Chapter 2

The next morning, after she left for meetings, I began packing to move. On the back of the bathroom door was a pair of blue and green floral boyshorts panties with a label from you know where. I could not resist visioning them on her beautiful ass and then sniffing them again and again to get a rush from the aroma. I quickly washed them and put them on the clothes wire to dry. I was tempted to keep them in their original condition and take them home.

For the next two days, I had my own room, away from the constant arousal that she offered. Before I moved, as I watched her brush her hair or try on clothes, I remembered vividly many of the incidental pleasures of living intimately with a nice looking woman. She was far too distracting for me to concentrate.

The meetings ended and we met in the lobby checkout line with our bags. "Hey, Pat, ready to go south?"

"Last time I took up with you, it cost me a lot of money!"

"Look here--here is the cab fare that I am putting in your hand."

So, I put the $50 dollar bill in her hand and we got in the cab. She did not move over as far as she could have. I opened my palm and she put hers on top of it, with the $50 between. I teased her, "Any better luck after I left?"

She actually laughed, "I'm not telling!"

"You are a super colleague, Pat. If you continue on your path, I will support you for tenure."

"You mean that I can get tenure and I don't have to fuck you?"

"That's crude!" But I picked up on it, "Although it may certainly help, I'm sure you have the votes. I couldn't stop you from being hired, unfortunately. However, after you succeed, if you want to have an encounter, I would like it a lot."

"What makes you think I would have an encounter with you after I get tenure?"

"Ahh, if you do, I am in bliss! If you don't, I have been rejected before." She seemed to like my flattery.

The cab deposited us at the terminal and I reluctantly released my grip on the $50 dollar bill. The cabbie made change and I took it. Then, I lifted her heavy bag to the curb and waited. We rolled our luggage to the waiting line. I took hers and moved into the Frequent Flyer Elite line. Shortly, they had checked our bags and I said, "Would you join me in the Crown Room for coffee or a drink? That is, after the TSA feels you up."

She smiled at me warmly in the club when I brought her Bloody Mary. I asked for her boarding pass and said, "I'll see if we can get good seats."

After a few minutes haggling with the agent, I was able to get her moved to Business Class with me and it cost me only a few thousand miles. It was a long flight and hopefully my expense would be worth it.

As we boarded, she eagerly took her window seat in the front cabin. I sat beside her and offered, "You saved me from peril. I hope this can be a small token of my gratitude."

She flashed another of her genuine warm smiles, "No one ever treated me to a seat in the front cabin. I know it was a hassle for you and I appreciate it. Thank you."

The flight attendant served her a Bloody Mary before we left the ramp. We left San Francisco and reached cruising altitude. Something told me that she was troubled.

I took her hand and she did not jerk it away. "You are troubled?"

"Yes, I am troubled. I must redefine my life. I have to grow up and quit playing that game." Then, she shook her head and said, "Why am I telling you this. You don't care."

"I do care. You may tell me if you like, or not. Soon, they will bring food and I think we could both use a little nourishment."

She had not yet let go of my hand. Just then, the flight attendant put down our tablecloths and flatware. Midway through our light meal, I asked, "Where are you going on spring break?"

"I'm staying by the pool and reading back issues of journals and, just maybe, a lightheaded novel. No stress. No hassle. You?"

"Natalie, who is a friend, won a super trip to explore Mayan ruins in the Yucatan and invited me to go with her. Do a little snorkeling. Maybe a dive or two. Look at the girls on the beaches."

After the wine and the lunch, our conversation became much more animated. Amazingly, we had a lot of common recreational interests like diving, snorkeling and skiing. She was a rock climber.

We both worked on our laptops during the in-flight movie—some trashy family sitcom—and lost our battery power at about the same time.

The flight attendant brought us a brandy and we toasted our return to reality. She pulled my head to her and kissed me softly, "Thanks for the nice ride. I feel almost human. I hope you see lots of nice looking girls on the beaches!" Then, she sat back and giggled, "Oh, and thank you for doing my laundry."

I blushed. "Uh, it was my pleasure!" Of course, how likely was it that I would see any nicer looking girl on the beach than came out of that bathroom? I would always compare them to Pat. Tough!

