Iaw Ch 02 An Immodest Proposal

I'd met Ginnifer in a library on a Monday, had a Friday night date (last night), and we woke up together this morning. I had just dropped her off at her place, we both had stuff to do, but I did not want to let her go.

I was trying to not to obsess, but Ginny made that hard.

She was sweet enough to want be around all the time, and sexy enough that, well... just wow. We had a spark, a connection, and I tried to play it cool, but that was a supreme challenge.

Her own hot-mess history also left me very torn. I dismiss stereotypes right off, though the "pretty girls are crazy" one often held some truth. Gin embodied that archetype. Sane men should be running the other way, but when one sees a face like that, on a body like that, most men are no longer sane. I was no exception.

Honestly, I had my own little kinks and she fit those well. Maybe too well, and I didn't want to put expectations on the relationship. That was another reason I didn't want to let go, and probably the exact reason I should walk away - for her sake and mine.

I tried to shut it all out that afternoon, burying myself in work on a production budget. I hate budgets, but it was four hours that I could cleanse my mind. Could, but didn't. I went for a hill run, worked over the heavy bag in the garage, side-stepped my party-animal neighbors and otherwise exhausted myself.

The whole day, she stayed just under the surface. I could not get this woman out of my mind.

I showered, threw on a pair of shorts, had a beer and a good zen going when I reached for the phone. I was at ease. I ran my thumb over her name.

She answered: "Hello?"

Not sure why this should surprise me, but of course, my always-cool-under-pressure style fucking failed me. "Hey, hi, howdy! So glad I could call and completely forget what I was going to say!"

"Do you do that a lot?" She asked.

"Do what a lot?"

"Forget."

"Forget what?"

"Oh, my god..."

"Ooh, that reminds me! We should get together again. Soon!"

"Me saying 'oh, my god' reminded you?"

"I loved hearing you say that..."

There was a pause, then a throaty giggle. "I did say that a lot last night."

"How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Can't. Dinner?"

"Planning meeting."

"On a Sunday?!"

"Yeah, for a live event on Monday."

"So I guess Monday is out, too. Tues... no. Wednesday. Lunch?"

"Done. Where?"

"Can you make it into Glendale?"

First-date details filtered back to me. "Close to your office, I'm guessing?"

"Yes! 11:30?"

"I was just going to say '11:30.' You're fantastic!"

"Thanks, Dr. Venkman. I'll see you then."

Yeah, she did movie quotes. Or at least she recognized them. Did I mention how hard it was to not think about her?

I tried splashing cold water on the idea. I think I mentioned the "hot mess" part, and with Ginny, that was no joke. You've probably seen some variation on that Venn diagram of women: Hot - Smart - Sane (pick 2). I didn't have to guess, Ginny's hospital-grade nervous breakdown had tumbled out in last night's conversation. It had been just four months prior and sparked when her ex broke up with her.

Yes, I was playing with fire.

You might also remember that George Carlin quote: "The main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid." In Ginny's case, she'd been shoved over a psychological cliff by her ex, who'd posted an intimate video of her on "YouPorn." It allegedly had her face, used her real name, and there was little she could do about it.

She told me all this in the interest of full disclosure. Despite wanting to be the girl who is proudly introduced to future in-laws, the lurking reputation hit meant awkward conversations. Being upfront about it was a wonderful, insanely selfless gesture.

So, baggage.

I remember thinking last night that I had to search this video out, but with my laptop now before me, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Was it that I didn't want to see her tainted by her ex? No, actually I wanted to see that really badly. More that if I was going to watch, I wanted to watch it with her.

That said, just thinking about it had me in a porn state of mind. There was no fighting this, and I simply didn't have the energy to go out or call Friends With Benefits. Instead of searching out redheads on YouPorn, I searched out brunettes on XVideos.

It was a poor, poor substitute.

What else didn't I do? Be social. I called neither friends nor those FWBs. Probably just as well. I hopped onto Facebook, did a drive-by "like" on a couple of their posts and dropped back into stealth mode.

Sunday was setup and preproduction, then Monday I coordinated a live one-camera gig. The director saw himself as God's gift and the producer was so wired she was shaking. Not sure if that was from 25 mocha grandes or something stronger, but between the two of them, it was about six Mondays crammed into one.

Still, every time I turned around, I was thinking about the one-week anniversary of meeting Ginny in the library.

