Part 1

ONE

It was almost good to be going back to school. I missed my crew--I'd spent most of the summer at my Grandparents' place in Bar Harbor, Maine. Now, here I was, back in Burnham, Massachusetts, about to begin my Junior year in High School.

My name is Rob, by the way--Rob Waterford. And I liked school because I pretty much ruled it.

Hey--no brag, just fact. I was good-looking, a good student, charming, and I was rich. And rich is important in Burnham.

It was a divided town. We had the 'other side of the tracks'. And then we had the 'rich' part of town. There was a hill on the west side--the closer you got to the hill, the richer it got. My family? We lived on top of the hill. I mean, I drove to school on this day in a brand new BMW--and I'd only had my license a couple of months. Yep, I was rolling in it.

Anyhow, I quickly caught up with the posse, swapping stories of the summer.

"Yep, I had a girl in Bar Harbor," I told them. "We spent all summer together."

"Two months? That's long for you," my best friend Corey said.

"Well, that's OK when there's a pre-defined end date. She lives in New York, so we knew this was just a summer thing. We swapped emails and stuff, but that's different. She knows the score." I grinned at them. "And she was an animal in bed."

"Yeah, yeah," my buddy Jake said. "Aren't they all? But now you're back here with the same-ol same-ol."

"I'm sure I can find a cutie to amuse myself with," I said.

"How? You've been to bed with every half-decent girl in the school." Corey said. "Well, except for Jenna."

I grinned at him. Jenna was his girlfriend. I might have few scruples about sex, but one of them was I never poach on a buddy. "You're welcome to Jenna. You know I like her, but she's way too clingy for me. Almost a year with the same girl? Not for me."

"Same old song and dance," Corey laughed. "But, you have to admit, you're rapidly exhausting the supply."

"What Rob needs is a challenge," our other pal Dave said. "Someone he normally wouldn't look at. You know, pick one of the hopeless wallflowers and see if you can get her to surrender the cherry. Let's see how good you are when you're not going after the Missy Crosier types--you know, the ones that spread their legs on command. You're in a rut. You should challenge yourself."

"Hmm. That's an idea, innit?" I said. "I think that's just what I'll do."

"That would kind of be lowering yourself," Nick, another member of the posse, said. "Wouldn't it?"

"Nah. Just spreading the love, that's all. Why shouldn't one of the wallflowers have the benefit of my talents?" They all laughed at that.

After that we had to go to class. The conversation resumed in the lunch room.

"So, you're going to actually go for one of the nonentities?" John, another of my friends, asked.

"Why not? Could be fun."

"Any ideas who?" Dave asked.

I looked around the room. I especially looked towards the corners of the room, where all the wallflowers sat. Then I saw her. Boy, wouldn't that be a coup if I could get her into bed!

"Tammy Ishigawa," I said.

I've never seen a table get so quiet that quickly!

"Are you nuts?" Corey asked.

"Why not? Don't think I can get Tammy Ishigawa into bed?"

"Jeez, I dunno," Corey said.

"Why would you want to?" Dave asked. "She's a geek. And she's a dog!"

"She sure is a geek," I agreed, looking over at her: the thick almost granny-glasses, the unstylish clothes, the long unkempt black hair. "She's no dog, though."

"Huh?" Dave said.

"She's cute. Those thick granny glasses hide it," I said. "But she's cute. I'll be glad to get those glasses off. And everything else," I smirked.

"To each his own," Dave said, "but I surely would like to see if you can get her in bed. That'd be quite a coup!"

"Yep," I agreed. "So, watch the master at work." I got up from our table and sauntered over to the one where Tammy was eating, alone. I plopped down in front of her. "Hi, Tammy."

She looked up, saw me, and almost gasped! I loved it! Boy, do I know how to make an entrance, or what? "Uh, uh, hi, Rob," she said.

"Listen, I was wondering. Are you busy Friday night?"

"Me? Uh, no, not this Friday. Why?" she said, clearly confused.

"Well, I was wondering if you might like to go out with me."

"Me? Go out with you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, OK. Yes," she said, still stammering and blushing.

