“Rosalind Romero called today,” Cuthbold declared with his normal cheerful cluelessness. I shuddered. I know, I had an incredibly hot woman come onto me so it was clearly the worst night ever. Woe is me. It was an excellent compliment, assuming that's how it was meant, but I'm just not mentally set up to take on the concept of being involved with a married woman for a quickie, no matter how stunning she may look. Anyway, Cuthbold said they're busy people so they'll never take the tour. I'll never be in that position again, for better or for worse. “They'll be here on Monday. You'll be giving them the tour.”
I gaped, jaw dangling and everything, just stunned. Thankfully, my brain jumped back online as quickly as it had gone offline. “Monday tends to be our busiest day so I couldn't possibly...” I was getting The Look. “I, er, couldn't possibly devote my day to them without scheduling some additional intern hours.”
This made Cuthbold smile. “Not a problem then. Excellent, excellent. You do provide such a quality tour of the campus and she did ask for you personally. We don't want to disappoint them now, do we?”
I sighed. “No sir.”
Friday, February 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Cold Outside, Hot Inside
Once that task was complete, I was once again at a loss. Cuthbold disappeared back into the mass of humanity and I wandered off.
I really could have done with a drink at that point. I was all charged up on adrenaline and endorphins and whatever else my body generates in the pressure of a beautiful woman. I was jittery. My thoughts were distracted. I felt good. Warm. Alcohol would have smoothed the impeding crash but, even having succeeded in our goal, I wasn't going to push my luck. I wasn't that mentally gone. Why spoil things now?
I wandered about idly, passing past workmates that displayed an incredibly impressive ability to not recognize me. Which was not the worst thing in the world really, talking to some of them might well have been a more painful way to spend the time.
How long do you spend at a party? I'd done my bit, as it were, and there didn't appear to be anything else left for me to accomplish. If I left within the first half-hour of arriving, is that rude? Or within an hour? If I were good friends with the hosts it might be different but this was only a polite work invitation so what was acceptable? While it could be argued that the money was promised, until Cuthbold had the check in the bank, there was no reason to believe that their decision couldn't be reversed. Best behavior was still called for until this was done.
The nice thing about this mansion was that there was room to wander and think and distract yourself with the decorations, minimal as they may be. The down side is another of those 'is this polite?' questions. When one is wandering about on the fringes of a party, at what point are you intruding on your hosts' hospitality? In a smaller house it's easier I think; you stay out of their bedrooms and storage spaces and areas like that unless otherwise directed. There was so much room to ramble here that it blurred the line. I have no clue what was in the rooms I passed and I would never have slipped inside them to check. That would have been rude. As I could still hear party related voices, the halls seemed fair enough game. Yet, I was alone.
“Ah, there you are.” The realization that I was not alone, coupled with the concern that I might be intruding made me jump, drawing a chimed laugh from Ms. Romero. “I did not intend to frighten you my dear.”
I fell back on familiar territory for me; I began to babble nervously. “Frighten? Not really, just, sort of, surprised a bit, I'm sorry, I'm not intruding, am I?”
Her smile held a laugh in it. “Not at all. You are very welcome in my home. Admiring the painting?”
“Trying to decipher it,” I admitted. “I don't understand abstract art.”
She drew nearer. I could feel a warmth from her grow as she got closer. “You have a very analytical brain perhaps? As a computer person, your brain is filled with zeros and ones. Art is too... free for you to grasp?”
“I think I get some art,” I noted defensively.
“Landscapes? Portraits?” She gave me the 'silly boy' shake of the head. “They are art, true, but this, this is undiluted emotion! Passion! Does that elude you?”
“It looks like a five year olds fingerprints to me. Not that it's not attractive to look at, I just can't see that side of it. Perhaps you are right and my brain is just not tuned to that frequency.”
Things happened very suddenly. I found myself pressed up against the wall by Ms. Romero who, somehow, seemed to have glued herself to every part of my person. It was so unexpected that I had no opportunity to resist. “I should very much like to adjust your frequency Patrick,” purred in my ear.
“Ms. Romero!” I exclaimed while also trying to not be too loud and draw attention to us. “What are you doing?”
She breathed in my ear. “My dear Patrick, it is not obvious?”
I squirmed in an attempt to free myself. “No, no, this wouldn't be right.” I consider marriage to be a rather Serious Thing and the last thing I wanted to do at this point would be to offend Dr. Castillo by being seen with his wife affixed to me. There was some panic on my part.
The breath on my ear was hot. “Are you trying to say that I don't attract you?” She found a way to make more contract with my personage. “I know for a fact that I do.”
I jumped again and squeaked loudly, managing to free myself as well as accidentally draw attention to ourselves. As a curious face poked around the corner to see what was going on, I scurried away. I quickly found my coat and departed, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening playing cat and mouse with her.
