Chapter 12: Changes in Foursomes

Dinner with Georgina

Early March, 1983

After the great Election Day results, Lisa and I had a fun day sailing; it was a Quartet Bowl race, our favourite. Lisa steered us to another win across the line; we were looking good for a first place in the series. On the way home, Lisa asked me what my thoughts were about Georgina.

“You know she wants to sleep with us,” she said. “And both Fiona and I would like to sleep with her, too.”

“I guess that’s two votes out of three in favour for it already,” I said.

“No, that’s not how it works,” she said. “You know that. You have to be in favour of being with her, too. It’s not just what I want, or Fiona wants, but what we ALL want.”

“Yeah, I know. She does seem nice, but I would like to get to know her better before I commit to anything.”

“Fair enough. Why don’t you give her a phone call, and arrange to meet her for dinner or something like that?”

“Okay, I’ll do that tomorrow. Maybe have dinner with her Wednesday night, since you’ll be at your lectures.”

“She will like that, I’m sure.”

“Just dinner. Well, dinner and talking, but that’s all.”

That is why on Monday morning, after I had given the first Computing I lecture for the semester, I called her work number.

“International Settlements, Georgina Gilchrist speaking.”

“Georgina? It’s Will Morris, Lisa Coleman’s friend,” I said. “She asked me to call you, you told her that you are hoping to get together at some stage.”

“Yes, lovely ... wait a sec.”

She must have put her hand over the phone, because I could hear her muffled voice telling someone that she would get back to them.

“Is now not a good time to talk?” I asked.

“No, we can talk, there was just someone else at my desk, chatting about unimportant stuff. I would love to get together with you, just what did you have in mind, and when?”

“Well, first things first, I think you and I need to get to know each other much better, before we get too involved. What if I take you out for dinner, say, Wednesday night? I could meet you after I’ve finished here at Uni.”

“That would be lovely, I live not all that far from your work in an apartment on Ocean Street, Woollahra. There’s a great pub only a few minutes’ walk away.”

She gave me her address; her apartment was up on the eight floor, and suggested I get to her place around six p.m.

“There’s a security intercom at the entrance, page me in apartment 803, and I’ll buzz you in so you can get to the elevators,” she said.

I checked her address on ‘Gregory’s’ street directory; her apartment was just around the corner from the Bellevue Hotel, where Lori, Megan and I had met Mary Haggerty. I wondered if that was the place Georgina had in mind for dinner. Life kept tossing up coincidences like that.

On Tuesday I gave the first lecture for Computing II; many of the students were familiar from my Computing I class from last year. I forewarned them that some of the material we would be covering would be familiar to those who did the programming clinic in the previous semester. At the conclusion of the lecture several of the students told me they were really pleased that I would be their lecturer for this subject. All very gratifying.

That evening, before my evening lectures, I met Mary Beth for our regular dinner at the Thai restaurant. Once we had ordered our meals, I decided to ask her about Lori, and what Allison (and Jillian) had told me about her knowing that Lori was planning on moving to the US. I didn’t mention that Jillian had told me; just it was something Allison had said to me.

“That’s interesting,” Mary Beth said. “It doesn’t surprise me; she was asking me what I remembered about living in Virginia before we moved to Australia. When I asked her what her interest was, she just clammed up. I just wish I know what had happened to her that caused her to stop talking to all of us.”

“One of life’s little mysteries,” I said.

“Now, let me throw a question at you,” she said. “What if Jillian hadn’t died at the end of 1979, would you have been happy ending up with her and Allison, like Alli said her plan was?”

“I suppose so,” I said. “I mean, I could have done much worse. All hypothetical, of course. But, yeah, I would have been pretty happy with that outcome; I loved Jillian.”

“I think you would have been happy living with them,” she said. “But maybe you wouldn’t have learned the life lessons that you did. And you and I wouldn’t have got together the way we did. And as happy as I am with Chris, I would not want to have given up those times with you for anything.”

