which was modestly but more than adequately furnished and had art on the walls and curtains on the windows. He eyed the moderately high-end portable stereo which was provided by the university...KLH or something like that. Next to it stood a stack of albums including an assortment of jazz and classical. Broaden the poor farm boy's horizons. He had to laugh. Like any eighteen year old, he liked rock and roll but his mother had introduced him to Beethoven and Mozart as a child and his father to jazz a few years later. There was a brand new typewriter on his expansive desk even though he had already been assigned someone to type his papers. He had visited the library and been shown his assigned study area. He had a student assistance job, not bussing tables in a dining hall but working in the chemistry lab. He had a special meal ticket which granted access to a private eatery that ensured he would receive 'balanced nutrition.' He had actually been introduced to all of his first semester professors. He'd had to attend special classes in food and nutrition, college dating protocols and appropriate attire. He'd even been provided funds to buy clothing at a special store which ensured that he would 'fit in.' He'd had a couple of small battles. His advisor thought geology might be a better choice for him than the very rigorous University Chemistry intended for freshmen anticipating a major in the sciences. They had tried to shuffle him into a 'comparative lit' course rather than a more traditional and more arduous English literature course. They'd attempted to dissuade him from taking calculus, suggesting some technical math course which was little more than a rehash of ninth and tenth grade algebra. The final indignity had been the suggestion that he take Spanish, not the German he preferred, since Spanish was an easier language and he had in fact taken it in high school. He had taken it in high school because it was one of two choices along side French. His parents would have disowned him if he had taken French; they hated the French. His grandparents had been first generation German immigrants. His father and mother still spoke fluent German. English is essentially a Germanic language. He had always found German to be an absurdly easier language to learn---certainly easier than Spanish. In the end, he's been firm but polite in each case. Evidently there was some unwritten rule that they could suggest and even 'push' but in the end they could not tell him what he could and couldn't take as long as the course was available as part of the normal freshman curriculum. Each time some well meaning member of the university staff capitulated, furious scribbling would ensue on what he assumed was his secret personal record. What had really surprised him was the lack of a roommate. He had assumed that a roommate would be viewed as some sort of mandatory socialization process. Then again, since all of the kids in this special dorm were 'special ed', maybe someone figured it would be counter-productive to house two poor, dumb-ass farm kids together. Who knew? He wasn't going to argue. He preferred the privacy. There were girls everywhere---hot girls...cute girls...'take home to meet yo mamma' girls. There were also girls in the same special program he was in but he'd yet to meet any of them. Maybe the faculty was afraid that if they met, they'd fuck and just produce another generation of dumb ass yokels. Can't have that kind of inbreeding. He'd even had to attend a class on sex education. Condoms were available at no cost with no embarrassment. Evidently birth control pills were available for the women. The women's dorm was adjacent to his dorm separated at its short end by a small common area. There was to be some sort of social in the next few days but as he understood it, the special boys and girls wouldn't attend the same social. Got to isolate those poor underprivileged kids from the evil influences of their own kind of the opposite sex. Based on rural American child birth rates, they'd certainly be unable to resist mating and creating a new generation of lowest tier citizens. . . couldn't let that happen. At first, the constant attention from assistant deans, RAs, professors, professor's assistants, librarians, nutritionists, student health personnel, advisors, counselors---even friggin' shrinks---was an irritating imposition. He'd endured little lectures on the evils of alcohol. He assumed they all believed that all farm kids started drinking moonshine at an early age from the family still. Perhaps the most irritating was the weekly hour with some junior psychologist at the student health center. Her mission seemed to be to help him understand healthy male-female relationships so that he wouldn't end up going back home at the first break and marrying his cousin or whatever. He sure as hell wouldn't have minded exploring her womanly treasures; she was hot and filled out that little white lab coat perfectly. She'd ask him patronizing questions about how he was 'assimilating,' whether or not he had made any female friends, if he had a girl friend back home. She would then drop her eyes and speak very softly about the potential risks of unprotected sex, premarital sex, oral sex or any kind of sex---including 'excessive' masturbation. Too Young, Too Soon, No Chance The only thing she had left out was bestiality but he was sure that taboo was bound to come up sooner or later. During their most recent hour together he was certain that the cute little PhD was trying to find out if he had any homosexual tendencies without asking directly. He had been evasive. He'd even thought about just screwing with her for a while. He had just taken his seat on the small sofa in her office. "Dennis, today, I thought we would explore..." "I'm sorry. I apologize for interrupting. For the record, do our conversations become some part of my official record since I'm a special admission?" "Certainly not! We have doctor-patient confidentiality. " "How much confidentiality? What exactly---precisely---do others see as a result of these sessions?" She turned pensive, then responded. "Nothing past a simple one word evaluation of your, ah, status. That is, average, below average or above average in terms of assimilating into the university environment. If I thought you had any clinical issues that might present a danger to you or others, I'd immediately refer you to a senior member of the staff with clinical experience in that area. " "So while there is always the chance that you might discuss some aspect of my personality in a very general sense with peers---that would never occur with non-clinical university staff?" "No! Never. It simply is not allowed. " "Okay, I'll accept that. May I ask some more questions today?" "Why, certainly---sure, Dennis. What's on your mind?" "Who exactly did you piss off to get this mind numbingly crappy assignment?" She smiled in spite of herself. "No one; I'm a resident. Working with students like you is part of my training as a psychological resident. No one has made any assumptions that people in your group necessarily have clinical issues, just fairly typical