Out of Focus Pt. 01

This personal invisibility talent of mine was part of the reason that I did not date much in college, although I had gotten laid once before graduation. A friend and fellow student had lined me up with a girl who simply loved sex and saw no reason to deny a young male virgin the opportunity to lose his status as such--with her as the very willing partner. Since graduation, I had not been able to exercise a repeat performance with anyone before entering the work force.

My first job after graduation had laid the foundation for my future career. I got a job in accounting with a small firm in Decatur and I had worked there for not quite two years when I met my future wife.

Francine Thompson captured my attention from the first time I met her in the break room of our small firm. She had been hired as the PA of my boss, and I was somewhat smitten at first sight. Even hearing from some of the guys in the company weeks later that she was a gigantic prick-tease; and furtively from other guys indirectly in overheard conversations in the men's room that she was a sex fiend on dates with other guys they knew--I still maintained my mild infatuation with her.

Francine, I learned, came from a fairly well-off upper-middle-class family in a rather affluent section of Stone Mountain. She had great physical beauty, as she was almost a mirror image of a young version of fashion model Stephanie Seymour--brunette, bountiful (where it counts), and extremely beautiful. As naïve and inexperienced as I was, I got the distinct impression that she had gotten the job here based on more than her degree in Business Management from Agnes Scott College.

One would think that, with a bachelor's degree such as that, a woman with her social pedigree could find a position with more prestige than simply that of a PA in a small contract accounting and human resource management firm. It turns out that this supposition would be correct.

It only took just over four months for the true agenda to reveal itself. It seems that Francine's 'Daddy,' J. Carter Thompson, president of a chemical and textile conglomerate--headquartered in Decatur, just adjacent to Atlanta--wanted to acquire our company to augment his business development efforts. And Francine had been his trusted agent to scout out our company's bona fides. When the smoke had cleared after the buy-out, I was left as one of the group of two-thirds of the original employees remaining after Daddy let the others go--counting them as 'dead weight.'

The atmosphere in the accounting and business development offices of our part of Daddy's newly-expanded company had taken on a darker look and feel as well. One did not buck the system, as defined by the upper offices, and one did not openly speak ill of J. Carter Thompson or his princess, Francine.

****

Mr. and Mrs. J. Carter Thompson "requested the presence" ... of me ... at their home--or so said the invitation in my jacket pocket. Of course, all the employees had one of these, and word was out that you failed to attend one of J. Carter Thompson's soirées on pain of dismemberment, or firing--or both.

So, I dutifully showed up and walked the three blocks to the Thompson home, since there was no place to park nearby with the curbsides filled with the cars of those in attendance. Even though it was January, this was Georgia, and it was only in the fifties today, so the walk was not too uncomfortable from the weather standpoint.

The party was in full swing as I walked in the front door and tried my best not to stand out. That tactic worked for a total of fifteen minutes.

"You should know that what you are tryin' to do just will not work," said a very soft and feminine voice behind my left shoulder. I jumped a bit, as I was startled. I had been befriending a potted plant after having shaken the hands of J. Carter Thompson and his wife as they made the rounds. But I did not really want to mingle with this bunch, even though I knew a handful of them from work. So I had been sipping my drink and biding my time while standing just off the front hallway until I could gracefully depart without raising too much ire with my hosts.

Turning to confront the challenging voice, I paused to gape open-mouthed at a true vision of loveliness. The young blonde woman standing there slightly behind me was smirking at me knowingly. She wore a pink high-low sweetheart chiffon cocktail dress that was perfect for a party on a mild winter day in Georgia; and it highlighted perfectly some very nice curves. In fact, the beaded band at the waist allowed the gathers flowing down from the built-in cups covering her magnificent breasts to form the outline of a heart shape--with her breasts as the heart's globes and her waist as the focal point--that would truly capture any man's eye ... and his imagination.

"Y'all are a-gonna to be catching flies if you let your mouth hang open for much longer," she said with a glimmer in her eyes. I dutifully closed my mouth and I swear that someone standing ten feet away might have heard the click of my jaw closing.

