How to Be a Girlfriend Ch. 01

The characters in this story are all over eighteen, and are complete figments of the author's imagination. The views expressed in this story are those of the fictional characters. At 41,500 words, this story could be called either a long novella, or a short novel. Take your pick.

Chapter 1

Introducing Kathy- Thursday

"Excuse me, David. Got a minute for me?" Kathy asked, opening my office door and poking her head in.

Kathy worked for me at my import business. She's been with me from the start three years ago and in that time had become a close friend and confidant. We had grown comfortable enough with each other that we were able to talk about anything. She had helped me grow the business into a size I would never have imagined in the short time since we had started. I owed her a lot . . . and I paid her a lot. She was worth it!

Kathy, besides being one of the brightest people I had ever met, was a tall, slim, blue-eyed, twenty-something year old. Her straight blond hair cascaded down her back almost to her waist. If I had met her at a bar, I would have been too intimidated to even speak to her. She was a true goddess! Her only flaw, was she was a little timid. Competent in business, but unsure of herself.

"For you, always. What's up?" I replied.

"Well, I need a sympathetic ear for something personal. I'd like your opinion, and maybe some advice? You did say I could talk to you about anything, right?"

"Whatever you want, I'll try to help. You know that."

"Well, sh said, taking a deep breath. "I lost another one . . . boyfriend, I mean."

"You seem to do that about once a month, lately."

"Ya think? I'm starting to believe it's me. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing visual, that's for sure, and you're not a bitch or anything. You're a really sweet person."

"Is it my uh . . . breasts? Are they too small?"

"Not in my opinion . . . er, not that I go around staring at them or anything. You're built like a fashion model. Personally, I'm not attracted to big boobs. You can go without a bra without looking like a cow, and you'll still be beautiful when you're sixty. You won't be wearing them around your waist."

"Aww, thanks. You're being sweet!" she smiled and looked down at her hands fiddling in her lap. "Maybe it's my nose? I think it's too big."

"I have to say no to that, too. Look at almost any supermodel or actress closely and you'll find the most famous ones all have larger than average features . . . eyes, nose, mouth. It makes them more photogenic. I'd put your face in that same class!"

"Gee! Laying it on thick today aren't you? "

"You asked . . . I gave you my honest opinion. We can still say what's on our minds to each other, right? Well, when I look at you, I see a very beautiful young lady."

"Well, if I'm as attractive as you seem to think, why can't I hold on to a boyfriend for more than a month?" I saw her eyes tearing up.

"Apparently, you're picking the wrong guys. Your boyfriends know you on a different level than I do. You and I don't have a personal relationship . . . we're friends and co-workers. Being a boyfriend is totally different."

"You mean because we don't have uh, ah . . . sex," she dropped her eyes to her lap again.

"Well, yeah, we've never even kissed or hugged."

"Why not?" A single tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

"I don't think you'd welcome it and I do not want to drive you away by creating a hostile work environment. You're way to valuable to the business and especially to me as a friend."

"Maybe you should try me sometime. I could use a hug from a friend right now."

I got up and stepped around my desk and closed the office door. I turned to Kathy and put my arms out. "Come here, sweetness." I said.

Kathy stood and stepped into my arms and put her arms around me. I hugged her tight for a couple of seconds and tried to release her. She hugged me back and seemed reluctant to let me go. I gave her a little peck on the cheek and stepped back around my desk and sat down again. I needed to get back behind my desk again before my 'little head' started to do the thinking for me.

"Thank you! I needed that!"

"Maybe you should open that door before we have people starting rumors," I said.

"Yeah I guess. Maybe we should continue this conversation outside the office. It's nearly quitting time and I happen to know where there's a happy hour. I'd like a drink." She opened the office door a crack and sat down again.

"Are you asking me out?" I grinned.

"Sorta . . . I want to pick your brains a little. You're a man . . ."

"Thanks for noticing. But if you pick my brains, they'll never heal."

"Funny!"

"Just trying to lighten up a little."

"I have some things to ask your opinion about, and the office probably isn't the right place to do that."

"Fine by me. I would welcome your company."