I really could have done with a drink at that point. I was all charged up on adrenaline and endorphins and whatever else my body generates in the pressure of a beautiful woman. I was jittery. My thoughts were distracted. I felt good. Warm. Alcohol would have smoothed the impeding crash but, even having succeeded in our goal, I wasn't going to push my luck. I wasn't that mentally gone. Why spoil things now?
I wandered about idly, passing past workmates that displayed an incredibly impressive ability to not recognize me. Which was not the worst thing in the world really, talking to some of them might well have been a more painful way to spend the time.
How long do you spend at a party? I'd done my bit, as it were, and there didn't appear to be anything else left for me to accomplish. If I left within the first half-hour of arriving, is that rude? Or within an hour? If I were good friends with the hosts it might be different but this was only a polite work invitation so what was acceptable? While it could be argued that the money was promised, until Cuthbold had the check in the bank, there was no reason to believe that their decision couldn't be reversed. Best behavior was still called for until this was done.
The nice thing about this mansion was that there was room to wander and think and distract yourself with the decorations, minimal as they may be. The down side is another of those 'is this polite?' questions. When one is wandering about on the fringes of a party, at what point are you intruding on your hosts' hospitality? In a smaller house it's easier I think; you stay out of their bedrooms and storage spaces and areas like that unless otherwise directed. There was so much room to ramble here that it blurred the line. I have no clue what was in the rooms I passed and I would never have slipped inside them to check. That would have been rude. As I could still hear party related voices, the halls seemed fair enough game. Yet, I was alone.
“Ah, there you are.” The realization that I was not alone, coupled with the concern that I might be intruding made me jump, drawing a chimed laugh from Ms. Romero. “I did not intend to frighten you my dear.”
I fell back on familiar territory for me; I began to babble nervously. “Frighten? Not really, just, sort of, surprised a bit, I'm sorry, I'm not intruding, am I?”
Her smile held a laugh in it. “Not at all. You are very welcome in my home. Admiring the painting?”
“Trying to decipher it,” I admitted. “I don't understand abstract art.”
She drew nearer. I could feel a warmth from her grow as she got closer. “You have a very analytical brain perhaps? As a computer person, your brain is filled with zeros and ones. Art is too... free for you to grasp?”
“I think I get some art,” I noted defensively.
“Landscapes? Portraits?” She gave me the 'silly boy' shake of the head. “They are art, true, but this, this is undiluted emotion! Passion! Does that elude you?”
“It looks like a five year olds fingerprints to me. Not that it's not attractive to look at, I just can't see that side of it. Perhaps you are right and my brain is just not tuned to that frequency.”
Things happened very suddenly. I found myself pressed up against the wall by Ms. Romero who, somehow, seemed to have glued herself to every part of my person. It was so unexpected that I had no opportunity to resist. “I should very much like to adjust your frequency Patrick,” purred in my ear.
“Ms. Romero!” I exclaimed while also trying to not be too loud and draw attention to us. “What are you doing?”
She breathed in my ear. “My dear Patrick, it is not obvious?”
I squirmed in an attempt to free myself. “No, no, this wouldn't be right.” I consider marriage to be a rather Serious Thing and the last thing I wanted to do at this point would be to offend Dr. Castillo by being seen with his wife affixed to me. There was some panic on my part.
The breath on my ear was hot. “Are you trying to say that I don't attract you?” She found a way to make more contract with my personage. “I know for a fact that I do.”
I jumped again and squeaked loudly, managing to free myself as well as accidentally draw attention to ourselves. As a curious face poked around the corner to see what was going on, I scurried away. I quickly found my coat and departed, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening playing cat and mouse with her.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
She's Just Very...Wow!
Have you ever had one of those moments when time crawls forward? Like one of those moments in a a movie when the music gets slow but happy and the pretty gal looks at the hero for the first time and you know the rest of the film is just going to be spent waiting for them to get together?
Well, I'm no hero. Ms. Romero is no pretty girl.
She is gorgeous!
I know I'll get into trouble for being honest here but I'd rather be in trouble for being honest rather than being dishonest. This lady may well be the most attractive human female that I have yet to see. There was this really pretty alien that one time but I need to stay on topic. Wow.
Long dark hair. A curvy yet slim feminine figure draped in a black dress. Dusky skin. And those eyes, those deep blue eyes. They were so arresting, hypnotizing. Her eyes were so...whatever that she could have had a mustache and I would never have known.
There was this period of time when the angels sang and I broke into a weird panic sweat while trying to not look like a drooling idiot. I'm sure I failed. I reached a hand out to shake her extended hand. That's when things became more complicated.
