Proclivities - Pt. 01

Proclivities -- Part I: That's George Richter?!

I finally did it. I'd gotten my associates degree in computer science. It took four years, attending part time at nights while I kept my full time job working at the local library in the children's department. I graduated in late March and shortly I'd landed a job with a local tech company, OTP Security that specialized in IT security and document encryption, working in technical documentation -- diagrams, photos, manuals, archives and the like. More importantly, I would be out in the real world with an opportunity to expand my social circle beyond the moms, dads and their kids who frequented the library. It's not like I hadn't dated in that stretch. I'd even had sex with a few, but those encounters were generally awkward, brief and less than satisfying. Honestly, I had better orgasms after reading a particularly steaming section of a romance novel or dreaming about being taken by one the cute dads I saw at work.

I'd been with OTP several months when the cold reality sank in. Most of the guys that piqued my interests were either married or in serious relationships. I went on some uninspired dates with a couple of B-listers. And the rest, well, socially inept geeks didn't even begin to describe them.

It was Friday afternoon in late June and, even the prospect of payday could not lift my spirits, despite the much better pay. As I contemplated another lonely weekend, my friend and roommate Judy called and invited me for girls' night out with some of our friends. I was never positively disposed to clubbing, but I agreed anyway. It had to better than the alternative.

As I contemplated what I would wear - an outfit I'd purchased recently, but never had the gumption to wear, a black leather mid-thigh skirt and a tailored, that is, snug, white tuxedo blouse. Really not that racy, but a clear departure from my typical, conservative choices. And there were the new thigh high stockings, bra and panties I'd really splurged on to go with it. If nothing else, it should gather some attention.

"Hi, Linda."

Startled, I looked up to see Betty Thomas, the office manager, a matronly woman in her late fifties. She'd been at OTP since its founding. Although I did not know her well, I was aware of her reputation as being very influential with the owners. As I scanned her frumpish floral dress, I suddenly dreaded that I might be looking at my future. I'm definitely wearing that new outfit tonight!

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we just realized that I forgot to tell you that since this is the last Friday of the quarter, the company sponsors a social gathering at Brick Tavern right after work. You know, to have a drink and unwind."

Brick Tavern was nice gastropub just a few minutes from the office with a lively atmosphere and good food, but I was hardly in the mood.

"Well, Betty, I just got off the phone and accepted an invitation from one of my girlfriends to meet up tonight."

"Linda, it wouldn't be right to miss the first one after you've been hired."

"Are you saying it's mandatory?" I asked.

"Not mandatory, of course, but I think Chuck and Roger would be disappointed if you didn't attend," she replied with thinly veiled malice.

Chuck and Roger were the founders and owners of OTP and really nice men in their fifties. I doubted they'd care if I were there or not, so Betty was probably on a power trip. I didn't want to get on her wrong side, as the owners relied on her to keep things running smoothly. Even though I did not report to her, as office and personnel manager, she could make my life difficult.

"Alright," I conceded, "I guess one drink wouldn't hurt, but if I'm going to keep my other plans, I'll need to go home and change beforehand. My apartment is only about ten minutes away."

"That should be okay. Just don't be too long. See you there," and then added to my surprise, "Tell you what, leave a little early, say quarter to five."

"Thanks," I replied, although she really didn't hang around to hear it.

The time came soon enough, and, muttering curses at Betty, I rushed home. At least my roommate Judy wasn't home yet and I didn't have the time, nor the desire, to explain this unexpected change in plans.

I stripped out of my jeans, pullover, sports bra and plain navy panties. Out of my special underwear drawer (yes, I have one, but it rarely saw the light of day), I pulled the new black lacey boy-short panties and white lace bra. I checked myself in the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Who is that woman? The bra did little to hide the pink shadow of my nipples and these panties are sparser than I remembered. Definitely cheeky, but at least it was bathing suit season, so no stray pubes were sticking out. For whatever reason, I never liked that look.

My shoulder length brown hair has a natural wave that I could rarely master, but there was no way I was getting involved with straightening it. That never lasted anyway. Otherwise, my pale skin showed a hint of tan lines from one piece bathing suits, but I avoided attempts at tanning, as it more often resulted in sunburn. A sprinkling of freckles across my nose and cheeks were a testament to my heritage. I definitely felt sexy, but who am I kidding? Odds are extremely thin that anyone would have this view.

