Chapter 1: The Beginning
My name is Adam Stillwater. I'm your average white male computer geek from Flint, Michigan who attended Michigan State and spent five years getting my degree. I took a year off from school after my fiancé dumped me for a grad student and sent me into deep depression. I have limited social skills and a small dick. There, I said it. I've been told more than once, so I might as well get that out there. The social skills, I mean. Don't get me wrong. I'm all about self-help. Just being honest.
Trouble is, being honest doesn't help you on dating sites.
It doesn't help you anywhere with anything at all, as best I can tell. I should have learned to lie better. Life's all about getting your foot in the door and holding that crack open. It's all about what's behind the crack and finding a way in. Lie if you must. Play the game if you can.
Trouble is, I'm a bad liar - and I have slow and clumsy feet.
I met Blair Underwood on a Colorado ski slope after tumbling halfway down the mountain in the red zone. I landed on my ass at her very agile feet where I ironically spent the rest of my life. She told me I looked cute all bundled in the snow with my glasses strapped to my chin. When I told her I was a part time ski instructor, she nearly passed out with laughter.
"That's a lie," I groaned, looking down at my clumpy boots. "I'm a computer programmer who needs to go back to the amateur slope."
Blair helped me up, and I noticed she was strong. I noticed she was tall. "I like your sense of humor," she smiled. I immediately recognized she had the demeanor of a woman in charge. I also recognized that she was blonde and fit and beautiful.
"My company is having an executive meeting this weekend at the main lodge," she explained. "I'm always looking for computer experts. Why don't you join us for dinner this evening and we can discuss a possible job opportunity... that is if you can pull yourself away from your ski instructor position."
I agreed to come. It was the first time a lie had ever helped me, and only after I admitted it was a lie. I wasn't actually trying to be funny. It just turned out that way. Serendipity. The tide was turning for me. Turning into an avalanche.
"Let's say six o'clock, mister....."
"Adam. My name's Adam Stillwater." We shook hands like men.
"Blair," she said. "Blair Underwood. It's nice to meet you, Adam. See you at six then?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Blair smiled at me like a postcard. "Good boy," she cackled. Then she walked off to the ski lift and joined two other gentlemen.
***
When I walked into the dinner meeting, Blair recognized me immediately. I was the most casually dressed person in the room. Well, I wasn't expecting an interview at a ski resort, so I wore what I had... jeans and a lumberjack button-down plaid shirt.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I didn't bring a suit and tie for the trip."
Blair walked over and graciously led me to her table where she introduced me to several middle-aged men who were as pressed and starched as a cotton Oxford.
"You planning to cut some timber this evening?" one of the men chuckled after introductions.
"Adam is a computer programmer. I thought I might invite him tonight to have a look at our little problem that nobody around here seems to know how to fix, that interface issue." Blair winked at me casually. It was sexy and reassuring. I was suddenly glowing with confidence.
"You should just hire a company to handle that stuff, just as we discussed in the last board meeting," the man grumbled.
Blair folded her arms impatiently at the gentleman. "I told you, Frank. I like to have my own people, keep my company autonomous, shovel my own shit." Frank shook his head. Blair was bold, crass, and deliberate. She glared at Frank's fretful expression like she'd just as soon dump a shovel of shit on his head as entertain his ridiculous opinions. She owned the company. That was clear enough. The majority stockholder.
"No timber tonight, sir." I interjected, shaking Frank's hand resiliently. "I just like this rugged look for tapping on the keys. It keeps the computers in line."
The table exploded in laughter. I must have looked like a clown making fun of myself. All was suddenly a winter wonderland of comradery and cocktails, a perfectly delectable dinner surrounded by crackling wood fireplaces and iron chandeliers... until Blair introduced the computer interface problem that had been so perplexing which I solved in less than ten seconds.
Then, everything went silent as a snow drift... everything except for Blair in her navy-blue sequins that accentuated her hazel eyes. She wore the perfect shade of eye shadow, a slight touch of rouge... a natural glow of authority.
"We will have our deserts, now." Blair nodded to one of the hotel hosts, and a sea of young men sporting black ties and crisp cotton headed out the side doors of the opulent dining hall. Blair motioned me to sit beside her as every eye in the room fell upon us.
"Only coffee for me." Blair held up her hand, waving off the strawberry cheesecake with chocolate sauce, then placed her dainty fingers on my thigh beneath the table. "No timber tonight?" she whispered. She massaged my leg softly.
"I'm sorry?" I was totally oblivious to her meaning and completely centered on her delicate digits digging into my denim.
"I like your outfit," she continued, her hand sliding closer to my crotch. Everyone in the room pretended not to notice. "I think you'd look even more rugged with stubble on your face. I bet you swing one hell of an axe handle."
"Huh? I don't grow a good beard, Ms. Underwood. My ex-girlfriend used to tell me..."
"I don't care about your girlfriend, Adam. I want to know about your hardwood. How long is it? How thick?"
Blair gave my junk a quick squeeze. I almost fell backwards in my chair and spit my cheesecake across the table. "I mean, it's okay, I guess." I should have lied. I'm a terrible liar. Actually, that WAS a lie.
"It's okay?" she giggled, peering across the room, sipping her coffee as she carried on our conversation. She glanced at my face for the first time in forever, looking like a schoolgirl passing notes in the back of the classroom. "It feels better than 'okay' to me, Adam."