After the Computing II tutorial session on Wednesday afternoon, I took a change of clothes with me to the showers in the rear of the building. I had brought some clean clothes, my shaving kit, soap and a towel with me so I would be fresh and presentable for Georgina. It was a short drive from the university car park, along Avoca Street, through Queens Park and the back of Centennial Park to Oxford Street, and from there down to where Georgina’s apartment was. I liked that part of the Eastern Suburbs; lots of tree-lined streets, old corner pubs, historic terrace houses.

She lived in a high rise block, built in the early 60’s from its outside appearance. Quite a contrast from the other art deco, between wars buildings along Ocean Street. I pulled into a visitor’s parking space, entered the lobby and pushed the intercom button for her apartment. Once I had identified myself, she did whatever needed doing so I could access the elevator lobby, and I took an elevator up to the eighth floor. I walked down the hallway to apartment 803, knocked on the door, which she opened immediately. I followed her into her apartment.

“Will, lovely to see you,” she said. “Would you like a quick guided tour? Not that there’s a lot to see.”

The décor was interesting; it looked as if I had stepped back in time some sixty or seventy years; the furniture, carpets and pictures hanging on the wall looked like they had come from the early 1920’s. It was very tastefully done though. Her apartment wasn’t all that large, a combined living / dining area, with a small kitchen to one side, some sliding glass doors leading out to a small balcony, and a hallway leading to some other rooms. There were two bedrooms; the main one was decorated as a rather luxurious boudoir – that was the only word I could use to describe it, a smaller second room, and a small but functional bathroom / toilet. I was surprised she was able to afford to own such a nice place in this area of Sydney on just a bank clerk’s salary.

“It’s a really nice place,” I said. “And you live in a really nice part of the city, too, lots of places around here.”

“Yeah, and very convenient to work; I can walk down to Edgecliff station, catch a train into Martin Place, and I’m right at work. My father bought the apartment as an investment for me.”

So that explained her having the apartment. Nice to have wealthy parents, I guess.

“Do you feel like walking to the place for dinner?” she asked. “It’s not all that far, ten, fifteen minutes at the most.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

We headed out, just as I had expected it was the Bellevue Hotel that we were going to. Georgina pointed out various places on the way, interesting buildings, cafes, the Turkish Consulate-General’s residence. She held my hand as we walked, which I felt was rather nice. Her hand was soft and warm in my grip.

“Like a drink before we go to our table?” she asked.

“Sound good to me; what would you like?” I asked her.

“A gin and tonic, please.”

I went to the bar, got Georgina’s drink, and a lemon, lime and bitters for me. I saw where she had found a table, and took our drinks over to her.

“Not drinking? How can I have my wicked ways with you if you stay sober?”

“I didn’t realize that was an option,” I said. “Seriously, I rarely drink alcohol these day; I’m on prescription medicine for a heart rhythm problem, and those meds don’t play well with alcohol. More than one drink, and I tend to pass out.”

“Oh, that’s not good. I don’t want you to pass out, I doubt I would be able to carry you back to my apartment!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t pass out,” I said. “Now, one of the purposes for this evening is for us to get to know each other better. Do you want to go first, tell me all about yourself? So, how did you get to be working in a bank? What things do you like to do? Lisa tells me your mother is Greek, how did she get to meet your father?”

“Oh my God; I have no idea where to start. Maybe with my parents; my father was, still is, in fact, an international airline pilot, working for Qantas. He met my mother on a layover in Europe, she was a stewardess for another airline. They fell in love, and she moved to Australia where they got married. One of the results was me, as you can see.”

Judging from Georgina’s appearance, she most likely took after her mother; and I assumed her mother worked as a stewardess back in the late 1950’s, when they were expected to be ‘model standard’ beautiful. It showed in the structure of Georgina’s face.

“I guess you take after your mother, at least in appearance,” I said.

