Aldous and Elaine

Usually, I'm one of those people who believes, maybe not in love at first sight, but at least in chemistry at first sight. I mean there's an idea that I know even a lot of women agree with, that you have a pretty good idea within the first couple of minutes of meeting somebody whether you're going to want to go to bed with them -- possibly not that night, but generally. I mean chemistry is just there. You're attracted to them, and they seem to be attracted to you. You could get to know a lot more about somebody, about where they were from, about what they were studying, about what they liked, by spending time with them, but the chemistry was there all along.

But sometimes, just sometimes, conventional wisdom is wrong.

I met Elaine at a party at a friend's house. It was a pretty big party and I had been talking to lots of people. I decided I needed another beer, so I headed to the kitchen to check what was in the fridge.

On the other side of the kitchen, across the center island, I noticed a girl standing alone, with a bottle of water in her hand, not looking happy at all about being there. I liked a lot of what I saw -- she had a good figure, medium height, and I kind of sensed she had the potential to be a knockout. But she wasn't. She had dark brown hair which was perfectly clean and all, but it just hung down without a hint of style. Not making any effort at all. She had big hazel eyes, but she was doing nothing to accentuate them. No eyeliner, no eyeshadow, and to complete the picture, no lipstick. And her dress looked as if it was something she would have picked out to go to a tiny rural church on Sunday. It was as if she wanted to fade into the wall.

The beer I was getting out of the fridge was my third, so I was feeling pretty sociable, and I decided to go over and see if I could talk to her, maybe figure out what was up. She looked almost startled when she saw me approaching, and seemed to be looking for an escape route, but she was already in a corner. Nevertheless, I pressed on and said "Hi, my name is Aldous. But nobody calls me that. People just call me Al."

She told me her name was Elaine -- "Everyone called me Ellie when I was growing up and all the way through college, but when I got a teaching job, I decided I needed a grown-up name" -- and as we talked, she seemed to begin to relax a bit. She was obviously shy by nature, and the only person she knew at the party was the girlfriend of the host, and she had been trying to figure out an acceptable excuse for leaving early.

Still, I wasn't being pushy, just kind of friendly and ready to talk to pretty much anyone.

Somehow, the two of us kept on talking. I had finished a Master's degree last year and was now an assistant grunt in the actuarial department of a big insurance company. Basically, my job was trying to figure out how soon people would die, how big the hurricane season would be, how many tornadoes would devastate swaths of the middle of the country, and how much damage rising sea levels would cause in coastal areas. Also, of course, the potential for all kinds of disasters at rock concerts, at major football games, and other public events. My company absolutely refused to touch NASCAR, or soccer matches involving international competitions and international fans. Way too crazy even for us. But all in all, it was pretty interesting work.

Anyway, that gave me a lot to talk about, and I could see she was becoming interested, and then pretty fascinated. Elaine was an art teacher at a middle school. She loved art and loved doing her own painting, but she had only had a few pieces included at some very local shows, so she was satisfied to teach art to middle school students. She enjoyed working with the students, and loved trying to pass her enthusiasm for art along to a new generation.

Even though much of my college and graduate work had been focused on math, statistics, physics, and the like, I had taken a couple of courses in art history in college and enjoyed them and so I was happy to talk with her about art.

Despite our easy conversation, the evening did not progress to heavy making out or anything of the sort. It was odd. Normally if I met a girl at a party and we hit it off, we would at least be making out by the end of the evening, if not heading home together. Still, there was something about Elaine that I liked. When we were talking, she would become really enthusiastic, either with questions about my work, or talking about art. When she wasn't trying to hide away, she would become almost bubbly. And she had been more interested in me and my work than anyone I had met in a long time.

We talked for a long time. When I was ready to head to the fridge for another beer, I asked her if she wanted anything. I kind of expected she would just want another bottle of water, but she seemed to think about it and then said, "Maybe if they have one of those seltzer drinks?"

