Chapter 13: California Dreaming

October 10, 1995, Los Angeles, California

I’d taken a mid-afternoon flight and arrived at the InterContinental Hotel just after 6:00pm. I checked into my suite, took a quick shower, then walked to California Plaza to get a salad for dinner. I got it ‘to go’ and sat at a table near the large fountain so I could watch the cool water show.

“Hi!” a familiar voice called from behind me.

I chuckled, and turned, “Hi, Jasmine! Join me?”

“Sure!”

“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t doing anything after class today, so I decided to come by.”

“And if I wasn’t here?”

“I was going to wait at the hotel. You gave me your flight information, so I figured I’d find you either now, or when you came back from dinner.”

“A long wait if I’d met Ben Jackson tonight!”

“Yes, but you told me you were seeing him tomorrow!”

“True. How is school going?”

“It’s only been about a month, but so far, so good. It’s all basic core stuff right now - English, a writing course, Spanish, an introduction to journalism course, and a philosophy course.”

“Is it challenging?”

“Mostly because I took time off between High School and college, and I have to get back into the habit of studying. It’s a work in progress!”

“Are you working at all?”

“I got a job on campus, working in the book store. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it gives me spending money to supplement what I saved while I was working for FJF. Mom and Dad help some, and the rest is student loans.”

“I know all about those! We spent YEARS paying off Jessica’s loans for medical school, and that was even after I helped pay for the last year.”

“I couldn’t do it without the loans, so it’s the price I have to pay.”

“Except that the easy availability of student loans is driving tuition inflation, and it’s going to get worse.”

“How so?”

“The schools know the government will lend pretty much anyone enough to pay tuition, or guarantee the loan from a bank. That creates a moral hazard - the university can raise tuition without any real risk, because the government will lend however much the student needs. Granted, it’s not quite that simple, but it’s close. When I was in college, it was possible to work your way through a state school. I had some friends who did that. Now? It’s basically impossible. And tuition keeps rising at a rate far faster than the nominal rate of inflation.”

“So you think loans are a bad thing?”

“It’s going to lead to a serious crisis when even a good job doesn’t allow you to pay off your loans in a reasonable amount of time. Doctors already have that problem, but at least they have the prospect of significant income after Residency to help them pay off those loans. Have you researched starting salaries for journalists? And what the cost of repaying your loans will be?”

“Uh, no.”

“I think you’re going to be surprised when you do. You aren’t borrowing the full amount of tuition, right?”

“Right. And I live at home, despite the lousy commute.”

“Do your best to borrow as little as possible,” I said. “You don’t want to be making student loan payments for twenty years!”

“Ugh! No way!”

“How are things otherwise?”

Jasmine smiled, “It’s California! Sun and fun all the time!”

“You know, I should have asked - did you eat?”

“No.”

“Then let me buy you dinner. There’s a salad place, a sandwich shop, a Chinese place, and California Pizza Kitchen.”

“Chinese would be perfect!”

I pulled out my wallet and handed her a ten-dollar bill, which I knew would get her far more food than she’d eat. She left, and was back about five minutes later with orange chicken and fried rice. She placed the change on the table.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I didn’t ask right away.”

“Don’t be! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

We ate and watched the fountain go through it’s very entertaining cycle, which included a ‘flood wave’. When we finished, I collected the containers and deposited them in a nearby trash can, then suggested a walk. We walked along Grand Street, past Pershing Square, then back to California Plaza along Olive Street, stopping in front of the InterContinental.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but they card everyone,” I said. “I don’t think my dad, who is seventy-eight could get a drink without showing his ID!”

Jasmine laughed, “That would be funny to see. I’m OK with a Coke if you want to get a drink. Or I know where a liquor store is, if you wanted to get a bottle.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” I said.

“Because of our conversations when you’ve been here before?”

I nodded, “It’s one thing to have dinner, or even a drink together in a bar. It’s a very different thing to drink in my room.”

“You’re afraid I’m going to attack you?” she laughed. “Or that you can’t resist my ‘feminine charms’?”

I grinned, “There is a practical matter of you driving home. And you have school tomorrow.”

“I could crash with my friends at my old apartment. I do that sometimes, and they’re cool with me using the sofa bed. I keep a couple of changes of clothes there. And I have my school books in my car because I came straight from campus when I finished my shift at the book store.”

I wondered when the inflection point had been passed, and thinking back, I couldn’t remember. Had it been when she first showed up to check on me? Or sometime later? I knew, with reasonable certainty, that if I invited her to my room for ‘a drink’, she’d end up spending the night. And that would make three new girls in a very short time. I wondered if that was ‘not going crazy’, or if I was, perhaps, reverting to an old behavior?

Before the mini-meltdown over the twins, I debated with myself on the topic of a single, long-term lover. In one sense, I could argue that was Michelle, but in another, and meaning no disrespect to anyone, she had moved into Elyse’s spot. The ‘single, long-term lover’ slot was Molly’s, without any question. Or, at least it would be until she could slip free of her Sensei in Milwaukee.

