Double Blind Date

Two days later, I had just gotten home from work when my phone began playing "The Music of the Night," my ringtone. It was Zack, and I found myself smiling as I answered.

"Hey," he began. "How's everything?" I think his voice was even making my phone vibrate.

"Good, no complaints. You?"

"The same. Glad I caught you. I need to pick up some things at the mall and wondered if you'd be interested in going along. My treat for a gourmet dinner at the food court." That big barrel laugh again.

"Oh, that was unexpected," I replied very honestly. Not another date but a chance to see Zack in another setting. "You sure?"

"Um, that's why I called," he replied, and I couldn't quite read his voice over the phone.

"Want me to meet you there?" It would be out of his way to pick me up and go to the mall, whichever mall he was going to.

"Naw, I'm good. Thirty minutes enough time for you?"

"Plenty. You're sure?"

There was a longer than usual pause. Had we been cut off.

"Zack?"

"I'm here ... and I'm sure. See ya."

The phone cut off before I could reply.

I changed into some shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Without the little shoes I'd worn the other night, I'd be one, maybe two inches shorter — nothing to do about that. I wasn't about to wear four-inch heels for a trip to the mall. Plus, Zack hadn't seemed to mind my size, or lack of it, the other night. I did dab a touch of perfume behind my ears and on the inside of my elbows. Was I trying to be more alluring? I guess I was.

Taking a chance, I went downstairs and outside to wait so that Zack wouldn't have to make the long trip up to my apartment. It was the right choice as he arrived not two minutes after I got there. The top was down on the car this time, which made me wonder about my hair. Once again, he seemed to sense what I was thinking.

"Worried about your hair?" he laughed.

I sighed. My hair was shoulder length but still wouldn't stand up well to the buffeting the wind would give it. "I guess I'm vain enough to do that," I suggested.

"Well, it will be up to you," he responded.

I gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

"The wind," he said. "That will be up to you."

I still wasn't getting it.

"You're driving," he said, opening his door and climbing out.

It took me a few seconds to realize that my mouth was open wide, and I snapped it shut.

"You're joking," I said with stark disbelief.

Zack walked around the car, opened the passenger door, fooled with the seat a few seconds, sliding it back till it banged against the stop, and climbed in, closing the door after him.

I'm sure I looked dumbfounded, just staring at him, working to keep my mouth from flopping open again.

"Zack ... I can't ... I ... it's ...you can't be serious."

"You do know how to drive, don't you? You have a license, and you have a car that you drive? This is a car that you drive, just like you do yours. It has an engine, steering wheel, brakes, all the things you need. Hop in and let's go."

He was freaking serious. He was letting me drive his million-dollar car.

"You'll have to move the driver's seat up. It's electric, so easy to do." He looked at me as I stood there, flabbergasted and unmoving. "Earth to Springer. Get in the car." He chuckled.

Robotically I walked around the car and climbed in. I fumbled with the controls on the side of the seat, finally moving forward,... more forward ... and forward one more time. Then up a good bit and finally adjusting the angle of the seatback. I looked at Zack.

"Ready to go," he said confidently, sounding not at all like I felt. "Okay, Springer, seriously now. It's just a car." He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. "What kind of car do you have?"

"Um, Honda Fit," I answered timidly.

"Both cars work exactly the same way. Yours has a top, and this one doesn't. Big difference, right?"

I decided. If Zack could trust me to drive his car, I'd do it. I looked at him and nodded. It was so quiet I glanced at the tachometer to be sure that it was running. Hands on the steering wheel, I shifted into drive and allowed my foot to press on the accelerator cautiously. The car lurched forward, and I quickly found the brake.

"Probably a few more horsepower than your Fit," he suggested. "You'll get used to it."

Using a feather touch, I started again, pulling away much more slowly this time. I turned onto the street, feeling a burst of confidence when that went well. Zack said he'd like to go to Easton, a reasonably large shopping area, much more than a mall. But, it would involve way more driving, including a couple of interstates.

There was very little traffic on the second interstate, and the road in front of me was clear.

"Hit it," Zack prompted.

My eyes went wide.

"Hit it,' he repeated, smiling at me. "Go!"

There were no cars around me and none closer than a quarter-mile in front of me. I hit it. The tires squealed, and I was squashed back into the seat. I glanced down to see "95" on the speedometer and lifted my foot.

