I began to learn more of Doug and April's plans for the foundation. First, they would gather names and addresses for a monthly or bi-weekly newsletter. Secondly, they planned to expand and revamp Milam's website. The ultimate goal was to bring on board like-minded psychologists, therapists, and philosophers. Eventually they hoped to begin a series of lectures.
The challenges were real. Milam and his work were not without detractors. Many of his colleagues held to the belief that there was a sharp dividing line between philosophy and psychology. His writings had also been lampooned as soft porn, thinly disguised as science or religion. Lastly, there was the private nature of Milam Andersen, a man who could take criticism but who had no desire to be a "public" figure.
None of this was a major concern to me now. The days passed all too slowly as I eagerly anticipated the night of the party and the prospect of being Milam's date.
On the morning of November 15th I answered an anonymous call to my cell phone. I said "hello" in a less than friendly tone, fully expecting some telemarketer.
"Is this Geneva?"
I rolled on the bed, wearing a wide smile, until the covers formed a cocoon around my body. I said Milam's name gleefully.
"I hope I'm not calling you too early," he said.
"Not at all, but I thought you were a telemarketer."
"Well, apparently that is what they are truing to turn me into. Listen; there has been a slight change in plans. Unfortunately, I will be a bit late to my own party. Would you be terribly upset if I send a car to pick you up and then meet you there?"
"Does this mean I am not your date?"
"You are still my date. I will take you home; I just will not be able to pick you up. Please accept my apologies."
"I am disappointed that you won't be picking me up. Maybe you could make it up to me."
"Perhaps. I will see you this evening."
"Just how late are you going to be?"
"I will be there by seven-fifteen or so."
"I hope so. They are serving dinner at seven-thirty."
I felt as though I was going to the Junior Prom again. I finally settled on a black evening dress and gold earrings. I thought I looked good, but this time I would be Milam's date. I wondered if "good" would be enough.
A limousine picked me up at six o'clock. The chauffer tipped his hat, opened the door, and said that the Champagne and flowers were for me.
I began sipping the Champagne after reading Milam's not aloud.
"The red roses," he wrote, "represent your passion and the need for challenge. The white roses offer purity of thought. The purple hyacinths balance all. In them, I see Geneva."
My heart melted. I moved my dress and my hips, positioning myself so that I could hold the Champagne with my left hand and touch my self with the right. My entire journey came back to me as my fingers found their way around the black silk of my panties. I relived the first time I had seen Milam in the club. I revived the times April and had had sex. I thought of Doug inside me as we all made love to each other. The privacy glass in the limo closed as I began to moan. I recalled the feeling of Blair's cock in my hand and how I loved watching his cum explode from him.
Mostly however, I thought of Milam- his presence, his touch, his scent...all of the magic that embodied the day at his house.
Alone in the back of the limousine, I enjoyed an orgasm. I placed a finger into my vagina and finished the glass of Champagne.
I took the roses and hyacinths with me as I exited the limousine and found my way to the grand ballroom. Doug and April greeted me with hugs and kisses.
"Miss Milam Andersen's date," April said. "I am jealous!"
"Hey!" Doug interjected.
"I am jealous of Milam," April said. "I wanted Geneva to be my date."
"Thanks a lot," Doug said.
"Maybe you and Milam could hook up" she followed.
"That's funny April," Doug said with a smirk.
"It is like a dream come true". I said, finally able to get in a word.
They showed me to the seat at the stage where we would have dinner. I gleefully handed the flowers off to a member of the staff who offered to place them in water. Guests continued to file in. Part of me wanted desperately to take the microphone from the podium and introduce myself to them as Milam's date.
I met so many people as the minutes passed. There were college professors, philosophers, and psychologists of notoriety. My eyes continually moved to the main entrance, awaiting the arrival of the guest of honor. Doug moved away, deep in discussion with a man named Doctor Schlein.
"I have to go to the restroom," April said. "Why don't you go get a drink? You can order a scotch and soda for me while you're at it, okay?" She smiled. "Good girl."
"Anything else?" I asked playfully.
"Just the drink for now."
I seated myself at the bar and ordered our drinks. I was in the mood for something different, so I ordered a Crown and Ginger. I took one sip as I noticed a woman approaching me.
"Is your name Geneva?" she asked sternly.
She was tall. Her hair was straight and dyed blonde. Her dress was gold and the red lipstick was heavy. Her black eye makeup was heavy, as was the fullness of her fake boobs.
"I am Geneva," I said. "Do I know you?"
She then took my drink in her hand and put the glass to her thick lips. I watched as she partially chomped a small piece before spitting it back into the glass.
I laughed. "I take it there is a problem?" I said.
"You are the problem" she shot back. "I know about you. You are supposedly Milam's date tonight, right?"
She laughed.
"Supposedly," I responded. "Why don't you tell me something about you, like your name?"
"My name is none of your business, you little tramp. You fuck anything that moves. You are an insignificant magazine editor and an even cheaper whore. Do you really think you have what it takes to be part of this foundation? Do you really think you are even close to being good enough for Milam?"
"Step off bitch," April said then as she reappeared.
The woman's eyes never left me. This time April took my drink.
"Maybe she has a hearing problem," April said. "Or maybe she is just falling asleep."
I jumped up as April threw the drink in the woman's face.
