Laying Down the Law

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Chapter-2

Once the questionnaire was filled out, I quickly stuffed my answers into the envelope and sealed it. I even added tape as an additional measure of security. I would never want anyone to associate those candid responses with me. It would embarrass me to no end. Since it already had stamps on it, I quickly walked it over to the main campus mail depot. I didn't want to have it in my dorm building any longer than necessary.

Overzealous, I showed up to the party early. It started at six, I was there at seven-fifteen. I thought I'd have her drink waiting for her when she arrived at our scheduled meeting time. The mixer took place in the sorority house, pretty much the entire downstairs floor. It was already crowded when I arrived. To see everyone, you pretty much had to ramble around the various rooms. While I was in the kitchen, I happened to glance out into the adjoining hall where I saw my lovely Priscila passionately making out with none other than Brock Armstrong himself. It was crystal clear to me that she was with him. Of that, there was no doubt. I elbowed the unknown redhead standing next to me in the kitchen and nodded to the ardent couple in the hall.

"That sure looks like a passionate pair. Did they just meet tonight?" I asked as innocently as possible.

"Who? Brock and Priscilla? Are you kidding? They've been inseparable since the beginning of this school year. I'm surprised she's not already pregnant as much as they've been going at it. They can't keep their hands off each other," she chuckled.

It suddenly occurred to me that Priscilla had likely dangled the carrot of meeting me at this mixer simply to encourage my participation in her friend's survey. Thinking back on our conversation, I realized she hadn't actually referred to it as a date. She'd simply invited me to the mixer at eight. Nothing more, nothing less. I was deeply embarrassed at my foolish assumptions. I needed to get away before she saw me, though as occupied as she was, she wouldn't have noticed me doing jumping jacks beside her. At least she'd landed another guinea pig for her friend's project. I went for a brisk pensive walk around the campus maintaining my distance from Delta Delta Delta. Priscilla and I had not exchanged phone numbers or anything, so there would be no call from her asking me why I didn't show up. I compartmentalized Priscilla Allerton in my mind and put her in my rearview mirror. Or so I thought. She sat right next to me in our first class together on Monday.

"What happened? You never showed up Friday. I was so disappointed. I'm not accustomed to being stood up," she confessed.

"Stood up? Wouldn't that imply a date? As I recall, you merely invited me to a mixer. For all I know, you could have invited twenty other people the same way. Besides, a little birdie told me that you were tongue-wrestling with Brock Armstrong for a good while at the mixer. I'm shocked that you even remember inviting me. From what I hear, your dance card is already full. But thanks for inflating my balloon, Priscilla. It was whimsically fun to think about."

I hadn't even given her an excuse for why I wasn't there. I thought that I had painted the picture rather well. After my unanticipated response, she gave me the oddest perplexed expression but wisely said nothing. At least she didn't deny her connection to Brock. She glanced over at me quite a few times during the lecture. When class was over, she came up to me. A tear escaped her eye as she kissed my cheek and said, "You're the perfect gentleman, Gordon. Thank you for being you." Then she left without another word.

Two and a half weeks went by uneventfully. Priscilla resumed sitting at her usual spot across the lecture hall from me. Professor Camille Pemberton in our shared Applied Statistics class announced a project that would be due in two weeks. It would count as twenty percent of our grade for the quarter. She stated that she used a random name generator to pair students for this project. There would be no switching as it would defeat the purpose of the random statistical pairing. Since it would take longer than two weeks as individuals, she suggested we break the project into equal components and combine our efforts for the project. An overhead projector cast the pairings on the large screen. Astonishingly, and with a statistical improbability, Priscilla was my partner.

"I guess this means we'll have to get together nearly every night for the next two weeks to compare notes and split the project between us," Priscilla stated categorically.

Her voice. I do believe that she could read a phone book and turn me on with her seductive accent.

"Will Brock be joining us to chaperone?" I stabbed.

Without missing a beat, as if she had anticipated my remark, she quipped, "Brock is my past. You may be my future. Why don't we explore the probabilities?" She offered coquettishly.