adolescent adjustment issues that may be more acute in view of your...prior experiences. The next phase in my training involves working with young people---students---who may in fact have serious issues...potentially dangerous issues. " "What exactly do you want to learn about me---and my peers? I am certainly not complaining about the perks---advantages---I have been afforded. On the other hand, being in a fish bowl---under a microscope---becomes a bit tiresome. What do you want to know, Doctor? Let me make it easier for you. Let me tell you what I know---what I believe---and then ask me whatever it is that will help you fill in the gaps. Fair enough?" She nodded. "My parents never went to college. They grew up the children of poor immigrants. They are bilingual, hardly illiterate, surprisingly well read and have an eclectic appreciation for the arts. They are poor farmers, yet I cannot recall ever wanting for anything growing up. They're far too proud to accept handouts. They work very hard. The house was always warm and cozy in the winter and there was good food on the table---fresh vegetables, fresh meat, often wild game, lots of fresh, raw milk and eggs still warm from the chicken coop. My father has never hit me and I'll probably call him sir until the day he dies, not because he expects it, but because he has earned that respect in every aspect of his life." "It's good to hear that you have positive feelings about your parents. It's all too common..." "Stop! This is my hour today. Please! No more psychobabble---with all due respect. I'm not done. Where was I?" "I apologize; please go on." "My parents...right! They believe in God and go to church on Sunday. In spite of their meager means, they are the first ones to reach their hand out to help those they see as less fortunate. My father makes homemade German beer and always has a pint with dinner.... but never a second one. My mother doesn't drink or at least I've never seen her do so. Neither one swears and the harshest words I ever heard from either of them was the first time I said 'fuck' in front of them after hitting my thumb with a hammer. Give my dad a hammer and a saw and some decent lumber and he'll build you a place to live. My mother can make anything on her precious sewing machine and makes the most amazing elderberry jam you have ever tasted. "If your car won't start---give me a call. I can probably fix it. My dad could probably rebuild it. My mother taught me to cook when I was too short to reach the stove. I'm absolutely certain that neither of my parents have ever lied or ever will---certainly not to me. I grew up with rules and expectations; they were the first to exhibit genuine pride when I did something well---and quick to correct me or express their disappointment when I let them down by not performing up to my potential. And you know what? No matter how badly I screwed up, once it was over---it was over. I never for a second doubted their love---deep, abiding love---for me." "That's very gratifying...Oops! I'm sorry. Please continue." "I would willingly risk my life for them and I know they would do the same. How do I know? Because when I was eight and stupidly went skating on thin ice on the pond and fell through and got trapped under the ice---it was my daddy who plunged into that icy water with no thought of his own safety---and my mother who stretched her bony little body across that treacherous ice in her house dress to help pull us both to safety. And the first thing they did was hold me in their arms and thank God that I was alive. My father said, 'that's not the smartest thing you've ever done, son.' That's all. And then he hugged me tight, and I felt the warm tears of a man I'd never seen cry a day in his life---and I knew I was the richest, luckiest little boy on this earth. "I've never been sexually molested, never had sex with a farm animal, a household pet, a sister, cousin---or, frankly, anyone else for that matter. I had great teachers in school; modest people for whom teaching was a calling, not just a job. Admittedly, I'd never been to a city of more than 5,000 people before coming here. The closest town to our farm is ten miles away---population fifty-nine. I've never been to New York City but I'd love to go some day. I like the same music all kids my age like---but my parents taught me about classical music and jazz. "I would think that if the powers that be here at the university are not sure my secondary education was viable, that the 1407 combined on my SATs would say something about my readiness to be here. Yet here I am, having to tolerate one solicitous, 'oh, you poor, deprived---and possibly depraved---little boy' look of pity after another. So what gives, doctor? What do you want to know? What else can I tell you about Dennis that will help you understand him---and stop looking at him like some pathetic sideshow freak? Help me with this, doctor. Sorry about the rant; it has been building inside me for the last month. Thanks for letting me vent. " She was silent for a moment. "Dennis, from my perspective—our perspective here at the clinic---this was never supposed to be about putting you under a microscope. It was just supposed to be about giving you another resource...someone you could talk to regularly with some assurance of confidentiality. Someone who would recognize the signs of failure to adapt early and be able to intervene. You have the right to refuse it. " "Oh, hell, no, doctor! Look. I'll admit this campus---this experience---can be daunting at times but it's nothing I can't manage. On the other hand, I don't have any sense that I can be as candid as I just was with you with the mainstream university folks who seem terribly invested in this little social experiment. How old are you?" "What? Oh, twenty-eight. Why?" "Did you go to school here?" "No, but to a similar university one state over---every bit as intimidating. It's the largest resident campus in the country---more students than this one. " "Okay, well, good. Look, I sense that we've cleared some air here. I don't really have any friends here yet. It would seem that they don't want us mixing in the general population---or with our own, pathetic, backward kind. So I don't really have anyone to 'let my hair down with' as it were. You finished college not that long ago. Next time, why don't you tell me about it? Tell me what you enjoyed, tell me what you hated. Screw the academics---I don't expect to have any issues on that count. But I do want to fit in, feel like I belong. " "Girls?" she said with a grin. "They have those here? I thought I'd seen them but as yet we have not been allowed to speak to them---certainly not touch them. What the hell is that all about?" "Antiquated beliefs about rural teen sexuality?" "Ah, yes. We grew up in the country on farms. We've actually seen animals copulating---on a daily basis. We have first hand experience in the reproductive process having assisted in more than one bovine birth---not all of which are automatic and some of which are horribly tragic. We've probably had sex since the age of ten with everyone including our own mothers, according to typical