Meredith was, without any question, a dalliance, one which might never be repeated, even if she weren’t dating seriously when I returned to SDSU for the Spring seminar. She’d been fun, and that night had been the culmination of a dance we’d started on our flight to Tokyo. I liked Meredith, but there was no deep relationship, and I didn’t think there ever would be.

In a few weeks, I’d be going to Pittsburgh, and I had tentative plans to get together with Tara, Nelson, and Liza, but no idea how that would end. Liza and I got along well, and I’d enjoyed talking to her. We’d slept in the same bed, but we hadn’t ‘slept together’ and given how things were in my life, I wasn’t sure which way it would go. Having only seen her once, I wasn’t quite sure if she could ‘replace’ Tara, as it were, or even if I wanted to ‘replace’ Tara.

Melissa and I had gone to the brink, but then she’d backed away. She was still flirting lightly, but the hour we spent in the sauna and the Jacuzzi seemed to confirm to me that she wanted to be intimate friends, and have me as a mentor, not as a lover. She might change her mind, but I truly didn’t expect her to do that. And despite my attraction to her, that was just fine. In fact, as I thought about it, it was probably preferable because of the business relationship.

Then there was my conversation with ‘Lucy Alexa’, and what amounted to a demand to fool around when she came to Chicago. She was absolutely a lot of fun, and I’d have a chance to have her without a rubber for the first time, a thought which I knew was impairing my judgment! I suppressed a chuckle at how silly that was after being with well over a hundred girls since age fourteen.

Jasmine, if I accepted her offer of drinks in my room, would likely be similar to Tara - someone I saw a few times a year. I certainly wouldn’t mind having someone in my bed with me when I traveled to LA and Pittsburgh, and I’d only be making those trips twice a year now, as I’d need to visit the other remote offices at least once a year.

All of that had flashed through my mind in a few seconds, and now I had to answer. And really, the bottom line was, was I being true to myself and to my word?

“I’m OK either way,” I said, temporizing, and putting the ball in Jasmine’s court. “What do you want to do?”

“How about a nice California red?”

“You have black hair,” I teased.

“Wine, you goofball!” she laughed.

“No thanks, I get enough of THAT from my daughters!”

Jasmine laughed again, “So that’s how this is going to be? Misinterpreting everything I say?”

“Only when it’s funny!” I replied.

“Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”

“Yes! So, shall we get a bottle of wine?”

“And play ‘patty-cake’?” she teased.

“Sure! But it has to be just like in the movie!”

“You ARE a goofball!”

We both laughed, and she directed us to a liquor store where I bought a bottle of California Cabernet Sauvignon. I decided the hotel cups just didn’t cut it, and bought a pair of inexpensive wine glasses from the display shelf as well. We left the store, and returned to my suite at the InterContinental.

Once in the room, I quickly rinsed the glasses, then opened the bottle with the corkscrew attachment on the combination tool I carried in my pocket. I poured some in each glass, handed one to Jasmine, and took the other one for myself. I turned on the radio for some music, and we sat down on the loveseat.

“How are things going with your illness?” Jasmine asked, and sipped her wine.

“Same as before,” I said. “There is no real diagnosis, just a theory. And if the theory is correct, no medical treatment or cure. I can keep the symptoms under control by limiting my carbohydrate intake and getting plenty of sleep and exercise. The only real hassle is no bread, rice, or corn, and I do have to be careful about wine and beer.”

“Beer I understand. Wine?”

“Has carbs. Not too many, but it does. Distilled liquor doesn’t have any, for the most part, though liqueurs do. I tend to stick to whisky, mostly bourbon, though occasionally rye and scotch.”

“And the fainting spells?”

“I haven’t had one in a while. I’ve had pretty much every test known to man, and the only thing they’ve shown is that I have a strange metabolism, and combining carbohydrates and adrenaline makes me susceptible to syncopal episodes - fainting spells. Once a year I go to Mayo clinic for a full spectrum of tests, including the latest experimental stuff. A new doctor there has made me her life’s work.”

“Oh?”

“She’s a Resident in endocrinology whom I met when she was a medical student doing a clinical rotation at Mayo. Now she’s there full time, and I’m her project. At this point, all she can do is keep doing the tests and hope that some new test can identify the problem. Or that some other clue arises out of the accumulated testing data.”

“And then you could be treated?”

“Yes, but most likely I would decline. All of the symptoms are kept under control with diet, exercise, and sleep, so why take what would likely be experimental drugs or undergo what would likely be an experimental medical procedure?”

“But if it could be cured?”

“I’m not having any symptoms now, so how would that make things different?”

“You could eat what you wanted!”

“I do eat what I want! And there are issues with carbohydrates beyond my medical condition. They aren’t good for you, despite what the government says. Adult-onset diabetes can be controlled with a carbohydrate-restricted diet. In fact, doing that early enough might prevent diabetes in the first place.”

“But the government...”

