Ginger and John

This story popped into my mind one day.

I was sitting at the island in the kitchen, enjoying my morning coffee. My wife, Ginger, suddenly announced,

"John, I'm going to fuck the pool guy, today."

"That's a hell'uva thing to say to me." I responded, trying not to sound too sullen.

"Oh, you love it, and you know it." She said, leaving me no room.

I didn't respond. I just sat staring into my coffee, thinking. So, she was at me, again.

"I think I'll start with a sloppy blowjob. That's just so nasty with a guy all hot and sweaty. Makes me hornier just to think about it."

I guess she knew that would do it. She dislikes oral sex. I can't think the last time I was so lucky. Now, it was going to the guy who cleans the pool. There was no way I could sit there any longer. I slowly got up and made my way toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To clean the pool."

There is no category for a 163-word story. That particular story was told, and no more words were necessary. I decided maybe looking in on Ginger and John, again, might lead to more than the required 750 words - misdirecting as some of them may be.

We are late, again. It shouldn't surprise me. We are always late. We live less than a mile from the country club, my wife manages the club, and is therefore the evening's hostess, and yet, we are late. I am strictly a type A - a plan the work, work the plan kind of a guy. Ginger, that's my wife, and I have almost no disagreements that don't involve timeliness.

I'm John Winters, an attorney and by fortunate coincidence, managing partner of a large and growing law firm here in Silicon Valley. Ginger and I are 38, and successful beyond anything we ever imagined.

Tonight, Ginger is having Spring's Blooms, one of four seasonal Saturday parties at the club. The club will be full, nearly four-hundred-eighty people. There will be a bar-b-que outside or by-the-menu dining inside. This will be followed by an evening of dancing and socializing. It is Ginger's environment, and I am happy enough to be a part of it, particularly the dancing.

I should tell you a bit about how we came to be here. Ginger and I met at Cal-Berkley while she was getting an MBA and I was getting my JD. I had been a very serious student. Others might party through college, but I had no money and relied on a full scholarship which demanded a continuing dean's list GPA.

Mary Elizabeth Waters was always called Ginger by her dad, because of her auburn hair. She was Daddy's girl and liked Ginger better than her mother's formal Mary Elizabeth, who has two names these days? Ginger was more a typical coed and took notice of me, sitting alone pouring through contract law day-after-day.

One day there were no seats available, and she asked if she could join me. I might have been a serious student, but I had eyes and she did nice things for them. As we chatted, I discovered her beauty was a small part of her charm. She was very bright, witty, and able to both talk and listen -- we hit it off in the matter of one lunch.

I asked her out, she accepted, within two months we were exclusive, and on graduation we married. How we settled in Silicon Valley and became part of the country club set in so little time is what I find so astounding.

I don't know what it is. This is her event. It starts at 8:00. Right now, it is 7:55 and she is still upstairs dressing. Maybe if I go up and pace, she'll see I am anxious. No, she'll tell me my pacing doesn't help.

"Ginger. You know it's daylight savings time, don't you?"

"Oh? Thanks, John. You know I knew it when I came up here, but I might have forgotten. I'll be down in a bit. It's only five til."

"We're going by car, not time machine."

"Good, John, I'll take that into account. Do you want to talk? Or should I continue to get ready."

"Sorry, you know me."

Where was I? I grew up in San Jose. My best friend in high school was Will Gardner. Will is the smartest person I ever met. Every class, every year, he got the highest grade. In math and science, it was not only the highest, but no one, including me, was ever close. In all other subjects I challenged him, always finishing second. I think he just did well in those classes to piss me off.

Will's main problem in life was he was a nerd. If you look up nerd in the dictionary, his picture is a part of the definition. The world was not smart enough to deal with Will and he was not patient enough to try. Because we'd grown up together, I was the person he trusted and as we grew up, I became his "interpreter". Will didn't go to college, he started perfecting things - like the cloud. He was making money hand-over-fist, and convinced he was being taken advantage of.

I always laughed at that. Some tech giant had an issue with their cloud. Will could fix it. Will would tell them he wanted some outrageous fortune to make his fix exclusive to them. They always agreed. Will then got an attorney to write up what he was doing in such a way that he could "do something different, to fix the same problem, for an equally outrageous sum, for some other giant- exclusively.

