Chapter 46: Lifestyles of the Insensitive and Clueless

January 30, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Jeri and I slept almost until noon on Saturday, because we’d been up until nearly 5:00am fulfilling her fantasies, including licking fudge from each other’s bodies, and having sex on the dining room table, the rug in front of the fireplace, and on the pool table. I had been surprised at how enthusiastic Jeri was about me sliding in and out of her butt, and she had two very good orgasms from the two fingers she had in her pussy the entire time. It had been very weird, but at the same time, very erotic.

Before we left the bedroom to get something to eat, Jeri looked over the financial report I’d prepared, then locked it in a metal box in her desk. We didn’t bother dressing, and just put on robes to go downstairs. I was totally not surprised by the fact that lunch had been prepared and was waiting for us in the fridge. I half wondered if Jeri might starve to death if the servants failed to show up for work some day.

“What’s the plan for the day?” I asked as we ate the chicken-salad sandwiches which Karolin had prepared.

“Besides sex?” Jeri asked with a smirk. “I figured we could watch a movie, and we’ll go out to dinner.”

“What movie?”

“Have you seen 2001: A Space Odyssey?”

“No.”

“We’ll watch that, if it’s OK.”

“It is.”

“For dinner, there’s a really nice place in Hyde Park, by the University, that isn’t too expensive and doesn’t require us to dress up.”

“Sounds good.”

“I take it you’re OK?” she asked.

“Yes. As I said, it was both incredibly sexy but incredibly weird.”

“Well, a guy who likes legs and asses ought to think that!”

“How did you know?”

“I have B-cups!”

“That’s hardly the criteria I’d use when choosing a sex partner. Heck, most of the girls I’ve been with are your size, though a few bigger, and some smaller.”

“And yet, you just showed me that I’m right!”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Thank you for doing everything I wanted the way I wanted, including that. If there’s anything you want to do, anything at all, just ask. It’s the least I could do for you agreeing to my request.”

“I’d say there isn’t anything left to do, but I know the minute I say that, you’ll come up with something I couldn’t or wouldn’t think of! But I am very happy with what we’ve done.”

“Including that French kiss?”

“I expected it,” I said. “It was the one other thing I felt was obvious from the last time we were together.”

“I promise not to do that again without permission, but I take it it’s OK to kiss you if I’ve swallowed?”

“Yes. You let me kiss you with my face covered with your juices, so turnabout is fair play.”

“Even for the other thing?” she asked with a smirk.

“No.”

“Just checking!” Jeri declared with a twinkle in her eye.

We finished lunch and Jeri actually put the dishes in the dishwasher, something we’d not had at home, though Bev’s mom had one. She asked me to wait in the den while she made a couple of phone calls, so I went and sat in one of the easy chairs, pulling the handle to make it recline. It was just over ten minutes before Jeri came in. She turned on the TV and the videotape player, then inserted the tape.

Once it was playing, she carried the remote over to the table next to the easy chair, then pulled the ribbon on her robe, exposing her body. She reached down and tugged on the belt of my robe, causing the half-bow to loosen, then got into the chair with me, shifting so our bodies touched but we could see the TV.

“I could get used to this,” Jeri said, snuggling close.

“Me, too,” I replied because the skin-to-skin contact was really nice.

We enjoyed the movie, which was about two-and-a-half hours long, though we paused twice to have sex, once in the easy chair, and once on the couch, such that we spent four hours in the den before showering and dressing to go out for dinner. It was nice enough, in light of how cold January had been, with the temperature just above freezing, that we walked to the restaurant, rather than call a car or a cab.

A few hours later, after a very good meal, we were back at the house, and Jeri surprised me with her request — slow, sensual sex, lasting as long as possible, repeating until we fell asleep around 5:00am Sunday morning.

January 31, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

We slept until almost noon, enjoyed one more long, slow screw, then showered and went down to have lunch, served by Karolin and Karl, who had returned earlier in the morning. I still found it odd that they knew exactly what was going on, and that it was against Jeri’s mother’s wishes, but that they would keep completely quiet about it. I was sure that they would, though, because Jeri was sure, and I doubted she’d have risked having me at the house if there was even the slightest chance either of the two would rat her out to her mom.