rural legend. Put us in mixed company and who knows, we might not be able to control ourselves...might just mount the first heifer we see. Sorry, that was crude. " "You have a way with words, Dennis," said the comely psychologist, unable to stifle a giggle at the visual image his words created in her mind. "It'll get better. We here at the clinic are fighting hard against the silly segregation policy. I think we've sent enough comment sheets to the powers that be that they've gotten the word. Don't be surprised if they over react, though. They often seem to. Next thing you know you're liable to find yourself forced to go on regularly scheduled dates with girls or something equally absurd." "Hell, that would be an improvement. " There was to be a mixer. It was to include boys and girls. It was also a mixer that was to include special admissions and regular admissions, although Dennis didn't have any way of knowing that fact. It would be at the student union and was certain to be heavily chaperoned. Maybe there would be a comely Jersey heifer there he could mount. Fortunately the 'special' kids weren't required to wear a badge that said: I'm a hick. Just in case, he was sure to wear none of the clothes that had been purchased at the special store; there might be a hidden message woven into the fabric. There were some damn cute girls at the mixer and in keeping with the university census, more girls than guys or maybe there were more girls on campus who were desperate. There were also some really, really ugly girls. There were stuck up girls, empty headed and shallow girls, fat girls, thin girls, city girls and country girls. Just as he was about to nod off while attempting to chat with three little cutties who were more interested in talking about their own hair than in talking to him, he felt a tap on the shoulder and heard his name. "Dennis?" He turned. There was no way in hell he would ever forget those absolutely perfectly shaped boobies. Unfortunately, what he couldn't remember was her name. She sure did clean up nice, though. "Allison Stevens. We met last summer at the resort up in the mountains. I'm really embarrassed; I can't remember your last name?" "Steiner. Dennis Steiner. It's nice to see you again, Allison. I had no idea you were..." "Going to college? At State? Life is full of little surprises, Dennis. Have you already got your eye on someone or would you like to walk...and talk?" The two fell in beside each other and drifted out to the first floor balcony. "I really enjoyed the summer up there, Dennis. My parents don't have a lot of money. I have a full scholarship here but I really wanted to make some cash to have some spending money during school." "I thought the girls in the dining room made the big bucks...tips and all." "The girls in the dining room didn't want to chip their nails scrubbing out toilets. I'm not much of a group kind of girl, Dennis. I liked working alone. Plus, I got paid by the number of rooms I did, not by the hour. If I got done early, I could ask for more work or just knock off. Tips? Most of the well-heeled guests there are very old school. I always made sure I met them at least once when I cleaned their rooms. I always got a nice tip. Five or ten bucks a day was typical---sometimes more. The housekeeper never gave me any trouble. I always asked the guests to fill out a comment card if they were pleased with my work. The hotel increased my pay twice. Anything else you would like to know about the finer points of being a good chamber maid?" "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intimate anything or disparage..." "We got used to being the bottom of the pecking order; we just laughed all the way to the bank. So? Where are you living? It would seem that there is a significant shortage of housing for this freshman class." "I'm in Anderson Hall." No sense in lying about it; maybe she didn't know it was a 'special' dorm. "Right behind me, in Bonwitt." She said, flashing him the most amazing, slightly crooked smile he had ever witnessed in his short life. "Nice to know we're both in the 'special group'...hicks and yokels anonymous---where are your bib overalls?" "Don't even joke about it---I almost wore them to this affair, just to see how the chaperones would react." "I'd thought about wearing braided pig tails, bringing my milking stool and giving a yodeling demonstration. How long did it take you to figure it out?" "I saw the code and asked my guidance counselor." "I actually researched the program and read about it in the library." "So, you grew up on a farm, Allison?" "Even worse! My daddy works at a sawmill. Of course it's his sawmill and since sawmills tend to exist where there is a source of timber---we live in the sticks! They aren't even very smart about this stuff. They've drawn little circles on a map---a ten year old map---and if you grew up in one of those little circles, and you attended certain schools, and your parents don't get a W2 form, and they're just not the kind of people to fill out nosey questionnaires... "Look, Dennis, it's all about demographics. Did they even bother to meet you? Hell, no. They added up a bunch of statistics based on demographics and presto! You're in the special program. Not that I'm complaining. I've got my own room, small classes, a cool stereo, a record collection, someone to type my papers---hell, I'll probably graduate Summa. I've become pretty much immune to the pained, almost tearful, 'oh, you poor little girl' looks and 'there, there' pats on the head. The weekly trip to the shrink is a bit of a pain in the ass, though. I can't decide whether to screw with her, or just go along with it." "Her?" he responded, speaking the name of his psychologist. "One and the same. How are you handling her?" "We had a come to Jesus moment this week; as a result, I think I'm going to enjoy it more than I did before. Once you have a break through, she's pretty cool." "Oh, hell, you just want to fuck her---she's cute. Tell her you're afraid you're developing an unhealthy interest in other men. Maybe she'll ball you out of pity. Which reminds me, Dennis. Why the hell didn't you fuck me? I mean it's not like I made it that difficult. What was that all about?" Dennis started to respond and then began to laugh so hard he almost dropped his soda. He'd not only completely misread the girl with the absolutely perfectly formed breasts, he'd never remotely talked to anyone like her. He thought of making a joke, coming back with a flip response. It would turn out to be uniquely fateful that he didn't. He told her the truth. "I was scared. Scared that I'd do something stupid. Scared that I'd cum before I even...scared the cheap rubber from the gas station would break. Scared that you'd get pregnant and your daddy would come after me with a shotgun, and we'd end up living in a shack with six kids, and you'd get fat and never clean the place and I'd have to spend the rest of my life working at a sawmill and...and I was just scared." "What was so different? Certainly the other times you..." "There weren't any other times—hadn't been any other times." She was looking at him very