"Great. I thought we could go to a movie."

"OK."

I got her address--in the crummy part of town, which I knew--and made plans to pick her up. I told her I'd see her later and left her to her blushing and stammering, and went back over to the boys. "Got a date with her Friday," I said grinning.

"You da man," Nick laughed.

TWO

I went to pick her up Friday night--she buzzed me up and I went to her apartment door. Man, she lived in the slums. Burnham's slums were small, but we had 'em. The apartment was well-kept, from what I saw from the doorway, but small.

I meant what I'd said to my buddies--Tammy wasn't a dog. She was cute. She just wasn't what you'd call put-together. She had long black hair that tended to go every which-way, which was probably why she had part of it in a hairclip tonight. She never wore makeup that I saw, the best way to describe her clothes would be serviceable, and she had those glasses with the thick black frames. And she didn't look any different when I went to pick her up. She was dressed a bit more nicely than she would've at school--chinos and a blue blouse--but nothing special. She didn't go out of her way to gussy herself up, is what I'm saying.

But she was still cute. Especially when she smiled, which she did, widely, when she saw me at the door. Her whole nose wrinkled when she smiled. It also showed up in her eyes. Now, her eyes were almond-shaped--she was, I'd heard, half Japanese--but they got wider when she smiled. Like I said, very cute. I also liked her body. She was skinny, but not painfully thin or anything. And she was curvy where it counted--her boobs weren't huge but they were definitely big enough, and she had an ass. Not J-Lo, mind you, but considering how skinny the rest of her was, the ass stood out.

"Where are we going?" she asked as we got into my car.

"I figured we'd go to a movie, then, if we're hungry, we can hit Joe's Roast Beef."

"Cool. I love Joe's. Which movie?"

I tossed her the movie section from the newspaper. "Here, you pick."

"OK," she said happily.

She picked a chick flick. Yeah, I know, big surprise, eh? I actually didn't mind most of them. I almost always let the girl pick the movie, unless there was something I really wanted to see and she agreed. Other than that, I let them pick. It meant I saw a lot of chick flicks. Most of them, actually, I liked: that's my one hidden weenie moment, that I liked romantic comedies. And it was genuine--although I'll admit that I liked them best if the 'comedy' part was at least as important as the 'romantic' part. But I did like most of them. Of course, there was a hidden bonus--you have no idea what a boost it is when you take a girl to a chick flick, and watch it well enough so that you can discuss it with them afterwards. I swear, just that makes half of them get wet right then and there. It's the greatest seduction technique known to man. I tell all my buddies this--half of them just don't get it. Which is why they're constantly forcing their dates to see X-Men Twelve and get a peck on the cheek afterwards, whereas I am sitting in When Harry Met Sally In Seattle--and enjoying it--and scoring afterwards.

So, Tammy picked a chick flick. I liked it. She liked it. We went to the roast beef place afterwards--and, yes, like usual, she was surprised I liked it. We discussed it a bit.

Now, understand, I didn't have any illusions. I'd bragged I could get Tammy into bed--but did you notice I didn't set any time limits on this? No, I was not trying to get her to spread her legs tonight. I knew that wasn't gonna happen. As far as I knew, this was her first date. Nope, this was going to be a slow seduction.

So, we discussed the film, and I felt her warming up a bit anyway, which was tonight's goal. So, then, she blurted out something that must've been on her mind all week. "So, why the hell did you ask me out?"

I told her a half-truth. "I dunno, really. I was sitting in the lunch room, looking around, and I saw you--and just decided I wanted to ask you out." She lit up at that. And, really, it was true as far as it went. I was looking for a wallflower, yes, but I couldn't really explain why I picked her in particular. So it was partially true.

"You've got a great smile," I told her, sincerely. She smiled even wider at that. "You're face is very exotic. What are you, Japanese?"

"Half-Japanese," she told me, confirming what I thought I'd heard. "Mom's Japanese. My father isn't. White, that I know, but I don't know much else. I've never met him," she told me.

"Really?" I said.