“My parents have a trip planned in March,” Jeri said. “The dates aren’t firm, but when they are, will you stay with me again?”

“Let me know the dates, but tentatively, yes.”

“Just promise me one thing — that you’ll tell me when you’re planning to be exclusive with someone.”

“I can do that. I don’t expect it anytime soon.”

“Good!”

We finished our meal, then Jeri suggested we soak in the hot tub before she called for a car to take me home. It wasn’t nearly as cold as the first night, and as we were just wearing robes, we simply dropped them on the deck and got into the warm water.

“There’s only one thing I regret,” Jeri said. “And that’s that I can’t invite friends to meet you, because that would give away the game.”

“You can’t trust them to keep quiet?”

“Not enough to not reveal my secret. It would give them way too much leverage over me.”

“I trust my friends.”

“Do you? I mean, really? With anything and everything? Even your deepest secrets?”

“Well, with one person, yes.”

“Your advisor, or whatever you want to call her.”

“Yes.”

“But does she know any of your other friends? Or hang out with you and them? And does what she knows give her a way to hold it over your head?”

“No to all of those.”

“One thing I’ve learned from my mother is that you can’t truly trust anyone unless you have something they want or need, or you know something which could ruin them.”

“That’s not trust,” I said. “Trust is what you and I have, unless you’re telling me you plan to try to blackmail me, which, by the way, won’t work.”

“No, it won’t, and again, that’s why you’re perfect for my needs — all of them. It’s an advantage that you have, in effect, nothing to lose. That means you’ll be open to taking risks other people won’t take. But you also won’t do anything foolish.”

“Like getting involved with you?” I asked with a silly grin.

“I know you don’t mean that because you had multiple opportunities to stop, back out, or avoid it. You chose to embrace it and get maximum value from it, just as I did.”

“You do not act like any teenager I’ve ever known.”

“Growing up in my world, this is normal. You’ve met Samantha Spurgeon, who absolutely doesn’t act like any seven-year-old you’ve ever met, I’m sure.”

“I haven’t met too many, but I agree with you.”

“And, to put a finer point on it, you don’t act like a nineteen-year-old from the sticks, either. Heck, I know college guys who are WAY less mature and who couldn’t understand me at all. Part of it is you being a straight-shooter who likes straight talk and isn’t ever offended by it. Most people can’t handle the unvarnished truth about anything. You just take it in stride, analyze it, and put the knowledge to use to gain an advantage for yourself. A lot of people would call that immoral, or maybe amoral; I call it smart.”

“I believe in ethics, not some external moral code. That means being straight with people, keeping my word when I give it, and following the rules and regulations that apply to the letter.”

“I notice you didn’t say laws.”

“One of the things I recall quite distinctly from Civics class is that it was once illegal for blacks to drink from the same water fountain as whites, and for blacks to sit anywhere but the back of a bus. Those laws were meant to be broken by anyone who had common decency.”

“Interesting.”

“I remember that same Civics teacher saying that you couldn’t actually legislate morality, you could only penalize violations of the law. And that’s true, because otherwise outlawing murder would have stopped it.”

“But the rules and regulations?”

“Well, given the government will control my securities license, I have to follow those rules or I can’t work. But they also are designed to protect my clients from unscrupulous brokers and traders, who would harm those of us who are honest, and who will push things as far as possible without actually breaking the rules or regulations. It’s basic self-interest.”

“Which is, of course, why we came to our arrangement — mutual self-interest.”

“Yes. And, with my commitment to straight talk, you might be a manipulative bitch, but I’ve come to the conclusion that you didn’t manipulate me. You actually negotiated a deal and offered enticements, along with a very interesting ‘handshake’ to indicate agreement between us. The manipulation, if you will, was really limited to asking me out on your birthday, and even then, it was your parents who created the conditions, not you.”