We matter-of-factly set the dates and times of our consorting for the first week to accommodate both of our schedules. The first three meet-ups in the library were perfunctory businesslike. We readily agreed upon the division of work based on our individual strengths. Since there was some crossover for both of us, we had to merge our ideas into one cohesive project reflecting the main points each of us wanted to make. We were forced to trust our partner to do what was believed best for us. It was unsettling for me. I prefer that my grades reflect my individual effort but realized that, in the real world, team effort would, at times, be required to accomplish larger complicated tasks. By our fourth meeting, as we reviewed each other's work, I was surprised to see how sharp Priscilla was in her comprehensive effort. My work was the perfect complement to hers and vice versa. Before parting that night, she asked for a minute of my time.

"Gordon, I owe you an apology. When I invited you to that mixer, I had intended it to be our first date. When you blindsided me with your remarks, I knew you had heard or seen something that made it seem otherwise. That's why I said nothing. I showed your picture around and asked all of my sorority sisters if they had seen or talked to you that night. Tanya told me that she had bumped into you in the kitchen around seven-twenty, as the two of you observed me with Brock out in the hall. I know what she said to you, and though it may make me look bad in your eyes, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by denying it. Yes, Brock and I WERE an item, WERE, past tense. I was trying to break it off with him that night. What you saw was his flagrant attempt to change my mind. I admit that he has his charms, and I have succumbed to them often but, at the same time, he and I are not meant to be together long-term. We may be very compatible physically but his personality is incompatible with the type of man I one day wish to marry. We've had our day in the sun. Now it's time for me to focus on what is important to me in life. Ask around all you want. Brock is history. Are you my future? Are you willing to help me find out?"

I saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes. It was as if she was baring her soul to me for the first time.

"Priscilla, I believe you and graciously accept your apology. I hope you'll forgive me for being astonished, I mean completely flabbergasted that you would even CONSIDER dating me after having been in a relationship with the campus Casanova. Look at me. You and I both know that you can do WAY better than me," I said bewildered.

"Do you think me that shallow, Gordon? Is your true opinion of me that low? Do you believe that looks are the single most important aspect for a woman to consider in a potential mate?"

"Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on that. After working together with you as we have recently, I've come to know you as a hardworking intelligent woman who also happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. I'd be the luckiest man alive for you to consider me as any kind of prospect. But why me, Priscilla? Why? Help me understand," I pleaded.

"Okay, Gordon, if you won't toot your own horn, I'll do it for you. Don't you get it? Hands down, you're easily the smartest man I have ever met. Yes, Brock is reasonably intelligent but he's not even in your category of smart. You ace all your exams, help anyone who asks, and you have a bright future awaiting you. What woman in her right mind would turn away from a chance to be with a superstar like yourself? Think for a moment what our daughter might be like if we got together. She'd be both pretty and extremely intelligent. I am so attracted to your mind it might scare you. The only reason I haven't approached you earlier is that I thought you might be gay. I can't recall who told me that about you but the moment I learned the truth, it was a whole new ball game. That's the truth, Gordon. I'm asking you to leave Brock in the past just as I have."

I tried to absorb everything I had just heard. This is one classy lady, honest and forthright, admitting her weakness for Brock as is mine for her. Priscilla has it all, poise, candor, beauty, and assertiveness. She knows what she wants and goes after it. Her confession made perfect sense. I decided to take her out of the compartment I had placed her in. As if she could read my mind in real time, she asked me out on a date, a real date this time.

"Gordon, I have two tickets to see Lady Gaga in concert this coming Saturday night. I'd love for you to give me a chance to see if we click. We already know that we both work together very well. As you have seen, I'm going all out doing my part to make sure we get a great grade on our project. I give you my word I won't let you down. Please say yes, my treat. All you need to do is say yes."

Pleasantly surprised, I accepted. "How can I say no to such a generous offer? It would be my honor to escort such a lovely lady as yourself to the concert."

She rapidly clapped her hands in excitement. "Wonderful, I'll pick you up at four-thirty. Oh, can you wear a suit?"

"I have my own car and, yes, I have a suit, Priscilla. How about if I pick you up at four-thirty instead?" I offered.

She chuckled. "You're cute. This is my invitation, my treat. I insist. I'll knock on your dorm door and pick you up at four-thirty sharp. Be ready," she giggled.