"Another second and you'd have hit triple digits," he said, reaching over and patting my arm.

"I'd have missed our exit," I replied, quickly pulling across three lanes to get to the Easton exit. "And I can't believe I just did that in this car."

"Have you enjoyed it so far?"

I didn't have to think about how to answer that. "Loved it!" I exclaimed joyfully.

"Great. We'll be sure you get to do it often then."

The car was shifting down as I approached the exit, but my mind had shifted into high gear. "More often," he'd said. That was beyond a blind date. Today was beyond a blind date too. I was going to have to decide. I glanced at the giant in the seat beside me. I'd better do it quickly too. Sure, why not. Mother wanted grandchildren, so she might as well have big ones.

Zack directed, and I struggled to follow his prompts, being overly cautious in the tighter confines of the mall. We parked, and he held out his hand. I shook it, smiling,

"You did great. I'll never worry about you driving this car."

I couldn't promise that I'd feel the same in the future, but it had been fun.

"You like Mongolian?" he asked.

"Mongolian what?" I answered a little puzzled.

"Food," he laughed, climbing out of the car. He reached across in front of me and pushed a button. The motor stopped.

"I thought you said 'food court.'"

"This is better."

It was difficult to picture Zack eating at a food court.

"Oh," I giggled. "You going to ..." I gestured to the missing top, "... lock it up or anything?"

"Naw. No one will bother it."

"I thought you had shopping to do," I ventured.

"I'll get that after we eat unless you don't have the time."

Time was something I had plenty of. "I'm good."

Zack led me to bd's Mongolian Grill, something very different for me. He continued to guide me through the process of selecting my meat and everything else, watching the chef prepare it, and finally heading to our table to eat.

"Don't just look at it, take a bite," he encouraged as I was just sitting there, staring at the different looking concoction in front of me.

I cautiously took a bite, then another, and another. "Freaking delicious," I said, interrupting the rapid bite-taking to speak.

"Ah, glad you like it," Zack said, looking relieved.

Gathering my courage, I said, "If you're going to be around me, you'll have to get used to my stunted group of experiences."

That brought a hearty laugh."

We ate and talked some when something I was curious about came to mind.

"So, basketball?" I questioned. "I'm not a big sports fan, but it just seems like you should be a basketball player."

"You're so perceptive," he chuckled, lightly punching my shoulder. "Yeah, I'm a basketball player." He stopped talking quite suddenly, I thought and looked off out the front window.

"There must be more," I probed. "Care to share?"

"Sure," he continued, swinging his head back to smile at me. "It's no secret and no big deal. Coming out of high school where I was all-state," he rolled his eyes as he said that. "I got a scholarship to Ohio State. I injured my knee in the preseason and missed the entire year. The next year, ditto." He took a deep breath. "So, I was red-shirted the next year."

Seeing my puzzled look, he paused.

"Red-shirted means I was there and practicing and part of the team, but I didn't play in any regular-season games, and it extended my eligibility for another year. So, I was 21 and a red-shirt freshman. In the meantime, a new coach had arrived." He paused again, looking out the window once more, then looked at me. "I'm blowing off steam here. Tell me to shut up if you get tired of hearing it." He paused once more.

"I like to learn. Keep going."

"You asked for it, I guess," he said with a forced grin. "I came to OSU as a three-point shooter and a little bit of a slasher. I'm quicker than most six-nine guys, and I can get a jump on them, get to the basket, draw some fouls. That's my game, and I've spent twelve years or so working on it. Coach, the new coach, isn't looking for someone like that in his system. He wants an under-the-basket banger ... and that's not me. That's not my game, and he wants me to change to that in two months."

He was speaking a nearly foreign language with "slasher" and "banger" being terms I didn't understand at all. But I could understand the tone of his voice, the look on his face, and his gazing out the window.

He looked at me, a very discouraged expression on his face. If a bass-voiced giant could look pathetic, Zack was doing it. I felt sorry for him.

"So?" I wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I've entered the transfer portal."

"Is that what it sounds like?"

"Probably so. I want to go somewhere that needs a player with my skills. I'm twenty-three and have three years of eligibility left. I'd like to make use of them, not just polish a bench."