"What ... what do you mean--what won't work?" I asked as I began to feel the heat of my embarrassment reach my face.

"Tryin' to hide out in this crowd," she said. "You ah just simply too tall and too nice-lookin' to be completely invisible."

Now, I was really feeling embarrassed. This young goddess was saying that I was nice-looking? And the classy Southern drawl that dripped from her gorgeous lips was giving me electric thrills--that, along with her beautiful face and form. Thankfully, she continued speaking, so that I did not have to say anything more to cause me additional embarrassment.

"I am Alicia Thompson, by the way," she said, "and I guess you must work for ma daddy." As she said this, she looked around furtively.

"I was wonderin'," Alicia continued, "if y'all could slip over to the baa and sneak a drink over here faw me. Daddy does not want me to be seen publically drinking alcohol--what with me bein' under the age of twenty-one and all; but I am so fed up with all this party bullshit that I really need one."

She gave me 'that' pleading look that all good-looking women learn how to use, starting when they are about ... oh ... six, when they want the nearest male to do something for them. "A Manhattan, please," she said now with a seductive smile.

What could I do? Piss off her daddy, my big boss? Piss her off by refusing? I took the short-term survival route and went over to one of the bartenders hired for the party and asked for another CC and ginger; along with a Manhattan for Alicia.

Returning to give Alicia her drink, I thought that would be the end of it. But she surprised me by linking her arm in mine and pulling me through the French doors to the patio out back. I could hear music coming from somewhere, but no one was dancing on the area that had been cleared for the purpose.

Alicia pulled me aside and asked me about myself. I gave her the short, half-a-dollar version of my life to date. As she told me about herself, I learned that she was already eighteen and would be completing high school this year and that 'Daddy' had already mapped out her future for her. She would attend Agnes Scott, earn her degree, and become part of the Thompson business empire in the same manner that her older sister, Francine, had already done.

I saw the distasteful expression grow on her face as she related this to me, along with her dislike for the way that her father was trying to dictate everything about her life to her. I could sympathize with her wanting to live her own life; but I was in no position to offer any suggestions--and I was not about to say anything negative about my boss or his ideas. After all, I was but a lowly peon in the Thompson business hierarchy, and I had only known Alicia personally for less than an hour. Also, I was still looking for an excuse to make my exit from this party.

Never underestimate the visual power of a good-looking woman, though; and never underestimate, as well, the stupidity of a man within the effective range of her aura of beauty. I just had to open my big mouth.

"I would say, 'Go for it, and take that international travel offer while it is still good," I said in answer to Alicia's request for an opinion. She had been explaining how a friend of hers was taking a break for part of the summer between high school and college to see the world. And she had offered to include Alicia in her plans to work on a project in Kenya as part of a non-governmental organization, or NGO. The two women would look after each other during the trip abroad, while gaining some life experiences and traveling a bit before having to face the so-called 'real world' expectations back home--college and maturity, courtship and marriage, work and parenthood, etc. Naturally, Alicia's parents were not in favor of this.

Calamity fell on me just as soon as I got the words out of my mouth!

"Alicia!" came an angry female voice from behind us. I turned to find Francine Thompson standing there, scowling at the two of us. "What do you think you are doing; airing our family's personal issues to a ... a ... stranger?" She looked at me with mild contempt as she scolded her younger sister.

"Stranger?" I asked, suddenly incensed. Normally, I would have kept my mouth shut about any subject whatsoever in the presence of Francine Thompson. I guess, for a moment, the little bit of alcohol I had been imbibing took control of my tongue, temporarily resulting in my emergence from self-imposed world of obscure non-confrontation. "You and I have been working in the same business offices for the past year; and I am suddenly a stranger?"

"Mr. Chandler," so she did know who I was. "I was referring to my little," she emphasized the word here, "sister's short acquaintance with you. As for your recommendation that she simply ignore Daddy's wishes and travel to the ass-end of the world; just who do you think you are to try to get her to defy the plans of her family--plans that were designed long ago--with her best interests in mind, I might add?"