"As you wish," I conceded. "I'm looking forward to it."

When I arrived back in the dorm, I looked up Lady Gaga's concerts. There wasn't one within a hundred miles. I wondered if she had mistaken the date or the artist. It didn't matter, wherever we went, I didn't care as long as I was with her. Later that night, as I regaled my recent interaction with Priscilla, Jeff couldn't stop laughing at my claim. He said he'd believe it when he saw it with his own eyes.

Chapter-3

I was so convincing sounding that he made sure he was in our dorm room at four-thirty Saturday when there came a knock at our door. He thought it was a prank that I had set up. When I opened the door, Jeff's mouth dropped clear to the floor.

"Hi, Priscilla, right on time. May I say that you look ravishingly beautiful tonight?"

"Down boy," she quipped jokingly. "Let's just see how tonight goes before talking about ravishing anyone."

I was laughing hard while Jeff was still trying to process his thoughts. His brain had taken a leave of absence.

"Priscilla, this is my roommate, Jeff Kellum. Jeff, this is Priscilla." He stood stock still, unable to move as she entered the room and I closed the door. She handed me a bouquet of fresh spring flowers.

"Do you have anything to put these in, Gordon? I never thought about a vase until just now."

"Thank you, they're lovely, almost as lovely as you," I cajoled. I was unaccustomed to being brought flowers by a girl. But I wasn't about to make an issue of it at this early juncture. I was hoping to see where this outing may lead us. This was at her invitation, after all.

"Would you take these for me, Jeff? I'm sure you can find something to put them in after we leave." Jeff remained mute and slowly nodded his understanding of my request.

"Yes, we best be going. We don't want to miss Lady Gaga," she reiterated. "Gordon, you look very handsome in that suit." Jeff had still failed to speak as we left for the evening.

She took my arm as we walked toward a limousine awaiting us in the student parking lot. A stout man, dressed in a tux, held the door for us as we entered the rear door and took our seats, then he slid into the compartment more toward the front to give us a bit of privacy. Our chauffeur quickly started the vehicle and headed out.

"Gordon, this is David, our bodyguard for the night. Maurice is our chauffeur. Gentlemen, my date for the night is Gordon Laughlin." Maurice waved from the front while David merely nodded.

"Bodyguard?" I inquired.

"Mother insisted, especially since this is our first outing. She thought it good that our people get to meet and know you. Don't worry, Gordon; they're not here to protect me from you. They're here to protect us from everyone else."

She and I engaged in small talk, mostly comprised of where our respective work stood on our project. I soon saw a sign for the San Jose International Airport. Maurice showed some ID at one checkpoint, and we were free to travel toward the hangers. I was flummoxed but I didn't want to appear as if this was as new to me as it was. David opened our door and escorted us to a private jet running and ready to taxi. As soon as we took our seats in the center of the plane, David made his way to the cockpit to join the pilot, giving us privacy.

We both partook of the Champagne chilling on ice. We clinked our glasses just as they do in the movies. Priscilla seemed fascinated to watch me and my changing expressions as we made our journey to parts unknown. I resisted the urge to sound like a four-year-old, so I asked no questions about our destination. An hour and ten minutes later, we were disembarking at a Las Vegas airport where David escorted us to a waiting limousine. Now everything started to make sense. There are dozens of shows daily in Vegas. I was certain that Lady Gaga would be one of them.

The time was 6:25 pm when the limousine dropped us off at the entrance of the Stratosphere Tower in Vegas which is the tallest freestanding observation tower in the USA presenting a 1,149 ft. (350.2 m) high observation tower, on Las Vegas Boulevard, just north of the Las Vegas Strip. The tower is topped by a pod that includes a revolving restaurant, lounges, and observation decks. David escorted us to the highest restaurant which caters to a most exclusive clientele. We were seated in less than a minute. Apparently, the name Allerton carries a lot of weight in Vegas. I was in awe. Our table was against an observation window where rotating breathtaking views constantly drew my attention. I'm sure I was acting like a rubber-necked tourist, while Priscilla calmly acted as if this was her normal activity. I was amazed at her poise, and how she acted and carried herself. As if her beauty wasn't enough, I could easily see myself falling hard for this girl. But I won't count any chickens before they hatched. Jeff had apprised me that she goes through dates like water. I wondered if I would even last the week with her.

