Dear Diary,
I really can't believe that I am about to write all of this down. I'm going to do it, but I simply can't believe I'm about to carry on what must be a family tradition or something like it. Maybe it's genetics, or maybe it's something in the family psych? I don't really understand it so how can I attribute it to any specific thing, event or person? All I know right now is that I'm about to describe how I met the most important man to enter my life.
*****
That was as far as my first attempt to carry on the "family tradition" went. This effort is better!
You see, I come from a family of very well educated, upper middle-class academics who want their children to excel beyond their wildest expectations. Beginning with my grandfather back in the 1980's, followed by my mother twenty years ago and now me, there is this kinda-stupid, kinda-special thing about telling your kids the nitty-gritty details of how their parents got together to create their existence. My grandfather wrote all about it in a story he posted to Literotica years ago [Penny in 2007] and then my mother did the same in Literotica this year [Alice; A Piece of Pi]. Well, I'm not sure I've met that "special someone" yet but, like my grandmother on my mother's side of the family, I've been enjoying a rather robust "social life" ever since I entered the working world. I'll admit, though, it is a bit different.
Awareness is sometimes shocking and that absolutely applied to the way I discovered the differences between boys and girls. Somehow, I always knew that boys acted different than girls and were certainly more physically aggressive. That knowledge held true all the way through my public-school years.
I was still a virgin in the traditional sense when I graduated from high school. But I might have been one of only a handful of eighteen-year-old girls in my class of 1,500 students that was. I certainty had a reputation in my school class. I was either the GILF for the boys and a few girls, too, or, among most of the girls, the PRINCESS. Either title was well deserved as I inherited my movie-star facial beauty, hour-glass figure and risky-dress style from mother and my look-but-don't-touch aloofness from grandmother. Both dad and granddad were responsible for my skepticism, intelligence and diligent academic honors ranking. Of course, I was college-bound that fall and there never was a question of which one or who would pay for it. My only questions then were "what the hell am I going to do between early June and late August? And what the hell do I wear doing it?"
One option, not a good one, was working as a stripper in one of the seedy titty-bars scattered around the Valley of the Sun. That was THE last resort. There were many more desirable alternatives. Grandmother had been a waitress in Tempe and, for a short time, mother had been an assistant buyer for Goldwater's in Scottsdale but, since my grand dad was a professor and Dad was an important man in the Forest Service, the questions of what I would do and wear doing it were quickly answered.
I admit I kinda got special privileges throughout my short life. One of them was summer employment as a spotter in one of the fire towers scattered throughout the five national forests in Arizona. A week after graduation I was stationed at a tower just outside of Prescott, wearing an NSF green jumpsuit and I started thinking of myself as the Princess in the NSF Green Tower!
The job was easy and, for most of the time, more than a little boring. It was still important and, at times, rather fun. That first week in June passed by before I knew it. I had been busy learning the routine of the tower, practicing sighting in on "smokes" and operating the radio and telephone communications gear the tower was equipped with. Living space for me was a small log cabin at the base of the tower where I had another radio and telephone hook-up along with a satellite tv and computer down-load dish. I even had an indoor and an outdoor shower. What I did not have was a decent bed. The thin, stained-by-God-knows-what mattress on the old army cot in the cabin must have been a reject from the Spanish Inquisition!
At the beginning of my second week I was determined to change that. I called my dad to complain about the cabin's bed but he just kinda laughed as said it was a "Right-of-Passage" that all new NSF people go through! Well, Bull Shit to that! I made another call to grandma and the next afternoon there was a small delivery truck driving up the two-rut road to my tower. Unfortunately, she didn't bother to tell me it was coming.
At the beginning of that first week I had manned my tower fully dressed in my bra, thong panties, green jumpsuit and hiking boots but, by myself with only the radio and telephone contacts to talk to, plus not having seen or heard anyone within miles of the place, I relaxed and by the end of the week was wearing only the jumpsuit and boots. I relaxed that even further that morning of the second week by taking a chair out onto the small walkway around the top of the tower, unzipping the upper half of my jumpsuit, and sitting facing the sun bare breasted to tan my boobs. So, there I was, a five-foot-five and a half inch, one hundred-ten-pound, platinum blond girl naked to the waist and showing her 36D's with their inch-long pink nipples to God and anybody who happened by. And what happens? The delivery truck with my new bed shows up driven by the most gorgeous hunk I've ever laid eyes on!
Sitting on the side of my tower away from the dirt road and being a good twenty feet above my cabin, I didn't hear the truck coming at all. In fact, I was blissfully unaware of anyone within five miles until I heard a male voice shout, "Hello! Is anyone here?"
Talk about an "Oh Fuck!" moment! Totally surprised, I immediately got up [actually, I sprang up like a jack-in-the-box], and leaned way over the walkway railing to see where the voice came from, forgetting completely that my boobs were out and hanging down below the railing. And what do I see? This young delivery guy staring up at me with eyes that got huge as he registered my bare tits!
I gave an embarrassed cry, slapped my arm over my boobs and jerked myself back out of sight. Hastily, I sought the sleeve openings for the jumpsuit, shrugged my upper body back into it and tugged the zipper up to my throat! "I'll...I'll be right down!" I called down to him while silently thinking, "Oh shit! I'm in trouble."
He was waiting for me once I was on the ground. "I'm sorry I surprised you!" He said but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't sorry at all.
"I...I didn't know you were coming out here." I explained. "I'm, ugh, sorry I wasn't decently dressed."
"You looked great!" He said through a smile that grew wider. "You are Victoria Cannon, aren't you?"
"Yes. How do you know that? Why are you here?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.
"I've got a special delivery for a Victoria Cannon at the North Prescott fire tower. If that's you then I'll need you to sign here." He handed me a pen and a clipboard with a paper on it.
"Where?" I asked.
"Anywhere on the bottom is fine!"
I swear, I couldn't help myself from saying, "Ok, bend over. But I don't know if anyone will see it there!"
He laughed and said, "On the paper, please! It says that you accepted the delivery. You can add a comment on my professionalism if you want!"
"I was joking! So, what are you delivering?"
"You're new bed!" He said. "I have it here in the truck. I'm to set it up for you, too. She paid extra for me to do that!"
"Who did? My grandmother?"
"All I know is that some woman came into the store Saturday, said she wanted this bed delivered specifically by me to this fire tower and set-up here today, then paid my boss with a big check and left in a damn fine looking Rolls Royce!" He answered with a wistful expression. "I've never seen my boss suck up to somebody that fast before! I mean, it was embarrassing to watch."