I put on a bit of makeup, followed by the blouse, skirt and stockings. One more check. Not bad. Sexy, but not slutty. I'd put on some black ballet flats for now, but grabbed the pair of black pumps that I planned to put on later. Oh, right, take that lightweight grey boyfriend sweater. Sometimes the air conditioning in places can be downright frigid.

I tossed my sweater and the pumps on the passenger seat, hopped in my car and off I went, a mix of anger -- with Betty -- and anxiety, totally unsure if I really wanted to partake in the meat market of dance clubs. It was a short drive so I didn't have much time to ponder the situation. Despite my rushing, it was nearly five twenty by time I parked. Composing myself as best I could, I walked in.

Off to the right was the dining area, barely one third full. In front of me, the bar beckoned. Obviously, the place did a brisk happy hour business, essentially every high top table and barstool in the bar area was occupied, with a cacophony of conversations competing with the blare of "background" music. I scanned the room and could see that the programmers had circled their wagons around Chuck. Finally, I saw Betty frantically waiving me over to the bar, which ran the length along the back off the room. She'd secured a place with Katie, a short, pear shaped woman, about my age, who was in the accounting department and had been kind to me since our introduction on my first day at work.

I snaked my way over to them, where to my surprise, Betty had saved a stool for me. I didn't sit down, but placed my purse on the seat and laid my sweater across the back.

"So glad you could make it," she said. "And don't you look nice," her tone dripping with disapproval. I suppose she expected something less alluring, but I was certainly not about to follow her lead for fashion.

"Thanks for saving a space for me," I said, ignoring her condescension and then added for Katie's benefit, "I'm meeting some girlfriends later to go out dancing,"

"I think she looks great," said Katie. "I wish I could carry that off."

"Thanks, Katie," I said. At least someone appreciated my look. "Where's the rest of your department?"

"They've already left. Not much party spirit in those bean counters. Can I get you a drink?"

"That would be lovely. I'll have a vodka and tonic."

Katie snagged the bartender and shortly, she handed me the cocktail.

"So how do like working at OTP?" Katie asked.

"I really like it. The work is challenging and everyone has been very supportive," I replied, omitting that Betty could be a real bitch.

Not to be left out of the conversation, Betty chimed in, "That's right. OTP is ranked as one the top companies to work at in the area."

Betty yammered on about how great OTP is, primarily extolling herself and all the wonderful programs she'd initiated to improve the work environment. Behind her back, I got a serious eye roll from Katie.

Much to Betty's dismay, Katie interrupted her, "Oh my, look at the time, I've got to get going. My husband will be really ticked if I'm not home to make dinner."

"So soon?" I replied.

"Unfortunately, yes," Katie replied, sneaking a sly wink. I guess she'd had her fill of Betty by then, and now I'd have to go it alone. "See you Monday. Have a great weekend!"

"You too," Betty and I replied in unison.

As Katie exited, Betty, oblivious to the truth, remarked, "You know, I could never let a man have so much control over me."

That was no revelation, but to feed the fire, I replied, "Yeah, I know what you mean. There's only one time I want a man in charge, if you catch my drift." Now that was false bravado and more fantasy than fact, but I might as well have some fun with the conversation and received her expected look of disapproval.

A sudden outburst from the programmers group grabbed both our attention. I looked over and a guy I'd never seen before was being greeted enthusiastically. Somewhere in his later twenties, I guessed. He was about six feet tall with neatly trimmed brown hair, lean, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark wash jeans. His handsome face grinned broadly at his reception. Handshakes were exchanged, with the admiration of his peers genuine. My ovaries fluttered.

Turning to Betty, I asked, "Who's that good looking guy in the white shirt?"

"Oh, that's George Richter."

I nearly spit my drink. I'd seen his name on multiple emails and documents and knew he was one of the original employees, but had assumed that he was closer to Chuck's age than my own.

"That's George Richter?" I replied, stunned. "I thought he was much older."

"Oh, that's right," replied Betty, "you wouldn't have met him. He's been travelling a lot lately, visiting customers, making proposals and the like. When he has been around, he works remotely from home, a brand new place he had built on Squankum point, which, I understand, is gorgeous."

