The Proposal Ch 04 1

Immersion Playground

Book #1: The Proposal

Chapter 4

Saturday morning Rick and Giselle are on the tennis court early, wanting to get in a set with just the two of them before Todd and Charlie arrive to create their foursome. As they cool and rest after their games, the Roses arrive. Rick studies them as they approach and notices there is something different in their manner. He can't put his finger on it, but there is clearly something there.

As Todd and Charlie greet them, Todd walks to Giselle and hugs her warmly, like a long-lost friend, then turns to Rick and grips his hand in a firm handshake that he holds for just a moment, adding a slap on the shoulder. It is odd that Todd would shake his hand in this situation as they have been friends long enough that the handshake has fallen out of use between them in such casual circumstances.

Still holding Ricks hand, Todd gives it one more pump, adding, "You're a lucky bastard, you know that?" he says, before he releases his hand.

Rick, somewhat addled by Todd's manner, smiles but says nothing.

Giselle speaks as she watches Todd greet Rick. "We're doing a foursome this morning, right?" Everyone turns to look at Giselle. Still watching Todd, Giselle continues, "Is it me and Rick against you and Charlie, or men against women... or what?"

Todd spins Rick around by the shoulder and steers him toward the court. "Come on buddy, let's show the ladies how men play the game."

Charlie smiles at Giselle as they turn to their side of the court. "Let's kick their ass," Charlie says brightly.

It starts out as a long day for the men when the ladies best them not only in the first game, 6-0, but the second game as well, 6-4. The third game becomes deadly serious. All four players are earnest competitors and are now playing for pride, the men to salvage some and to avoid going down three games, and the woman to prove the first two wins weren't luck. The game is at deuce and all four players are breathing hard and sweating in the mid-morning heat.

After an extended rally, Giselle drops a little lob in behind a sprinting Todd, caught running the wrong way, for the game. Todd, knowing he'd been set up, falls onto his back dramatically and lies on the court panting until Rick offers him a hand up.

Todd, getting to his feet, looks at his sweaty, panting, beaming wife. He points his racket at her tauntingly. "I guess we showed you!" he exclaimed as if they'd won.

"I

like

the way men play the game," Charlie coos to Giselle, her voice full of honey and cream.

The men, their spirit broken, go on to lose five of the six games of the set.

The four typically play a best of three match, taking a breather after each set. After the final game of the set, the group gathers their gear and moves to the shaded tables to cool and catch their breath. Sitting at the table, Todd is mesmerized by a single droplet of sweat that survived Charlie's towel as it slowly runs off one lovely breast into her cleavage.

"Todd!" Charlie says loudly.

"What?" he answers with a start.

"I said, would you hand me a water? Please. And quit staring at my boobs."

Flushing furiously Todd mumbles, "Sorry. I was distracted." He pulls a bottled water from the cooler and hands it to Charlie with a hint of a smile.

"Uhh... yeah, we could see that," Rick teases.

Todd, trying to save face, looks to Charlie. "It's hard to believe how good you've become at tennis, and so quickly." He then turns to Giselle. "Will you give me lesson's next? Please? It's going to be hard on my self-esteem if she—" he nods to Charlie, "—kicks my ass every time we get on the court." Charlie beams at the compliment.

"I can, I suppose, but I suggest you let Charlie help you. Her style of play is the same as yours and it will help her improve her game as well," Giselle suggests, still dabbing at her sweaty neck with a towel.

"I don't want her to improve

her

game. I want to improve mine," he objects good-naturedly.

"What's the matter? Don't think you can handle me?" Charlie asks with a glint in her eye.

"My love, I've never been able to handle you," he says with a leer. He brightens as if another thought has struck him. "Oh, wait! Are we still talking about tennis?"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Rick exclaims with a chuckle. "Do you guys want to forget the next set and just get a room?"

Todd and Charlie look at one another, buzzing out a 'Hmmm' at the same time. "Nooo... I think we're good. For now, anyway," Charlie finally replies.

Rick looks to Giselle and rolls his eyes. Charlie and Todd have always loved the double-entendre, but this is ridiculous. Giselle offers him a slight widening of her smile and a quick raise of her eyebrows.