seriously, staring into his eyes with her own amazing, crystal clear, bright, beautiful big blue eyes. "Yeah...same here. No other times...before or since." "What?" "Look, I know it sounds stupid but...I wanted to have sex---get laid---before I got to college. Don't ask why---I don't know...a girl thing, maybe...hormones. I picked you for the honors because you were one of those handsome, confident, cocky pricks who I was sure had many notches on his bedpost. If I was going to do it, I wanted to do it with a boy who at least knew what he was doing---since I sure as hell didn't! Just my luck! For Christ's sake---I'd never been buck naked with a boy before---and sure as hell never jerked him off! Well, Dennis, it appears that in addition to both being members of hicks and yokels, we're also members of virgins anonymous---don't worry, your secret is safe with me. How was it, by the way?" "How was what?" "The hand job." "Since it was the first that I'd ever enjoyed that wasn't self administered it was...fantastic." "Do you find me physically attractive?" "Of course, Allison...you have..." "Yeah, I know---clinically perfect tits." "And drop dead amazing, crystal clear, big blue eyes and a crooked little smile that is adorable." "How in the world did you keep from getting laid with that silver tongue?" "Probably a fair question." "Do you find me remotely amusing?" "I haven't stopped laughing since you tapped me on the shoulder. I guess I've never met anyone quite like you...enjoyed such a frank, you now...no bullshit conversation?" "Refreshing---isn't it?" "Very." "Do you want to go somewhere with this, Dennis Steiner? I know there are over five thousand other freshmen girls on this campus, many cuter than me---not that I'm chopped liver---and I'd understand if you wanted to go out and sample the wares, so to speak but, I think we just might have something here. I'm not suggesting we pledge our betrothal and I'm not ready to just jump in the sack with you---although I was when I didn't know you and assumed I'd never see you again but..." "Yes, Allison Stevens; I'd like that. After all, we 'special' kids need to stick together and..." She kissed him quickly on the mouth...just a quick slip of the tongue. "We both talk too damn much when we're nervous---don't we? You were a great kisser---wow! And those talented fingers of yours...I was one very impressed little girl." "You don't hold much back, do you, Allison?" "Not my style---hope it's not yours. First impression indicates you say what's on your mind—don't change in that regard...it would really disappoint me. You want to go parking?" "I'd love to, although my car is parked miles from here in a freshman lot." "We do both have private rooms." "How much trouble would we be in if we got caught?" "I read the fine print in the housing agreement. Nowhere does it say that a girl can't be in a boy's room and vice versa. There's nothing in the student code of conduct or handbook precluding it. The RA is long gone by this time on a Friday. As long as we follow university dating guidelines---you know, we don't move from home plate to first base without a definitive agreement, nor do we advance to another base without confirming what is involved and further mutual agreement. Then of course there is the whole STD issue, unwanted pregnancy, the evils of sex and alcohol and the potential for date rape accusations. I'm sorry, Dennis, young romance is just not what it once was." "I was going to ask, 'your place or mine' but now I'm not so sure...you scared me a little with that diatribe." Too Young, Too Soon, No Chance "I just wanted to be sure you were up to speed on the risk factors. Look, Dennis, I tried to get you to fuck me once and you took a pass. So I'm not afraid you're going to jump me and force yourself on me...have your way with me---until we both know it's right...am I on track here?" "Could I just save us a lot of time here and ask you to marry me? I don't mean marry me right now, of course---but someday? Because at this very minute I can't imagine that I'm ever going to meet a girl as absolutely captivating as you are---cute, funny, smart. So why keep looking?" "Is this just a clever line to get in my pants? 'Gee, mom, he said he wanted to marry me, what else did I need to know?'" "You seem to be forgetting our history; I was in your pants---or more accurately you had lost your pants and..." "Do you think you are in love with me, Dennis? I mean, this is awfully early to be talking about marriage---even years down the road." "If I'm not, it's just because the message hasn't gotten from my heart to my brain. Wait, here it comes. Yep! I think I am." "You are delightfully silly. Have you had good results with this approach in the past?" "Never tried I before. How's it working for you?" "Oh, you're hitting on all eight cylinders, stud. We've been talking for half an hour and I feel like we've known each other forever. Think of all the time we're saving! Whatever comes into our head---we just say it! I'm feeling pretty good about this. Let's go somewhere and just get to know each other, you know, personal saga, hopes and dreams and see if we really have any basis for a...relationship. Even though I think I already know the answer. Then lets go somewhere else---your place or mine---and make out for a while. How does that grab you?" "There is a small coffee shop that's open, quiet music, dark corners." "Lead the way!" Three hours later they walked back to the special dorms tightly holding one another's hand. They were going to his place this evening. "You know what is so damn scary about this, Dennis?" "Sure. I just met my soul mate...quite probably the girl I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with---and we're not even half way through our first semester of college. Think of all the things that can go wrong between now and the day we graduate, find jobs...get married....that's what scares me." "Yeah, me too. If it really did work out, then you'd spend the rest of your life wondering what you missed by not sowing some wild oats. There just isn't a prayer in hell that this will work out---that we'll still be a couple four or five years from now. It makes me sad, more than ir scares me." "So we should just bag it before it gets painful?" "Well, not so much. I mean we'd be fools not to at least give it our best shot, wouldn't we?" It's just too easy to fall in love when you are eighteen and you enjoy that first time with a boy or a girl. Everyone remembers that first time. The build, the heat, the nakedness, the discovery...the dizzying reality that you are crossing a seminal threshold in your young life. Unless you are a complete jerk as a boy or a total slut as a girl you have to believe that this is the one...the one you are destined to marry and have babies with...live blissfully in perfect harmony with 'til death. How pathetically naïve and sadly idealistic young people can be. Allison Stevens and Dennis Steiner had an idyllically perfect first coupling. It was tender, romantic, passionate---everything it could possibly be...fairy tale. The sad reality is that it was doubtful it would last through their freshman