Chapter 1: Meeting Georgette

My name is John Carter Smith. As I write this I'm a recent graduate in chemical engineering and self-employed. I didn't have to be self-employed, but the job offers and opportunities that I was presented with were all pretty much of the same kind. I'd be a miniscule cog in a giant wheel. I'd be engineering the control valve on a brewery vat, or the ideal viscosity of women's pump shampoo if I'd have accepted what was available. I had higher aspirations than that and I wanted the freedom to explore them. So I never really even considered them.

Oh yes, I know we all have to start somewhere, and I shouldn't expect to be designing the answer to cleaning up the tar sands myself. I should be happy to have a job in this economy. Well, I don't see it that way and happily, I don't need to see it that way. I have my own ideas and I have an opportunity to develop them. So for the time being, I'm still working on something creative that I can call my own.

Now, about this woman I have fallen in love with. Her name is Georgette desBiens Fulton. She's as American as apple pie, but her heritage, going way back, is part British and part French. Georgette is six years my senior. She's not exactly robbing the cradle, but that's a fair disparity for some people to swallow. How I met her and how we fell in love is an unusual story.

I was attending college in San Francisco. I was raised in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where my mother, Marjean, and father, Carter, owned and operated a motel. Excuse me, a motor inn. We were a nice, middle class family living a nice middle class existence. I was a moderately good student with a specific ambition. I wanted to become an engineer. I had a concept for something truly worthwhile and I wanted to try and make that dream come true. More about that shortly.

I was also a decent athlete. I skied, both snow and water, and ran some distance races in track. I was pretty good on snow, but probably only college team quality. I had one problem that I didn't realize until I was a junior in high school. I had a moderate learning disability. At first I was thought to be lazy. When I took various intelligence tests, I scored quite high numbers compared to expectations. My school marks didn't reflect my estimated I.Q.

My school counselor, however, was a very bright and helpful man. Mr. Farnsworth suggested I do some testing with a research group at the University of Washington who were looking into learning problems. With my parents' support, I spent four days at the Seattle campus undergoing a number of tests. I didn't get the answers until the last day when they reviewed the results and handed me their evaluation.

It turned out that I had what they called a "storage" problem. It was in my short term memory and made it more difficult for me to learn complex information and retain it without multiple repetitions. I had been compensating for this problem by going over and over my lessons several times until I absorbed enough to understand. I wasn't conscious of it being a problem. I just did what I had to do to cope.

It wasn't possible for them to pin down the cause of the disorder, but I had adjusted to the problem over the years and the research group had no other suggestion than to keep on keepin' on. In other words, continue to adapt with repetition as the best way to learn. There was no drug or magic formula to cure this problem. The best I could do was to refine my study methods to concentrate on getting the core of what I was trying to learn and spend most of my time absorbing that. It struck me that I had been doing that very thing for the last ten years.

I think my parents were relieved to know the cause of the problem and in fact, they expressed some pride that I had accomplished as much as I had without anyone's help. That made me feel quite good after years of being told I wasn't working hard enough. I knew my limitations and I could deal with them and they wouldn't prevent me from getting a good education and achieving my dream of becoming an engineer.

I chose the college I would go to very carefully. I wanted to get the best education that would give me the best possible chance to achieve my goal. Geary Polytechnic wasn't a big "name" school, but rather a well respected one in the physical and social sciences. It was very lucky that my parents could afford to send me there for the four years it would take to earn my degree.

I was beginning my junior year the first time I encountered Georgette Fulton. I had been invited to a sorority mixer by a part-time girlfriend. My studies didn't really allow me the luxury of a steady girl, but Virginia Kane and I had been "hanging out" for the past two years, becoming friends with benefits. I didn't belong to a fraternity but "Ginny" was a sorority girl and hence the invite.

I liked Ginny, but she was on a very different path from mine and we had little in common other than the usual rampant sex drive that people of our age featured. She was attractive, but not spectacular. I was happy with our arrangement and she said she was too. Neither of us wanted to get involved in a committed relationship at this time. If we wanted to date someone else, we could without any jealousy or upset as long as we were honest about it.

The mixer was an excuse for the female equivalent of a kegger except punch was the only drink offered. I had no doubt some vodka or gin would make an appearance at some point during the evening.

Ginny and I had been going out since our freshman year and this was the first social of our junior year, so there were some new faces in the crowd. One of the new faces, at least to me, was Georgette.

I was nursing a sickly sweet punch and wishing someone had indeed brought a keg, when a tall, very attractive woman moved toward us. I say woman because she was older than the rest of us. I wasn't sure how much older, but I guessed about five years or so. I wondered if she was a mature student, a chaperone, or maybe faculty.

"Hello, I'm Georgette Fulton," she said with a lovely smile.

"I'm John Smith, and this is Virginia Kane," I replied, sizing up this formidable female.

"I don't recall seeing you here before," Ginny said.

"I'm a graduate student and working on my doctoral thesis. I'm seldom around the sorority house. I have a residence nearby."

