Chapter 4: Summer of 1991- Sandy, Wanda and Patti

It was still early on Sunday night and I had the urge to talk to Marcie. She was comically critical of my commitment to get Smyth laid.

"What made you volunteer for such an enormous feat, Sammy?"

"I don't know." I did know, but I wasn't ready to admit to Marcie that I had heard Shirley tell me to turn the tables on Smyth for spying on me and my guests.

"How do you plan to carry it out?"

"I don't know." I really didn't know, but my sub-conscience was working on a plan.

"Who are you going to recruit to be the willing participant? Do you have any candidates in mind?"

"My neighbor to the east says she's going to repay me for what I did for her daughter. Perhaps Sandy will help me out."

"HELP YOU OUT! How can you be so blasé about something this personal? Just because you were able to work your magic on her daughter doesn't mean the mother will be THAT appreciative."

"You may have a point. I'll work on her."

"What makes you so cock sure you'll succeed? I give up with you, Sammy."

She wasn't sympathetic to the cause at all, so I decided to change the subject. "What's new with you?"

"Thanks for asking, sweetie, I'm doing volunteer work at a local hospital and I'm taking a computer course in my spare time."

"What's the computer course?"

"Aren't you going to ask what I do at the hospital?"

"What do you do at the hospital? Empty bedpans and change patient's beds?"

"Yes, I'm in big demand for both of those tasks, but there's more to it than that."

"Tell me about the computer course."

"Typical male," Marcie grumbled before telling me she was taking a course to learn Lotus 1-2-3. "It's Bernie's idea. He's has Lotus running on the company system and wants me to get up to speed. You know what that means; next summer he'll have me chained to a desk."

"It sounds like you're as busy as I am. Do you get to ride your horse or go on dates?"

"I get to ride my horse," she answered solemnly.

We switched the subject back to bedpans briefly. As we were ending the call I realized she hadn't asked me anything about Patti or if my dream had returned.

I suppose Marcie believed my long dissertation regarding marriage vows and how my conscience wouldn't allow me to seduce Patti as long as she was married. I still believed it myself although I had to admit I was wavering. Patti's assertion that I was too young for her created a challenge that I couldn't ignore. Besides, she had been separated from her husband for over six months and rumors were floating around that he had taken in a new roommate. Why should I let my conscience keep me from meeting the challenge?

I went to bed that night thinking how I would turn Patti's thinking regarding our age difference around. I would begin by quoting formulas from her book on load factors and if that didn't impress her I would move on to poetry. When morning came I had a plan of attack formed.

On my way to work I pictured myself handing her a piece of paper. She would read the heading and blush: A step-by-step schedule; Sammy's seduction of Patti.

It was fun to think about, but quite unrealistic. Patti seldom blushed and anyway, she wasn't at work on Monday morning. There was a message saying she was taking care of personal business and similar messages were left the next three days. By Thursday night I was becoming concerned. I called her.

She was somber and her mood never did change while we talked. All she would say was that she had been working on a proposal for a prospective client.

"I have to do a presentation in the morning before I come to work."

Something told me not to pry. I wished her luck with the presentation. She thanked me for thinking of her and we said goodnight.

I didn't see her until mid-afternoon when she delivered a telephone message to me. She sounded a bit irritated that she had to chase me down on the fourth floor of the building. "A Mrs. Santeria wants you to call her. She said it was urgent. That's why I came up here to get you."

"Thanks, Patti," I said, stuffing the pink message in my pocket and continuing to make notes for my report on the construction progress. She walked away without acknowledging my 'thanks' and I realized that she was miffed at having to climb to the fourth floor with construction workers watching. The stairs had not been installed yet and the elevators were not scheduled to arrive until the end of the year so we had temporary ladders between floors. Patti hated to climb the ladders because it always drew whistles from the guys. She usually wore jeans, but today she was wearing a summer business suit.

I followed her down the ladders to the construction trailer and returned Sandy's call. "Sable and Chase World Marketing, how may I direct your call?" It was only seconds later when I heard Sandy's voice.

"Thanks for returning my call, Sammy. Do you like baseball? A vendor just offered me tickets for tonight's game and I thought of you. The Mets are in town."

I caught Patti watching me out of the corner of my eye and wondered, 'do I like baseball?' I had never been to a major league game. "Yes, I would like to go," I said and noticed that Patti was pretending to concentrate on her computer screen.

"The game starts at seven, but I like to get there early to watch batting practice. We'll meet at home about five. Is that going to be convenient for you?"

"Yes, I'll see you at five ... and thanks for inviting me."