"Okay, what gives? You two are acting like hormone-sopped teenagers. Well, more so than normal. What's going on?" Rick demands.

Todd looks around and decides this is a bit too public. "Why don't you and Giselle join us for dinner tonight. We'll tell you all about it then. Deal?"

"That will be fun, thanks," Giselle says. "Can we bring anything?"

"Just yourselves," Charlie says. "About seven?"

"Perfect." Giselle smiles. "That will give Rick and me time to take care of a few things."

"I bet it does," Todd says slowly, suggestion dripping from his voice. Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. "What? We have laundry to do ourselves. Why are you hitting me?"

Giselle looks into her lap, her smile broadening while Rick just shakes his head in mock disgust.

"I'm going to do more than hit you if you don't straighten up!" Charlie informs him.

Todd opens his mouth to say something, but then suddenly turns serious. He looks to Giselle, his face solemn. "Charlie's right. I'm sorry. I had no right to suggest that you have dirty laundry at home. I apologize."

Giselle looks at Todd's oh-so-serious face for a moment, then bursts into giggles. Rick simply closes his eyes. Oh yes, something is certainly different this morning, and he is beginning to get an inkling as to what.

***

The second set goes much as the first, except Rick and Todd win the first game. Todd, ever the clown, struts around on his side of the net, full of swagger, after their win.

"You know they are going to make us pay for that, right?" Rick asks quietly as they settle in for the second game.

"I know..."

And pay for it they do, losing the next two games. The men win the fourth game in a squeaker to tie the set at two games apiece, but then lose the next two in relative blow-outs. While Todd was all puffed chest after the first game, he is the picture of dejection after the last, shoulders slumped, head hanging low, racket almost dragging as he slowly walks off the court.

"Woe unto me," he wails. "I have been emasculated by own wife."

"Not to worry," Charlie replies sweetly, "I have something at home that will make you feel better."

Todd has almost arrived at their equipment storage and cooling-off area when she speaks, causing him to stop his slow, dragging pace. After just a moment of thought he suddenly appears vibrant and full of energy.

"Okay people, let's get a move on!" he says, energetically putting away his equipment.

Rick and Giselle look at one another, Rick not quite able to hold in his chuckle when Giselle winks at him. "Todd," Rick says in mock seriousness, "did you forget to take your meds this morning?"

Todd quickly looks around and, realizing that there is no one within hearing, becomes serious, "No. I just found something I didn't even know I'd lost... all thanks to you," he says before glancing at Giselle. "Well, you

and

Giselle." Looking past Giselle, he sees a couple of guys approaching their court. "I'll tell you more about it later tonight, but I want to tell you both thanks for what you did. Seriously." With that, Todd returns to loading his bag and zipping it up.

Rick and Giselle look at one another, not knowing what to say.

***

Rick and Giselle throw their tennis gear into the trunk of his Ford, not bothering to clean up since they came to the courts in his everyday car. Had they come in the Aston, or her Audi, that would have been a different matter, but he'd rather shower at home and in private when he can.

"What did you make of those two today?" he asks as he starts the car.

"I see two people hopelessly in love."

"They weren't like that last week. Or even Wednesday," he points out.

"And why do you think that is? Or a better question, what do you think has changed?"

"Okay, I know what you are driving at, but why would that make a difference?" He pauses while he backs the car out of the parking spot. "Why would the immersion make him fall in love with Charlie again?"

"Remember what he said. 'I found something I didn't even know I'd lost...' or something like that. It didn't make him 'fall in love,' it just... I don't know... sparked something in him. Her, too."

He says nothing, watching for an opening in the traffic. Turning right he accelerates the car smoothly to speed, then pushes the autocruise button when the

Autocruise Available

light illuminates on the dash, locking the car onto the grid embedded in the roadway so he can pay attention to Giselle. Once the car is locked on, he releases the wheel, allowing the car to drive itself until he has to take control to exit the autodrive road onto the side streets.

"I don't understand why our immersion would affect them like that," he says, picking up their former conversation. "I suppose I can understand why he might fall in love with you—but Charlie? I can't get my mind around it."