"We shouldn't leave together. Meet me at Duggan's in fifteen minutes?"

" Absolutely. Try not to get picked up by some rich handsome asshole before I get there."

"That's the furthest thing from my mind tonight. Thanks, I appreciate it." Kathy stood and left my office.

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting behind an Irish whiskey at the bar in Duggan's Irish Pub. The place was just starting to fill up, but Kathy hadn't showed yet. On the plus side, I didn't see any of my other employees, so there shouldn't be any rumors in the morning. If anybody had seen me, as far as they were concerned, the meeting with Kathy would have looked like a chance encounter.

It was another half hour and another whiskey before she put in an appearance. She stood behind me and whispered in my ear, "Let's get a booth in the back. This bar stool is not exactly the place for a private conversation."

Kathy ordered a glass of white wine, and we took out drinks to a quiet booth in the back. She sat across from me, sipping her wine and talking nonstop about everything but herself and her problems. I recognized that she was nervous and was delaying the discussion she really wanted to have.

Finally, I said, "Kathy, you asked me here to talk about something personal. You've known me long enough to know I don't judge people, especially you. I'm your friend. You can ask anything, or say anything to me, and I'll give you my honest answer. I may not always be correct, but I am good with opinions, and you know I'll listen."

She dropped her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, tell me what's wrong with me."

"As far as I can see, nothing. What exactly do you mean?"

"Why can't I hold on to a boyfriend? You know me better than anyone. Tell me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it."

"I don't know you on that level. I only see you in the office, so how you act with a boyfriend is something I have no experience with. What do they say when they break up with you?"

"Usually the same old thing, like it isn't me, it's them, they're not ready for a serious relationship, or an old girlfriend came back from somewhere, or the worst one was when the guy admitted he was married," she gushed out all at once nonstop.

"Sounds like excuses. How long does the relationship last before that kind of thing happens?"

"It varies, but never any longer than the fourth date."

"Sex?"

"Sorta, with two of them. I think people call it 'second base', or 'third base, or something. I don't even get that far with others. It's like they just don't like me!" Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and she broke into tears.

I moved around to her side of the booth and put my arm around her to comfort her. She sobbed and buried her head in my shoulder. I kissed her forehead.

"It's not you, sweetie. I don't see how it can be. Any guy would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend. Maybe you've just had a string of bad luck, or bad choices."

"Aww, that's nice, but you're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm saying that because I promised you I'd give you my honest opinion."

"But like you said, you don't know me on that level."

"True, okay, then, let's do this . . . describe your dates, from first date to breakup. What happens at each stage. That will help me understand, and maybe then I can make some sense out of things. Leave out the married asshole. You needed to dump him."

"Let me go to the ladies room and fix my makeup? I must look like a mess. Tears destroy mascara."

I slid out of the booth to let her out. "Don't be long," I said.

Ten minutes later, she was back. "Uh, David, can we go somewhere else? This place is getting a little noisy. I don't want to have to shout to be heard."

"Are you hungry? Want to eat?"

"I sorta lost my appetite, but you must be starved. But I probably should eat something after having that wine. I'm not much of a drinker."

"Okay, something light, then."

I had already paid for the drinks and the tip instead of running a tab, so we just left Duggan's. There was a Denny's just down the street, so we walked there. Breakfast sounded like it might be a good idea.

We slipped into a booth, again facing each other across the table. We ordered and I sat back.

"Okay," I said. "You were going to tell me how your dates go."

Kathy leaned over the table and lowered her voice to a murmur. "I don't want anyone listening in," she said. I matched her lean so we were only a couple of feet apart across the table.

"Several times, a guy asked me out and it didn't go past that first date. I guess neither of us were feeling it. Whatever the reason, they never called again, and I wasn't too upset.."

"You have to expect that sometimes. Two people just don't have much in common, and don't click. Nothing wrong there."

The waitress brought our orders. I ate while I listened. Kathy picked at her food while she talked.

"A couple of guys thought they could get touchy/feely on the second date. I wasn't having any of that!"

"Okay, good for you. That's being arrogant. Again, not your fault."

"But they never called again."