Then, I made another of the many bad decisions of my life--I caved!

"I ... uh ... I guess you are right, Francine. I'm sorry that I stuck my nose in where it did not belong." I was in full kowtow mode now. Francine still glared, but not as much. Then she turned toward her younger sister with a superior look.

As I glanced at Alicia, I saw her expression go from one of surprise at the audacity of her sister to one of disappointment that bordered on contempt for me. I was now lower than worm shit in her opinion, evidently.

Then Francine just had to pour it on as she turned toward Alicia. "And don't think that I will not mention to Daddy that you are doing more underage drinking in public."

When Alicia heard Francine say that, she immediately turned on me and vented her frustration at my sudden lack of backbone, as well as my lack of support for her. "He got it for me. I would not be surprised if he was just trying to ply me with alcohol for nefarious purposes." Suddenly, she had turned from friendly soon-to-be high-school graduate seeking advice from a slightly older man to an offended society belle, lashing out with scathing commentary toward a cad who was obviously trying to seduce her.

I was goggle-eyed at this accusation, and could only turn beet-red and stammer, "I ... no, I ..."

Francine got me out of my immediate predicament by saying, "Mr. Chandler, I would recommend that you make your parting respects to my parents and leave the premises as soon as possible." It was clear from her tone that this was an order rather than a suggestion.

Cowardly I may be; stupid I am not.

"I ... I will simply ... say goodbye to the hostess and see my way out," I stammered as I set my glass down on the patio table.

Both Alicia and Francine glared at me. Francine nodded. Then Alicia snorted in disgust and shook her head before looking away from me.

That was not the end of things with Alicia and me, however.

****

Chapter 2

I received a summons from Mr. Thompson one day a couple of weeks after my less-than-glorious showing with his daughters at the party at his home. His PA escorted me into his office after the obligatory twenty-minute wait in the outer office.

"Chandler," he said to me in a 'no-nonsense, I-really-don't-have-time-for-this' manner. "My wife and I are attending a gathering over at Scott next Tuesday." Everyone in the Decatur and Stone Mountain areas knew that his reference was to the prestigious college for young ladies, Agnes Scott College. "We have donated quite a lot to that place since Frankie attended there, and we expect Alicia to go there as well."

I simply nodded without saying anything. Thompson continued.

"Alicia will be attending with us. I want you to be her escort." He looked at me with a predatory expression that just dared me to object.

"Uh ... Sir ... If I may ask; why am I being drafted for this? I mean, your daughter surely has young men more appropriate to her age range and station in life that ..." Thompson raised his palm to stop my babbling.

"Look, Chandler," he said, showing mild impatience at my question, "regardless of her 'station,' as you call it, and regardless of all the money I spent to get her into and through private schooling for elementary, junior high, and high school, she still has not grasped the need for preparing to face up to her responsibilities as part of this family's enterprises. And a big part of that is her attendance at an 'appropriate,'" I could see quotation marks in the air as he spoke, "college or university. And, in this area, Scott is the place for young ladies."

From what he was saying, and the way he was saying it, I just knew that he meant that Alicia was resisting 'his' plans for her.

"And, as for those clowns she has been dating," he almost snorted as he shook his head in obvious disgust, "they are all just scrambling to get in her pants and into my wallet. They have no clue as to the path they need to take in life in order to be successful or to be suitable for her. I want her escorted on Tuesday by someone I can count on so that none of us will have to worry about personal situations interfering with the business of getting her into Scott next fall.

"She can start to get serious about the opposite sex later," Thompson went on, "when she is in the proper season of life; and with the right kind of fellow." I could just see Thompson and his wife going through the social registers on a regular basis, in pursuit of the 'right kind of fellow' for their young daughter; regardless of her preferences.

