The Nerd–Part 1

I’m Ryan and I’ve never been anything special with women. I’m 40 now and most people would consider me a nerd. But, I am a really, really rich nerd. This is a story about how even a nerd like me can score if he tries hard enough.

I graduated college with a B.S. in computer science, specializing in software design. My doctoral thesis at Tech—oh, yeah, only the students at MIT call it that—dealt with new algorithms for online transactional security. Translated into English-when you go to a bank or store online you want to know that the transaction is secure. My software encrypted all the account information in such a way that it was impossible to decipher it. Each code was only used once and there were literally trillions of combinations in the algorithm. When I started my company I borrowed money from my folks to hire Cray Labs to unravel the encryption. They use super computers thousands of times more powerful and faster than even the best server available to the public. After two weeks of non-stop work they quit the project, telling me it was impossible for a hacker to break the code. That was all I needed. Banks and online retailers flocked to buy my product, knowing their customers’ (and their) information would be secure.
I was a multi-millionaire by the time I was 28, and so were most of my employees. I used profit sharing–my staff splitting forty percent of the profits. Last year Microsoft offered me $200 million to buy me out but I wasn’t interested. Eventually they gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I split $80 million among my twenty employees and kept the rest. Technically, I’m still a “consultant”; they’re paying me $500,000 a year, but realistically, I’m retired.

I moved into the south for the weather, golf, and fishing, buying a home on the Intracoastal Waterway in southeastern North Carolina. Here’s where my story really begins. I’m not much of a cook so I go out to eat often. One night last week I stopped by a low priced chain restaurant. I’d never been there before and I wasn’t expecting much of a meal but it was a case of right place at the right time. Once I was seated my waitress came for my drink order. I was really taken by her. She had to be twenty-one because she was serving alcohol, but she looked much younger with a girlish body. She couldn’t have been more than 5’3” tall, thin with small breasts and the most wonderful tight ass I’d seen in years. I could just make out her camel toe through her tight jeans. Her name was Morgan, “I’ll be your server tonight, “ she said. She was really cute—dark hair in a pony tail, freckles, and enchanting green eyes– and as I ordered I wondered what I could do to get into those sexy jeans she was wearing. I figured this was a time to be really direct; the worst that could happen would be that they’d throw me out. The restaurant was crowded so I couldn’t take her aside and talk to her. I decided to let my wallet do the talking. I paid the bill in cash, leaving a generous tip and a piece of a hundred with a note written on it—“If you’d like the rest, and maybe more call me when you get off.“ My cell number followed.

I figured I had about a 20 percent chance that she’d call. If she didn’t I still had more than half of the hundred that I could turn in at the bank for a new whole bill, so there wasn’t much risk. My biggest concern was that she’d have a really big boyfriend or brother who’d want to kill me.

It was just after 11 when my phone vibrated. “Hi, Morgan,” I said when I answered, “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

“Yeah, well you’re either the craziest guy I’ve met at work or the weirdest. I don’t know which. What do I have to do to get the rest of the hundred?”

“You just did it. I only wanted the chance to talk with you and I couldn’t do it at dinner.