Chapter 5: Girls

The best part of Friday finally arrived. After carefully looking up Pamela's address on the Web, I drove Mother's car to pick up my date. As I had seen through scrying, Pamela lived in a large expensive house. It had nice-looking palladian windows on top and a neatly trimmed front garden. I parked the car on the side of the quiet street rather than pull into their driveway.

The house was in a new development, with houses on the slopes of some hills. There were green bushes and trees separating the houses, giving each one a sense of privacy. I admired the view for a few seconds.

The front door opened before I got there, and Pamela stepped out. Her hair was loose, lying on her shoulders. It was a rich glowing brown with a reddish tint, probably the shade called chestnut, I thought. Her light shirt outlined her upper body nicely but without being tight. By contrast, her jeans seemed to have been molded on her. She looked delicious – my mouth actually watered.

"Hi, Martin. You're prompt." I was actually almost ten minutes early, but who was I to contradict.

"Could you come in? My parents want to meet you." I must have looked funny, because she added "Don't worry, they are not going to grill you. Much!"

I came in and was gently shooed into the kitchen. Excuse me – the breakfast nook, which was as big as our dining room. Pamela's parents were actually pretty nice: they were a little older than mine, and clearly concerned about their daughter, but not really pushy.

"So, Martin, Pamela says you will be a junior next year. What are your plans for college? Or have you thought that far yet?"

"No, Mr. Gilman. I have not finalized my plans yet, but I've started thinking about it. I like mathematics and science, so perhaps science or engineering."

"You know that Pam will be a senior next year. She can't make up her mind either, but she is taking a lot of advanced history, philosophy, and math and science as well."

Pamela wrinkled her nose. I wondered if that was at "Pam" or at the parental bragging. She always went by Pamela in school, never Pam.

"Yes, Mr. Gilman. Pamela's grades are very impressive. I hope to be sharing three of the classes with Pam," a definite wrinkle! "next year. I may need some help, so I have to treat her nice to stay in her good graces."

Pamela frowned at me, probably indicating that shortening her name was not the way to achieve that objective. However, I could still see amusement in her eyes.

"On that note, I should let Martin actually take me on the date. After all, he must show that nice treatment he mentioned, and he might as well start now."

When we finally got into my car, she said, "I am Pamela. Not Pam."

"What, not even on a date?"

"Certainly not. At least not on first date," she said primly.

"Ooh, so I have to ask you out again to earn that right?"

"First, you got to convince me that you deserve another date. So far, it's borderline."

We continued the repartee as I parked, and we walked under the tree toward the big pond. As I expected, Chesney Park was a little too hot, but as long as we didn't walk too vigorously and stayed close to the trees and the water we should not sweat too much.

We were fairly private here, and I decided to take the opportunity to compliment her appearance. "Pamela, you are gorgeous. I always admired you in school, but today you look just scrumptious. Every guy we've met is envious of me. Thank you very much for going out with me!"

"Thank you. Are my looks the only reason you wanted to go out with me, then?"

Hmm, a dangerous question. "I'd like to say it was your inner beauty, but I must say your physical attractiveness played a big role." Pamela didn't quite frown at my honesty, but she didn't exactly smile. "But if you weren't in my Honors class, I doubt I would have asked you out. So your intelligence played a role. I wasn't actually planning to ask you for help with my homework, but I am really impressed by your grades." Pamela looked happier.

"It also helped that you were friendly. You and Linda were polite, rather than condescending, as a lot of beautiful girls are. But one of the best parts is your sense of humor. You smile at my jokes, and joke right back. In all honesty, a few weeks ago I thought you were a brilliant but rather humorless student. I am so very happy to find out otherwise; that made you ten times more appealing."

Pamela was definitely pleased by that. In fact, she was blushing slightly.

I didn't resist teasing her. "You took my compliment of your appearance as a given, but are embarrassed by my admiration of your sense of humor?"

"Yes, I am, and you should stop poking fun at me if you want to remain in my good graces."

"A-ha! If I am to remain in your good graces, then I must be there already! I am very pleased. Does that give me the right to call you Pam?"

"No! And you are quickly risking those graces!"

"How about the right to a kiss?" I was so glad of my experience in Kazallu. Martin would not have the confidence to ask.

Pamela blushed again. "Why don't you try – I will let you know afterwards."

Woo-hoo! I stopped walking and turned towards Pamela, who did the same. I gently took her head, inclined my own to the right and kissed her. This was definitely Kazallu experience, because Martin had never kissed a girl like this.

After a couple of seconds of kisses, I stopped thinking of anything but Pamela's lips, her neck and face, and eventually, her tongue. It was she who finally pulled back. Both of us were breathing heavily. Her face and neck were flushed; mine were probably, too. I could not resist glancing at her chest. Yes! Her nips were poking out. My comfortable jeans felt tight as my penis struggled to straighten out.

"Whoo! That was more of a kiss than you had earned!" Pamela said.

"Oh no! A wrong kiss. Could you demonstrate the right one?"

"You probably just want to push it even more," she mock-complained. I didn't expect it when she grabbed my shoulders, and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"Rats! Not the dreaded Grandma kiss!"

Pamela laughed. "What kind of kiss did you want?"

"A boyfriend-type kiss."

She was silent for a second. Or two. "I am not sure I am ready for that."

I took her hand gently. "I'll wait. But I am serious."

She didn't reply. By mutual consent we started walking again; I was happy that Pamela left her hand in mine. Her skin was so soft, and I thought I could feel her pulse, although it could have been my own.

"Your car is nice and comfortable. I am used to seeing different students' cars: either old beaters or wannabe sports cars."

"Well, if I did have a car it probably would have been the former. But as it happens, this is my mother's car. I probably couldn't afford the insurance on my own, even if I could afford the car itself."

"Oh! Well, I am grateful that your mother lets you borrow hers. I don't have a license, so I don't even ask."

I wondered why she didn't have a license – her family looked like they could certainly afford a car for her, and even driving lessons. But maybe that would be an impolite question.

She must have known what I wanted to ask. "My coordination is not all that great. I tried driving Dad's car, but I expect I need a lot of practice before taking the test, and even more before I would feel confident. I decided I'd rather spend the time on my studies. Most people I talked to say you don't need the car much until you get out of college. Cathy is much more dexterous, but, well, she is too young to think of driving."

My own memories included begging Father for driving lessons since I was thirteen, but I guessed that not everybody felt the same way.

We talked of school. Pamela was impressed by my having passed the Calculus test. "Maybe I need your help. I will be taking the calc. test in two weeks. I hope to get a hundred, but it's by no means assured. That you took it with no notice, after just reading a book, is far more impressive to me than getting the same grade after studying it since September.

"And you are taking Chem II. And Honors History II. Have you considered advancing to twelfth grade?"

"Actually, yes. I have not looked at the requirements, but given the support I got so far from our academic counselor, I suspect that the school will deny any such movement."

Pamela wrinkled her nose again. "I know, she is really a waste of space. I am really ignoring her and planning to apply to a bunch of colleges and try for early admission. I will be applying to several of the Ivies, and some other tough universities. How about you?"

"I thought of applying in my junior year. I did some research on the Web. Some of the colleges do not actually require the diploma, as long as you have the right courses and test results. Usually the teacher's recommendations are important, too. I think I've got the math covered, and with luck I'll get Chemistry and History for recommendations."