year, let alone long enough for them to actually marry. It actually lasted all the way through their sophomore year, a year in which they lived together in a small apartment off campus. That year was even more magical than the freshman year of stealing back and forth between their two dorm rooms. Somebody got cold feet or maybe started to believe that it would never be better than that year living together. One of them began to push away the summer before their junior year; it doesn't really matter which one because the other chose not to fight it very hard. Dennis was away for most of that summer attending military training. There was a draft and a war and he wanted to at least have some options. Her letters became less frequent. The last one he received right before the fall term began dropped a bombshell. Allison had elected to transfer to a private university on the other side of the country in California. She had received a full scholarship to one of the top ten universities in the nation and it was an offer only a fool would have refused. Neither had the money in the era before cut-rate airline fares to visit each other. The letters became less frequent on both sides. They never broke up. They just ceased to be a couple---ceased to communicate. While both felt tinges of regret both also rationalized that, "maybe it was for the best." As the years went on and maturity ensued, both came to the realization that they had let something very special slip away. Sadly, pride or whatever wouldn't let either of them go back to find the other---see if the magic could be rekindled. *** Two years shy of his fortieth birthday, Dennis Steiner took stock of his improbable life to date. He had graduated with top honors from the university with a degree in aeronautical engineering. That education coupled with his summer military training had gotten him into military flight school. He'd done well enough there to get his choice of type of aircraft. Every flyboy with the option to choose always picks fighters. Not sensing that he really possessed the fighter pilot mentality, he had chosen transports. With some dream of being an airline pilot one day, it was a smart choice. He'd flown into the combat zone on numerous occasions at the controls of a four engine transport. The war had begun to wind down and the need to move massive qualities of men and material out of the war zone well surpassed the need to have transport pilots actually flying in the combat area. With the end of the war he, along with thousands of other young pilots was offered a substantial reduction in his active duty commitment and relegated to the reserves for the remainder of his obligation. It hadn't actually been an offer, it had been an order. Following his release from active duty, he had accepted a job as a corporate pilot for a relatively young entrepreneur with a growing regional distribution business spread over the midwest. His boss, the CEO and founder, lived on the road, or more accurately, in the air. He was not one to travel with an entourage. Often it was just the two of them. The company owned several small planes and as the geography of the business had expanded, Dennis had convinced his boss to buy a jet. When conditions dictated it, Dennis would call any of a number of former military pilots, desperate to build turbofan hours in the hopes of someday getting on with an airline, to serve as his copilot. Many of the guys he knew who had gotten a second or third seat with a major carrier were soon looking for other work when their respective carriers failed financially. His boss had at one time flown his own small single engine prop job until the company went public and the board of directors and the insurers insisted he no longer do so. Still, Bob Watson was a very competent pilot who seldom rode in the back unless he was simply exhausted and needed a cat nap. In the time between take offs and landings the two men, barely a decade apart in age, would talk, more often than not about the business. Dennis had picked up an MBA while in the military, not because he was particularly interested in business but because it was the only graduate program available where he was stationed and he had time on his hands. In Dennis' third year on the job, the CEO fired him as his executive pilot. He hired him as a vice president---reporting directly to him. "Dennis, you know more about this business than anyone other than me. You've become my unofficial counsel over the last three years and your advice has invariably been right on. You're wasting your time and your brain as a glorified taxi driver. You know as well as I do that the airline industry is a disaster with a new bankruptcy every few months. Forget about it---it's just a bus instead of a taxi. If I was a nice guy---which I'm not---I'd a give you a choice. Look, I don't see any reason why you can't still log some stick time when you travel for the company. But as of today, go hire your replacement, because one way or the other, you are out of this job as of right now." The company had just passed the $100 million mark on that fateful day. Thanks to shrewd acquisitions and timely market entries, it was one of the fifty largest company in the country a decade later. In another ten years it would be listed by Fortune in the top ten in gross revenues. Dennis had more than been along for the ride; he'd been Bob's copilot all the way. Most assumed he'd take the reigns when Bob decided to hang up his spurs. Who would have guessed that the poor German farm boy from the most remote region of Appalachia would have uncanny ability when it came to acquisitions? He was considered a guru and a genius. He lived for the company; his life was the company. While he had enjoyed a steady stream of leggy young women in his bedroom, none of them had caught his fancy enough to separate him from his wife---the corporation. He had money---more than he could spend and more than he would ever need. He had provided for his aging parents in style, freeing them of the 24/7 duress of running a small dairy farm. He had adopted causes and written numerous checks for those causes. He was considered one of the city's most eligible bachelors. As he contemplated how far he had come two years prior to his fortieth, his thoughts drifted back to his first two years in college. It seemed to occupy his thoughts more often with the passing years. Allison Stevens. He'd even made a half-assed attempt to look her up via the Internet though not sure with what purpose. It seemed so long ago, almost twenty years and then almost as if it had been yesterday. He cleared those thoughts from his mind and he walked into Bob's office. He'd made a decision; he'd given it a lot of thought. "Bob. When are you going to retire?" "That anxious to take over, are we?" "Not remotely what I was thinking." "Two more years. I have children---from two marriages---grand children on the horizon...things I've never had time to do...places I want to visit...some serious giving back to accomplish. What's on your mind?" "So, at fifty, give or take, you're going to pack it in." "I'll stay on as chairman for a few