“We do, I have her olive complexion, her dark hair, a similar figure. I’m not as tall as she is though. My father says I have the same stubbornness, too! Anyway, I grew up in Mosman, went to the local public school for a few years, then I moved to ‘Queenwood School for Girls’, which is where Lisa and I met. At high school, I mainly studied art, languages, and modern history; at least that’s what I did for the HSC. When I finished high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do, so I took advantage of being a family member of a Qantas pilot and spent six months in Europe. I got really cheap airfares; I travelled around looking at art galleries and museums; Paris, Rome, Florence, Amsterdam, Vienna. Visited Mum’s family in Greece, too, they are from this little island in the Aegean Sea called ‘Milos’, which is about halfway between Athens and the island of Crete.

“I loved the culture, the history of everywhere in Europe; there was one little village I stayed in for a week in Italy; the pensione I stayed in was well over a thousand years old! And it wasn’t even the oldest building in the town. But to walk around places like Florence, see all the magnificent art work, it was amazing. When I got back, I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, but my father knew someone at the Commonwealth Bank, and he suggested that I apply for a bank clerk position, and with my knowledge of foreign languages I got a position in the international settlements area. I can speak Greek fluently, and I am passably good at French and German, and know enough Italian to get by. I handle a lot of transfers between Australia and Europe, and being able to speak to customers there in their own language really helps.”

“So, if I want to get into international money laundering and tax evasion, you would be my go to person?”

“Hell no! You wouldn’t believe all the controls and restrictions, the reports that we have to provide to the Tax Office and other Government authorities! We wold both end up in jail, quick smart. Ever since the Costigan Royal Commission, you know all that ‘bottom of the harbour’ stuff, banking regulations and oversight has been really tightened up. Although I do know a nice Greek Island that we could escape to.”

“I guess that would involve us flying somewhere, wouldn’t it?” I commented. “I don’t fly.”

“Not at all? Why?”

I told her about my history with flying; or at least not flying, and how sooner or later, I would see about having counselling to deal with my irrational fears.

“Okay, then us flying off to escape the authorities to some island somewhere is probably not a good plan!” she said. “We will have to work out something else.”

“So, when you aren’t working settling multimillion international financing deals, what does the lovely Georgina do with her time?” I asked.

“I think you have a slightly over-inflated idea of what I do at work! But what I love doing is drawing and painting, well, pastels more so than painting. I love doing ink drawings of some of the old buildings around Sydney; and I did a huge number of drawings in Europe; I have them at home in albums. When we’ve finished dinner, come back to my apartment and I’ll show them to you.”

That gave me an idea, maybe Georgina could do the artwork for ‘Callipygous’. I would see what her work looked like, and suggest it to her.

“Now that’s an interesting invitation, ‘Come up and see my etchings’!” I replied, smiling.

“Well ... you did ask what I did. But often on the weekends I take my materials and sketch book, just walk around some of the inner suburbs or the city and draw things. I love the old sandstone buildings that are still government offices, or old terrace houses. We have so many beautiful buildings, and most people don’t even know about them. I probably have over a hundred drawings I’ve done around Sydney.

“Ideally, I would love a job where I could draw buildings; at one stage I considered studying architecture at Uni, but there’s too much maths and science required for that. I can’t do that stuff. Not that I really want to be an architect, but I love drawing buildings and the landscapes around them.”

I had a thought in the back of my mind; would Ian and Celia Craig need someone with Georgina’s skills in their practice? I might have a quiet word with Ian next time at sailing.

“So what else is there to your life’s story?” I asked. “Boyfriends? Tragic romances?”

“Boyfriends? Hah. Only two, both of whom were duds. I guess Lisa told you about the first guy she had sex with?”

I nodded; I recall Lisa telling me how he had no idea of how to get her aroused, and it was over in about a minute, and she was really sore.

“Well, I had sex with him a few weeks later, and he hadn’t learned anything in the ensuing time. It was a disaster. There was a guy I met in Europe, while I was in Paris. He was older, maybe mid-twenties, and really knew what he was doing. But he was over there in France, and I’m back here. So maybe that qualifies as a tragic romance? But it was never meant to be a big romantic love affair; it was purely carnal, just sex – great sex though. Plus a few other flings with guys I met in Greece, and other places in Europe.”

“Well, at least it hasn’t been a total disaster,” I said.