I was twenty-five and had been working for three years. He was twenty-three and, if everything went as he planned, he'd still be in school and playing basketball when he was twenty-six. Something very foreign to me. Unfamiliar or not, I at least understood what he was saying.

"That makes sense, even to me. So, you'd be transferring to some other school then." It didn't take an engineer to know that transferring meant he'd be leaving. I'd decided just minutes ago to "cast my lot" with this guy. Now, he might be leaving soon. Of course, once again, he was able to detect what I was thinking.

"It's not going to happen fast," he assured me. "Maybe not at all. Just depends on if some coach sees my name and decides I can fill a need on his team. Lots and lots of times, guys who enter the portal withdraw their names and stay with the school. Once you enter, your scholarship is at risk, though. That's a big factor for a lot of guys." He reached across the table and took hold of my hand, squeezing gently.

I was trying to read the look in his eyes, big brown eyes that held mine. I'm not sure I was having much luck as I didn't seem to be able to see things in him as he did with me.

"We've said things here today that have "future" in them." I wasn't sure where I was headed yet, but "future" was clouding my thoughts.

.

"Yup," he agreed, still watching me.

My brain was telling me I'd be a selfish bitch if I decided to walk away now, not willing to commit or risk anything. I grinned.

"So, I get to keep driving the car sometimes."

A relieved grin spread across his face. "Hell, yes. But I get to drive the Fit too."

"You can try," I laughed. "I may have to take the front seat out, though."

Decision made.

"So, we need to talk," Nicole giggled when I answered my phone.

"I'd say so," I replied, unwrapping the "Hershey with Almonds" I was about to eat, even though I knew I shouldn't. I didn't need to enhance my squishiness.

"What's that crinkling noise I hear?"

Damn cell phones pick up every sound.

"Um, just grabbing a quick snack, so I don't starve." A significant overstatement, but I didn't care.

"What is it?"

Nicole was being annoying.

"Hershey bar."

"With almonds?"

"Yes," I answered, the disgust evident in my voice.

"That's more than two hundred calories," she informed me with another giggle.

"Thanks for that beneficial bit of information," I replied, sarcasm coloring my voice.

"My pleasure, but that's not what I called about."

Nicole was a master of understatement.

"I talked to Will today," she continued.

"Will?"

"Wilhelm, your blind date that didn't happen."

"Oh, him. How's he doing?" I remembered the slurred words and the broken leg.

"On crutches, but doing fine. He says Zack likes you, whoever Zack is."

"You're not funny. I'm sure he told you about Zack."

We spent the next few minutes talking about the huge guy I'd decided to cast my lot with. Of course, she was anxious to meet him, particularly after my telling her he let me drive his million-dollar car.

"No shit?" she'd replied.

We agreed to meet for lunch — our workplaces were only a few blocks apart so it was easy to do and we did it often. The conversation continued as if there'd been no break.

I shared what I knew about Zack, Nicole expressing her reservations about the situation with his father. She was a proponent of "the acorn not falling far from the tree" concept and cautioned me to be wary. Then she apologized for dumping cold water on my evident enthusiasm.

It was a strange situation for sure, but I had no inkling of any issues with Zack. We had several dates planned as he seemed to want to keep ahead of things.

On Friday, he picked me up, we had a quick dinner and then a movie. At the movie, he held my hand and kept leaning over and kissing my cheek, my ear, my neck, whatever he could reach. It was fun and exciting for a while but eventually got annoying as I was enjoying, or at least trying to enjoy the movie.

My response seemed to irritate him, but it was difficult to tell in the theater's darkness with no words being shared. The moment passed, I received a few more pecks, and we headed to the car.

We drove to my place, the top up in the coolness of the night. He parked, turned off the motor, and looked at me. I didn't have a lot of experience interpreting looks, but his put me on my guard.

He leaned over the console, and his lips met mine. His aftershave was enticing, the aroma almost mildly intoxicating. His lips were pressing harder, and I could feel his tongue working to separate my lips. I relented as my resistance weakened, and it was quickly in my mouth, searching and engaging my tongue. Suddenly his hand was squeezing my arm, then moving, and he was squeezing my breast.

I squealed and jerked free, pushing his hand away.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, my voice low and menacing.

Zack looked genuinely surprised.

"I thought you liked me."

