Chapter 2

Ring ... Ring ... Ring ... Ring... >click<

"umm, ... h-Hello?

Her warm clear deep contralto voice didn't sound groggy, but more breathless- had I interupted anything? I mentaly slapped myself- She was a Nun, for Christ's Sake!

"Yes, this is Samual the Dishwasher, we grokked today, and you dropped your hankerchief."

I said, saying the first thing that popped into my head- well, the second or third thing, actualy- my internal editor wasn't totaly out of commission.

"Oh! Sam is your name? I was worried you wouldn't call, um, because of how I was dressed, and the company I was keeping- I am so glad you did! I have a lot to talk about with you, after all that passed between us in those few seconds- yes, grokking is a good way to put it. I was just thinking about you when you called!"

She ended with a warm sultry giggle, and I blushed as I could feel her blush also over the phone line.

Holy Cow, this was getting so out of hand, so fast! I recalled what we had shared with our eyes, and decided to focus on that, and let the rest explain itself in time. I was going to have to find a different explicitive than 'Christ' though. Her breathy giggle, so natural and spontanious had given me an instant erection. I decided to ignore the ring and the black and white outfit for now- after all, she had started this! I wasn't of the Christian persuasion, so I didn't believe in a Hell (more the fool I, as it turned out... ) I was a good lapsed Jew, just like my mother. We had even celebrated Christmas, as far as opening presents and decorating a tree, and had not attended any temple or church whatsoever.

"Do you know how your voice affects me, my darling Eliza? My brain would become starved with Oxygen just from the Blushing, let alone the other effect. I have no idea what I am saying, and I am likely to give you a bad impression, because I don't think I am usualy quite this idiotic."

Her voice became more businesslike, still thrilling but not quite so incapacitating.

"Do you have a car? I need to talk to you face to face- er, in person. Can you come pick me up at the gates?"

"Umm, I have a motorcycle..." I gave myself a mental cold shower, trying to erase the image of Eliza and I 'Face to face' and not helped by the imaginary feeling of her body pressed up against my back, her arms tight around my waist, her hands right there, the throbbing roar of the motorcycle engine between our legs ... The mental cold shower failed to have any noticeble effect.