“Maybe so, but it has been a few years since I was in Europe, things have been pretty dry since then,” she replied. “Dry in several senses of the word!”

“So that was why you approached Lisa about getting with me and her?” I asked.

“Well, that was part of it, but there was another reason. You’ll probably think I’m silly, though. Several years ago, you made a really lovely, romantic album, ‘Songs for Lovers’; I got a copy, and I was infatuated in you; I would listen to the album in bed at night, and hold the album cover with that photo of you against my chest. I would fantasize about you being with me, and doing all sorts of romantic things, like in those songs. I so much wanted to be with you, to have you singing love songs to me. I fantasized that you would have swept me away, made love to me in all sorts of exotic places.

“When Lisa told me that you lived right behind her place, and how you seemed to be interested in her, talking to her all the time, and taking her out to dinner, I was SO JEALOUS! What was she doing talking my fantasy boyfriend like that! But she mentioned how you were prepared to have an ‘open’ relationship, with other women involved, I asked her if there might be chance I could get with you.”

“Nice to know I have at least one dedicated fan,” I said.

“I’ve told you all about me and my life, now it’s your turn to tell me all about you. How is it that if you are going to marry Lisa, the two of you sleep with other people?”

“That could take us all night,” I said. “How about we move to the dining room, and get our meals ordered, and I can tell you the condensed version?”

We made our way to the dining room, and were show to a booth. I perused the menu; the mustard-crusted rack of lamb sounded pretty good. I ordered that, while Georgina ordered a mini beef wellington. For the wine, I was pleasantly surprised to see they had Lake’s Folly on the list, so I ordered us a bottle of their ‘87 cabernet.

While we waited for our food to be delivered, I gave her a brief background of my life; growing up in Mona Vale, my start in music, and my first romances with Cathy, Lori and Janelle. She raised her eyebrows slightly when I mentioned the ‘four way’ relationship, but didn’t make a comment. I talked about the start of the group, and how we played at the Mirage, and me taking over singing.

I paused as the waitress brought our meals to the table; I took a sip of the wine, and it was as good as I had expected it to be.

“How did you feel about having all three girls at once?” she asked. “And what did they think about sharing you?”

“Well, just to clarify, there was no sex occurring at this stage. Pretty much everything else, but no actual intercourse. To be honest, having the three of them as my girlfriends, all at the same time – and we would hang out together, all four of us, and do stuff – it was pretty confusing to me at the start.”

“I’m sure it must have been, not just your first really serious love affair, but three girls at once? How did you handle that? Most guys your age would have been in heaven, and would be boasting about it to all of their mates!”

“Well, firstly, I’m not the sort of guy who brags about that sort of thing; you’ll notice I haven’t given many details at all about what I have done with each person I’ve been involved with, I think that sort of behaviour is a bit tacky. But I was really confused when Cathy first suggested that she and I also include Lori and Janelle with us; not that we had progressed to having sex, that took another two years before that happened. But we did pretty much everything else, but I couldn’t understand why if I loved her, and she loved me, why would we want anyone else involved. I said to her something like if we are meant for each other, why would we want anyone else? It was completely different from what I thought love was all about.

“Anyway, Cathy challenged me about my ideas that there was the one perfect person for me, you know, that romantic idea that once you’ve found your soul mate, then you are set for life. She asked me just how many girls of my age I knew well enough to consider going out with, to which I said maybe sixty or seventy. I then had to categorized them into four categories; those who I would really like to go out with, those who I might possibly go out with, those who I probably wouldn’t go out with, and those that there was no way in hell I would even consider being alone with them.”

“I hope there weren’t all that many in that last category!” she said. “But how many in the top group?”

“There were some in the ‘no way in hell group’,” I replied. “But there were between five and ten in the ‘yes I would like to go out with’ group. She then asked me how many girls around my age were in Australia, and what was the likelihood that the ideal one for me, out of those million or so girls would be in that small group I just said I would go out with. Anyway, cutting a long story short, she convinced me that the idea that there’s only one person in the world that would be the perfect match for someone was unrealistic to expect. Instead, we find someone we like, and think might be a suitable partner, and choose to love them. There’s a big difference between ‘loving someone’ and ‘falling in love with someone’. The first is a conscious decision, the second is an emotional response.”