“Patrick my new friend, is this truly how you greet a lady as you meet her?” asked Dr. Castillo. Evidently my expression was sufficiently blank so that he explained himself further. “ A gentleman kisses the hand of a lady.” I nodded nervously, painfully aware that I was touching her hand while we discussed this concept. Her hand was warm and soft and distracting. I went to kneel but this drew further laughter from her husband. “Ah Patrick, you do not seek to pledge yourself to my wife, do you? And directly before me?” Playfully he shook his head at me. Finally, I managed a bow and tapped her knuckles with my lips before finally releasing Ms. Romero's hand.
Her laugh sounded like small bells being chimed by a gentle breeze. “Patrick, yes? You are from the school?” Her voice was silky and smooth as it played about my ears. I nodded in response, not trusting in my ability to vocalize. “Ah my husband, if this school employs bright young gentlemen such as Patrick, does it not deserve whatever support we can supply?” She smiled at me. I believe I melted at this point. I've looked at the sun and not seen something as bright.
Dr. Castillo agreed. “I have always trusted in your ability to judge a person, my dear. If you think this should be so, then I agree that it should be so.”
“We have not toured the school in some time,” Ms. Romero observed. “I think it wise that we do so my husband. Especially our new friend Patrick's department.” She smiled at me again. I melted further.
Cuthbold interjected. He heard 'money' and became excited. “That sounds like an excellent idea, excellent. Certainly you will want to know where your money is going. We can get that all set up; just call my office with your availability.”
Dr. Castillo brightened. “A day spent within the halls of academia! Does that not sound wonderful my dear Rosa?”
“It does indeed. We shall contact you shortly to schedule this Mr. Cuthbold.” This was our polite dismissal so that they could meet with other party attendees. We quickly exchanged a few more polite words before Cuthbold dragged my rubber legged self away. “I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you; they've mentioned taking tours numbers of times before and they are just too busy to do so. I think we're safe.”
Well, I'm no hero. Ms. Romero is no pretty girl.
She is gorgeous!
I know I'll get into trouble for being honest here but I'd rather be in trouble for being honest rather than being dishonest. This lady may well be the most attractive human female that I have yet to see. There was this really pretty alien that one time but I need to stay on topic. Wow.
Long dark hair. A curvy yet slim feminine figure draped in a black dress. Dusky skin. And those eyes, those deep blue eyes. They were so arresting, hypnotizing. Her eyes were so...whatever that she could have had a mustache and I would never have known.
There was this period of time when the angels sang and I broke into a weird panic sweat while trying to not look like a drooling idiot. I'm sure I failed. I reached a hand out to shake her extended hand. That's when things became more complicated.
“Patrick my new friend, is this truly how you greet a lady as you meet her?” asked Dr. Castillo. Evidently my expression was sufficiently blank so that he explained himself further. “ A gentleman kisses the hand of a lady.” I nodded nervously, painfully aware that I was touching her hand while we discussed this concept. Her hand was warm and soft and distracting. I went to kneel but this drew further laughter from her husband. “Ah Patrick, you do not seek to pledge yourself to my wife, do you? And directly before me?” Playfully he shook his head at me. Finally, I managed a bow and tapped her knuckles with my lips before finally releasing Ms. Romero's hand.
Her laugh sounded like small bells being chimed by a gentle breeze. “Patrick, yes? You are from the school?” Her voice was silky and smooth as it played about my ears. I nodded in response, not trusting in my ability to vocalize. “Ah my husband, if this school employs bright young gentlemen such as Patrick, does it not deserve whatever support we can supply?” She smiled at me. I believe I melted at this point. I've looked at the sun and not seen something as bright.
Dr. Castillo agreed. “I have always trusted in your ability to judge a person, my dear. If you think this should be so, then I agree that it should be so.”
“We have not toured the school in some time,” Ms. Romero observed. “I think it wise that we do so my husband. Especially our new friend Patrick's department.” She smiled at me again. I melted further.
Cuthbold interjected. He heard 'money' and became excited. “That sounds like an excellent idea, excellent. Certainly you will want to know where your money is going. We can get that all set up; just call my office with your availability.”
Dr. Castillo brightened. “A day spent within the halls of academia! Does that not sound wonderful my dear Rosa?”
“It does indeed. We shall contact you shortly to schedule this Mr. Cuthbold.” This was our polite dismissal so that they could meet with other party attendees. We quickly exchanged a few more polite words before Cuthbold dragged my rubber legged self away. “I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you; they've mentioned taking tours numbers of times before and they are just too busy to do so. I think we're safe.”
Sunday, January 31, 2010
At Least Now I'm Inside
I was encouraged inside by a butler, a tall thin officious looking individual, sharp of suit and hair neat of trim. Still, he was friendly and took my coat, passing it off to some other underling for storage. I'm always uncomfortable giving up my coat like that. I've the strange fear that I'll never get it back.
