HOW WE MET – Part 3

HOW WE MET

Chapter 7:

Rough Waters

I was now hooked. Maybe it’s really the other way around. Maybe she had hooked me. Nevertheless, like the drug addict, I needed her in my life. She had some rough spots, no question, and I’ve never gotten into a relationship with the idea of “changing” someone to fit my needs. Heck, the things that attracted me in the first place should be enough, right? Her rough spots, for the most part, I could live with. Yes, she had boundaries. Many of them I could easily understand and live with. After all, she is a stunningly beautiful woman, she has a rockin’ body, and any heterosexual male on the planet would pursue her. She had to have some boundaries, as we all do. Hers had been established for her personal safety and the protection of her mental state – that pebbled path that brought her back from the land of Oz.

Now that I had broken through a few of her defenses, I had to explore the rest of her boundaries. It was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. I had completed the border, now I wanted to fill in the rest of the picture. Yet, I was at a loss. The pieces were there laid out in a haphazard mishmash. Somehow, I had to isolate them and get them arranged to see how they fit together. To further my woes, she seemed locked behind the walls of the University with few ways in. I had tried the usual things, like the spontaneous appearance wandering around campus. I had even taken the official tour. Both had worked to at least make my presence known. But she had warned me about pursuing her, about stalking her and the dire consequences entailed in that approach. However, when she left my boat last night she had said “… for our next encounter.”

I had no way to reach her other than through official means. The only way to gain any possibility of an audience with the Dame Harmony, was a chance encounter at the pub. I visited there for lunch and dinner regularly now. Every visit had me yearning for another glimpse of my tiny goddess. It wasn’t happening. It had been three days of pub food without even a trace of Heather.

I had become a regular, almost a fixture at the pub. I got to know the bartenders and the wait staff by name. I had visited there during off hours just to flirt and ask questions. Of course, as a horny old pervert, I always had a hope for some action with one or more of the perky college coeds keeping the place running.

I was particularly taken by one bartender. Her name was Zoey, and she was as fine a specimen as any. Rich, chocolate skin, smooth and supple. Hair in a short afro style topping her round face stylishly. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, seemed bottomless. And her 22 year old body? Let’s just not go there. Beyond belief is all I’ll say. I discovered that she worked on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday through both the lunch and dinner shifts. She started at 11 a.m. and went home at 7 p.m. I timed my visits.

“Hey, Zoey. How’s life?”

“Going okay. Kind of slow today, being Monday. How’s with you?”

“Oh, same old, same old. At my age I’m just glad that I wake up still alive every morning.” She flashed a grin. “How are your studies going? And what’s your major, by the way? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Studies are going fine. I aced my last exam. Feeling good about that. Hope the witch doesn’t find some manufactured reason to ding my GPA. I’ve got a 4.0 so far.”

“The witch? One of your professors?”

“Yeah. Harmony. She’s the head of the R and D department.” Bingo! A possible way to see behind the curtain. “I’m majoring in that field. Hope to invent some new device or process to solve all the world’s problems. She can be benevolent, or she can vilify you, shred you to pieces, sometimes in the same exchange. Can’t quite figure her out. I think she likes me, though. She always seems to pick me first for those special projects she brings in.” I had to get to know Zoey better.

“Tell me, Zoey. What do you and your boyfriend do on your days off?”

“Oh, no steady boyfriend. Just casual dating. I don’t have time to tend to the needs of a regular, horny, sloppy, inconsiderate.… You understand, don’t you?”

“I certainly do.” As I ate my meal I was scheming, trying to land on an appropriate way to spend some “off” time with tempting Zoey. When she presented my check, I casually asked, “So, Zoey. Have you ever gone sailing?”

“Only once. It was in my uncle’s small sailboat up at his cabin on the lake.”

“You have any interest in a day on the water, on a real sailboat? Mine is 40 feet with all the comforts of home.”

“Wow. Really? That sounds awesome! I don’t have any wiggle room in my schedule to take a whole day, but I could arrange a morning or an afternoon. Would that work?”

“Sure. I can make that work. What day works for you?”

“Let’s see … Uh ….” Zoey looked at her calendar on her phone. “Actually, tomorrow morning would work. Could we take a short sail tomorrow?”

“Not a problem, Zoey. And to make you more comfortable about being alone on a boat with a man, why don’t you invite a few of your classmates from the R & D department. It’s always more fun with extra crew. Meet me at the marina at, say 10 a.m.?”

I spent the afternoon and evening getting my Love Boat shipshape. Living alone as a bachelor, well, you can understand. Late in the day I poured my standard libation and opened my laptop. I scoured the internet, looking for any more information on my secretive Heather Harmony. I followed every link, went down rabbit hole after rabbit hole to discover that all I had achieved was time lost. I retired to my comfy aft quarters, lying awake thinking about you know who.

Over coffee I checked the weather. It looked like a perfect day for a short sail. Clear skies, 10 knot wind, minimal waves. The crew showed up promptly at 10. Zoey introduced me to her three friends, Amber, Joe, and Colleen. Once aboard and the mini tour complete, I gave the obligatory safety instructions. Life jackets here, first aid kit there, here’s how to call for help on the radio. We cast off and headed into the harbor. I deployed the sails, and we healed over, making about 3 knots. Not rip-roaring, but a leisurely sail for these non-boaters. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and I kept the beer flowing their way. None for the captain. Never when underway. Only once anchored or docked.

In addition to keeping the beer flowing, I kept the conversation going. I don’t think any of them realized that my enquiries were devoted to information about Ms. Harmony. I learned about some of her habits, her ability to know things about her students that she would have no way of knowing, and so much more. This trip was proving to be even better than the internet.