I knew the kind of thing she was talking about, vodka or tequila or whatever, mixed with seltzer and maybe some kind of lime flavoring or something. Sure enough, they had some cans of seltzer margaritas and I brought her one. I asked if she wanted me to get her glass, but she said, "No, I'm fine." She popped open the tab and drank it straight from the can as we continued our conversation.

Eventually, it started getting late and people were starting to leave. I was still enjoying talking to her, but the weird thing was, mostly when I talked to girls at parties, it was all part of hitting on them. It was almost some kind of rule. Here, even though I was really enjoying talking with her, I didn't feel any sexual tension whatsoever. Especially with the way she had totally avoided dressing for a party. Definitely not a turn-on -- actually pretty much an anti-turn-on. Not feeling any chemistry on my part, and I wasn't getting any signals from her either.

Oh well, just one of those evenings. Better than nothing, in fact, I suppose, definitely more interesting than nothing, but I didn't see it leading anywhere.

We both decided it was time to leave and I offered to walk her to her car. When we got to her car, normally, if I hadn't been making out with her already, I would certainly have been looking for some sort of a good night kiss or something. But that just felt wrong. Maybe a hug? No. I probably wouldn't have been all that surprised if she had just stuck out her hand to shake hands and say, "It was nice meeting you." But she didn't. Of course, if she had, that would've been a one-way ticket to the permanent friend zone.

It was definitely feeling awkward. I was ready to just say good night and walk back to my car, when she said, "Would you like my phone number?"

What? That was totally unexpected. I wasn't entirely sure what to say. Did I really want her number? Of course, saying "no" would be pretty rude, and I never wanted to be rude. Besides, we had had a really nice time talking. So I said, "Sure."

She asked me for my phone, and typed her name and number into my contacts list. "I had a lot of fun talking to you tonight," she said. "I was pretty much dreading the evening, but sometimes nice surprises happen."

Wow. That whole thing came totally out of the blue, at least for me. She hadn't asked me for my number. I wasn't sure if she thought that would be too much. Actually, if I had given her my phone number, it would've made me wary about her "stalking" me one way or another. Maybe a bunch of text messages or something?

When I got home, I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about her, but at the same time I felt sort of glad I had her phone number. Did that mean I wanted to call her? Or see her again? I certainly wasn't going to get back to her in a hurry. But she had been more interesting to talk to than any of the other girls I had met in a very long time.

* * *

Back at work on Monday, I'd pretty much forgotten about her. But then on Wednesday, I saw a notice about a new exhibit at one of the art galleries in town. It was a female artist, and they had some pictures of a couple of her works. They were surrealistic, slightly ominous, paintings of city life, people walking along busy streets, sidewalk cafés, parks with children playing, but always with something slightly off. They were interesting to look at, and I thought it might be fun, even though it wasn't the kind of thing I would usually bother with. And so, of course, I thought of Elaine. It was the perfect kind of occasion -- intellectual, not romantic, with lots to talk about.

I sent her a text about the opening, and asked if she would like to go with me to see it on Saturday. It was about two in the afternoon when I texted her, but I didn't hear anything back until nearly 5:30. She told me that she was mostly off her phone during the school day, and had just seen my message. She said it sounded really interesting, and she would be delighted to go with me. Would I like to pick her up at her apartment?

I said fine, and she texted me her address.

The opening was one of those wine and cheese events starting around 6 PM. I told her I would pick her up around five to give us time to find a parking space.

After we had set a time, I started feeling a little weird again. Why was I doing this? What was I getting myself into? It had been totally awkward when I walked her out to the car after the party. Did I want to go through that again? I mean she would be the ideal date for an art gallery opening, but still... I knew I was going to be second-guessing myself all the way up to arriving at her place on Saturday.

* * *

Come Saturday, I was still confused. I wasn't even sure what to wear. I mean it was a kind of a fancy-assed art gallery, so should I wear a suit? But on the other hand, there would be all sorts of artsy types and hipsters and stuff. I finally decided on a pair of casual slacks, white shirt, loafers, and a blue blazer. I was trying my best not to make any statement at all.