years, then step down and stay on the board but, yes, that's essentially the plan." "Let's talk about incest." "What?" "Corporate incest. We need to get some outside blood in here---sooner rather than later." "Dennis, it's no secret who the next CEO is going to be." "But he doesn't want to hold that job as long as you have---if at all. Look, you've got a lovely wife and a somewhat annoying ex-wife. Sweet kids from both of those adventures. I don't even have a fiancée or a regular girl friend. You know I'd never leave this company in the lurch. CEO of a Fortune 50 company at forty? A dream come true." "What are you suggesting?" "Bring in an outsider to replace you---there are a host of good candidates. I'll stay on as COO and retain my seat on the board. Two years after you take a powder...I'm out of here, unless the new guy fucks thing up. Look, the analysts are already shaky about your expected departure. In the same breath they take swipes at our incest and our lack of a deep succession plan. You can't please those bastards. You founded this company; you are the consummate entrepreneur. I have my gifts but my strength is not in the CEO's chair. I may have 'earned' the job---but I'm not the right person for it and we both know it." "I'd argue that point." "And as often as you win our arguments---you ain't going to win this one." "There isn't another man on this planet who would willingly walk away from what is virtually an assured CEO title---except you. That's what makes you so damn good! Okay, my friend---and you are a very good, special friend---get the ball rolling." "I've got the next three days booked solid on the Abrams acquisition. We'd really like to retain the bulk of their management for the sake of continuity but they're playing hardball. They requested an outside binding arbitrator. I told them to go pound sand up their asses and that I expected their resignations before they left the room---or they were all terminated at noon. I called the chopper and told him to crank it up and I walked out. We came to an agreement---fortunately before I strapped in, because I am sick of screwing with those people. I think I clipped their wings." "What's the next step?" "I agreed to an outside mediator. They preferred the term arbitrator. I told them arbitrator had the connotation of equals and binding agreements. I reminded them who the buyer versus the 'buyee' was. I told them this whole thing was too much trouble and we reserved the right to withdraw our offer. Then I called you and recommended we forget about it." "You called me?" "I called your summer home on the Lake." "And spoke to the answering machine?" "Pretty much. Look, I know these pricks are just trying to take care of their people---and themselves. It's not the money---it's about what goes wrong when you acquire someone and they never get on the corporate page. I'm prepared to trade perks and titles for real power but they need to accept the fact that we bought them---not the other way around. I'm meeting with their chosen outside mediator/arbitrator this morning---a real ball buster." "Sounds like fun!" "Oh, it will be. They wanted to meet off site but I wouldn't agree. I want them here in this crystal palace on my turf---just to drive the message home." Did he recognize her when he walked into the corporate conference room? Oh, sure. Same little crooked smile...apparently, the same perfect breasts. She had aged exceptionally well. She rose to introduce herself; there was a momentary look that said he was not remotely the Dennis Steiner she had expected to be meeting with. "Mr. Steiner. I'm Allison Cuthbertson, Attorney at Law and the arbitrator for this meeting." "Cuthbertson?" "Married name...I'm divorced." "Ms. Cuthbertson, if you are here with the title of arbitrator, you can toss your crap back in your fifteen hundred dollar briefcase and sashshay on out of here. If you are here to mediate the differences, you're welcome to stay. Who in God's name are all of these other people?" "My associates and key management representatives." "Look behind me. Do you see any associates or key management representatives? Just me, honey, the friggin' COO of the company that owns the chair from which you just removed your pretty little butt." Dennis pulled a money clip from his pocket and peeled off some bills, tossing them on the table. "Here! We have good coffee and decent sandwiches in the cafeteria. Tell your flunkies to take a hike. And as far as the 'management representatives' get the hell out of my conference room before I call security and have you escorted from the premises. I don't have time for this crap. There's a phone behind you. Punch the number two and tell my administrative assistant when you are ready to meet with me, Ms. Cuthbertson---one-on-one. Is that clear enough? Give me at least ten minutes, though---I haven't taken my morning dump yet." With those words, Dennis left the conference room. Fifteen minutes later, after receiving notice from his admin, Dennis went back to the conference room, pleased to find only one person standing there---Allison. "Dennis, I apologize. I had no idea---didn't make the connection...I..." "Why should you have? Not much chance that one of the 'special kids' could possibly be the COO of a forty billion dollar company? You look well...even better than I remember." "Dennis, I can make a call, we can reschedule and get someone else in to handle this." "I don't have time to reschedule, Allison. This matter has already taking longer than it should have." "But, Dennis, in view of our history I don't think it would be a good idea..." "History? What's it been...twenty years? Silly kids playing house and believing that hormones were actually something else...love? I have no regrets, Allison...it was fun. I don't even know what happened. Maybe one of us just grew up one day and faced reality. I certainly don't feel any animosity toward you. You were probably the more mature one who nipped our silliness in the bud before it got out of hand. So! How have you been? Bring me up to date." "Well, as you may remember, I transferred to Stanford, then Stanford Law, Law Review, a clerkship, a little time in the public sector, and now I'm a partner in a law firm which, ah, specializes in these sorts of cases." "Cases? Do I have to go down the hall now and grab our corporate counsel? Harvard Law, edited Law Review, clerked for the Chief Justice..." "I didn't mean case as in a legal case. There's no lawsuit involved as of this moment. I meant, these sort of difficult acquisitions." "There wouldn't be anything difficult about this acquisition if your clients weren't a bunch of arrogant pricks who have drastically overestimated their importance to this corporation. We'd hoped to retain their management; it's good for PR, helps with the transition, ensures continuity but, you know what? Fuck it. This just isn't worth the trouble. I told Bob---the CEO and Chairman---not thirty minutes ago that we should immediately withdraw our offer, file for breach and move on to greener pastures and he didn't disagree. How long were you married...and how long..." "I was married for a year...divorced