"Guys looking for quick sex and goodbye. You're better off without them. They won't last, and they'll brag about how good or bad you were in bed, even if they didn't get that far."

"The couple of guys I thought might be keepers took things slower and took the time to actually get to know me. Like invite me out for coffee the first date, and maybe a kiss on the cheek. Phone calls, and the second date was pick me up with a kiss on the cheek in greeting, drinks and dinner, and took me home, saw me to the door and a goodnight kiss on the lips."

"So far I don't see you doing anything wrong."

"Yes, but one of them never called after that. Maybe he didn't like the way I kissed him. I'm guessing."

"Maybe . . . put that one on the back burner. What else?

"Three guys made it to a third date. Dinner, movie holding hands. Things were going well, or so I thought, so I invited them in for a nightcap when they took me home. Things heated up with the kissing and a little light groping, but I didn't let it go any farther. I told them I wasn't ready for that. One guy never called . . . two did, and I went on fourth dates."

"So what happened?"

"I'm not comfortable talking about this, even with you."

"If you want me to help, you'll have to tell me everything."

"Can we go sit in your car while I finish? It's dark out there, so I won't have to look you in the eye."

She was starting to tear up again, so I paid the bill, left a nice tip and we left, walking back to my car in the parking lot across the street from Duggan's.

"Okay, is this better?" I asked.

"A little. It's still hard."

Little did she know how hard it was getting.

"So you understand me, I have to go back to my childhood. I grew up in a very strict family. When I was about five years old, my family joined a fundamentalist church in Atlanta. My Dad sold off all of his assets, the house, the car, the bank accounts, pensions, anything of value, and gave the money to the church."

"He also signed over the paychecks from his job. He had an upper-management position with a major company, and apparently was making good money."

"How many people are members of this church?"

"I'm not sure. I've heard thousands."

"How did you live?"

"The church provided us with a small apartment, and gave us enough money for food and essentials. We had to shop at church-approved stores. The church also provided schooling for me. The school was strictly segregated boys from girls. We had absolutely no interaction at all."

"Did you have any sex education?"

"Some, mostly clinical stuff that we had to know, and a lot of do's and don'ts. The do's consisted of telling us sex was evil but we were required to submit to our husbands. No sex outside of marriage. No birth control. It was a major sin to masturbate, or for a guy to waste his semen by depositing it anywhere but in a fertile vagina. That meant no hand-jobs, foot-jobs, oral or anal sex, which I never even knew about until I left the church. Homosexuality is a direct route to Hell, and we'd burn forever."

"Pretty severe, and designed to increase the church population. Who is the leader of this church?"

"The Most Reverend Doctor Jeremiah Johnson is the leader. Probably not his real name. You may have seen him on television on Sunday mornings expounding his views on the state of the world's sinners from a podium in a huge stadium . . . and incidentally passing the collection plates to raise money for his new private jet."

"Yeah, I've seen him and his choir."

"Choir? Is that what you call it? Those big-breasted beauties can sing, yes, but they are his twelve 'Acolytes'. They serve him in every and I mean every way. I was under consideration for inclusion in that group, every eighteen year old girl is, but thankfully, I didn't have the chest to qualify. The Reverend likes his girls buxom, and replaces them when they get to be twenty-four or twenty five, and somebody younger is available . . . or if they happen to get pregnant, Gee! I wonder how that happens?" She rolled her eyes.

"Anyway the retired or pregnant 'Acolyte' is handed off to become a 'wife' of one of his 'Council of Twelve', a bunch of old men who do most of the actual day-to-day running of the church. I was actually supposed to marry one of those old fossils whose first wife had died. That's why I got out of town and left that church far behind."

"So these guys have multiple wives? How can they get away with that? Bigamy is illegal!"

"There's only one legal wife, with a marriage license and so on, The others who are called wives are basically slaves and because they are called wives in the church, they have to submit to those old men as if they were their husbands."

"So it's a way for the inner circle to get around the church's own laws about no sex outside of marriage."

"Yep! You got it. It's a bunch of double-talk, like a lot of what comes out of the good Reverend's mouth. He just has his church members so dazzled by his bullshit, they don't question it."