By Tuesday, I got back on social media and got the update on what my core group was doing. "The Usual" was the answer, but to their credit, that's pretty eclectic. Two of my buddies are stuntmen who moonlight as terrible actors. My two Friends-With-Benefits are both great actresses, one who moonlights as a bartender and the other as a surfing/snowboarding instructor. I keep telling her I'm going to learn.

Of course, once I was on, I was nabbed. Everybody wanted to know how the date with Ginny went. Most amazing thing to them was that I went out with somebody that didn't have an IMDb page. Truth was, I was trying to put some distance between my social and work life and dating actresses didn't help.

The only two serious relationships I'd ever had were both with actresses - and they'd both dumped me. Weird thing is: they didn't go far. The two FWBs? Yeah, same girls. And before you ask, yes: they know each other.

As for Facebook, I hadn't posted anything because... well, I usually don't. If I talk about what I do, I get mobbed. No. Just fucking no. In private, though, even to the FWBs, I wasn't afraid to admit I was smitten.

I searched Ginny out on Facebook and discovered she was on... but no, she hadn't posted anything either. I was almost kind of bummed about that, but a closer look told me she hadn't posted anything for nearly five months. Not since her breakdown.

I thought about signing up for Tinder, just to see if she was on there. If she was, how would she present? Given the flirtitude, I could totally see her on there, but with her itty-bitty casual encounter number, I couldn't picture her actually using it.

Who knows. I could be wrong...

###

Wednesday morning, I texted for confirmation and got a response about five minutes later. We were still on. WooHoo!

By 11:29, I was walking into the diner. She was already seated.

We traded a quick kiss, sort of a wet peck, and it felt like stealth passion hidden in a grown-up's Public Display of Affection. Oddly, it felt like we were already in a well-established relationship. That was interesting.

I looked around. "We're close to where you work? Are you a regular here?"

She nodded and leaned towards the window, pointing out an office building down the boulevard. "See that little two-story number? That is the Den of Iniquity; home of the Dirty Dozen."

All I saw was steel, smoked glass and a topiary. "I expected more guns."

"They're armed with pens. And friends."

"So, what? Twelve partners in the firm?"

"Yes, but they're spread across the US. Really, there's only five who are ever in the office, but that's more than enough bosses, thank you."

"Enough... for what?"

Over lunch, I learned they were specialists in divorce settlements and sexual harassment payouts. Not surprising were the number of overlapping clients. The partners like to play on the wink-nudge nature of that clientele, so they retained Ginny as the firm's eye-candy receptionist.

She wasn't technically a paralegal or even an administratively-trained secretary. In their words, she was a "conversation starter." Bait, if you will, to open a dialogue where millions of settlement dollars were at stake.

It was one of the reasons she made $60/hour, they gave her a clothing allowance on top of it, her choice of gym membership, a "beauty stipend" (hair and manicures), insurance and 401k... They took care of her.

We shared a tender kiss after lunch, but nothing that would melt her lipstick before she returned to work. Honestly, she had no idea what the reception would be if their receptionist suddenly found herself [back] in a relationship.

She was sparse on details, but she did make clear that the partners had been their own clients a few times - and that she herself was the forgiving type.

Well, if that doesn't fire the imagination, nothing will.

###

A week from our first date, lunch not withstanding, we had our second. This one was at the exclusive, extremely-hard-to-book location of... her place.

I brought over a few bottles of wine (yes, three), but still had to get past the bouncer and self-appointed chaperone named Aramis. I knew I'd be running the gauntlet of the cat, and he looked disapproving from the get-go.

Ginny was hiding her smirk as I faced off with the man of the house.

The cat and I stared at each other from across the room. "Pardonnez-moi, Aramis."

"Meow." Yeah, he actually 'meowed'. Guessing he recognized his name.

I crossed to the halfway point, reached into my bag, pulled out a new dish with a fancy cat on it, and placed it on the ground between us.

Ginny immediately covered her mouth as she watched. She might've done more, but I was focused on the cat.

Second thing out of my bag was a catnip-filled mouse, which I artfully arranged next to the empty plate.

By the furry gray nose sniffing the air, he could smell it already.

The third thing I pulled out was a small tin. I popped it and peeled it open, and now the conversation changed. I selected a few anchovies and arranged them on the cat plate.