“So you are saying that you could fall in love with anyone?” she asked.

“Well, almost anyone, but yeah.”

“Even me?”

“Sure. Why not you? This is the purpose of us getting to know each other properly; to see if there can be love between us.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I thought us having dinner was just a pretext for you to come back to my apartment so we could have sex.”

“I thought I told you that I wanted us to get to know each other better,” I replied. A dilemma here, what if she was expecting us to have sex, and I was about to disappoint her? “Georgina, I’m not one of those guys who will just willy-nilly screw anyone who looks twice at him, it’s never ‘just sex’ with me. I want to make sure there’s a good connection between us, we both want and expect the same thing from any relationship, and we both know where things are going with us. I’m not saying that I don’t want to have sex with you; but it’s not going to be tonight. I’m hoping that as we get to know each other better – much better – we decided that we want to take things further, I will decided to ‘love you’, as it were. Then when we both feel ready, we will make love. Notice I said ‘make love’; I’m not into just fucking or screwing to get my rocks off.

“That’s okay; as long as there’s a good chance for something in the future, I can accept that,” she said. “God, I sound like some desperate, love-struck teenager! I don’t mean to come across that way.”

“You don’t, that’s okay. But this is why I wanted tonight to be just us getting to know each other properly. In the past, I’ve had sex without getting to know the other person properly, and while it didn’t end up in a disaster, if I had my chance to do it over again, I wouldn’t have had sex with them. So now I am being rather cautious; taking my time and making sure we know each other quite well. Anyway, we got diverted from what I was telling you.”

I continued on with my history, telling her how Cathy and I broke up, re-establishing a relationship with Lori, the ill-fated dalliance with Janelle, and how things ended between Lori and me over a silly misunderstanding. It was then onto my relationship with Megan, and all of our misfortune trying to make love; she laughed when I told her how we were almost caught by the police at Mona Vale beach one night. Then how I Cathy and I got back together, the two of us losing our virginities together, and Lori warning me that it wouldn’t last once Cathy moved to Canberra, and I should sleep with Janelle, Jenny and Hannah if the opportunity arose. Again, she confused me, I didn’t understand how she could suggest I have sex with other girls if I was with Cathy.

I told Georgina about Lori’s analogy of the box covering a light, and different windows that open, letting the light shine out. The concept that opening another window doesn’t diminish the light shining out of the first seemed to make sense to her. I them moved quickly through my first time with Megan, Cathy dumping me (again), and getting with Lori; how we moved in together, and how others were added into the ever-expanding group. She looked sad when I told her about Jillian dying, and when both Megan and Lori left me, she reached over and held my hands in hers.

“You really had a pretty tough few months, Will,” she said softly. “If all of that had happened to me, I don’t know how I could have coped.”

“Well, I didn’t handle things all that well myself,” I said. “I drank far too much, passing out on a few occasions, and getting involved with a woman where I worked. I didn’t take the time to get to know her properly. If I had, I would have realized that me not being Catholic would have been a huge impact on any relationship. That relationship broke up when I was particularly fragile, I drank far too much one night, and passed out in the studio. Mary Beth came up to check on me, saw my lying on the floor, and thought I was dead. Anyway, after a severe telling off, I started on counselling, which help me sort some things out, including making sure I got to know people properly before jumping into a sexual relationship, and developing and maintaining my close friendships.

“So, at the end of 1980, I was offered a job back at the University and a research program to get my PhD. I felt I was back in a reasonable state of mind; Cathy got married, and Janelle was in the wedding party, along with Lori, who had come back to Sydney for Cathy’s wedding, and Mary Beth’s wedding a week or so later. Cathy had asked me to play the organ at the church, and we were providing the music at the reception. Janelle and I hooked up at the wedding, and started getting pretty serious; about nine months later, we got engaged, and then she was killed in a car accident, driving back to work on the evening we announced our engagement.”