Unfamiliar with most of the items on the menu, I was so relieved when Priscilla ordered for both of us. "Trust me," she said. I'm glad I did. All of the dishes I couldn't pronounce were delicious. She and I enjoyed a fantastic meal together. It was the single most romantic setting I could have ever imagined, except perhaps for the gondolas of Venice. David's dinner was served at a nearby table against the wall near the kitchen. He rarely took his eyes off of us. He escorted us back down to the street level where we were immediately ushered into the waiting limo. The limo took us directly to the hotel featuring Lady Gaga. Now let me clarify that I'm not a particular fan of Lady Gaga. Her performance in the remake of the movie, A Star Is Born, is my favorite of all her music. But that is immaterial. I'd have gone to see a copycat singer of Tiny Tim's Tiptoe Through The Tulips and been just as happy. My main desire was simply to be with Priscilla, wherever she was, and whatever she wanted to do.

Once again, we were ushered in through a VIP entrance to box seats near the stage. In all honesty, I believe I watched Priscilla more than Lady Gaga. She was well-received and the crowd went wild at most of her song selections. She made her presence more remarkable as a fashionista. It was ten-thirty by the time we left the hotel. The limo driver was great at negotiating the heavy traffic and getting us back to the airport. David again guided us inside the plane which took off within twenty minutes of our arrival. Maurice met us at the San Jose International Airport and drove us back to Stanford, much more slowly than before. Priscilla grabbed my hand and smiled. We grinned like two school kids who became best friends.

"Well, what did you think? Did you have a good time?" An anxious Priscilla asked.

"Of course, I did," I affirmed, "but not for the reasons you might think," I added.

"Oh? What do you mean, Gordon?"

"The very first time I saw you, I was spellbound by your beauty. I had no clue who you were. When a friend informed me of what they knew of you, I figured you and I would never be, simply because of our class differences. When I learned you were dating Brock, it made sense that you would go for one of your own kind. When you told me you broke it off with him that surprised me because most women on campus see him as the most eligible bachelor. When you then followed up by asking me to attend this concert tonight with you, I was shocked that you wanted to spend time with someone who could never impress you due to my financial limitations. I recognize that I've been wined, dined, and treated like royalty. Never in my life could I have ever imagined living a night like we just did. However, my mom drilled into me never to judge another person by their wealth or lack thereof. She taught me to respond to another person's heart."

I took a deep breath and continued, "Priscilla, I was blown away by everything you showed me tonight but I'm not talking about the fancy cars, planes, trips, exquisite meals, or concerts. I was blown away because you gave me something tonight much more precious than all of those things put together. You. You gave of yourself to me tonight. We spent time together, laughing, cutting up, sharing a meal, and listening to music. We could have gone to McDonald's, rode in my old car, parked in a free make-out spot, and listened to music on the radio as far as I'm concerned, and I would have been just as happy as long as I was with you. That's the honest truth. If we continue dating, it will be because of your heart, not your money. If we were to ever get married, it would be solely because of our mutual love, not your money. And if we were to ever have a child together, it would be because we couldn't contain our love, and a child would be the miraculous result of our love together. Does that make sense? Are you disappointed?

She looked at me, and I'd never seen a more beautiful smile grace a woman's face. "Ever the perfect gentleman, you are. I've never heard a more down-to-earth expression of honesty in all my life. Disappointed? How could I be? I dangled all kinds of shiny things in your face tonight, Gordon. But you never took your eyes off of me. I've never been more pleasantly surprised in all my life. You're right. A person's heart truly is the most important thing. Thank you for reminding me of that tonight. It's refreshing to hear. Mother has always told me it is unladylike to kiss before the third date. I'm sorry, mother, but I can't help myself. I need to let this one know how I feel before he gets away," and she locked her lips onto mine so passionately, it made me blush. Her tongue explored every crevice my mouth had to offer. I instinctively pulled her tightly into me, relishing this moment whether or not it would ever be repeated.