Note to reader: This is a story for women. I get all this hate mail saying I hate men and try to put them down in my stories. That is not true. Men come in all sizes just like brasseries. You're not stuck with what you draw out of the pile. You throw some back and try again looking for a keeper. This is a story about a keeper.
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The music was soft and slow and a very handsome guy was expertly waltzing me around a dimly lit dance floor. Ken was a superb dancer. We had finished a delightful lobster dinner and we were now enjoying a little Courvoisier and dancing on a romantic, open-air dance floor under a bright new moon. Ken didn't know it but I was gonna fuck him tonight.
We were both in our senior year at Sewanee, The University of the South. Both our families had lived in the Sequatchie Valley for two centuries and were southern to the core. Both our fathers were very successful businessmen. They had to be to send us to Sewanee. Sewanee claimed the annual cost was only forty-four thousand a year but everyone knew it cost a hell of a lot more than that.
My older brother had already graduated and joined Dad in the family business. Ken would join his dad next year. My grades would get me into law school or medical school but I had no intention of busting my butt. I was gonna live like Mom and raise a family and I wanted a husband just like Dad so I could afford to. And I was dancing with the most amazing guy I had ever met. He had passed every test except one.
Ken had visited my folks and I had visited his, even though our families had been friends for generations. It was like taking an examination to sit and talk pleasantly with his Mom. I knew she was checking me out carefully to see if I was good enough for her son.
Ken had gone through the same thing with my Dad who had chatted "casually" about business. There was nothing casual about it! Dad wanted to know if Ken was smart enough to support his beloved daughter. And I think Ken had passed, as I did with his Mom.
Tonight was his FINAL EXAM! That was MY job.
You see, my mom was a genteel southern lady who could talk about "dirty" things without using dirty words. For instance she told me that Dad had never gone out looking for strange stuff but if he had done it discretely and rarely she would have looked the other way, like a good wife should. And she didn't say "strange stuff" but I got the message.
Mom told me that most guys didn't know how to fuck and it was important to find a husband that DID. It made for a better marriage. It was important enough that I should check it out to be sure. I got a real education from that southern lady without a single dirty word being spoken.
Ken was the man of my dreams. I thought he might be "Mister Right" but tonight I was gonna give him that last test, his final exam. I was gonna fuck him and see for myself if what two of my girlfriends had said about him was true. They said he was a fabulous fuck!
We finished our drinks and got up to leave. As we walked to the car I looked at his physique. Ken was in very good shape. He exercised a lot as I learned trying to keep up with him on my bike taking the steep Valley Road between Jasper and Sewanee.
And he never drank too much. I remembered my Mon trying to get him drunk. She kept tempting him with one choice brandy after another. I don't know whether he knew it was a test or not but he passed.
We got to his car, a Lexus SUV. It was parked alone in a remote part of the restaurant parking lot. A lot of guys at Sewanee had nice little sports cars but Ken preferred an SUV and I think I knew why. Tonight it was my intention to find out if my girlfriends were telling the truth when they said there was room in the back to fuck.
He opened the front door for me and I opened the rear door and scrambled in. The seats were folded up and there were several pillows on the floor. He leaned in and looked at me closely.
"You're not drunk," he said.
It was a statement of fact, not a question. But he was asking a question: why have you decided to fuck after all these months of dating?
"No I'm not drunk," I said. "I just think it's time."
"Just like that?" He asked.
"No, not just like that," I replied. "I have given it a lot of thought and I expect you to devote a substantial amount of time and effort convincing me that I have made the right decision before that decision becomes final."
"Wait here," he said and closed both doors.
Where the hell is he going, I asked myself as he walked back toward the restaurant. When he returned he had two snifters with a generous amount of Courvoisier in each. I opened the door for him and he handed me one.
"I promised to bring the snifters back tomorrow," he said, climbing in and positioning the pillows so we could sit with our backs against the front seats and our legs stretched out, comfortably.
Shit! I thought. What a man! Is any other guy charming enough to persuade an elite restaurant staff to let him walk out with crystal snifters worth over fifty dollars apiece with only a promise of returning them?
I held my glass up in a toast and said, "To us."
He clinked my glass with his and said, "To our future."
He said it as though he were confident we had one.