So that was it! I was a 'safe' date; even if I did not necessarily rate as the 'right kind of fellow.' Thompson would use me as a male version of arm-candy for his supposedly rising socialite daughter so that she would not appear to be unescorted at this big event. AND he would not have to worry about Alicia's having to focus on a horny suitor; thus allowing her to focus on schmoozing with the 'heavy breathers' at Agnes Scott College.

I shook my head when Thompson was not looking, as I was under the impression that, since it was already the end of January, college acceptance letters typically were already out--if not on the way. My tiny brain did a quick calculation and came to the conclusion that Alicia had evidently not received an acceptance ... or else she had been placed on stand-by or conditional acceptance status; none of which would be pleasing to J. Carter Thompson.

So, Daddy was now evidently putting on the full-court press; trying to put some monetary pressure on the movers and shakers of the alma mater of his older daughter at a social setting in order to finagle final, full-fledged, no-bullshit acceptance for his younger daughter at the prestigious college.

I started to tell Mr. Thompson about the abysmal impression that I had made on his daughter--well, both of them, actually--but he had evidently made up his mind. Before I could object, he said, "My driver will pick you up from work here on Tuesday afternoon, take you to your place to change for the evening--please try to find a nice suit to wear before then--and deliver you to my residence. You will join my wife and me there--and Alicia, of course--and we will all travel together to the reception."

He looked down at his computer and began to work on something. This was obviously a dismissal. I started to say something, but my usual cowardice in the face of authority took over and I simply turned and left his office quietly. As I returned to my quiet office, my mind was in turmoil. But what could I do?

I had been drafted and I was stuck. But I could not help but smile to myself at the memory of the delightfully beautiful Alicia. Even though I was twenty-three and she was only eighteen, the age gulf did not seem to be too great, given her obvious maturity when I had spoken to her at the party at her house earlier in the month. This could prove interesting; or disastrous!

****

The evening had turned out to be rather tolerable, once I had overcome my terror at meeting Alicia again--offset by her beauty, as she swirled into the front foyer in a dark green cocktail dress that molded to her; along with her perfect hair, makeup, and natural beauty.

I was more enchanted than anxious after seeing her. I also had to overcome my trepidation at riding with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and Francine and her date in the limo from their house to the college.

Francine Thompson's date that evening was a fellow named Steadman Carstairs, someone Francine had known for a years, dating him off and on. And a more obnoxiously stuck-up, self-centered, social-climbing, brown-nosing ... well, you get the picture ... individual I had never met in my life. He was babbling away with Mrs. Thompson about the beauty of her daughters, and how it was a reflection of her beauty; the enormity of Mr. Thompson's business success and how he was a titan of industry; blah-blah-blah-blah-blah ... Needless to say, I was simply a fly-speck on his radar and, thus, beneath his notice. Francine seemed to put up with him, though; so there must have been some reasonably good history with those two.

It did not matter to me, though. I thought that Steadman Carstairs was simply a dick, with a capital 'D.' Nevertheless, I 'played nice' and conversed and smiled on cue at the appropriate moments.

Fortified by a cocktail before dinner and wine during the meal, I began to relax and endure the situation with a modicum of grace. I even contributed to the conversation once in a while, and actually got in a couple of comments that turned out to be complimentary of Alicia's conversational points of the moment. This earned me at least a smile from her by the end of the meal.

There was no entertainment but there was dancing, and there was some after-dinner mingling and socializing that took place. During that time, Alicia and I actually got to sit alone together for a while and get comfortable with each other. We even danced a bit, so that she could see that I knew what I was doing on the dance floor, and did not trample all over her feet, like some of her other dates--as she informed me, along with giving me a compliment on my dance skills. Before I finally left the Thompson home that evening, after it was all over, Alicia and I had actually gotten to the point of being pretty friendly.

Unbelievably, Alicia asked me to the Spring Dance at her private high school in March--they did not have a 'prom' as such. I was surprised, but I accepted--more out of curiosity than anything else. I don't know if she informed her parents of this arrangement beforehand or not. As it was, she chose simply to have me pick her up at her residence and she said that she would deal with any consequences of her choice of dates with her parents later.