"What?"
"I am trying to decide your sense of humor."
"I am feeling playful," I told her.
She smiled and immediately selected a movie, sliding it into the player. She joined me on the sofa then pulled me into the crook of her arm. We both squirmed around a little getting comfortable.
I was a little surprised by the movie. The opening sequence seemed, I don't know. Cheesy. I decided it must be an indie. I'd never heard of it.
Three minutes into it, I realized why I hadn't heard of it. She had picked some lesbian porn. I started laughing.
"Are you serious?" I asked. "Porn? You put on porn?"
"Yes. And you have to watch it with me. Closing your eyes would be cheating."
"I can talk over the dialogue."
"What dialogue?"
"I don't know." I put on a fake voice. "Oh baby, oh baby. Yes. There. Oh baby, make me come. Oh right there." I paused. "How am I doing?"
"Don't quit your day job. Hush now, we're coming to the good part."
"Key word is coming?"
"Hush. I love this part."
"I can't believe you own porn."
"Bonnie gave this to me for my birthday last year."
I laughed. "That makes sense. Did you two make out in front of it?"
"Something like that. Hush now. You're ruining it."
"Oh pah-lease," I said. "I can already tell you what is going to happen. That girl," I said, pointing. "The blonde. She's going to get it on with that other one."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Wager?" Gwendolyn paused the movie.
"Not fair. You know the movie."
"So you admit you don't know what's going to happen, and thus will sit quietly and watch it with me. It's okay if you touch yourself."
"Brat."
"Accept the wager or agree to be quiet."
"What's the wager?"
"If the blonde doesn't do it with the brunette as you predicted, you will unbutton two buttons on your blouse."
"And if she does?"
"What do you want?"
"I get to heckle."
"Deal. But you have to be quiet and watch for the next few minutes." Gwendolyn hit play.
I settled into her and watched the movie. I lost the wager. A redhead entered the scene, and the blonde and brunette ended up tying the redhead up and taking turns with her.
"Two buttons please," Gwendolyn said. "And no heckling."
I slowly unbuttoned two buttons of my blouse.
A few minutes later I found myself cocking my head. "Pause it." Gwendolyn did, and I pointed at the screen. "Would that really work?"
"Oh yes," she said. "Definitely. Want to see?"
"Maybe not tonight."
Gwendolyn chuckled and hit play.
Twice more I asked questions. On the second one, Gwendolyn said, "It seems improbable, doesn't it?"
Eventually the movie ended. The entire movie had been one bondage scene after another. For a few of them, I imagined doing them with Gwendolyn, and I squirmed a little. Gwendolyn had the good grace not to say anything.
"Did you take notes?" I asked when the credits began to roll.
"Yes, I did," she said, chuckling.
"I can't believe you made me watch a porn movie."
"Did you like it?"
"I thought about letting you do some of those things to me."
"And?"
"I squirmed."
She smiled.
Then I snuggled into her, and we sat there quietly for a while. "Gwendolyn?"
"Yes?"
"When is the last time you had a woman over who didn't go to bed with you?"
She thought about it. "Not counting fights?"
"Yes."
"College, I think."
I looked up at her. "I'm going to break your streak."
"I know."
"Are you going to think about me after I leave?"
"I have an appointment with my vibrator."
I laughed.
"I'm going to think about you though." She cocked her head at the screen. "And I think scene number four."
"The one with the girl with the blue hair?"
"Yep."
"I don't think she's quite as innocent as she was pretending."
Gwendolyn laughed. "I think you might be right. You, on the other hand, would be just that innocent."
I paused for a bit before asking, "Am I giving what you wanted when you bid on me?"
"I didn't know what I wanted," she admitted. "I am very happy with our time together."
"Good. I wouldn't want to cheat you."
"Is that why you're acting flirtatious? So I won't feel cheated?"
"No. I am having a very nice time. No acting."
"Will you call me this week?"
"Absolutely. And I'll see you on Friday."
I smiled up at her. "I don't own a go board."
"I'll bring mine. Just in case you're in the mood for another wager."
And then I found myself rolling over and straddling her. I surprised her by it, and before she could react, I lowered my lips to hers.
My kiss was insistent, demanding. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and teased her mouth before she pushed me back and invaded my mouth. I felt her hands move to my waist, then suddenly she was rolling us over, and I found myself underneath her. She stared down at me for a moment, then was kissing me again.
I closed my eyes and reached for her, but she captured my wrists and forced them over my head, holding them with one hand. I let her. She shifted, then one hand was cupping my breast. My eyes sprang open and I pulled back from her a little.
"Sorry," she said. "Too much?" she immediately released my hands and sat up, pulling her hands to herself.
"Wait," I told her. "No, just surprised."
I reached for her and pulled her back to me. She captured my wrists, and I didn't struggle, but simply closed my eyes.
I didn't stop her when she unbuttoned my blouse, still holding my hands above my head. She continued to kiss me while massaging my breasts through the bra. I squirmed.
She broke the kiss, and I opened my eyes. She was breathing hard, staring at me through half-lidded eyes.