Patti stayed very busy for the rest of the day, as if I weren't there. She didn't explain where she had been for the past four days, nor did she ask about the telephone call.

I took one more tour of the building, sent progress reports to the home office and said goodbye to Patti soon after the construction guys left at three-thirty.

"Have a good time, Sammy," she said, smiling and I smiled back.

As I drove to Holly's house I let my mind explore the possibilities. Patti's smile was genuine. She didn't know who Mrs. Santeria was or that she had invited me to watch a baseball game with her. Patti must have surmised, however, that I was going on a 'date' because she told me to have a good time. What was going through her mind? Could she be thinking that I was breaking my own rule regarding dating married women?

By the time I pulled into Holly's driveway I had in my mind that Patti was thinking that I was being pursued by an older married lady. While in the shower I let my mind continue to play tricks; Patti was becoming jealous of Mrs. Santeria. The possibilities were endless; Patti's conviction that age between a boy and girl mattered was evaporating at the same rate as my personal promise to avoid married women.

Knowing my mind was running wild, I turned on the cold water to clear my head before getting out of the shower. I dressed quickly and met Sandy as she was coming out of her front door. She insisted on driving, saying she knew the fastest way to Atlanta- Fulton County Stadium.

"Do you like baseball, Sammy? You didn't say?"

I laughed. "I've never been to a major league game."

Sandy looked at me. "You're a baseball virgin. I'll be gentle," she said, winking.

I probably took her remark the wrong way, not as she intended, a joke. Still, her assessment was accurate. I remembered my own little league play, pathetic, and taking Curtis Jones to his little league games, babysitting really, and watching Karen Parker coach her girl's softball team with Cindy sitting beside me, wearing high-cut shorts and drawing the attention of everyone in attendance.

"You're right," I said, agreeing that I was a baseball virgin.

Recalling Karen Parker coaching her team, jumping off the bench to question an umpire's call, cheering a spectacular play in the field or sending a coach-speak signal for a batter to bunt made my cock jump. Why hadn't I taken Barbara, the left-handed shortstop, up on her offer of a blowjob? Was the offer of a blowjob Karen's attempt to manipulate me?

Watching Sandy's feet work the accelerator and brake pedal made me wonder if she was trying to manipulate me. The hem of her dress was riding up above her knees as she lifted her foot to apply the brake. Was taking me to a baseball game her way of repaying me for what I had done for her daughter? If so, why had I interpreted what she said differently? Why had I thought she was talking about a blowjob? A blowjob would have certainly been preferable.

Looking upward from Sandy's footwork I wondered if all women who attended baseball games dressed that way. Instead of comfortable sneakers or sandals, she was wearing high heels, with sheer silk stockings. Instead of casual slacks and a T-shirt, Sandy was wearing a below-the-knees summer dress, long sleeves, made of soft pink material with a low-cut neckline. A matching pink bow held her long blond hair in place and her lips were also pink. A long strand of pearls fell from her neck into the bodice of her dress and gold earrings dangled from her earlobes. Atop her head was a wide-brimmed straw hat. On her left hand was a wide-band gold ring.

Sandy caught me taking inventory of the wardrobe and accessories she had chosen to wear and smiled. "My thong is pink, too," she informed me.

"Why is 'World' included in your company's name?" I asked to deflect my embarrassment of being told the color of her underwear.

"It characterizes the scope of our business. We have as many international accounts as domestic ones. 'World' in our name says we're committed to marketing products from all over the world."

Her answer made sense. "What do you do there?" I asked boldly.

Sandy kept her eyes on the road for several seconds before looking my way. "I'm an Executive Account Manager."

"Sounds important," I said, having no idea what an account manager did. I had a marketing course in my schedule for the following year so I viewed this as an opportunity to find out what I was in for. "Does your job require travel?"

"Not as much as one would think. We're able to communicate via facsimile or on conference calls, but some companies want to see who they're dealing with face to face. Right now I'm trying to get out of a trip to France and Switzerland."

"Wow! When will you know?" I asked with real concern now. That kind of trip could delay my laying the groundwork to make her Smyth's first.

"I'll know tomorrow. If either client insists that I pay them a visit I'll go to both places."

"When's the trip?" I asked, crossing my fingers.

"We'll leave on Saturday, the sixth of July and return the following Saturday."

'Shit!' I thought. "If you need a lift to the airport I'll be glad to take you."

Sandy smiled and shook her head. "That's thoughtful of you Sammy, but it's not that simple. There are four of us in my group and we don't believe in traveling light. We'll take the company van to the airport."

