A Gee Beginning

Author's Note:

This is the first of three chapters of an on-going story, a prequel to my previously posted Loving Wives 'Getting Started' in the lifestyle series. These chapters develop my two main characters. Thanks to editors NGNX and IJS0904 for their input. I will re-write and re-post those Getting Started chapters with more descriptive scenes in this new 'Lifestyle' sequence later.

Half of chapter one describes how such an odd couple met in high school, so bear with me as they evolve. It might help you better understand why they behave as they do later. If you're just looking for a detailed sex scene to get off, mine are not as descriptive as many others on Literotica but scroll down to start at the 'High School Grads' section of Chapter 1.

Constructive criticism in comments would be appreciated.

*********************************************************************

Preface

I am a geek, not a nerd!

Such descriptions were insults hurled by the high school jocks or the A-lister girls.

A nerd is "a foolish, boring, studious person who lacks social skills." A geek is "a peculiar, overly intellectual, boring, socially awkward person."

I may be peculiar. But I don't think I'm foolish. So, I accept the description of geek as accurate.

Since those early socially awkward years, I've made a very good career with my geekiness ... and a lot of money. I'm getting ever closer to a very comfortable retirement. This is who I am!

As a geek, I have trouble writing about feelings. I never read or learned how to "appreciate the symmetry of those RJ-45 colored wires, all installed identically", or "embrace the simplicity of the IP address as binary numbers."

I can describe my feelings about a situation with somewhat austere language. My mind works on the premise: "Feelings? It is what it is." Asking me to describe my feelings is like asking me "How do you feel about the Moon?" My answer is "It's there! What else is there about it?"

I have even more trouble identifying thoughts and feelings of others. I might now, after extensive effort, write "My wife stared hungrily at my stiff cock, before devouring it with her wet, sensuous lips." If I ask her to proof-read, she'll laugh saying, "Stared hungrily??? Really? I was bored, looking for something to do, and your cock was handy." She's almost a socially inappropriate geek, but she's never boring.

Austere though it is, this geek writes in a first-person perspective as the best means of relating my memories. You will read this story as it evolved from my point of view. And perhaps you will feel what it's like to be a geek.

Geek though I am, I managed to land an incredibly gorgeous girlfriend in high school.

Chapter 1 A Geek Beginning

I turn the dial slowly listening carefully for a response. After going through the whole band, I press the mic button and try again.

"CQ, CQ. This is WA3ZZ1. CQ, CQ. Calling at 144.15 megahertz, and tuning."

I slowly turn the dial again, waiting for anyone to reply.

I stop to listen each time I hear a voice, discussions between other Ham Radio operators. I can only hear one caller talking, then silence as he listens to someone else on a different frequency. Those operators focus on their own discussions and can't hear me calling them on yet another frequency. Thus, we have the term "CQ", I'm searching for anyone who is also tuning and listening for a new contact.

I hear one very weak signal, and slowly turn the dial back and forth, zeroing in on the strongest part of it. I strain to listen until I hear the faint voice say: "WA3ZZ1, this is W4ZZ1 in Kentucky. Waiting."

Finally! Another contact. After over an hour of this and the first in several days, this feels like opening a present.

I look at the map on my wall. My antenna was aimed toward Michigan, and the caller was about 45 degrees off center. He was on the very edge of my electromagnetic footprint.

I replied, "W4ZZ1, this is WA3ZZ1 in central Pennsylvania. Your signal is very weak. Can you try calling again in 30 minutes?"

"W4ZZ1. Sure thing. I'll check back in 30."

I look out my bedroom window through the darkness at the heavy snow coming down, adding to the 10 inches already covering the ground. With few operators on this two-meter radio band, we both look forward to making new contacts, to exchange our personalized QSL contact postcards. So, it would be worth it.

I pull on my coat and gloves to go out in the cold and climb the 35-foot tower with wrench in hand to turn my antenna 45 degrees.

I've made such long-distance contacts since the 8th grade when my uncle helped me earn my first Novice Ham Radio license, and he loaned me his first radio and Morse Code transmitter. With Morse Code then and now this new two-meter radio for the Technician Class band, I could meet like-minded geeks without having to talk too much.