for four...I..." "Children?" "No, fortunately...that would have made things very complicated....compounded an already foolish mistake. Look, Dennis, I have to believe we can come to a meeting of the minds here...a 'win-win' sort of..." "Win-win, my ass! We bought them. If we hadn't they'd have been in receivership in three to five years. We won, they lost. To the victor goes the spoils. Divorce can be tough. I never married." "You never married? Dennis, ah, look I don't think what my clients are asking for is that unreasonable, I..." "Unreasonable is being too stupid to realize that you don't get to run your own show any more. You've been acquired, dick wads! Unreasonable is thinking that they---or you---walk into this room holding a single face card. This isn't a damn negotiation---we hold all the chips! We're not inhuman; we have our public image to think about but if those arrogant shit heads think we are going to just roll over, fund their failing business and then let the same imbeciles who fucked the business up in the first place run it after we own it---they're senile!" "Would you at least take a look at the proposal?" Allison said, sliding the stack of papers across the table. "You've changed." "I graduated from special ed a long time ago, Allison. I fiercely protect this corporation with no apologies. It's a big bad world out there...always has been. Let me look at it---but if I get halfway through the first page and it's the same shit they tried to peddle a week ago---we're done here. You look great! You still have..." "Clinically perfect tits?" "I was going to say those same really big, beautiful, crystal clear blue eyes." "Of course you were. They're still mine." "Pardon me?" "The tits. They're still mine---sans enhancement." Too Young, Too Soon, No Chance "Good to hear. Okay! Give me a few minutes." Dennis took almost thirty minutes, freely annotating the proposal with a red felt marker, occasionally nodding and occasionally shaking his head in disgust. "Well, at least they ventured in the direction of the real world but---not even close! Any place in that agreement wherein they retain control of their business, key support activities, final budgeting approval or strategic planning---it's a no-go. It's not negotiable and there is no wiggle room. I made that mistake on the first one of these cluster fucks I ever did---Mr. Nice Guy---and we're still paying the price. Not going to happen again. Take it back to them and give them that message in clear terms. "I've scheduled three days for this circus---and then we're done. No agreement, no acquisition coupled with a suit for breach. I'll be in for the rest of the day; you want to talk, hit the number two button on the phone or call me at this number if you're out of the building. Call me when you have something better to show me. Really nice seeing you again, Allison...you look great! Really great." Dennis left the conference room and returned to his office, realizing he had nothing on his calendar. Allison called him an hour later. "Dennis, I believe your message has gotten through loud and clear. My clients are desirous of getting this unpleasantness behind them and moving forward. How soon can we meet?" "Where are you?" "We have a local firm with whom we are associated but I'm essentially working out of the Hyatt, downtown. I can meet you..." "I'll meet you downtown---for lunch. If you go out the North entrance of the Hyatt, turn left and walk to the end of the block; at the corner, there's a restaurant. I'll have my admin make reservations....say...11:30?" "I can handle that." "Great...see you then...no entourage...just the two of us." Dennis walked out to his admin. "Cathy, I need a really ostentatious and obnoxious limo for a ride downtown. I don't want a pimp mobile or a stretch, I'm thinking a Rolls or a Bentley, and a guy or girl in a uniform. And I want him to park out front or circle the block during lunch. Some virgins sprinkling rose petals might be nice---just kidding. And I need a reservation for two for lunch---window seat, facing North---at..." Kathy had outdone herself. It was a Rolls with some six foot Nordic blonde at the wheel in a livery uniform that left little to the imagination. He instructed her to circle until he saw Allison leave the Hyatt and walk the quarter block. Once she was seated, he had the blonde drop him in front of the restaurant. He entered the establishment and was instantly escorted to the table. She had changed her outfit. She looked...amazing. It was all he could do to keep in character. "Nice wheels. Does she always stand at attention outside the car while you're having lunch?" "Olga is very...Prussian...an excellent chauffeur...very...disciplined. She's studying to be a massage therapist." "I have no doubt." "You look lovely. It's remarkable what Halston can do with a girl who..." "Has perfect tits?" "Would be quite lovely in anything....jeans...a maid's uniform. What have you got for me?" He flipped through the document almost superficially. "Do you get paid by the hour?" "You mean like a massage therapist?" "That's not exactly what I meant." "Yes, in a fashion." "How much?" "Is that a proposition?" "Just curious." "Two thousand dollars an hour. I'm a partner so I make a living off the profits of the firm but that figure covers me and my support people. Travel, lodging, meals---expense---are extra." "Son of a bitch!" "And you're not exactly working for minimum wage." "I earn every dime of it." "After this morning's performance---I have no doubt. My clients were, to say the least...shaken. They were very anxious to reconsider their position and their demands." "What do you need to walk away from this feeling as if you earned your money?" "Some vestige of my client's dignity." "We're more than willing to trade money, perks and titles for control. We will not relinquish control. We did not become the fastest growing concern in American business history by giving up control of our business. I thought I made that clear the first time I met with them." "There's the old story about the mule and the two by four. Sometimes you just have to get their attention. You certainly did that." "What happened?" "Pardon me?" "What happened to us---you and me...hearts going pitter-patter...sitting on the sofa together holding hands...talking about our future...together...the children we were going to have...even started naming 'em...what our first house would look like..." "I don't now. We never really had a fight...never broke up...just drifted apart. The Stanford thing...too good to walk away from even for..." "A boy? A boy you said 'I love you' to? A boy who said I love you---first?" "Don't do this, Dennis. We can't go back to being eighteen and nineteen again...we were so young...just kids." "Let me see what you've got." He worked through the document without his red felt pen for almost fifteen minutes. "If you walk back down to the Hyatt with this agreement in your hand---intact---will you be a hero?" "Sure. It's a good agreement---it's a reasonable 'win-win.' Face it, Dennis, these folks have never really played in the big leagues before---never played your