I cut her off, “Has no idea what ‘healthy’ means. The ‘diet-heart’ theory was adopted purely for political purposes and the farm lobby is so strong, the government may never revisit it, despite more and more science showing it to be harmful, rather than helpful. And medicine is not immune to such foolishness, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jessica showed me an article in The Lancet about two Australian doctors who have, to my satisfaction, proved that ulcers are caused by bacteria, not diet or stress, and that the proper treatment is antibiotics, NOT what amounts to Voodoo or Witch Doctoring!”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. The current thinking of most of the medical profession on ulcers is the worst kind of ‘group think’ imaginable. It’s dead wrong, provably so, and yet they fight tooth and nail against the truth. It’s been ten years since the doctors in Australia proved it, and STILL the medical profession is resisting! Jessica was taught the Voodoo. Fortunately, she reads the medical journals with an open mind, as does her mentor.”

“That’s just dumb!”

“‘Group think’ is one of the more dangerous problems encountered in democracies. It’s why our Founders didn’t set up a pure democracy, but a republic, with constitutional guarantees of natural rights, and protections against ‘mob rule’.”

“You mean like the Senate?”

“Yes. And the difficulty in amending the Constitution, among other things.”

“I know what the headline of my first article is going to say now.”

“What’s that?”

“Man invites woman to hotel room and engages in discussion of politics and medicine!”

I chuckled, “Film at eleven? I’m not sure they’d allow that to be shown on television!”

“Of us? It’s G-rated!”

“There are people who find criticism of the government and medical profession to be obscene,” I chuckled.

“You really are a goofball!”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all! I worked with lawyers who are the most uptight people I’ve met in my life!”

I nodded, “Yes, but did you go to any office parties?”

“Being drunk and acting stupid isn’t being goofy! There’s a pretty big difference.”

“True.”

She held up her empty glass and I poured more wine for both of us.

“Is that perfume what I think it is?” I asked.

She laughed, “Of course it is! Why would I wear any scent other than jasmine? It’s just a hint, though. Did you notice it before?”

“Yes, but for some reason I didn’t put two and two together!”

“It’s actually a body spray, not perfume, by the way.”

“So everything smells like Jasmine?” I smirked.

“One way or the other!”

“And tastes like Jasmine?”

“There’s only one way to find out the answer to that question!”

And this was the ‘make or break’ point. Inflection passed or not, I could still decide not to do it. But then I thought, ‘Who was I kidding?’ and suppressed a laugh. Jasmine was the epitome of a ‘Steve type’, and I wanted her. Of course, I’d told Samantha repeatedly just because we wanted something and COULD have it, didn’t mean we SHOULD have it.

I’d told my wives I was under control. Would being with Jasmine be me acting ‘under control’? In the end, it really did come down to something I’d said many times - you’re only with too many people if YOU think you’re with too many people. I didn’t think Jasmine was a ‘bridge too far’ in that thinking. And she wasn’t a violation of the rules in any way, shape or form.

I smirked, “Make a detailed examination, using various probes, taking multiple samples, from every conceivable location, and then repeating the samples to ensure accuracy and completeness?”

Jasmine laughed, “And a reciprocal taste test, of course!”

I nodded, “Of course! And then a sampling of blended flavors to cap it off!”

“I’m game if you are!”

I was.

October 11, 1995, Los Angeles, California

Jasmine stretched, yawned, and moved on top of me, her head propped on her crossed-arms.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, slipping her legs on either side of mine and grinding her mons softly against me.

“I agree. And I can confirm everything does, indeed, taste like Jasmine!”

I’d grown hard, and Jasmine reached down and guided me into her tight, warm folds. She began moving gently, just slightly flexing her hips.

“You’re sure about that? You’re sure you don’t need to perform the tests again tonight?”

“Well, in the interest of science, I might see my way clear!”

“You know, I could just stay here all morning,” she sighed, squeezing her muscles as she ground against me.

“I have a meeting and you have to go to class!” I protested, though half-heartedly, because I was very much enjoying what she was doing.

“How long can you last?” she asked.

“This way? Quite a while.”

“Good,” she sighed as her body shuddered slightly and I felt the gentle massage of her walls on my shaft.

I really needed to get out of bed to run on the treadmill and have breakfast before meeting Andy at the office, but there was no chance I was going to stop Jasmine from doing what she was doing. It was nearly thirty minutes later when she lifted off, then slid down and took me slowly into her mouth, finishing our ‘taste test’ with a blended sample, which she shared with me.

“That was the best,” she sighed as we got out of bed and headed for the shower.

We were quiet as we gently soaped each other’s bodies, exchanging soft kisses at several points, then rinsing off the suds. We dried ourselves, and dressed. There was just enough time for breakfast before I needed to walk to the office and Jasmine needed to head to the campus for class.

“I’ve only had one other night that even comes close,” she said as we sat down in the glass-enclosed restaurant. “It was with my first serious boyfriend when my parents and brothers were out of town for the weekend.”

I nodded, “I remember times like that when I was living at home!”

“I was sixteen and he was nineteen. We’d done lots of kissing, but not more. He came over that Friday night and, well, yeah,” she sighed.

“Your first time was like this?”

She nodded, “He was experienced, and I liked it so much I asked him to stay and do it all weekend. And we did.”

“What happened with him?”

“He joined the Air Force and is stationed in Germany. We kept in touch, but then he got a German girl pregnant. I haven’t heard from him since, not that I expected to or wanted to. That was about six months before I first met you.”