When we parked the car she tossed the straw hat in the backseat and insisted that we buy Atlanta Braves hats. I didn't see anyone else wearing high heels. In fact, all the women and girls were dressed casually in sneakers, jeans, player's uniform shirts and Braves' hats. Was Sandy making a statement? She took my hand and skillfully guided me through the crowd.

The seats were on the third base line, only three rows from the edge of the field. There was something about the stadium filling up that excited Sandy. She talked incessantly, pointing out the scoreboard, the location of the dugouts and the bullpens. As she talked, I couldn't help but notice her perfume, the way her earrings dangled and how she touched me to make each point.

I think she knew she was overdressed for the occasion. She was clearly enjoying herself and I decided that if this was the way she was repaying me for helping her daughter, I was happy with the method of payment. Just being in her company was exhilarating.

We stood for the National Anthem. As soon as the vocalist ended the song Sandy sat down, put her hat back on and resumed touching me each time something of interest happened on the field. She treated me like a baseball virgin, explaining the nuances of the game, emphasized by jabs to the ribs or briefly holding my hand.

At the middle of the fifth inning she asked if I was hungry; I was and for the next two innings the game was forgotten as we balanced a tub of popcorn on our knees. Since one of us had to keep the tub from tipping over, I became the designated holder and since a large Coke occupied my other hand Sandy fed me popcorn, one kernel at a time.

The fun we were having attracted the attention of the people around us. I wondered what they must think about us, but it was Sandy who supplied the answer to my question.

"Don't pay any attention to them, Sammy. They think I'm your eccentric old maid aunt."

"How do you explain the ring?" I asked, pointing to the wide band on her ring finger.

"Oh this, they know it's just for show."

Sandy was a different person from the 'scared rabbit' I met only three weeks before. I decided to test her to see if she was as licentious as she pretended to be. "Do they think we're sleeping together?"

That's when the popcorn spilled. There wasn't much left in the tub, but it was my fault. I should have anticipated that Sandy would jerk her knee when I asked if the people around us thought we were sleeping together. She made an effort to hide her shock at my remark. "Why, Sammy, they wouldn't think anything of the sort. I'm your aunt, remember? That would be incest."

Over the next two innings she continued to explain the moves the managers were making, but without the touching. I wondered if the fans around us noticed the change. Did they suspect she was a grandmother?

The Mets won, eight to two and the disillusioned crowd filed out of the stadium, orderly but slowly.

I thought we would have something to eat on the way home, but when Sandy didn't offer to stop I decided she didn't want to be seen in public with me. The straw hat was in the back seat and her dress was carefully pulled down over her knees. When she pulled into her drive and stopped, I made an attempt to set things right.

"I'm sorry about the lewd remark, Sandy."

She reached for my hand and leaned over, presenting her lips to be kissed. Her mouth was open and she continued the kiss several seconds before pulling away, smiling.

"Holly warned me about you. I'm going to be busy getting ready for my trip, but when I return I want to come over to your pool for a swim," she said, getting out of the car. I got out, too and watched her walk to her front door.

"You've decided to go, then?"

She turned, "Yes, I've decided to go to Europe."

"Thanks for tonight," I said, but she had disappeared inside the house and didn't hear me.

I checked my email while warming some leftovers from the night before and found a message Wanda. The subject read: Urgent.

June 18, 1991 4:10 P.M.

Where are you, Sammy and why haven't you answered my messages? I have some questions about your report. I also have some news.

Wanda

June 18, 1991 10:55 P.M.

Wanda,

I left work early to attend a baseball game. What are your questions and what's your news? If you're at work, I'm at the number I gave you. If not, I guess this can wait until Monday.

Sammy

I was in the kitchen filling a plate with warmed up food when the telephone rang.

"Hi!" she sounded chipper after a long day.

"Are you still at the office?"

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you."

"What are your questions, Wanda?"

"Forget that. I'm coming to Atlanta for a visit."

So that was the news. Three questions popped into my mind. Number 1: Why? Was my reporting inadequate? Number 2: Who authorized the trip? Was I in trouble with John Oldham? Number 3: When?

"Sammy, are you there? Isn't this exciting? I'm actually going on a business trip."

"That's great, Wanda. Congratulations. When are you coming?"

"Saturday, the sixth of July. Will you pick me up at the airport and show me around? I don't want to be a burden to you, but you're the only one I know and..."

The doubt I heard in her voice was the old Wanda I knew so well, not the new confident analyst. "I'll be glad to pick you up and show you around. Give me the specifics, flight number, time of arrival."