"You said it yourself. The chip can't read thoughts, only emotions, sensations. He couldn't tell the emotions you were feeling were for

me

. I suppose at some level he knows—after all, it was just the two of us there, but he loves Charlie, so that is where his feelings go."

He thinks about what she said. "I get what you're saying. I think. I wonder what happens if there isn't a person for the emotional spillover, for lack of a better term, to attach to?"

"I don't know. It might be interesting to find out."

"But how? Everyone we know is married. At least, anyone we know that I would even consider sharing this with." He thinks some more. "Actually, there

isn't

anyone else I would share this with. Todd was hard enough, and I've known him forever."

Giselle says nothing, watching the scenery go by outside the car. "You're probably right. I'm not sure I want anyone else to experience it myself." She sits quietly for a long moment. "I still think we should have the Roses do an immersion, to see if the emotional impact is there, or if you just caught something exceptional in

our

immersion."

He disengages the autocruise and takes control of the car, preparing to exit the boulevard onto the side streets. "Now there's an idea I can get behind. Turnabout is fair play."

***

After arriving home, they quickly shower to remove the scent of competition and dress for a casual Saturday at home. While Giselle prepares lunch, Rick strips and gathers the bed linens and towels for the wash then sorts the remaining laundry to make a second load to include his and Giselle's tennis outfits.

"Lunch is ready," Giselle says as he passes through the kitchen with the clothes, intending to pile them in the floor in front of the washer.

"Be right there."

Lunch is light, a chicken salad with almonds and celery, served over a bed of fresh lettuce. "After lunch I'm going to run to the office and get the recording equipment, so I'll have it if Todd and Charlie agree to have an immersion made," Rick says between bites. "I'm not quite sure how to make this work, though. I think the key thing in our immersion is we forgot, well,

I

forgot at least, that the recording was running. I'm not sure how to get the same spontaneity from them."

"Maybe you could record without them knowing," she suggests with an evil smile as he looks at her dubiously. "Okay, how about this," she suggests. "How about you don't tell them

when

you will record them?"

"I don't follow."

"Can you set the equipment to record between such and such times on particular day or days? That way you could tell them you are going to record them, but not tell them which day it will be. After a few weeks they are bound to forget about it... and there you have it," she explains.

"But, what if they aren't... uh... randy that night?"

"I assume you can check it after it records. If all you get is them fighting or sleeping, or whatever, just erase that and set it again."

Rick thinks about it for a minute. "Actually, that's a pretty good idea. I will have to think about how to set up the delay like that, but it shouldn't be that hard to rig something up." He looks at her for a moment. "Beautiful... and smart to," he said, his voice bright and teasing.

"Well, I married you, didn't I?"

"True. But everyone has an error in judgment now and then," he replies with a smile.

They finish their meal and as he clears the table of the dishes, she loads them into the washer. He makes it a point to brush his hand across her ass each time he walks by behind her.

"You keep that up and we're going to need another shower," she says after the third brush, not looking up from her task.

"Too bad the towels aren't dry," he teases before kissing her on the back of her neck.

She tips her head down and becomes still as he kisses her neck, but before it can turn into anything more, he moves on and leaves the room. As much as he would love to see if he has it in him for another tumble in the bed after this morning, he has other things to do if he is going to have the recording equipment ready for this evening.

He goes into their bathroom and gets ready to leave for the office, swishing his mouth with the cleaner and performing a few other preparatory tasks. Walking to the garage he notices that Giselle has settled in the family room with a book, so he detours to give her a goodbye kiss.

"Back soon as I can," he promises as their lips slowly part.

"I'll be waiting," she murmurs, her hand caressing his face.

Returning to the kitchen he once again detours, this time to the laundry room, where he moves the linens from the washer to the drier and restarts it with the clothes he had dumped in the floor earlier. Finally ready to leave, he accesses the net to raise the garage door behind the Ford and start his car.