“You’re dangerous,” Jeri observed. “Very dangerous. And I mean that in a good way. The thing is, that’s what’s going to create the rift between you and Spurgeon someday. You’ll deduce that it’s no longer to your advantage to work for him, and you’ll find a way to basically beat him at his own game. I’ve met a bunch of guys who work for him, and some of them are as sleazy as a used-car salesman. You’ll run circles around them by being scrupulously honest. But that will sow the seeds of a breakup.”

“Care to let me peek into this crystal ball you obviously have stashed somewhere?”

“It’s just watching my mom and dad work, along with all the other society people. The patterns are obvious. The good, honest people tend to get chewed up and spit out because they aren’t ruthless, and that’s because they think they can’t be both ruthless and good. You, on the other hand, believe that’s possible, and that gives you a leg up over BOTH sides.”

“Spurgeon?”

“As Dad says, he’s a pompous ass that NOBODY would want to be around if he wasn’t the most successful investor in Chicago and didn’t run the most successful investment firm. People who hate his guts let him run their money because he’s the best. Think about being that good, but having people like you, too. That’s your future, at least as I see it.”

“Which is why you want to join forces now,” I said. “It makes you my first investor, and that comes with significant advantages.”

“Not to mention innumerable orgasms!”

I laughed, “Yes, but you could have had those without the business deal.”

“Could I?” Jeri asked with an arched eyebrow.

Actually, as I thought about it, what I’d said wasn’t accurate.

“Not from me,” I said. “We could only have sex once we’d come to a business arrangement.”

“Exactly. And you could have passed on that part of it, too, but you wanted me just as much as I wanted you, so it worked out very well.”

“So what happens when I decide to start dating someone seriously?”

“You mean, do I find another lover?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll depend on when that happens and the circumstances at the time. I could see trying to find someone, but that might mess up my public persona. You are happy to help me keep my secret, so that I can reuse my most important asset, at least in the eyes of certain guys. If I dated, I couldn’t do that.”

I nodded. We were both quiet, and I thought about everything Jeri had said, especially about her predictions for the future. What she said made a lot of sense, and gave me a perspective I hadn’t had before. All in all, Jeri was doing for business what Anala was doing for my personal life — providing solid advice and a road map for the future.

We eventually got out of the tub, donned our robes, and went up to Jeri’s room to dress. I quickly packed my things, and after exchanging a soft French kiss, she used her phone extension to call for a car. James wasn’t on duty, so they were sending Robert, who would arrive in fifteen minutes. After Jeri hung up, we went downstairs and she led me to the foyer where there were several boxes.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“It’s for you for doing the financial reports and tracking your, well, our, investments. An Atari 800 computer with maximum RAM, a floppy disk drive, a color TV, a printer, and, most importantly, a copy of VisiCalc, which is spreadsheet software.”

“Jeri, I can’t accept a gift of this magnitude! I realize it might be a pittance for you, but it’s crazy!”

She smiled, “I knew you would object, so I’ll retain ownership and you can use it to further our joint goals. Be honest — this would save you a tremendous amount of time and effort, and make it much easier to achieve our joint goals, right?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Then take it home, set it up, and teach yourself how to use it. It’ll be so much easier if you just have to enter the quotes and push a button and let the computer generate the report, along with graphs and other analyses that would take you hours with a calculator. Be smart.”

“I know nothing about computers,” I said.

“Do you have a friend who does?”

There had been Gudia, who had made a similar offer, which I’d turned down. I wondered if Bianca knew enough. I’d be seeing her on Wednesday, and if she didn’t know enough, I was sure she would know someone who did. Jeri’s logic, as always, made perfect sense, and it would be at least a year before I could consider spending the kind of money the computer equipment represented.

“On the condition that I’ll buy my own gear in the future, and return this to you.”

“Done!”

“OK. I have a friend I think can help, or if they can’t, they can recommend someone.”