"Liking you doesn't mean you can just grab my breast." I was incensed but puzzled. Puzzled at both his actions and my reaction, being angry but not angry enough to stomp away and force Zack to be gone from my life.

He was just looking at me, comprehension lacking.

"Sorry," he said stiffly. "I guess I didn't realize."

It was my turn to just stare at him. Didn't realize? What, that I didn't want him to squeeze my breast on our second date? I'd heard of athletes who felt privileged. Was that Zack?

"I'll walk you to your door." He seemed contrite, which puzzled me. He was big, strong, with a huge voice. Contrite didn't seem to fit him.

We climbed out, and he took my hand, which was reassuring. I didn't want to end the night on a negative note, despite what had happened.

"Listen," I began. "I know things will ... well, happen. In time. The time is important, okay?"

"Sure," he replied, and I was working to assess the sincerity of his reply ... without a lot of success. He was difficult to read sometimes.

At my door, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I got a quick kiss.

"Good night. I'll give you a call." I watched his back move along the hall and disappear down the stairs.

I was inside my apartment before realizing I hadn't gotten the additional "good night' apology I expected. I brushed it off as I dressed for bed.

He called the next evening, asking if I'd enjoyed my day off. His voice was light and seemed to be smiling at me over the phone, last night apparently over and forgotten. Forgotten or ignored, I couldn't be sure which.

"You doing anything special this evening, Springer?"

"No plans," I answered. "Maybe watch a movie on TV, have a glass of wine, and nibble on some cheese."

"Why don't you come over here and do that? It'll give you a chance to meet Ami, and my dad might be here as well."

I thought for a moment. After last night, at least it sounded like there might be others there to chaperone. I'd let Zack know pretty well how I felt about him ... well, about him feeling me. He was evidently still interested.

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

"Great!" He sounded excited. "How about eight or so?"

I checked my phone — five-thirty now. "Yeah, that's fine."

"White or red?"

"White, but I like either." I understood what he meant this time.

"Got ya covered," he replied. "See you then."

I cleaned a little in the apartment. I tended to let that sort of thing get away from me despite my good intentions. But I also needed to pick up a couple of things at the pharmacy.

As I drove, I laughed to myself at my thoughts. If Zack was going to be that aggressive, maybe I should get either condoms or birth control pills. An IUD? I think the latter two take a doctor or something special, so I guess I should opt for condoms. I hoped I didn't lose control of the car due to the hysterical laughter that had taken control of me. Who was this, thinking such thoughts?

If Zack cared about me, he'd be patient and wait for me to catch up to him. I had no idea about something like that. I'd never needed to even think about it in the past. I was twenty-five now. I doubted there were too many twenty-five-year-old virgins roaming the streets of Columbus. Guh. Thank goodness I was finally at the pharmacy and could leave those thoughts in the car.

The shopping took less time than I had thought. I usually spent long minutes reading labels and double-checking ingredients, but tonight I saw what I wanted and was quickly back in the car.

I'd planned to go straight to Zack's from the pharmacy, having checked Google Maps on my phone to locate his house. But, if I went straight there now, I'd be thirty or thirty-five minutes early. If I went home, I'd drive into the parking lot, turn around and head back out. Silliness. I could text and tell him I'd be early but decided it wasn't necessary. I was just coming for a visit, nothing too formal.

My GPS took me right to his house — castle? Holy crap! It was big, brick and stone, and ivy and giant trees. It was beautiful and what I should have expected, based on what he'd told me about the family. And his million-dollar Lexus. The house sat back from the street — I'm terrible at estimating distances, not what people expect from an engineer. There was just a lot of grass between the street and the house. A sweeping driveway led to a three-car garage. I pulled up the drive and parked, not sure which garage to block or not to block. I started up the wide sidewalk that led to the front door.

There was a large chimney on the front of the house, a narrow two-story high window beside it. I was sure there was a matching one on the other side of the ivy-covered stone. Curious, I peered in the narrow window.

I froze, barely able to breathe. I'm sure my eyes were ready to leave my head. What I saw through that window was beyond anything I could have imagined. There was a tall, dark-haired, and very beautiful woman backed against the wall with her dress pushed off her shoulders and down nearly to her waist, her large breasts out and exposed. The skirt of the dress was gathered around her waist, her underwear nowhere to be seen. And standing in front of her, hand between her legs, moving up and down ... was Zack.