I had become much more interested in her as a person. The wine helped and she smiled a lot. I asked, "Why did you choose the academic life?"

"It's a long story. Maybe I can give you a couple of chapters if you want the long version."

"It will be better than listening to the canned music!"

"I had good grades at a good prep school and went to a demanding undergraduate school. When I was a senior, one of the female professors took me aside and told me that she thought I should consider academia. She thought I was the kind of student that would get through graduate school."

"Sounds like someone gave you good advice."

"She tempered it by expressing her slight disdain of my social life."

"Were you a party girl?"

"I tried hard to be. I think I made it. Perhaps I succeeded too well."

"Hmmm. Confessions of a hard driving party girl!"

"I made good grades and managed to be in the honors clubs, so I didn't feel too guilty having a good time. I did all right on the GRE—high enough to get in most of the schools of my choice."

"Sounds like an ideal experience."

"I was moving right along, until I gave in to my mother who wanted me to marry one of the most eligible bachelors in my hometown, my high school sweetheart."

"I hear doubt. I judge that you are no longer married to him?"

"See if she will bring me a Scotch, please."

I managed to get her drink, "Go on."

"Stop me when you're bored. Let me put this in context. I married the guy and what he wanted simply was a good-looking Mrs. to stay home and mind the kids."

"You have children?"

"Fortunately not. After I married Bart, I suspected that he continued his carefree bachelor lifestyle, but I didn't investigate. He was a smooth talker; an accomplished raconteur. I decided to wait a couple of years to be sure I wanted his children."

"You were wise."

"Wiser now than I was then. One day, my mother called and wanted me to go with her to our lake cabin. Her new curtains had arrived and she decided to put them up herself that day. I have never known why. Out we went on the two-hour drive to the lake. When we arrived there, we saw two cars parked in front. My husband's and her husband's. It seemed strange because they were supposed to be fishing with friends at another lake about 100 miles away."

I was puzzled. "Is this a soap opera?"

"Truth is stranger than 'As the World Turns'. No one came out to see us, so we went inside. We heard laughter and music and the sounds of people having fun. We went back to the bedrooms and the noise, and there was my father in one bedroom and my husband in another, each with a naked woman from my father's company."

"My God, Pat. Even I'm shocked."

She sipped her Scotch and continued, "I cannot believe I'm telling you this. Anyway, we watched a while until one of the bimbos looked up and saw us. She let out a loud 'Oh My God!' and Bart looked up to see us. Watching them cover up like in a slapstick movie would have been a riot had I not been so angry."

"Yep, Pat, this is true TV."

"Mother was carrying curtain hardware in a shopping bag. She put it calmly on the kitchen table and said, 'Well, Pat, I think we should go back to town.' We returned the way we had come in."

"What a story. Sounds like good fiction!"

"It was still early enough to stop by her lawyer's—one that had helped her with her mother's estate. His eyes were as large as tennis balls as mother related the story. In this town, everyone who is anybody knows everyone else who is anybody."

"I can't wait for more," I whispered.

"The boys came home about seven, looking like they had just been sentenced to death. Mother looked at my father and said calmly, 'I will be at my lawyer's in the morning and doing errands after that. When I return, I expect you to have your necessary things out of the house. You may send someone for the rest later.'"

"Oh, God, Pat. Then?"

"Bart asked if he could do penance and seek my forgiveness. My father nodded, expectantly. Mother said calmly, 'No. You have two choices. You can contest the divorce and have all this brought out in court, or you can agree to the settlement that Adam Herman will offer. I do not speak for Pat.'"

"I guess that was your cue?"

"I tried to copy the same tone of voice of my mother and repeated her lines verbatim. Then I said, 'Now that we have settled that little unpleasantness, I think it is time for you to go.' They walked out in total defeat."

"So, you came out OK?"

"I went in OK and I came out wiser and better than OK."

I noticed that her glass was empty and got her a refill. "Do you still hurt?"

"Interesting question. No, I never did. It scared me that I was not devastated, but I was just happy to get away. Oh, I was pissed at the inconvenience and the whole mess took up a lot of time, but I was 23 and still had time to get my life in order. I learned that I would never be a good Mrs. if I didn't have something creative to do in addition to making children."