***

Less than an hour later, Rick is back home with a case about two feet square, and about half that thick, containing the new third generation recorder developed by Feedback Alive. It's just hitting the market and is less than a third of the size of the original unit he used to record himself and Giselle. The Gen III recorder, at less than a foot square, is compact enough that it can be hidden anywhere and, with its mutable color plastic case, is stylish enough that it doesn't need to be. Also in the case are the four receiver panels used to capture an immersion if the unit is being operated as a standalone device. The panels, about the size of a bath towel, are also made from mutable color plastic but are thin and pliable enough to be folded like cloth.

He brings the case into the family room where Giselle sits, apparently exactly as he left her, but he notices that her hair is now neatly combed and her makeup lightly applied. He quietly places the case on the floor by a chair and gives her a kiss. She returns it readily enough but seems distracted by her book.

Giselle is an avid reader. While more and more books are being converted to, or released as, net downloads, she still prefers to read the book herself, enjoying the process of reading as much as the satisfaction of finishing a good story. 'The journey is the reward,' she once told a colleague who couldn't understand why she would want to spend days or weeks with a reader in her hand when she could download the book off the net and have 'read' the story in less than a second. She believed that reading for pleasure is something to be savored and enjoyed, not rushed through, but she isn't above accepting reading materials as a download. Being able to download case law rather than spending hours upon hours in research is a boon to lawyers everywhere, but that's work and is very different.

He watches her read for a moment, Giselle still as a statue except for an occasional movement of one finger as she turns the page. Her reader, the latest in a long line she has owned, is the latest in transportable readers. Collapsed, the reader is about the same size and shape as a woman's lipstick tube. Pulling the ends of the tube extends its length, then the reading film is pulled from the side. With a slight twist of the wrists the film to goes rigid, giving a reading area about the size of a traditional hardbound book. Reversing the process collapses the whole thing down to a size that can be dropped into a pocket. It is an amazing piece of engineering kit that he admires greatly.

She feels him watching her. "Don't you have some work to do?" she asks, not looking up from her book.

He laughs lightly. "Yes. Yes I do. I was just momentarily captivated by your beauty."

Actually, the statement isn't that far from the truth. For reasons he can't easily explain, when she slips her glasses on, she become even more appealing to him. She isn't impressed with his flattery and looks at him over those sexy glasses, her smile telling him she's on to his game. Chuckling at her look, he leaves her to her book and goes to their bedroom where he removes his shoes, noticing the bed is neatly made and the bath linens are hung tidily in place.

Returning to the family room he unpacks the recorder and sets it up on the floor beside his chair, leaving the receiver panels in the case. Their home's receiver will pick up the signal, so the panels won't be needed.

"Leave the laundry. I need that for a check later," he says before zoning out to get some work done.

***

Forty-five minutes later he comes back from the net, having coded a timer routine into the recorder. Giselle is still sitting in her chair, apparently not having moved, except her legs are now tucked under her facing the other way. He checks the time and sets the timer to start immediately. He then gets up from the chair and empties the dryer of laundry, carrying it to the bedroom where he folds and puts it away before returning to the family room and checks the time again. There are two more minutes until the timer ends the immersion recording he is making of his activities. He saunters over to her and, crouching behind her chair, proceeds to kiss her on the back of the neck.

"What

are

you doing?" she asks, her voice full of annoyance, but she makes no move to discourage his activities.

"It's all part of the test."

"Uh-huh," she grunts, but she doesn't object further to his tender kisses.

After a little more than two minutes of nibbling on her neck, he rises and goes back to his chair. "Let me see if this worked," he says before taking on the thousand-yard stare.

He's gone for ten minutes, then comes back into focus. "It worked," he said. "Now if Charlie and Todd agree to be recorded, I can set it and forget it."

She says nothing for several seconds, then with a practiced movement collapses her reader and places it on the table. "Did Charlie or Todd tell us what we are having for dinner?" she asks.

"No. They said not to bring anything, but they didn't actually say what we were having."

Giselle sends a text ping to Charlie, getting a near instantaneous response. "We're having Charlie's lasagna. She still said not to bring anything, but I think a nice bottle of white wine wouldn't be out of order, do you?"

"Do you have something in mind?" he asks.

What he knows about wine he could write on his little fingernail. When he drinks wine, he drinks what she tells him to drink because she knows what she's talking about.