I drove over to her apartment building and found a parking space pretty close to the entrance. I walked in and took an elevator up to the third floor. It was a nice building, not brandnew, but probably only 10 or 15 years old, so it still felt reasonably modern and up-to-date.

I walked up to the door of Apartment 310. I stood there, almost frozen, hesitating like hell, wondering if I should just quietly leave and run back to my car. Why was I here? I could be at a bar somewhere, looking for hot girls to hit on. But it was too late for that. And it would be a really shitty thing to do to just ghost her after setting this up. I pressed the bell.

* * *

I heard a voice say, "Coming." And then in a few seconds, the door opened. There was someone standing there with a big smile. Where the hell was Elaine? But... Yes, it was Elaine. She had had her hair done, had added bright red lipstick, and was wearing a silky-looking purple blouse and black skirt that totally showed off her figure. She was even wearing heels. Holy shit! What the hell was this?

"Hi, Al. Want to come in for a moment while I finish getting ready?" I walked in. Nice apartment, contemporary furniture, and a large painting on one wall. The painting was a nude female torso, painted in a somewhat impressionistic style with loose brush-strokes in red, green, blue, and brown. Still, the breasts stood out, accented with nipples that focused my attention, making it feel sensual and realistic in its own way. I looked at the curve of the waist and the hips below, and most of all at the triangular patch of bush. Like everything else, it was an impressionistic pastiche of colors which gave it a compelling vibrancy.

It was a pretty amazing painting, and if it had been in a gallery show or maybe a museum, I would've spent some time just staring at it -- and maybe getting turned on by it? I wondered if maybe she had painted it. Which would be kind of weird in light of my impression of her from the party. On the other hand, putting up a nude by somebody else -- especially one like that -- would also be kind of a weird choice.

Elaine came back out of her bedroom with her purse. "So, are you ready to go? I'm looking forward to this."

I felt as if I was still in shock, a sensation which was multiplied when I walked past her on the way out and caught a whiff of perfume. My God, I had no idea what brand of perfume it was, but it was sexy as hell. It made its way straight into my brain, like some sort of drug rush.

As we were walking down the corridor towards the elevator, she took my hand in hers. I could not figure any of this out, although unlike the party, I was totally feeling the chemistry now.

On the way to the museum, she said, "You seemed a little surprised when you saw me open the door. Was there anything wrong?"

"No," I said. "It's just that you look so completely different from the way you looked at the party. I mean don't take this the wrong way, but right now, you look absolutely amazing."

"Well, thank you. I guess there is kind of a story to that, but I don't want to bother with it right now. I'm just glad you like the way I look tonight. You're looking great too. I was really glad to hear from you again. I had been pretty sure I wouldn't."

Suddenly, without my expecting it in any way, this evening had already gone from a reluctant 1, to a total 10. At the same time, the change in everything was leaving me off balance. I almost felt like this whole situation was out of my league. Was she some weird kind of psycho, luring me in for the kill? On the other hand, given how good she was looking, I was feeling almost like one of those male praying mantises who knows he's going to have his head bitten off if he has sex with the female, but charges ahead anyway. I mean I'm not always the brightest guy around. Especially in situations involving women. And if they're hot, my brain pretty much dives out the window.

* * *

The reception turned out to be way better than I had expected. They had a wine bar and a constant supply of waiters bringing around trays of hors d'oeuvres, so that pretty much took care of dinner.

As I said, the paintings were kind of surrealistic city scenes with dark undertones, which meant they had a lot of detail and there was a lot to talk about. Not like some kind of Jackson Pollock abstracts or something. And Elaine was really good, talking happily to the gallery people and other people there about the paintings and about art in general. I could've almost felt left out, except that she made sure to keep me by her side, and held hands with me as much as she could.

It was the strangest thing, in the course of a couple of hours, I had gone from being ready to run from her apartment door to feeling almost like I was falling in love. I was feeling totally intoxicated, and wanted to keep her close to me so I could smell her perfume, and just be there with her.