"Isn't he one of the first employees here?"

"Not one of. The first. Chuck snagged him fresh out of college, with a master's in computer science and an MBA to boot. Top of his class. Chuck's always calls him his fucking genius - excuse my French - but the guy is brilliant and developed our first product and continues developing, just now with programmers to assist. He negotiated a contract with Chuck that paid him enough to survive at the beginning, but also a percentage of sales. Given the growth of the company, he's done well. Very well."

"Interesting...I suppose I should get introduced," I replied, hopefully, perhaps too enthusiastically.

"I'd be careful about him," Betty warned.

"Why is that?" This should be interesting.

"Well, as you probably know, I've been here pretty much from the beginning too. At that time, George was dating a girl up north who lived about 3 hours away and it seemed that his plan was to build success here so he could marry her. But after about six months it was over. I don't know what happened, but he was obviously devastated. A few months went by and he started dating another woman. Apparently she was a bit unstable and really messed up his head. Again it ended abruptly, but this time he kind of withdrew from people. In the years since, he's re-emerged, but definitely different. He's no longer the fresh from college innocent. From what I've heard there's been a steady stream of women in his life, but nothing ever serious. A real love 'em and leave 'em type. Again, it's only what I've heard, but I'd be careful around him, if I were you."

"Duly noted," I said and looked back to where he'd been standing, only to see him and Chuck headed our way. My eyes briefly met his. Brown with flecks of green. Warm. Inviting me in. At least I hoped so.

"So glad you could make it, Linda," greeted Chuck, "I understand you haven't met my fucking genius. Linda Huggins, this is George Richter. OTP would be nowhere without him."

I felt a rush as we shook hands and hoped it wasn't obvious as I stammered, "So nice to meet you."

"My pleasure too," he replied, "Chuck also told me you're doing great work here, but maybe you've got him as bamboozled as I do."

Chuck laughed heartily, Betty did not, as he gave George a quick pat on the back. "I'm about ready to settle the tab. Anyone here need a refill before I do?"

"I'm good, thanks," I replied, not wanting alcohol to cloud my judgement at this point.

"One martini is enough for me," said George, "How about you, Betty?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied icily.

George looked directly into my eyes once more and asked, "So how did you end up at OTP?"

I felt my pulse rising, but before I could say a word, Betty intruded. "Linda came here straight from getting her associate degree in computer technology..."

"I didn't ask you, Betty," he said sharply. It was a rare day when someone challenged Betty, but from her resigned expression it was obvious that she wouldn't push back. I was delighted. "I'm sure Linda can speak for herself."

"As Betty was saying, I did just get my degree, working at the town library while I went to school at night."

"Good for you!" he said and I felt the sincerity in his voice. "What did you do at the library?"

"I worked in the children's area, helping parents find age appropriate books for their kids, organizing story hour, that kind of thing."

"Well, that's certainly commendable. Promoting literacy is a noble enterprise."

"Thank you. Unfortunately it doesn't pay very well and there was no room for advancement, so I had to consider alternatives. Computers seemed liked a good area and I discovered that I was pretty good at it."

"Well I have to get going," interrupted Betty. I'd forgotten she was there. "Have fun with your girlfriends tonight, Linda," she concluded and gave me a 'don't forget what I told you' look.

"Thanks, Betty. Have a great weekend."

As I watched her depart, I also observed that since Chuck had closed the tab, the rest of the company group had left and most of the happy hour crowd as well.

George regained my attention by saying, "Thank goodness, she finally left. I know Betty means well and does a great job for Chuck keeping the staff organized, but she's also a busy body and gossip. And what did she mean, have fun with your girlfriends?"

"I'm supposed to meet some friends in a little while for a quick bite and then out dancing. I don't dress like this for work."

"That explains a lot. You look great, but I didn't think Chuck had changed the dress code. And by all means, don't let me keep you."

"Thanks. Actually, I'm dreading it. I'm not much for dance clubs. I hate their music, plus I've got two left feet. But my roommate thinks it would be good for me to get out and mingle."

"So I'm not keeping you?"

"Hardly, I was hoping for a reason not to go. Besides, Betty dropped the dime on you as a way of keeping you away from me or me away from you. She thinks you're dangerous."