There was a kind of guttural meow as the cat jumped off his perch and closed the distance. He gave the fish a sniff and buried his face in it. I think there was a purr going.

There was a slight flutter to Ginny's voice. "I was not expecting that."

I shrugged. "Love cats. Wish I was home enough to share my house with one."

Not sure what was going through Gin's head, but by her expressions, it was a major internal dialogue.

"You okay over there?"

She nodded, slowly. "I just realized how much danger I'm in now that you've disarmed my guard cat."

I stepped back, giving the cat some space. "If Aramis detects trouble, I'm sure Athos and Porthos aren't far behind."

Gin looked down at the cat, shaking her head. "You don't speak French, do you?"

I shook my head. "I wish I did. I know a few words, but that's about it. I eat French cheese. Does that count?"

She grinned and nodded, turning away to arrange something or other.

I browsed her entertainment center and found the stack of classic horror flicks she'd picked up at the library. "You watch any yet?"

"Haven't had time."

"Copy that. Let's see... did you want to start with Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi?"

"Frankenstein. Definitely Frankenstein. How do you feel about Chinese? Delivery?"

"Sounds awesome! I lean spicy, by the way..."

Ginnifer placed the order and we dove right into the movie. I'd actually seen it half a dozen times already, if only from film classes back in school. Watching it with Ginny, however, brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the experience.

That's my other French word. Or phrase. Whatever.

Where do I even start? For me, it would have to be her eyes. Most would stop at "sexy." Some might include "big." For me, it was how expressive they were. Soulful and pale-green. Dark, arched, auburn-red eyebrows made them seem that much bigger. Think Christina Ricci, if you want a picture.

Framing the eyes were angular, high, wide cheekbones complementing a sharp jawline. A splash of freckles crossed a dainty nose. Her lips were pouty; full without being bee-stung. Kissable. Or other things. Overall, her face was sleek, high-speed. She was an F-1 race car speeding past a traffic jam of Toyota Camrys.

With the freckles, she almost looked tan, but a closer look said she was pale, almost milky white. Topping it was light auburn hair that she had up in a twirly bun-thing, and a couple of chopsticks keeping it in place. A few curly strands had escaped to frame her face.

Hiding but hinting at the bod, her outfit had a carefully sculpted casual vibe. Loose, cottony, low-rise draw-string capris and a sheer billowy blouse that clearly revealed nipples through the fabric. She caught me peeking more than once - and finally just flashed me.

I attacked and it devolved into a half-tickle make-out session that was interrupted by the arrival of dinner.

She paid for it, giving the deliveryman a veiled but hard-nipple eyeful, and... well, that got me going all over again.

She was setting the food out on the counter as I came up behind her.

"You almost got a free Chinese sausage with dinner..."

She snorted. "I was wondering if you'd say something."

"Had to."

"Jealous?"

"Excited."

"Good!"

I scooped rice into my bowl. "The only downside of hanging out here is that I can't watch you flirt."

She rolled her eyes.

We made it through the rest of Frankenstein, plowed through Dracula, and shared a bag of popcorn as we took in the Mummy. With the disc out, her Roku mentioned that "The House on Sorority Row" was available on-demand. We let that play in background as we waded through film theory, horror tropes, basements, attics, splitting up the party, and packs of doomed horny teenagers.

Which, as we watched the naked sorority boobs bouncing around, brought up soft core in bad horror movies.

Ginny bit her lip like she was collecting courage and she asked me point-blank: "I know we joked last week, but... Do you watch porn?"

"Can't lie: yeah, I do." We'd touched on that on our first date, but it felt like she wanted details. "The variety is interesting, and I've always been kind of a voyeur. The important question is: do YOU like porn?"

She shrugged at first... but a moment later, it melted into a deep nod. "My first boyfriends did, so I became... kind of an aficionado. As I grew up, I started to get mixed feelings on it. My last boyfriend made his own, and, well... Now, I've got really mixed feelings about it."

"How so?"

"Well, original reservations: I'm never sure if I'm watching somebody who is really doing it by choice."

"I get it: human trafficking is bad news. Pretty sure the mainstream stuff is safe, though. Yeah, there's still exploitation, but that's kinda by choice."

Gin watched the screen for a moment, zeroing in on imperiled boobs. "...And then there's the whole objectification thing. It's complicated."