School

I walk through the school hallway at a tall, six foot three inches, towering over most students and ignoring them. Their slow progress through the halls taxes my patience. I easily maneuver my lanky frame around them, when I'm looking over their heads, finding the fastest path to the cafeteria study hall.

I went in and sat at my usual spot, with few others anywhere near me at this table. Opening my library book for the College Chemistry CLEP study guide, I started the first practice test. Mr. Weber only covered inorganic chemistry in the first half of the year. I read the later sections on organic chemistry over the Christmas break to prep for the CLEP test and earn the college credits before starting Community College in the fall.

She walked over and sat on the table's bench beside me. While I knew a lot of girls in high school, most were of the A-lister types like Gretchen, the head cheerleader in my same advanced classes. They knew me as a geek, and the A-listers had no particular interest in socializing with me. And we were in study hall to study, which was a solo task to me. So, Jan sitting beside me today comes as a surprise.

I thought she was really cute the first time I saw her in science and math classes three years ago. She caught my, and probably all boys' attention when she showed up looking almost as mature as a hot, busty young teacher. Her long dark auburn hair, green eyes, and constant smile made her stand out even more than the other popular girls. When I walk near her in the hallway, I notice she isn't as short as most others. Being a head shorter than me makes her now about five seven or taller.

Jan and I had nothing in common, other than those few classes in middle school. I come from 'the other side of the tracks.' I lived in a poor, working-class neighborhood, growing up literally beside the railroad tracks, and near the coal mines. She lived in the more affluent, white-collar side of the rural township over 5 miles away and she attended different schools until they completed the new Junior High School.

Jan never seemed to hang out around the cheerleaders or the other elitist students from her neighborhood. And that made her even more attractive to me. The few times I overheard her talking to others always sounded like she's somewhat bossy or sarcastic. But she's otherwise very friendly and talks to everyone, not just those in the popular cliques.

Now, here she was, going out of her way to sit next to me with her chemistry book.

"Ted. Mr. Weber said you're the only student who aces every test in his chemistry classes. Tell me how this works! How do I balance these equations? It doesn't make sense to me," she said with a smile.

I noticed she didn't ask me, she directed me to explain it to her. This was her bossy nature coming out. It wasn't a mean-bossy. Her directives don't sound like orders, more like expectations. 'You will do this unless you have something better to do.' If you had something else to do, she'll say "OK, then!", and walk away. It's not a dialog to her. She told you what she wants, and she's always on a mission to get it.

My math and science teachers sometimes sent students to the back of the classroom for me to explain things to them. The teacher could continue with their lesson for the others, while I helped with remedial training. So, Mr. Weber sending her to me in study hall indicates she probably needs much more help. But, with her cute smile I'll help her learn chemistry, and enjoy the eye candy sitting next to me.

I liked the times we spent together in study hall. Over the next three months, we spent many days there going over her math and science requirements. Otherwise, we didn't socialize in any way. I didn't date or socialize much in high school. Other kids always seemed too immature with their childish antics in school, so I didn't bother with them after school. With a January birthday and being held back one year in elementary school, I was one of the older kids in my class, turning eighteen before the upcoming high school graduation. And I learned Jan also had her 18th birthday, which is probably why she developed more than her grade peers.

I realized she was smart, and possibly as smart as me in her own way. She just wasn't interested in any form of math or science beyond the bare minimum to pass the courses to graduate. I'm a quiet geek, talking only when asked about technical subjects, and otherwise uninterested in socializing. Jan was talkative and looking for an audience but didn't want to bother listening to others. So, we seem to complement each other.

Sitting so close together, she occasionally put her hand on my leg or accidentally brushed against me. These had the expected reactions causing an uncomfortable feeling in my pants. And Jan didn't fail to notice.

I reached down to adjust myself, and she smirked. "Did I cause that?"

"Of course."

"With just a touch? Hmmm," she said, as if discovering a new talent. She seemed to only then realize her ability to affect guys with some words or a touch.

Dating

It was one day in early-April of our senior year when she found me outside of school.

