Super Born: Seduction of Being (9 page)

I grabbed our cups when the order arrived and
made my way back to my chair, studying her face as I did. She had a
very average face and young, smooth skin. I could barely see her
eyes, as they were hidden behind glasses, the type that lighten or
darken in the light.

I knew she was not the one with the flashing
eyes but I was still curious to see those hidden peepers, “You need
those dark glasses in here? I can barely read my survey,” I
joked..

She gave a little laugh and then
pulled them off, folded
them, and put them
in her pocket. “No need for those in here,” she said.

Her eyes looked almost colorless gray to me,
but the only thing that mattered was that they didn’t flash blue
and green at me.

When she saw me staring at her, she
added, “You like hazel eyes, Tom?” she said leaning in toward me,
her
gray
eyes
almost sucking me in with their lively, flirty glow.

I looked away thinking,
Hazel eyes, my
ass
!
Does
every woman in Scranton think she has hazel eyes? Is it a
law
? Then my eyes dropped, or should I say
were pulled down, to notice that the top two buttons of her blouse
had mysteriously become unbuttoned since I’d left the table,
revealing echoing cleavage. Holy hot dogs, was she coming on to
me?
This sort of thing never happens to
me…
God, I was starting to love Scranton.
Was this a woman starved for attention by RFDs, or something else?
Exactly who was playing who here?

But again, the consummate trooper, I recovered
without too much embarrassment or drool.Actually it was surprising
how well I kept my cool. Many women with far less to offer had
turned me into testosterone jelly. Instead I pulled out the
authentic Penn State Psychology Department survey and a very
professional, expensive chrome pen Dr. Jones had given
me.

“
Everything you said on the phone is
true, right? You’re not trying sell me a time-share or something,
are you?” She put her chin in her hands, her elbows spread on the
table, leaning forward.

I chuckled, as if such a thought was absurd,
then pulled out a business card and Penn State ID Jones had
prepared for me. “There, you can see it’s all legal. And we really
appreciate your taking the time to participate in this research
program. The relationship between women and their parents is so
critical in the formation of self-esteem,” I BSed. Talking, trying
to be cool, yet keep my eyes from wandering, was peculiarly
possible tonight.

“
That’s true. I loved my parents,
especially my dad. They were murdered, you know. I assume that’s
why you picked me for the survey.”

That was all news to me, so I
bluffed. “Oh, yes. That’s why we picked you…
The difficult circumstances around their death and your
success later in life put you right at the top of our
list.”

“
It took me years to get my head
around it. Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me to talk about it
anymore…in fact, a man’s interest in little ol’ me is sort of
comforting. I can just let all those feelings out. Do you know what
I mean Tom?”

I swallowed hard enough to down a basketball.
Whoever this Tom guy was, he was one lucky bastard.

I started to read the questions on the survey
form, all of which seemed pretty stupid to me, but I wasn’t the
PhD. I wasn’t having much trouble speaking, but my handwriting was
a little slow, due to my anxiety level and unfamiliarity with the
forms or the field of study for the survey… or maybe it was just
the focused beam of her sexuality that was causing me to become
nervous, sweat, and lose my cool. You choose.

She slid into the chair next to me, in the
process being certain to brush her chest against my side. “Why
don’t I move over here? It’ll make it easier for me to see the
form.”

“
Okay, sure,” I answered and pointed
a shaking pen point at question number four.

She ran her hand through my messy, hair,
brushing it back into a look she preferred, and looked at me like I
was a juicy steak—okay, hamburger, at least, and not fast food….
Jennifer used her thumb and forefinger to run an outline along my
goatee. “My answer would have to be my father, definitely my
father,” she said, not even looking at the form as her left hand
began to roam my thigh.

I wrote down her answer. When I moved on to
question five, she moved up to my crotch. I couldn’t have felt less
in control unless I was falling out of an airplane without a
’chute. I was surprised, yes, shocked, yes, but then totally
dismayed. Never before had my little man failed to answer with a
woman knocking on the door. But now, it had failed to rise to the
occasion; nothing. Her hand stayed there a good while, but didn’t
find anything firm.

Without giving it much thought, as was my
method, I stood up, began packing my things, and stammered, “Sorry,
I just forgot that I was supposed to meet my boss. I have to be
going. I’ll leave you the survey to fill out. There’s a stamped
envelope—you can mail it back at your convenience.” (Bullshit,
bullshit, bullshit.)

All was still in my pants, nothing. Just to be
sure, I took a good long look at her chest as she rose…nothing,
nothing but panic.

“
Are you…okay?” she asked,
apparently never before having seen a genuine a-hole in
action.

I mumbled something, maybe in
English.

“
You’ve been with her. Haven’t you?”
said Jennifer, suddenly cold and incriminating. “How’d you find
her? She fall for this little survey trick?”

Luckily I had a clever response to her new,
suddenly indicting attitude: “What?”

“
What color were her eyes when she
marked you? She did mark you, didn’t she? You know, it’s a shame
too, because I’d have marked you and you’d have really liked that.
Wouldn’t you?” She grabbed my lapels, looking at me fiercely.
“Where is she? Tell me where she is!”

But I was two steps ahead of her in our chess
match, and my reply shocked her. “Who?”

“
You think pretending to be dumb can
save you?”

I thought
yes,
because dumb had always worked
for me before.

She held me at arm’s length and stared through
me with those gray eyes for a long moment. Then it seemed like her
eyes actually began to glow for a second before they faded back to
gray. “Damn that bitch,” she said letting me go. “What’s so fucking
special about you?”

I mumbled an incoherent few syllables, which
I’m sure cut her deeply, then took this as my opportunity to beat
feet. She called after me as I left. “I’m the only one who can save
her… and you too! When they come for you, remember that! Call
me.”