We were in politics territory now and I wasn't sure how to respond. "Yeah, that's-"

"See, it kinda turns me on..." she interrupted. She swallowed and looked at me with those big eyes "Then I feel guilty about it... and that kinda turns me on even more. It's..."

"Wow. Yeah. Complicated." Damn if I didn't have to adjust my junk. "So you feel guilty. Are you afraid you're not going to be taken seriously?"

She nodded. "Sort of? It's like... sometimes, girls just wanna have fun. Not all girls do, and that's okay; and not all girls all the time. There has to be consent and agency and equality, but holy shit! I just want to let go and let it happen."

"Give 'em what they want?"

"Yes! Like, most of the time!" She pursed her lips. "That's too much, isn't it?"

The conversation from the first date was rolling through my head. One part in particular was coming back. "There's your submissive streak."

Gin paused and finally nodded. "...And my 'pleaser' streak."

"That's tangled. It could be problematic, especially if you're not being true to yourself, but I definitely encourage casual blowjobs between consenting adults."

She punched my arm. "Said the guy who wants a blow job!"

"Of course! I'd love one!"

She threw the empty popcorn bowl at me, then cupped a hand over my zipper. "Now or later?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "Maybe..."

"Okay, guilty feelings aside..." I glanced at her laptop. Ideas were bubbling up. "What's your favorite kind of porn?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. I haven't even been able to think about it since becoming accidental porn myself."

"That's right! YouPorn, right? We should look that up."

"NO! Well, maybe."

"Tell me about your ex. THAT ex."

"Ed? He's a clerk at a warehouse. His friend, Dave, works with him. Dave thinks Ed is a jerk, but is still his friend."

Okay, this is shitty of me, but Ed seemed way beneath her. Also, not sure what Dave had to do with this, but I figured he had to be inner-circle. "...As friends do."

Gin picked up my wavelength and brought her laptop to the couch. Quick navigation: she apparently had herself bookmarked... but she paused as the page popped up. "Oh, dear god."

"What?"

"There's eight of me."

"We've barely gone through one bottle of wine. There's only one of you."

"Videos, dingus."

"Eight different videos? Awesome! I mean... sorry, that really sucks. Can we watch?"

She nodded as she studied the thumbnails.

"So... hidden camera? He can get in trouble for that. Misdemeanor, I think."

"No, I knew he recorded them."

"Did he ask?"

"Yah, and I said yes. Recording, posting... but it was a heat of the moment kind of thing. Bedroom talk. I never thought he'd actually put them up."

"I'm gonna guess you asked the lawyer guys you work with?"

"Yah... I was 'asking for a friend'." Ginny bit her lip. "They said there wasn't much 'my friend' could do without spending gobs of money, and even with a C&D, very little would happen given that 'my friend' technically gave consent. 'She' kinda shot herself in the foot."

I glanced down. "You do have nice feet, by the way."

She gave a wistful smile and a deep sigh. "I've been working at making peace with it, but I want a 'happy ending' and this kinda gets in the way of that. This is 'out there' and will always be out there. I can't even join the PTA."

"I know 'Cease and Desist' but what's the 'PTA'?"

She cocked her head at me. "Parent-Teacher... never mind."

"Oh, I get it." I glanced at the screen. "So, do they see your face? Use your name?"

Gin nodded, studying the screen. "Uh, yeah, a lot. I kinda played to the camera. I mean..." She pointed at the categories, her finger circling 'facials' and 'public places'.

"So you're an exhibitionist..."

"I guess?" She hung her head. "I'd never put that to words before."

"Flashing the valet last week was kind of a giveaway."

She covered her mouth but that didn't cover the giggle. She glanced at the screen, then back to me. "Are you sure you want to watch?"

I held out my hands, guilty. "That is the definition of a voyeur..."

There was a little tremble in her hands as she started the first video. Another click and the action went full-screen. No blurry amateur, plausibly deniable video: this was unmistakably her, crystal-clear as we joined a blow-job already in progress.

I'd had a tentative semi: all that talk, and tits teased through her shirt, and flirting with the delivery guy and the tickle-play - but this? Watching my date give head to some guy outdoors pushed me toward rock-hard mode.

Video-Gin wore some sort of miniskirt and no shirt. Her perky tits were jutting out, nipples upward as she gave head to some guy on a nature trail. He was holding the camera for some POV action, occasionally dropping the lens to get a good profile shot of his dick disappearing deep into her mouth.