"My mom was 17 when she got pregnant. My father took off. And my grandparents were less than thrilled, because they're very traditional old-school Japanese and children out of wedlock are a complete scandal. They didn't completely abandon us, but close."

"That sucks. Your father's never tried to contact you?"

"Nope. No money, ever, either. Don't get me wrong, Mom and I are fine. We make do. She's had to work awfully hard though. Being a waitress is hard work."

"Oh, is that your Mom that works at the Burnham Diner?" I knew there was an Asian woman that worked there.

"Yeah. I do too, now, a couple nights a week. I do want to go to college and every little bit helps. In fact, I usually work on Fridays, but one of the other girls wanted tomorrow off so I switched."

"Ah. So you usually don't work Saturdays?"

"Nope," she told me. I kept that in mind for later. Then I noticed that she was really putting away her roast beef sandwich. I actually liked that--a girl who can eat. It's fun and rare from my experience.

But, I had to ask her. "Where do you put it all?"

She looked down at what was left of her sandwich and laughed. "That's a good question. I eat like a pig, and don't gain weight."

"Lucky you."

"Oh, you think so, huh? I hate it! I'm as skinny as a rail. I wish I could gain weight. At least then I'd have b--." At that, she stopped herself, and blushed bright purple.

I knew what she was going to say, and I couldn't resist. "Oh, don't worry about it, Tammy. You definitely have b. In fact, I'd guess that's just what they are--about a B."

She looked at me for a second, still blushing, and then exploded into laughter. I breathed a sigh of relief--like I said, I couldn't resist, but I was afraid I'd offended her. Apparently not.

She recovered enough to grin and say, "Good call. 32B to be exact."

"What's wrong with that?" I asked pleasantly.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with it. It's like baseball. There's nothing wrong with Bill Mueller, but wouldn't you rather be David Ortiz?"

I started laughing again. "So, if Bill Mueller is a 32B, than Ortiz is?"

"38 double-D," she said, still giggling.

"I get it," I grinned. "You're a Red Sox fan?"

"Of course I am. I'm Japanese-American. Which means baseball's in my blood, twice. And I'm from Massachusetts, so I'm a Sox fan." Her eyes twinkled. "Though there's a soft spot in my heart for the Seattle Mariners."

"Ichiro," I said, referring to the Mariners' superstar Japanese right fielder.

"Right on. I loved it when Hideo Nomo was here a few years back. Him pitching that no-hitter for the Sox was my greatest baseball memory until we won it all last year."

"We had a party at my house," I told her, "for the fourth game of the Series. It was nuts. We had such a blast, hollering and screaming, after they won."

"That sounds like fun," she said. "I was actually working."

"Oh, that must have sucked."

"It didn't, actually. There weren't many people there, and the ones that were were some of the regulars," she said. "So it was almost like a party. Nobody ordered anything for the last four innings or so, except for the odd coffee refill--so we just watched." She grinned at me. "I ended up watching the ninth inning on Mr. Dupont's lap."

"Isn't that the guy who owns the diner?"

"Yeah."

"He's what, 80?"

"65," she giggled. "So, yeah, I watched the ninth inning sitting on his lap like a little kid. It was fun. Mr. Dupont's the closest thing I've ever had to a father. My mother's worked there since I was a toddler, so I grew up with him. He's such a sweetheart--his wife is, too. In fact, he probably had a lot to do with getting me into baseball. Heck, he's also the one that got me into science fiction novels--he bought me my first Heinlein when I was, like, 10."

I positively goggled. "You like sci-fi?"

"Love it. I have quite the collection. What's the matter, you never met a girl who liked sci-fi before?"

"No!"

She waggled a french-fry at me, that twinkle in her eye again. "You have been dating silly girls."

"I think you're right."

"Well, now we're even," she said. "You're the first guy that I ever met that liked romantic movies."

"There you go."

We discussed sci-fi for a good long time. She really did like it, as much as I did. Not only had I never met a girl who liked sci-fi, I don't think I'd met anyone at all that liked it as much as I did. Suddenly, in the middle of this, I said, "God, you're fun."

"You sound surprised."

"I think I am. I dunno, I guess I expected you to be shy."