Being socially correct and totally confused, I
fired back, “You too…have a nice day.”

* * *

It took me days to recover from my meeting with
Jennifer. During that time, I didn’t accomplish much of anything. I
didn’t even return Dr. Jones’s phone calls. I suppose I had just
been too overconfident, excited, or whatever. What if she had been
the B.I.B.? I expected more from myself and my buddy in my pants,
as far as managing the meeting. Many beers and long, meaningful
conversations with my buddy failed to resolve anything. Christ, I
had a lot more of these appointments to schedule, and I hoped they
all wouldn’t end like that. I needed the break to get it back
together.

Chapter 6

She Reappears (Thank God)

After a few days, these three articles in the
local paper awoke me from the doldrums. They appeared in different
sections of the newspaper a day apart, but I knew they were
related:

“
Mysterious Woman Saves
Cat…Twice”

(Scranton) Scranton native Billy O’Leary
credits a mysterious woman dressed all in black for saving the life
of his pet and best friend Mr. Jingles, not once but twice. The
first event occurred at 10:00 a.m. on February 19th, when Mr.
Jingles accidentally got out of the O’Leary Monroe Street home. Mr.
O’Leary tells the story:

“
I blame myself. I brought in some
groceries and didn’t quite close the door. Right then, Mr. Jingles
shot through the door, out in the yard. He’s not what you would
call an outdoor cat. By the time I put down my bags and headed
after him, he was out in the road. I looked down the road, and here
comes this beer truck, not slowing down a bit. There was no way I
could reach him in time, and he wouldn’t come when I called to him.
I was sure he was a goner and I turned me head.

“
When I looked back, there she was.
This woman dressed all in black from head to foot with a mask
around her eyes, carrying Mr. Jingles like he was a baby. He was
liking that. From the look of her, there was no way I could tell
who she was. All I know is that she was dressed in this skintight
black outfit and had long blond hair.

“
I tried to thank her, but she
don’t say a word, just hands me Mr. Jingles. But he didn’t want to
leave her and tries staying in her arms, purring, as it were. I
never wanted to be a cat so much in my whole life. Finally, she
gets him out of her arms and then she’s gone, just like
that.”

Apparently, Mr. Jingles again escaped Mr.
O’Leary’s home that afternoon. Luckily for him, the woman in black
was there, again, to save him from yet another of the beer trucks
that frequent Monroe Street.

But the story didn’t end there. The next
morning, Mr. Jingles apparently broke through a window and he ran
for the street in an apparent attempt to be “saved” yet again by
the mystery woman. Unfortunately for Mr. Jingles, this time she was
not there to scoop him up, and he was hit by yet another beer
truck. He is in stable condition at a local veterinarian hospital.
The vets expect him to make a complete recovery, although they are
unable to stop him from purring, apparently an aftereffect of his
contact with the mysterious woman in black.

“
Mystery Female Weds Twenty
Couples”

(Scranton) Twenty couples had planned, for
over a year now, that February 20th was to be the day they were
married in a mass group wedding to benefit the Lackawanna Branch of
the Pennsylvania Association for the Blind. The event was to take
place at the Lackawanna Station Hotel with the renowned, Reverend
Thomas Price presiding. Just before the event was to begin at 1:00
p.m., all gathered were informed by an unidentified woman that
Reverend Price had been arrested for child abuse and that the
clergyman had appointed her to take his place.

The woman wore a black formal dress, but also
wore a black mask to cover her eyes, and she sported a brightly
colored bow in her blond hair that had been taken from one of the
wedding gifts.

Rather than disrupt plans made by friends and
family members, the couples went ahead with the wedding ceremony.
The mysterious woman in black disappeared promptly after
pronouncing the final couple man and wife.

“
Enigmatic Woman Corrals Local
Reverend”

(Scranton) A lone woman, unknown to anyone,
walked into Central Police Station in Scranton today pulling a
duct-taped and embarrassed Reverend Thomas Price behind her on a
dog leash. The young woman, described only as blond wearing dark
clothing, did not stay to explain but, instead, merely handed the
leash and a few assorted dog treats to the officer on duty. Taped
to the reverend were several videotapes, the contents of which were
not immediately released.

At this hour, Reverend Price is still in
custody.

* * *

I was beginning to love her sense of humor. Not
only did she help people, she had a way of taking the seriousness
out of things with her humor. Visualizing her exploits made me
smile. Remembering her so close to me at the bar made my chest feel
like a hollow pit of longing. Crap, was I pining? Is this what
pining means? Who pines anymore, really?

It was clear that the B.I.B. had surfaced
again…and again. Luckily for me, writers on different beats
handling what seemed to be minor oddball stories weren’t making the
connections of these events. They weren’t looking for her the way I
was.

I remember being struck by the new way she was
appearing. Before, she had remained hidden and mostly unseen,
appearing only at night. Now, here she was out in open daylight,
unconcerned about being noticed. She didn’t seem like someone who
would shoot an antler-wearing RFD like poor Ed just because he was
a witness to her flying around with a beer truck full of criminals.
But as I’d learned during my brief, painful relationship with the
Nelson twins, women can be unpredictable. They can just change
their minds…take your TV or screw your best friend…friends…or worst
of all,take your beer. But for some reason, the B.I.B. seemed
different. Whatever dangers she might pose, the more I thought
about her, the more I wanted to be that damn cat nestled against
her breast, purring…forever.

Chapter 7

Spinderella (Because It Deserves Its
Own Chapter)

Certain another brain would do me a great deal
of good, I gathered everything up on the B.I.B. and headed for Dr.
Jones’s apartment. Now I had some good news to counteract the bad
news about Jennifer Lowe.