The entry hall was attractive but cold, literally and figuratively. There was still a lot of shades of white on display and the highlight colors were also pale. This contrasted with the dark, detailed rug leading from the front door into the next room. I gaped at the room until the butler politely encouraged me to join the party.
A butler? Who has a butler? I'm not sure if that's creepy or super neat. It does have a certain old school quality to it. It's just a job. Hope they get paid well.
The main room was overwhelming. A vast crowd of people laughed and chatted around a room that would have reminded me of the nineteen sixties had I been alive then. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of 'hip' places during that period of time. The color scheme was similar to the front room, lots of contrast between large areas of white and splashes of dark color. Most of the furniture was located in a 'pit', a section of the room set three steps lower than the rest, warmed by the closeness of the fireplace to it. Abstract art illuminated the walls. A grand piano filled the other side of the room, the food and drink arranged near it.
I was immediately lost. No familiar faces appeared to me in the bubbling crowd about me. My suit suddenly felt insufficiently dressy. I began searching for a corner to curl up in but the room seemed curved and lacking such items.
“There you are!” I jumped with the suddenness of Cuthbold's voice. “It certainly took you long enough.” My mouth opened but a dismissive wave closed it. “Never mind all that now. Come and meet our hosts.”
We weaved our way through the mass of humanity, heading for the vicinity of the piano. I became aware that our destination was a tall, lean man whose hair was graying, even his neatly clipped beard. His dark blue suit was crisp and stylish. A deep booming laugh revealed brilliant white teeth made that much brighter in contrast with his tanned skin. When the opening presented itself, Cuthbold dragged me in. “Dr. Castillo? This is Patrick Thompson, our IT lead.”
“Ah, a computer man!” His handshake was steady and firm. “Excellent to hear. I've been experiencing some issues with my computer of late. Might you have a moment to look at it?” My smile must have wavered slightly as Dr. Castillo laughed loudly. “I am sorry my new friend but I could not resist the opportunity. You must hear that often, no? I receive a similar response when people hear that I have a doctorate. They assume I am a medical doctor although I am not.”
“Has anyone gotten offended when they ask you to give them a checkup and you say you can't?”
“Quite frequently. They claim that I am lying about my education simply because I do not wish to help them. Occasionally they will argue that I am not being cool.” He glanced to his left. “Ah. Patrick, if I may refer to you in a casual manner, may I introduce my wife? This is Rosalind Romero.”
She turned to face me.
Wow!
The entry hall was attractive but cold, literally and figuratively. There was still a lot of shades of white on display and the highlight colors were also pale. This contrasted with the dark, detailed rug leading from the front door into the next room. I gaped at the room until the butler politely encouraged me to join the party.
A butler? Who has a butler? I'm not sure if that's creepy or super neat. It does have a certain old school quality to it. It's just a job. Hope they get paid well.
The main room was overwhelming. A vast crowd of people laughed and chatted around a room that would have reminded me of the nineteen sixties had I been alive then. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of 'hip' places during that period of time. The color scheme was similar to the front room, lots of contrast between large areas of white and splashes of dark color. Most of the furniture was located in a 'pit', a section of the room set three steps lower than the rest, warmed by the closeness of the fireplace to it. Abstract art illuminated the walls. A grand piano filled the other side of the room, the food and drink arranged near it.
I was immediately lost. No familiar faces appeared to me in the bubbling crowd about me. My suit suddenly felt insufficiently dressy. I began searching for a corner to curl up in but the room seemed curved and lacking such items.
“There you are!” I jumped with the suddenness of Cuthbold's voice. “It certainly took you long enough.” My mouth opened but a dismissive wave closed it. “Never mind all that now. Come and meet our hosts.”
We weaved our way through the mass of humanity, heading for the vicinity of the piano. I became aware that our destination was a tall, lean man whose hair was graying, even his neatly clipped beard. His dark blue suit was crisp and stylish. A deep booming laugh revealed brilliant white teeth made that much brighter in contrast with his tanned skin. When the opening presented itself, Cuthbold dragged me in. “Dr. Castillo? This is Patrick Thompson, our IT lead.”
“Ah, a computer man!” His handshake was steady and firm. “Excellent to hear. I've been experiencing some issues with my computer of late. Might you have a moment to look at it?” My smile must have wavered slightly as Dr. Castillo laughed loudly. “I am sorry my new friend but I could not resist the opportunity. You must hear that often, no? I receive a similar response when people hear that I have a doctorate. They assume I am a medical doctor although I am not.”
“Has anyone gotten offended when they ask you to give them a checkup and you say you can't?”
“Quite frequently. They claim that I am lying about my education simply because I do not wish to help them. Occasionally they will argue that I am not being cool.” He glanced to his left. “Ah. Patrick, if I may refer to you in a casual manner, may I introduce my wife? This is Rosalind Romero.”
She turned to face me.
Wow!
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