"Ted. Are you going to the prom?" she asked as she put her hand on my arm.

"No. I rarely go to the school games or dances."

"Well, you are now, so plan on renting a tux!" Again, with the smile and 'Unless you have something better ...' attitude. "And I want to see you in it, at least two days before we go." This time, she moved her hand to my chest and ran a finger down a few buttons of my shirt.

Renting a tux and taking her to the prom was going far beyond her telling me to tutor her in study hall. This would cost me money. But her hand and touches caught my attention in ways I wasn't prepared to ignore. And those stirrings quickly ran to other thoughts! What would I get out of it, other than feeling out of place at one social event?

"Wait. We're not even dating. Shouldn't we go out at least once? Prom is still a month away."

"Good idea! I need to check out your other social skills before the prom. Pick me up at seven Friday evening."

More of the same smiling boss from her. Okay, I would push this a little further.

"I've heard after the prom, guys and girls often make out. Is that part of this deal, too?"

"Yes. We're in this for the whole experience."

Admiring Jan's figure was something all guys in school did. So, in my logical mind, saying what I wanted to do with her should come as no surprise.

"So, you'll let me feel you up?"

She gave me a quizzical look, "Why not? Go ahead and feel them," as she thrust her chest toward me.

"You mean I can feel them right now?"

Jan finally looked exasperated. "Why should it be a big deal? Everyone has them. But don't squeeze too hard."

Ok, now we were getting somewhere. It might be worth the cost of renting a tux and feeling socially out of place.

I actually got to feel this girl who could have been a Playboy model! Of course, through her sweater and bra, the feeling was rather anticlimactic. However, I was calculating the odds of getting more opportunities to enjoy her figure, and the probability was in my favor. I could take her bossiness and 'all about me' attitude, when I get what I want, too.

I picked Jan up on Friday at seven, as directed, and we went out to my car, a very old, cheap Mustang convertible. It cost me three hundred dollars and the work of replacing the starter with one from the junk yard. But those were my wheels to go to work, without borrowing dad's car.

My date was looking stunning, dressed in skin-tight jeans, a silk low-cut blouse, and a long necklace with a heart that dangled an inch above her cleavage! The low-cut blouse was something she never wore to school. Her 3-inch heel short black boots brought her up even taller and closer to my height.

I remembered mom's warning to open doors for my date. And as she sat in that passenger seat, I took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of where that heart-shaped pointer was directing me to look, something I had to struggle to avoid doing for the rest of the evening.

I closed her door and walked around to sit in the driver's seat. I asked, "Ok, where to now?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"You're the one who told me to pick you up at seven. I thought you knew where you wanted to go."

"Wow. You really are new to this dating thing. You're supposed to surprise me!"

"Well ... Surprise! This is as far as I planned."

Jan laughed. "OK. I guess I did put you on the spot. Actually, I'm not very experienced at dating either. Why don't we go to the diner, and talk a little? Other than you're an expert at math and science, I really don't know much about you. And by the way, the blue shirt goes well with your blue eyes. Nice choice."

"What choice? It was on top of my other clean shirts."

And thus began our geek romantic adventure!

First Date

We were in the diner talking and filling each other in on things other than math or science.

"So, how can you pass math and science tests so easily? Mr. Webber said you never have any wrong answers." she said.

"The books and teachers tell you the answers, and I remember it all. Whether listening in class or reading, I just remember everything to answer the questions. And the math solutions sort of jump out at me, because they fit the patterns I remember."

"Then why can't you ace English?"

"English teachers want me to write something. On those tests, I just stare at the blank paper, and nothing jumps out in my mind to write. It's not something I already know, and I don't know what they're looking for."

"If you talked more, you might learn what they want. You explain things to me in study hall. But you don't say anything unless I ask questions."

"I'm just telling you what the books already explained, just in a different way for you to remember. Other than that, I don't know what else to say. When I say things, people get mad, and I don't know why. So, I found it better to not talk."

"So ... You really are a geek."

"Geek's an accurate description, but don't call me a nerd. ... Now, it's my turn. How is it a girl like you isn't hanging out with the popular A-listers, like the cheerleaders?"