"Sounds like a cult."

"Exactly, and I haven't even mentioned the para-military arm of the church. One of the 'Council of Twelve" runs that. It's supposed to provide security for the reverend. You see some of them in the background at the Reverend's stadium appearances. Others are planted throughout the audience, and all of them are armed."

"How did you get out of that? Cults usually don't ever let people leave if they can help it."

"Well, after I graduated, I got a job while waiting for assignment to a husband. It was a convenience store that wasn't connected to the church, but I was signing over my paycheck like a good little girl. I got to talking to some of my fellow employees, and I learned a few things that the church never wanted me to hear. When I found out I was required to marry one of the 'Twelve', something snapped. I cashed my paycheck and left on a bus without returning to the apartment I shared with three other girls. I had nothing, and not very much money, but I had to get out of that city, or I knew I would be dragged back into that church and probably never heard from again."

"This city was as far as I could get and have a little money left so I wouldn't starve. On the bus, I met another girl who was heading here. We got to talking, and she ended up inviting me to stay with her for a few days until I could get a job and help her out with the rent. She had a job lined up . . . as a stripper, so I later found out."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Amber was nice, though . . . taught me a lot about clothes, and makeup. She told me about blowjobs, hand jobs and foot jobs, anal sex and things that I'd never heard of. She made a lot of money, but I couldn't imagine taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of men. Besides, I'm not exactly built like her or her friends."

"You might be surprised what men like. But go ahead, sorry for interrupting."

"That's when I met you and you were kind enough to give me a job. Amber moved out into a better apartment, and left me behind, but by that time you were paying me enough so I could afford that apartment myself. I still live there. It isn't much, but it's convenient, and much better than what I had back home."

"Wow! If I had known you had gone through all that, I would have helped you a lot more, I had no idea! But now that I think of it, you were dressed a little shabby when I met you. I just thought it was your 'thing'."

"So now you maybe understand why I'm so screwed up. I want to be normal, but I don't really know what normal is!"

"Geez! I'm so sorry! I'll help you any way I can."

"I know . . . you're a seriously good man."

"Anyway, back to my dates. Both guys who made it to the fourth date got invited to my place for dinner. I can cook, and I do it very well. So with both of them . . . individually not at the same time, we had dinner and a little wine and we settled in on the couch to watch a movie. Well, the kissing and groping started again, and things started to get heated up. One guy pulled out his penis and insisted I give him a blow job. I told him that's gross and I don't do that sort of thing. He called me things like a 'frigid bitch' and a 'cock teaser' and left. I didn't hear from him again."

"No big loss, and the other guy?"

"Well, same thing leading up to watching a movie, then hugging and kissing led to fondling. I let him feel my breasts a little and I rubbed him through his pants. He got pretty worked up and he ah, uh, removed my panties. He tried to kiss me down there and I pushed him away. Then he asked me for a blowjob. After losing the first guy for refusing, I ah . . . this is getting difficult to say." She dropped her eyes, staring into her lap.

"So you did it?"

"Yes, thank you for not making me say it."

"And how was it?"

"Actually, it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, I really didn't know what I was doing, but I was starting to kinda like it a little . . . until he squirted his stuff in my mouth."

"Why did you feel that was bad?"

"It's gross!"

"What about it didn't you like? Was it the taste?"

"No, now that I think about it, the taste wasn't bad."

"The amount?"

"Maybe."

"You know, it's usually not much more than a teaspoon full."

"Yeah, but it was just there . . . like all of a sudden."

"He didn't give you any warning?"

"No."

"And you couldn't tell he was about to cum?"

"He groaned a little, but I didn't expect it to explode like that!"

"So what did you do?"

"I spit it out and screamed at him to get out. Why are men such pigs?" She started to cry again.

"Well, I think I'm beginning to understand. I'm going to be completely honest. Remember this is me. I have no agenda. I'm not out to have sex with you. If I talk in the first person here instead of saying 'a guy' it's because it's just easier. I'm not necessarily talking about me. I'm your friend, and I happen to like you and I want to help. Okay?"