* * *

The opening was really successful, and the crowd grew as the evening wore on. I was glad we had gotten there early, since by around 9:30, it was getting hard to move around with all the people everywhere.

Elaine squeezed my hand and said to me, "Do you think it's about time to head out? I think we've seen everything in the crowd is getting kind of suffocating."

We headed for the door and when we got outside, I wondered whether I should ask her if she wanted to go someplace for something to eat. But before I could ask, she said, "Why don't we go back to my place? I filled up on snacks at the gallery so I'm not hungry right now. I just think it would be nice to be alone with you at this point."

I couldn't have said it better myself. That's exactly what I wanted.

* * *

When we got back to her place, she sat down on the sofa and motioned for me to join her. "Look, I just wanted to explain about what was going on when I met you at the party last weekend. I had just gotten out of a lousy relationship, and I didn't feel like getting hit on by anyone. I hadn't even felt like going to the party at all, and I was looking for an excuse to leave.

"If I had been dressed the way I dressed tonight, you would have been hitting on me like a freight train, and that would've been a total turn-off. I mean, we were having a great time talking, but I was still antsy, and I also knew damn well how I looked. I had pretty much dressed to repel guys, not attract them.

"I wasn't giving you anything at all to work with. I don't know why you decided to come over and talk to me. And even though we were having a pretty good time talking, it was obvious that nothing else was happening. I totally understood why you didn't try for a goodnight kiss at the car.

"Somehow, I did get up my courage to ask you if you wanted my number. I have to admit, I surprised myself with that move. I'm not sure you really did want my number, but what choice did you have? I knew I couldn't ask you for your number. And the truth is, I didn't expect to hear from you ever again. Although, after I got home, I kept thinking about you and how everything had gone. I was probably second-guessing myself about so many things. But still, the fact that you called me, even though I had given you so many reasons and chances not to, I guess that meant something, right?

"And the thing was, I had been spending all that time kicking myself for the way I had behaved. I realized how stupid I was for refusing to give an inch. On the other hand, suppose I had, somehow, signaled I was ready for a good night kiss? I hadn't given you any real reason to care about me. On the other hand, what kind of a kiss would it have been? It just would've been weird for both of us. I mean in a way I was taking a hell of a chance, but if we had ended up with some sort of weird, halfhearted, goodnight kiss, what would that have done? Would that have made you think about getting back in touch with me? For more of that? I doubt it.

"But still, that didn't keep me from second-guessing myself from the time you left me at the car after the party 'til you picked me up tonight. When I saw your face when you first saw me all dressed up, I knew it was okay. Although I also have to tell you, I went pretty much over the top in getting dressed up for tonight. Actually, way over the top. Usually, I'm way, way more conservative than this.

"The thing is, I grew up in a pretty conservative household -- not religious fundamentalists or anything, more like a 'Father Knows Best' kind of situation. My parents were very nice, but, well, they never discussed anything about sex. They seemed to assume that dating was all about going to the soda shop and maybe dancing to the jukebox and possibly a quick kiss here and there. So the whole thing about sex has always kind of freaked me out. Not that I haven't had sex, but there's always been kind of a disconnect in my mind about that kind of thing.

"But that really hasn't worked well for me. I guess I wanted to see what would happen if I tried something really different."

* * *

I was listening to her, but at the same time, I couldn't get over how gorgeous -- and how sexy -- she was looking, and her perfume was still doing things to my brain.

Normally, I would've just tried leaning forward and kissing her. But some wires in my brain must've gotten crossed. Instead, I leaned forward and started unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the lacy black bra underneath it. When I had finished unbuttoning her blouse, I pulled the bottom part out from her skirt and then reached behind her to try to unhook her bra.

She was watching me silently all this time, and now she reached her hands back to unhook her bra herself. Then she moved to take off her shirt and then pull off her bra and leaving me to sit there and just look at her breasts. They were magnificent.

I knew this was totally the wrong order of things, but I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and started kissing her breasts and sucking on her nipples. I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.