"I've known my best friend Marlene since first grade, when we both had to repeat the year. She lives on the farm across the field from my house, and we just clicked. I had fun spending time with her on their farm growing up. Gretchen, the head cheerleader used to tease Marlene about being a farmer, and I didn't like it."

"I know Gretchen. She seems to avoid you in the hallways, even more than she ignores me. She doesn't seem to be mean toward you, just avoiding you."

"I intimidate her. I've always been taller than Gretchen. One day in gym class near the end of 8th grade, she made a nasty joke about Marlene, and it made me mad. We were in the locker room changing, and my locker was next to Gretchen's. When she reached for her bra, a falsie fell on the floor."

"What's a falsie?"

"It's a pad in the bra to make her look more mature. She didn't pick it up fast enough. I got it first, put it on top of the locker where she couldn't reach it, and everyone laughed. She's never forgiven me. Not that I care. She was mean to my best friend. The other kids who want to be in with the popular crowd must appease Gretchen to be invited to her parties. She's sort of their leader."

"The other guys in your neighborhood, too?"

"They avoid me, too. Gretchen really hates me. She's made it very clear anyone dating me will never be at her parties again. So, boys won't ask me out, and I don't really care. I'm not going to ask them out, either. If I want something, I'll tell you, and I either get it or not."

"Did you ever think of apologizing to Gretchen?"

"Nope! She doesn't deserve it. I don't need them because Marlene and I do everything together."

It seemed amazing to me how one incident in 8th grade forever shaped her personality: Don't ask for anything, tell people to do what she wants.

"... My turn again," she said. "When I touch you, you reach down to your pants and adjust yourself. Does it always happen?"

"Usually. Your touches make me feel different. And I get hard when you do it."

"I'd like to see that sometime."

"Well, I can't show you here in the diner. I know they wouldn't like that."

"Find someplace a little more private for our next date and show me."

Again, with her smiling 'You will do this...' But this task promised to be more fun.

During our talk, I learned Jan and Marlene dared each other to get dates for the prom. Knowing her effect on me and with other boys even from outside her neighborhood avoiding her sarcastic come-backs, Jan decided I was the easiest one to direct to take her.

When I took her home that first evening, I walked her to the door. Jan turned toward me, wrapped her arms over my shoulders, and we kissed. As she leaned against me, I began reacting again, and she felt it against her hip.

She reached down to my crotch, rubbing it with her hand through my jeans. "I definitely want to see it next time. Now you need to go through the rest of the ritual. Go home and call me."

Directing yet again?

"Ok," I sighed, and walked back to my car.

We went on more dates and to the Prom, enjoying the 'whole experience.' But I won't go into details of those high school activities. Use your imaginations for those very memorable moments!

Jan passed her chemistry class final test and passed the course ... barely. And I thought even that was due to her writing a few key formulas on her thighs and wearing a dress during the test.

"Well, what's he going to do? Accuse me of cheating? 'Why Mr. Weber! Whatever do you mean? Do you see any answers written on my hands or arms?' He's certainly not going to say he was looking up a student's dress during the test! He never told me to stop picking up my skirt or spreading my legs. So, he graded my performance on the final. I didn't make an 'A', but I didn't fail!"

I laughed at that. She's ingenious!

I was curious what her real score was on the test. So, I talked to Mr. Weber after my Chemistry class about it. "How did Jan do on her test?"

He laughed. "Thanks for tutoring her. I knew she could do it, even after I deducted the theatrical answers. I was surprised she got the extra credit question, though. And she couldn't have cheated on that one. ... I saw you two at the Prom, so I'm glad it worked out."

"What do you mean?"

"I suggested she ask you for help with Chemistry. The rest was up to the two of you. But you both needed tutors."

The Park

Our dating options before the prom and after would normally be limited to an occasional movie, bowling, roller skating, or meals together in the diner. We were both constrained by a lack of socializing, me from being a geek and Jan from being too bossy. We also knew the local teen club and those other after-school activities would be too cliquish and childish for either of us.