"Dangerous? Really? I suppose I should be honored to be so notorious in her book, " he said with a wry smile.

"Oh yes, she gave me quit an earful about you."

"So what did she say?"

"I really shouldn't engage in her gossip."

"You started it, so now you have to tell me."

"Well..." I hesitated, contemplating on what to divulge. "The reader's digest version is you're brilliant, made a pile of money working for Chuck, had your heart broken, then your brain broken and now you're a bit of a cad. A real love 'em and leave 'em type were her exact words."

George laughed. "It's good to know Betty doesn't let the facts get in the way of a good story!"

After a quick giggle on my part, I asked, "So what's the truth?"

"That's a long story and I wouldn't want to bore you. "

"I'm certainly not bored and I've got some time."

"Okay, here goes. It's no secret that I've done well working for Chuck, but I don't consider myself brilliant. I've busted my ass to get where I am, but that's also what led to my heartbreak."

"How's that?" I asked, wondering who'd be foolish enough to do that.

"Well, when Chuck started OTP, it was a very small, low budget operation. I was the only programmer and working ungodly hours. At the time, I was dating Kim and had been since college. I actually thought we might get married someday and had told her that OTP might be the way for us to get financially sound. Being she lives three hours away, I didn't get up to see her much. So one Friday after about six months with OTP, I told her I'd be working that weekend and wouldn't be able to make it up there as planned. She expressed her disappointment, but said she understood. Things went very well with work on Saturday and I'd knocked out what I needed to do much sooner than expected. So I figured I'd get some bubbly and roses and surprise her Saturday evening."

"How sweet!" I interjected.

"So I thought. I was giddy the whole drive. At the time she lived in a little place on Main Street. There wasn't much parking, but I was relieved to see her car parked out front. I got there around seven and had to park on the opposite side of the street a couple of houses up. Just as I was about to get out of the car, I saw Kim and another guy come out of her place. It was her supposedly ex-boyfriend, Tommy. As she turned to lock the door, he reaches around to grab her boobs. She didn't resist, rather she lingered. "

"You must have been crushed! What did you do?"

"That I was, but what could I do? Confrontation isn't my style. I just sat there, stunned, and watched them drive off. "

"They didn't see you?" I asked as I detected a certain sadness in his eyes.

"Nah, they were totally occupied with each other."

"So you just went back home?"

"Not exactly. I did something very childish."

"Which was?"

"You know how they always give you a notecard when you buy flowers? I took out a pen and wrote, 'I hope you and Tommy had fun!' I went up to her door, took out my pocket knife, cut all the blooms off the roses, leaving them scattered on the door mat along with the stems and the note. Then I went home."

"I wouldn't call that childish," I replied, "Totally understandable, maybe even appropriate."

"Thanks."

"Did you ever speak to her again?"

"At around eleven that night, she called. I didn't answer. She kept trying for another couple of hours. On Sunday, I finally decided to answer."

"What did she say?" I asked.

"What you'd expect. How sorry she was. Could I forgive her? Yadda-yadda-yadda."

"So, what did you say?"

"That I could never get over her betrayal and that it was over - I'd certainly had plenty of time to consider my position. She started crying and tried to explain herself. I hung up and blocked her number on my phone."

"So you never spoke with her again? "

"What would be the point? To this day, it still stings a bit to think about it, but nowhere near like it once did."

"Oh, I'm sorry, " I said empathetically.

"No need to be. My life. My mistake."

"Okay, let's move on. How'd you get your brain broke?"

"Are you sure you want to hear another pitiful story?"

"How else would I get to know you? How we deal with adversity makes us who we are," I assured him, but I really wanted to know if he'd live up to Betty's billing.

"Getting philosophical on me, are you?"

"I guess you could say that, but not my intention. Just trying to be supportive."

"Alright, then, thanks. A few months later, I met Marcie and we dated for about a year and then moved in together. Big mistake. Looking back, I think I was just scared of being alone. She was a drama queen and it really came out once we shared a place. The woman could make the tiniest things into major confrontations. Even simple stuff, like trying to decide which shade of beige carpet to get, became tense. I thought saying either was fine with me would let her pick her preference, but, no, it made me weak and indecisive."