I pulled my hands out of her grasp, sat up, and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly to me, which forced her hand away from my chest. I held her very tightly.
"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"Yes. We have to stop though. I don't want to be seduced tonight."
"I know."
She wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other for a while.
"You feel so good," I told her. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I'm a tease."
"You have been clear, Pamela. Any teasing you're doing is good teasing."
"You have to climb off me now," I said. "I need to go." Reluctantly, I released my grip on her and she slide off me, but she was eyeing my breasts, barely concealed behind the bra.
"Do you like them?" I asked her.
She smiled. "Yes."
"I want an email tomorrow telling me what you thought about tonight after I leave."
"Vixen."
"If I don't get an email, I will presume you weren't thinking of me. My feelings will be hurt."
"Vixen!" She was smiling.
I buttoned my blouse while she watched, then I took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs.
Dinner In
I spent most of Sunday studying, although I did take time to bake some bread. I made a nice artisan loaf infused with rosemary. Num!
Moira called Sunday evening. We talked for an hour. When I told her my third date with Gwendolyn was on Friday, she immediately invited me to her home Saturday to cook together. We both subscribed to the same cooking magazines, so while over the phone, we picked up the latest issue of Cook's Illustrated and said, "Yes, yes, and yes" to the choices we found in there for a meal.
"I'll put some bread dough together and bring it with me," I told
her.
"I'll make a dessert."
We had a plan.
Gwendolyn sent me flowers on Monday. I called her and left a thank you on her voice mail. She called me later. "I'm between appointments and just have a few minutes," she said.
"Me too," I said. "Good timing."
We talked briefly, then both had to go.
By Monday I had finished reading all four books. One of them hadn't been too bad, but the other three had been rough. I picked up one of them and started working my way through it again. Moira called. "I won't keep you," she said. "Lunch tomorrow?"
"Yes!"
"Excellent. Noon. Get back to the books."
I laughed and hung up.
Our lunch was lovely.
By the time I went to bed on Tuesday, I thought I'd absorbed the books as well as I was going to. I wasn't satisfied with my level of expertise. I opened an email to Andi then stared at the screen. Finally I told her the truth. I was as well-studied as I thought I could be in the time I've had, but that I felt shaky about the last two books. I promised to call Wednesday at seven, unless she wanted another time.
Checking my email Wednesday before heading to work, I received a reply. "Seven is perfect. Looking forward to talking with you. Andi."
I was so nervous.
Moira called me late in the afternoon. "I am just calling to wish you luck and let you know I have faith in you."
"I am so nervous," I told her. "I can barely concentrate."
"Andi will be impressed with honest confidence. She hates a bullshitter. If you don't know something, be honest about it."
"Thanks, Moira."
At two minutes before seven, I picked up my phone and prepped her number. Exactly at seven, I hit Send on the phone.
"When you said seven, you were serious," Andi said when she answered the phone.
"It's a gift," I said. "The ability to stare at the phone waiting for it to click over to the right time." She laughed.
"Were you familiar with the material in those books before you started reading them?"
"Maybe a little in the Gibbons book, but only in vague passing."
"All right." Then she started quizzing me, sticking to content from three of the books. I felt like I was doing all right. She hung me up a few times, and I admitted it. Once she asked me for my best gut feeling, so I thought just a moment and told her what I thought. I heard the smile over the phone.
"All right," she said. "Let's talk about the Samuels book. What did you think about it?"
"Um."
"Honestly."
"If you hadn't recommended I read it, I would have thought it was a bunch of bunk. But there must have been a reason you recommended it."
"Bunk?"
"Well-"
"Honestly, Pamela."
"It felt like a thinly-disguised discussion of trickle-down economics. And he hates Keynes. I got the impression that if it remotely smacked of Keynesian economics, it must automatically be wrong. I understand that there are people who don't like Keynes, but to fully reject everything just because you find the conclusions inconvenient seems awfully myopic."
I got quiet.
"Still there, Pamela?"
"Andi, I'm not sure I want this job."
"Oh Pamela, why not." Her voice was full of concern.
"If I'm supposed to believe that drivel, I'm not interested."
"Bravo." She said. "Bravo, Pamela."
"What?"
"I hate that book."
"What?"
"Why do you think I made you read it?"
I thought about it. "Because the person I'm going to interview with believes it?"
"No, although that's close."
"Because some of my clients would?"
"Yes. That's one reason. We'll talk more about that in a bit. What else?"
"To see if I would recognize it as drivel?"
"Yes. One more reason."
I thought about it. "Maybe to see if I would bullshit you."
"Yes."
"It was a test. What if I'd failed?"
"It wasn't a test. I've already passed your name on to the hiring manager in Minneapolis. I need a copy of your resume and an idea of when you would be available to talk to him. The correct answer is 'next Tuesday at ten AM'."
"Really? Andi?"
"Yes."
"Now I'm confused. Why all the reading?"