"I'm not all that shy. Besides which, you are also fun, which helps. Why did you think I'd be so shy?"

"Because I always see you alone. Like, at lunch. You always eat lunch alone."

"Ah," she said. "I'll admit, I only have a few friends. The ones I have I'm very close with, but I don't hang around with a gang or anything. It's not shyness, though, it's just that a lot of people look down on me." I felt my cheeks burn a little at that, because I'd been one of those people. She went on. "And I'm not the type of person that cares, you know? If you look down on me, that's your problem, not mine. I stick with my close friends and don't care about the rest of 'em.

"As for lunch, think about it. I'm an A student. That takes work. I also work three nights a week, and some Sunday afternoons, at the diner. So, I eat lunch alone because, when the hell else do I have time to read sci-fi?"

"I see your point!"

We chatted more, and then I suddenly got a glimpse of the clock hanging on the wall. "Er, Tammy, do you have a curfew?"

"Yeah, 11:00. Is it getting close to that?"

"Well, uh, it's 11:30."

"Oh, shit!" she said. We gathered up our trash and dashed to my car. You've never seen two people move that fast. Luckily, she didn't live far from the roast beef place.

"Are you going to be in trouble?" I asked.

"I don't know. I've never been late before," she said worriedly.

"I can't believe we sat there talking for three hours."

"I know," she said, looking over at me with a smile. "I haven't had this much fun in ages."

"Me, either," I said, and meant it.

We got to her apartment building, and she flew out of my car, hair flying everywhere, her pocketbook slamming into her hip as it hung off her shoulder. Jeez, the girl should run track. But I wanted her to slow down--I wanted her phone number. I also wanted to ask her if she needed me to go up to help explain things to her mother. But the way she was moving, I wasn't going to catch up to her.

Luckily, I didn't have to. She got into the front door of her building, and pushed a button--the building had one of those intercom-buzzer thingies. As I approached the door, I heard her say, "Mom, it's me. I'm sorry. Just give me a minute, OK?" Then she turned back to me as I caught up to her. "I can't stay out here long, but I wanted you to know I had a great time."

"Me, too, and I'd love to do it again."

"Definitely. Remember, though, that usually Saturdays are better."

"Got it. Could I have your phone number?" I pulled out my cel. "I'll put it right in here." She was happy to give it to me.

The funny thing was, I wanted to kiss her. And I didn't know if I should. Jesus, on any other date, I'd be doing a whole lot more than kissing and I wouldn't be hesitating about it! But, with Tammy, I didn't know how she'd react.

So, I asked. "Tammy, may I kiss you goodnight?"

"I'd like that," she said softly. So I did. And it was a great kiss. We ended up lip-locked for a good minute, her arms up around my neck, mine on her waist. When we broke the kiss, I did it reluctantly. I think she did, too. "Thanks. This was wonderful," she said. "But I need to get up there before I'm grounded for a month."

"You need me to come up and help?"

"Nah. I can handle it."

"Go, then," I said. "You can't get grounded, I want to take you out again next weekend."

"Good!"

It was driving home that it really hit me.

Look, the reason I can get girls in bed--besides the whole rich and handsome thing--is that girls can be seduced, and I'm good at it. It works most of the time. Yeah, I know, the rich and handsome thing doesn't hurt making the seduction work. Especially the handsome thing. I'm tall, blonde, blue-eyed, gorgeous, and I have a good body--your basic All-American stud. I knew that helped. But I can get it to work. Things you say, motions you make with your eyes--it works.

It wasn't until I got back in the car that I realized I hadn't even tried any of them. Yeah, the movie--but that was just letting her pick the movie. And knowing what I now knew I was surprised she hadn't picked War Of The Worlds or something! But all my other tricks, I didn't even try them. Didn't even think of trying them. As I said, I knew I wasn't getting Tammy into bed tonight, but I'd planned on at least laying some groundwork. And, when we got talking, it immediately went right out of my mind.

I tried to remember the last date I went on where sex wasn't the uppermost thought in my mind. The answer was exactly never.

THREE

I called her the next day, right around noontime. "Did you get in trouble?"