Jeri laughed, “Will you just say ‘she’ and ‘her’? I’m not going to be offended! It’s so obvious, anyway! Come on, Mr. ‘Straight Talk’! Talk straight!”

“Sorry. I’m not sure where I developed that habit. I’ll make an effort not to do that with you.”

“Or anyone. Trust me, girls know what that means. All girls.”

“Lesson learned.”

“Good!”

Robert arrived about ten minutes later, and at Jeri’s direction, loaded the boxes into the trunk and back seat, and had me get into the front passenger seat after Jeri and I hugged. I had the impression from his mannerisms that having a single passenger sit up front was rare, but there wasn’t really any choice. Fifteen minutes later, the process was reversed, and Robert carried everything up to my apartment. I signed the form, which I noted already included a tip from Jeri, and he left.

I thought about opening the boxes, but decided to wait for Wednesday because I had a pressing matter to deal with — how to handle the situation with Rachel. I picked up the phone and dialed Anala’s number and was happy to reach her. I explained I needed to talk and she agreed to meet me at our usual haunt, which she did thirty minutes later.

“I warned you,” Anala said sternly once I’d explained about Friday.

“You did,” I replied. “And I knew it the moment she said what she did about church.”

“So,” Anala asked, her voice softening, “what are your options?”

“Short of a time machine? Marry her, have sex with her, or forget her. The first two aren’t mutually exclusive, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes. An exclusive relationship with an intent to marry versus a casual relationship. But do you REALLY think that’s possible?”

I took a deep breath and let it out, “No. Because having sex with her would imply a future where we were together, even if she insists it’s just casual sex.”

“So you have two choices, then, really. Commit to working towards marriage or stop seeing her.”

“Which is, of course, what you said in the beginning.”

“But you didn’t believe me, and I think you still harbor doubts because you think it’s possible she might actually discard her faith, making her, in effect, the perfect woman for you.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” I said. “But she certainly does come close to what I believe a good wife would be like, minus her religious fetish.”

“That was uncalled for,” Anala snapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect your faith.”

“But hers?”

“Didn’t you tell me that the god I didn’t believe in was the Christian God?”

“Yes, but you see, there’s a difference between belief and respect. You can not believe, but what you cannot do is not respect the firmly held belief of another person, at least insofar as it guides them through their life. I don’t want anyone imposing their faith on society as a whole, or on me directly, and I would never do that. But it doesn’t mean you can blatantly disrespect our beliefs.”

“I am sorry. It was an error.”

“To say it? Absolutely. But you also believe it, which is actually worse. You’ve taken your atheism too far, and you want others to fall in line with it. That’s as wrong as me demanding you become a Hindu when it is something you don’t believe or want to do. Contrary to popular belief, hard atheists like yourself proselytize just as much as any Christian, and sometimes more.”

“‘Hard’ atheists?”

“The positive assertion that there are no gods, that there can’t be, and a flat-out refusal to accept that it is possible. A softer version is one who says they don’t believe in God and lets it go. A more principled version for a scientific or philosophical mind is agnosticism — that you can’t know, because, actually, you can’t rigorously prove a negative. To say ‘there are no gods of any kind’ assumes knowledge and evidence which you do not have. To say ‘I see no evidence for any gods and therefore do not believe’ admits imperfect knowledge, and admits that the universe is possibly more complex than it might seem.”

“What did I do to deserve your wrath?”

“Made a girl cry unnecessarily, simply to keep open the possibility that she’d spread her legs for you without any strings attached.”

“Bullshit!”

Anala smiled, “You KNOW it’s true, or you wouldn’t have reacted that way. You’ve as much admitted it by continuing to see her, go out on dates with her, even if you aren’t calling them dates, and promising to, if you’ll pardon the expression, fuck her senseless in June or July if she stays away from church. All because YOU want her so badly.”

“And her saying she’s ‘hopelessly in love’ with me?”

“A crush? Infatuation? Who knows? She’s nineteen and was raised a conservative Catholic. She met a boy, and I mean that, from outside her experience, and he looked like an exciting way out. She told you that, didn’t she?”