“Oh no! That’s so terrible! I think I read about that, wasn’t it a drunk driver on the Wakehurst Parkway?”

“Yes, at least that’s what the police reports said. But at least I now had a good relationship with several close friends, they help me hold things together and get through it all. Anyway, after that, I bought the house we had been renting in Lane Cove, I met Lisa, and, well, here we are. You and I having dinner, getting to know each other, and planning on how you, me, Lisa and Fiona can all have sex together.”

“That’s some wild life you’ve had; and you didn’t talk much about your musical career, or what you do at Uni. My life has been boring in comparison!”

“I wouldn’t say that; you’ve been to Europe, travelled around much more than I have. Maybe the musical side of my life we can keep for another night.”

“Fair enough, can you tell me a bit about what you do at the university? Is it like being a high school teacher?”

“Yes and no; there are two things that I do there. At the moment, I’m finishing off a research degree on some advanced computer communications networks, linking most of the Universities in Australia to an international network, designing the equipment and programs that do that linking. I should have that finished in June, and I’ll get my doctorate, my PhD.”

“So you’ll be Doctor Morris?”

“Yes, not that I will expect people to call me that. The other thing I do there is I am a lecturer in the Computer Science Department; and I teach some introductory programming and related classes.”

“So that is like a high school teacher?”

“Well, if you had a class of three hundred and fifty students, I guess so.”

“Shit! That’s a HUGE class. I think when I was at school, the biggest class might have been twenty-five students.”

“The other things I do is run tutorial classes; they have maybe twenty or so students in them, so that’s closer to a high school class in concept. But that’s where we can go over the lecture material in greater detail; I give the students their class assignments and projects, things like that.”

“That would be so cool; is there a way I could sit in, and see what you do? I would be very quiet, just sit at the back of the class, no one would know I was there.”

I suggested she come to one of the part time lectures next Tuesday evening; I told her that Mary Beth and I meet beforehand for dinner, and gave her the location and details.

“It’s going to be an introductory lecture covering some of the early history of the development of computers, so you should be able to follow that,” I said.

The waitress came and cleared our plates, asking if we wanted any dessert.

“You really should try their New York style cheesecake, Will,” Georgina said. “It’s sinfully good.”

“The chef says it’s orgasmic,” the waitress said, laughing.

“Well, with a recommendation like that, how can I refuse?” I said. “One orgasmic cheesecake, please.”

“I’ll have one as well, thanks,” Georgina said.

“Coffees? After dinner drinks?” the waitress asked.

“No thanks,” I said.

“We can have coffee at my place,” Georgina said.

The cheesecake was just as good as the others had promised; when I had finished every last crumb and fragment on my plate, I wished I had more. That would be being greedy though. The meal was excellent in every respect; I felt quite satisfied and full. I paid the bill, and we headed back to Georgina’s apartment.

As we started walking, she slipped her arm around my waist, so I did the same.

“I feel rather bold, inviting you back to my apartment for coffee,” Georgina said. “If we hadn’t cleared our expectations up earlier, I would be wondering if you were thinking that I might be suggesting we would have more than just coffee...”

I laughed.

“Maybe I still have those thoughts at the back of my head,” I said softly, squeezing her side. “The time will come when it’s right for that.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said, squeezing my side as well. “I really hope so.”

We arrived at her apartment building, and she punched in the key code so we could enter the elevator lobby. As we stood there waiting for the elevator to arrive, she turned around, placed her hands on either side of my face, and kissed me softly on the lips. There was something magical about her kiss; her lips were soft and moist, and I could feel the little jolts of electricity flowing between us as our lips brushed.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be forward,” she said.

This time I put my hands on her shoulders, and pulled her face to mine. After a second or two, she put a hand behind my head, forcing my lips hard against hers. This time I felt the tip of her tongue press against my lips, and I parted them slightly. There was a tingling sensation as our tongues touched, and she pressed her lips harder against mine. There was a ‘ding’ as the elevator arrived, but we ignored it.