"You don't think I'd let you go to an interview unprepared, do you?" I heard the smile in her voice. "Read the Mason book once more. Pay attention to chapter eleven. As for the lovely Samuels book, I know for a fact that Ryan uses tactics similar in that book during interviews. Imagine that Ryan is the really Samuels, and he is going to propose his theories to you. What are you going to say? Understand that lying is the wrong answer."
"I'm supposed to argue what's wrong with it?"
"Yes. Politely. Perhaps as if you were discussing it with an easily-offended client. The word 'drivel' is probably not appropriate, if accurate."
I laughed. "Could we practice?"
"Yes. Hmm. Let me see if I can get into character."
Her tone changed, and I could tell it pained her, but she played the part of a client with a deep hatred for Keynes. I took a moderate position and didn't argue with her, but presented a position that would perhaps nudge her to a less extreme position.
"Okay, I can't do that anymore," she said, laughing. "You did all right. A little rough, but that's to be expected. Was Keynes right about everything?"
"Of course not. No one is right about everything. But he wasn't wrong about everything, either." I paused. "It is inconvenient to the pocketbooks of some people to believe that governments can moderate financial swings through careful financial policies, but the reality is a major government can do an awful lot to moderate the swings. If you believe in minimal government, the thought is anathema."
"Exactly. So the truth?"
"Somewhere in the middle, where truth usually lies." I paused. "I believe in Keynes far more than Friedman." I paused. "Do clients care about all this when dealing with us? We're there to make money for them, not help define fiscal policy."
"You are expected to be the ultimate expert, and clients frequently will test you based on their own, oftentimes flawed views of reality."
We talked for a while longer. While we were talking, I mailed her a copy of my resume, and she told me she'd verify ten AM on Tuesday and email directions. As we were wrapping up, I thanked her profusely.
"Make me proud, Pamela," she said. "I don't do this very often, but I have a great deal of confidence in you."
* * *
I got off the phone and realized I was sweating. And amazingly excited. I called Moira.
"Thank you thank you thank you!"
She laughed. "Good call with Andi?"
I told her about it.
"I am proud of you, honey."
"I don't have a job offer yet," I warned her.
"Andi has never done this for anyone before."
I shut up.
"Did I lose you?" Moira asked after a second.
"She said she doesn't do it very often."
"I guess once would qualify as not very often."
I thought about it. "Is she doing this for you?"
"No. I talked to her about it. She is impressed. She wants you with her firm. She said if you were willing to move to Chicago, she would already have hired you based on your conversation last week. She doesn't supervise any new employees, but if her managers didn't want you, she'd supervise you directly."
I started to cry.
"Oh honey," Moira said.
I cried quietly while Moira made soothing sounds. "I can be there in twenty minutes, honey."
"I'll be okay," I said, sniffling. "Why? Eight years at the bank. I've applied all over town, and I couldn't get a second interview anywhere. I've applied to Andi's firm. I got a form letter rejection. Why?"
"I don't know," she said quietly.
"What if
Ryan doesn't like me?"
"I have more contacts. So does Andi."
I took a deep breath. "Positive thoughts. She got me an interview, inside track, and I suspect a VP in Chicago still carries a lot of weight in Minneapolis. I also suspect she has me well-prepped for this interview."
"Exactly," agreed Moira. "She told me you're a shoe-in, if you don't get cocky."
"So telling me I'm a shoe-in may not have been a good idea?"
We laughed together.
We talked for another hour before hanging up.
* * *
Gwendolyn and Moira both called me Thursday evening to verify our respective dates.
Gwendolyn told me she had bought new rope. She told me about surgeon's knots. She went on and on about how she could secure someone's limbs so she would be comfortable, but completely immobile. She wondered aloud how the rope would feel against bare skin, and how it might feel to be completely open and vulnerable to her. She wondered what her touch might feel like.
"If you think you're making me squirm," I told her. "You're not." She was, but I wasn't ready to admit it."
"Oh, I was just talking," she said. "Are your nipples hard?"
"No. Of course not. What a silly question."
"Are you sure? Maybe you should feel them and tell me."
"I am doing no such thing," I told her. In reality, I was doing just that, now that she mentioned it. I had a blouse and bra in the way, and my touch wasn't very satisfactory.
"You might get a better feel if you took your blouse off," she told me.
"Did you set up a video camera in my house while I wasn't looking?"
She laughed. "Phone sex is more fun if you participate, Pamela."
I decided it was time to turn the tables. "Are your nipples hard, Gwendolyn?"
"Yes, and I am wet just thinking about you."
I think I moaned. No, certainly not.
I heard her smirk, I swear I did. I decided to give it another try.
"You should unbutton your slacks and see how wet you are," I suggested.
"I'm not wearing any slacks, Pamela," she said. "I am on my bed with the lights dimmed. I am wearing nothing but a pair of panties. I got undressed before calling you. I have my rope here next to me, ready to bring to your home tomorrow. Do you think I have a nice figure?"
"Oh god," I said.
"Does that mean 'yes'?"
"Yes, Gwendolyn, you have an amazing figure."
"Thank you," she said. "That means a lot to me." I heard her gasp.
Bidding War Page 19