"Oh, I see. So you were a member of Sigma Kappa Tau when you were an undergraduate?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. I'm still on the mailing list, so I thought since I was in the neighborhood, I'd drop by and renew acquaintances and make some new ones."

"What is the subject of your thesis?" I asked.

"I'm working toward a Ph.D. in behavioral psychology. I'm examining the sexual development in educated North American males."

"Oh," I said, thinking that her statement was a conversation stopper.

"That must be fascinating," Ginny said engagingly while I cringed.

"It is. I've tasked myself with doing exploratory interviews with both undergraduates and graduates. Perhaps you'd like to participate, John?"

"Uhhm, well ... I don't really have a lot of time. I carry a full schedule in engineering and ... well ... I'm not sure I'd be the right kind of person for you."

"Why do you think that," Georgette asked, not letting go of the subject.

"Uhhm, well ... er ... I just wouldn't be," I stammered.

"Sure you would, Johnny," Ginny piped up.

"Thanks," I mumbled, not meaning it.

"It's completely private and not time consuming. It would be a big help to me if you'd volunteer."

"Go ahead, Johnny. You might not get a better chance," Ginny intervened again.

A chance at what, I wondered.

"I don't want you to feel pressured, John. Why don't I give you my card and you give me a call in a few days and we can discuss it again in private," Georgette said, obviously aware of the irritating effect Ginny was having on me.

"Thanks," I smiled, relieved that the conversation could change to something less challenging.

As Ginny and Georgette talked, I had a chance to look the woman over. We were pretty much eye-to-eye and I saw she was wearing something like three inch heels. That would make her about five-foot-ten to my six-foot-one I estimated. She was a dark blonde and her hair was cut fashionably short, displaying a natural curl. Her eyes were blue and her face was quite striking, with slim lips, bright, even teeth, a strong chin and an aquiline nose. Very attractive and distinctive.

Her body was bigger than normal and I guessed her weight to be more than a hundred and fifty pounds. She was wearing snug jeans and a cotton pullover top in bright blue. She was a full-bodied woman in every respect, including her breasts and her butt. Yes, she was all woman, well built and very appealing to my youthful hormones. She was also out of my league.

I snapped out of my mental meandering when I realized I had missed a question she had asked.

"I'm sorry, I was daydreaming," I admitted.

That brought a frown from Ginny and a smile from Georgette.

"Oh ... what about," the woman teased as if she didn't know.

I'm sure I turned beet red at the direct question and my guilt might as well have been written in capital letters on my forehead.

"Ah ... er ... oh, nothing much," I stumbled awkwardly.

"I'll bet," Ginny said with no change in her disapproving expression.

"It's all right, Virginia, I'm used to it," Georgette laughed lightly.

I bet she was, too. This was a woman who dominated the people around her, both male and female.

"So what were you asking me?" I asked, hoping to rescue myself.

"I was asking if you lived in a dorm or a fraternity house."

"Neither. I share an apartment with three other guys just off campus. We're all pretty serious students so I don't have to put up with the noise and distractions in a dormitory or fraternity house."

She nodded understanding. "I did the same thing, but by myself."

"You're lucky you could afford that," Ginny said.

"I was. I had an academic scholarship and support from my family. It covered my costs for both my undergraduate and master's living expenses. I've almost used all my time up now, so I'm working hard to keep my doctorate in sight."

"So, what's your plan when you are granted a Ph.D.?" I asked.

"I'm not completely sure, but I'm thinking I might open my own private practice. I would specialize in social behavior disorders, particularly sexual."

"Hence the subject of the thesis," I suggested.

"Exactly," she smiled.

"Isn't that a very narrow field?" Ginny asked.

"Not as much as you'd think. I'm pretty confident that I'd be able to support my practice without having to rely on being a marriage counselor."

We chatted for a few more minutes as Georgette asked us about ourselves and what our ambitions were. Ginny was focused on interior design and in particular, geriatric ergonomics. Her special interest was in housing and care facilities design. With our aging population, she was sure there would be a call for her services.

I was asked about my ambitions and I hedged my answers, not wanting to sound like I had no clear idea of my future or what I might want to do. Georgette was quite specific with her questions and I could tell she would be good at getting the most out of an interview. She knew how to ask questions and get pertinent answers. I suspected she would be able to recognize bullshit when she heard it.

"I have some thoughts about water treatment," I finally admitted. "It's the most valuable commodity on earth and it's in short supply ... just as it is here in California."

"I assume you're talking about potable water," Georgette said, showing that she was paying attention.

"Yes. There are already companies manufacturing portable systems for desalinization and decontamination. I have some ideas about making a similar system smaller, cheaper, and more portable again. They are only just ideas, mind you, but I want a chance to develop them."

"So ... you need a sponsor," Georgette suggested.

"Yes, exactly. I've sent out a prospectus to potential investors but so far no responses. I'm not discouraged. I really don't have a finished design for my concept, so that takes priority."

There was something about the look in Georgette's eyes that caught my attention. She was concentrating on what I was saying and not just paying polite attention to me. She was genuinely interested in my comments. That was something I didn't expect.