Many times, during college and then again law school, Will would call me to get advice on what he was going through. It scared me to death. What did I know? But Will listened to me and learned how to "slow himself down" enough that he could explain, and in turn, I'd tell him how to define the distinction in such a way that he'd be okay. Will could then take what we'd come up with to a great attorney and get language which would protect him from lawsuits -- people can always sue, none had ever sued Will, successfully.

I graduated and became his lawyer. By that time, he was developing apps to do this and that, helping all manner of companies, including all the giants, solve problems in ways that made their technology more secure from hackers, and designing products for smart homes. His company was about to become a megafirm.

Look at the time, 8:15. "Ginger, did you know it was 8:15?"

"No, I didn't, what happens at 8:15?"

"Okay, sorry, are you almost ready?"

"I know I'm late, John, I am doing my best."

I guess this is funny. She certainly can play with my compulsiveness. I've got to get over this compulsiveness. I took out my phone and made myself a note -- set a time, build a plan to get over being compulsive. I looked at my note and it made me laugh.

Back to Will. He had used several different attorneys and wanted me to hire some of them as partners in my law-firm, though I would be senior partner. The first interview, he wanted to attend with me. The man was one I had recommended to Will four years earlier and the two of them had worked closely together ever since. Will knew since the man was an acknowledged expert in the area and had worked with him since before I was in law school, he would not want to be my junior in the firm.

I remember the conversation well.

Will said, "Look, this may be hard for you. There are three kinds of people: minders, grinders, and finders. In this case, you're a minder, one who has the knowledge and experience to do the work I need done. Minders are paid a great deal. We also need grinders, the folks who do all the work that make things a reality. Most anyone can be a grinder; their pay is lowest. But the best paid are the finders, those who go out and get the business. John led you to me. John is my man. You want in? You work for John."

The attorney was red-faced and not taking it well. He started into his demands and the fact he had worked too hard to be junior to some wet-behind-the-ears flunky. Will showed his nerdom.

"John, do what you want. You found this guy, I'd find another. I don't have time for this trivial shit." And he was gone. I knew he wanted this guy and just wasn't about to bother to explain it any further.

I smiled. "He is trying to say I am going to be his main guy. I know I'm junior to you as an attorney. Can we work something out?"

Oddly, we had no problems. He and I became the named partners, I made a percentage of all Will's work, everything I supervised, and everything I brought to the firm. He made a percentage of everything he brought and everything he supervised. We made it clear that I might be the one giving him Will's work, but I did not supervise him -- just made a larger percentage on the work, and we were golden. He had a long list of clients, made much more than I did, and we were both happy.

"Are you ready? Or are you just going to daydream?"

I'd've been pissed, but she had a big smile on her face. "I'm sure we'll be the first of the timely arrivals." My smile was less sincere. She looked concerned, she spun around trying to look at her own ass.

"Do I look fat?"

Now there's a question without a good answer, so, "Do I look stupid?"

She laughed. "I deserved that. I want to look sexy. I love getting hit on -- and I know you love it, too."

She wasn't looking for a response, but she was right. I did love it.

We pulled into her private parking space at 8:22. She always insisted we use that spot. We could enter through the pro-shops, where her office was located. She would give the appearance of having come from work if anyone questioned -- which they never did.

We made our entrance and were together for most of the early part of the evening. Eventually, she had to spend time with Will. Will was founder of this club. He'd been turned down by the club he wanted to join. Then, he found it was too expensive to buy that club and put in his own management, so he formed his own. He upgraded a public golf course, built a beautiful facility, and had a 500-member club.

Because Ginger was my wife, Will took the time to know and understand her. Because she had an MBA, she became club manager. The downside of that, Will wanted the club to be the best in the Bay area. She always had some new tasks.

As the evening was winding down, I saw Ginger talking to Jerome Harrison, the club's most or least popular guy -- depending on whether you talked to wives or husbands. Jerome kept his membership by paring with Will in the annual best-ball golf tournament -- they never lost. Jerome, if rumors were true, had seduced twenty or so of the wives, and ruined more than a few marriages. Now, he was homed in on Ginger.

I started walking toward them. She saw me and held her hand up, as if to say, pause. I did. He kept talking. Her face and shoulders were flush -- he was having an impact. I started to approach, again, and got another -- pause. What was going on?