brand of hardball. They've gotten an education. My people have been teaching them about other acquisitions of this type---big fish gobbling the little fish---and they're finally seeing the light." "Where do you live? California?" "No, no. I live in Chicago. On the Lake." "That's what...237 air miles from here? Five hours by car?" "Something like that. Dennis, I gave you my history in abbreviated form and following your performance this morning my staff did their homework and put together a resume on you...care to fill in the blanks?" Dennis did so over the next ten or fifteen minutes. "So the word on the street is, you're the next CEO of this elephant?" "Can I trust you, Allison? I don't mean anything involving your clients but something of a personal nature." "You used to trust me...a long time ago." "That I did. Yes. I'm heir apparent. And I'm the wrong guy for the job. This can't leave this table. Bob will retire as CEO in two years. We'll bring someone in from outside to take his place. I'll stay on for two more years after that---as COO---and assuming nothing get messed up, then I'll resign but retain my board seat." "Why? Some sort of internal corporate power struggle?" "Nope. Ten minutes before I walked into that conference room this morning I told Bob and he accepted it with some regrets. I'm not a CEO---don't want to be one. He's retiring at fifty because he wants to have a life. I'm retiring at forty-two for the same reason. At least he has a wife—two, actually, one really sweet---and children. I don't even have a regular girl friend----which is not to say I'm celibate, just not...involved. When do you have to go back to Chicago?" "I scheduled three days, per your request. I'm a friggin' partner, for heavens sake! I don't exactly punch a time card." "Stay." "Why?" "I could say why not or I could refuse to sign off on this proposal and trap you here for three days but that would border on blackmail. Let me make this easy---or maybe hard, depending on your perspective. Here! Watch this!" he said, as he flipped to the last page and signed on the appropriate line. "Here. You can walk out of here right now---although the Tuna you ordered is out of this world...sushi grade and all that. You're job is done. You've got your win-win and your clients' dignity." "You didn't answer my simple question...why? Why should I stay?" "Are you dating anyone, seriously?" "No, not that it's any...no." "Me either. Allison, we're not those naïve and gullible special ed kids we were twenty years ago. But twenty years ago we thought---we were certain---that we were soul mates. That we were...destined to spend the rest of our lives together. So, we were wrong. Or maybe we weren't so wrong? Don't you remember? We talked about it---the dangers of meeting your destiny too soon...too young...too young to fall in love...commit." "Dennis, we're not those kids anymore...we've changed...grown up. I know you're different." "This morning? Oh, please! Don't tell me you've never walked into a negotiation and cut a few balls off just to set the tone. And you would have tried it with me if I hadn't come in with both barrels cocked and locked. I honestly did not know who you were before I saw you---you're married name completely threw me off. But I checked you out just the way you checked me out. I think my favorite quote was something to the effect, 'heartless, ball busting ice bitch who never gives an inch and probably eats kittens and puppies for breakfast.' "You weren't Allison Stevens, the sweet little blonde with the big crystal clear blue eyes, the crooked little smile and the clinically perfect tits---you were the opposition...the enemy. And the only wife I've known for the last ten plus years---this corporation---was on the line. It was just business---and I'm damn good at it...too good at it...and that's why I have to walk away from it. "And in case you haven't noticed my eyes are all blurry right now...and I'm seconds away from blubbering like a baby...because...because...I don't want to walk away from it alone...I want to walk with someone I love...the first girl I ever loved...the only one I've ever loved...the one who stole my heart and never gave it back...you...Allison...you...no one else...just you...please stay...I love you...never stopped." He had no more words in him. It hadn't been rehearsed. It had just come from his heart in its own jumbled way. He'd bared his soul...laid everything he had inside him at her feet. "I missed you, Dennis....missed you so much. I rationalized that I did what I had to do...for me...for my future. I pushed you away...not because I didn't love you. And then when I realized what I'd done it was too late. I was on the other side of the country. It's easy now to look back and think, I should have handled that better. Something along the lines of, 'hey, Dennis, I still love you but I need to do this for me---for my future. Hang in there kid and I'll get back to you in a few years. Wait for me.' I thought I was doing the right thing...letting you down easy...letting you get on with your life. I never stopped caring...never stopped loving you in my heart even if I fought it in my head." "Damn! You are as long winded as I am. Must be that lawyer thing! Here's where the rubber meets the road, learned counsel. I think, in a round about way, you just said you didn't stop loving me---you can explain your marriage later---did I hear correctly?" "I loved you twenty years ago. I never stopped. Let me be perfectly clear...I love you. The marriage was a dreadful mistake...fortunately one which didn't drag on." "This would almost be funny if it wasn't so sad. I've been through every rationalization---every excuse in the book. I consciously pushed you out of my mind but you were still there in my heart. Let's end this foolishness right now. I love you. You love me. Over the last couple of years I've thought about you constantly. We were soul mates, dammit! We can be again...must be again...it's the only that's makes any sense for either of us. Stay...three days...if we can't figure it out in three days...then I don't have an answer." "I'll stay. You drive a hard bargain." "That's why I make the big bucks." "Yeah. Same here. But something tell me this one is a slam dunk...a win-win." "And it only took twenty years." "We have a whole life to live yet...together." "That's my girl!" "Yeah...in a real sense I guess I never stopped being your girl...just didn't know it. You don't still have that Ford Galaxy anymore, do you?" "Long ago relegated to the junk yard." "You do have a car, don't you---with a back seat? One without Olga in the front seat?" "I suppose I could borrow one...then again I have Olga and the car for the rest of the day, there is a curtain and I'm sure Olga is very discreet. Great prop---don't you think?" "Oh, what the hell. I've always wanted a tour of your fair city. Just to be clear: Olga stays in the front seat." "I've always been a one woman man...and you were always that woman." "You've still got that silver tongue! Can't believe some girl didn't take you out of circulation." "One did, baby...one did...a long time ago." Edited by Techsan