She then motioned for me, and as I approached, I heard her say, "Jerome, grow up, I'm married and not interested." With that, she grabbed my hand and we headed for her office. When we got there, she said, "Wait right there." She disappeared for about 2 minutes and came out holding a handful of "stuff" -- one piece of it I recognized, her thong.

We went out into the parking lot. She went to my side of the car, which was in the dark and furthest from the club. No one was around, it was her private parking area. She asked me to unlock my door. I did. She threw the stuff into the driver's seat, shut the door, hiked up her dress and bent over onto the fender of my Mercedes-AMG GT. "I'm glad you keep this so clean. Well, what do you want, an invitation? Take me!

I did. She was incredibly aroused. We lasted about two minutes. She then opened the door and got the stuff. A wet washcloth for both of us to do a little clean-up, a feminine pad, and her panties.

"Holy bat shit, what came over you?"

"You saw Jerome seducing me. He is really good at it."

"You mean he almost succeeded?"

"John! lord -- men, you just took me standing in a parking lot, do you think Jerome is next? Or what?"

"You said he is really good at seduction. What does that mean?"

"He is all primal. Talks directly to your ovaries."

"I never heard that, before, Ginger."

"Oh, right, I am talking to a man. He talks to your pussy, in your terms. But realistically, he talks about being a real man and real women desire his strong sperm to make the strongest babies. It's a great pitch, the ovaries buy it and get the rest of the plumbing ready to go -- which is why we are here."

"So you found him appealing?"

"John, jeeeezzz, okay -- let's review. Do you remember Sally? Little short person, looks just like me, about 9 years old?"

"Our daughter?"

"Good! Now try to keep up. Right after Sally was born, you recall you had surgery?"

"Yes, I had a vasectomy."

"Do you remember why?"

"Sally was such a beautiful baby; we had a boy and a girl. We wanted no more children."

"So! You are now sterile. I don't use birth control. I suspect, if Jerome is at all honest, he might get me pregnant. We didn't want more of our children -- why would I want his?"

"Well, he claims to have superior swimmers."

"John! Stop it! Why did you get snipped?"

"Because you said we couldn't change clothes in the same room without your getting pregnant."

"How much better could his guys swim? He was seducing, it was for effect -- not the truth."

"You said he was all primal, what's that about?"

"Primal. Speaking to the primitive in us. You never met my great-grandmother, did you?"

"No?" I more asked than said, having no idea where this was going.

She came here from Russia, when she was 18 years old. Met and married my great-grandfather and they ran the general store in Fremont, Kansas. A really bright, independent woman. Her family had been out of the caves and walking upright for generations. Why are you so insecure?"

"What makes you think I'm insecure?"

"All these questions?"

"Maybe you love to find ways to liven up our sex life, like incentives for cleaning the pool or using some lothario's seduction to pay me benefits. I love that. I love you. My afterglow is enhanced by having my girl tell me she is mine, no one else's."

I thought for a minute, as we were starting back into the club, "What were the hand signals?"

She got this devilish smile. "He was really throwing all he had. It was having an effect. Normally, I'm too polite to let a guy get all worked up, when he has no chance -- but I don't like him. He broke up two of my good friends' marriages. If he goes home with blue balls, it's fine with me.

"Since you were right there, I could let him go and even lean in a little. When I knew I was ready for a great two-minute lust session, I brushed him off and you and I were on our way."

"We are pretty great together, aren't we?" I put my arm around her, and we made our way back to the party, smiling a little brighter than when we left.

++++++

It's Master's Weekend -

Everyone called the club golf pro, Lucky. Not because he was (lucky); but because he so often got (lucky). He was getting out of bed leaving his latest conquest, whom he barely knew, when she said, "I once was with the Masters Champion, he didn't stop after only once."

Lucky was certainly up for that challenge, he slipped back into bed, and they were at it again. He got up and was headed to the shower when she said, "I was also with a US Open champ, he was good for more than twice."

Lucky shook his head and climbed back between the sheets. It took all her skill and all his will, but they made it the third time. He crawled out of bed. "I was with the leading money winner one year. He didn't stop at three."

Lucky looked around the room and spotted his cellphone. He picked it up, looked in his favorites and hit "call".

"Who are you calling?" she asked in a husky voice.

"The PGA. I need to know what par is for this hole."