Switching it Up

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Christopher

My heartbeat seems to have doubled in the past two minutes. The excitement of the chase always gets me charged up, but this time it feels different, almost more enjoyable than normal. As I lower myself into my chair, I glance around the table to see if anyone’s eyes meet mine, checking to see if anyone noticed that Meg and I came back to the table at the same time. Okay, good; everyone’s engrossed in their entrees and sidebar conversations. It’s way too early to have these people prying into our business if I manage to get something going with this...goddess of a woman.

I managed to get a full body look at her when I walked up on her at the bar. Nothing tops an hourglass figure atop a hot pair of platform pumps. She seems now to have loosened up a lot more from when she first arrived. The way her cleavage is just peeking out from above the second button of her dress, it’s no wonder that Michaelson and Rodgers practically pounced on her like hounds on a steak when she first walked in. Those morons didn’t even realize that they didn’t stand a chance...unless her thing is balding, late forty-somethings with houses full of kids at home. Of course, that’s partly my fault. Had I gotten here just five minutes later, she and I probably would have walked in around the same time. Oh well, catching her at the bar worked out perfectly.

To my right, Mr. Cromwell is engaging me and Mr. Michaels across from us about a thesis he’s writing. He is definitely testing my ability to look vaguely interested while still keeping an eye on Goddess Meg across to my left. It seems every time I murmur approvingly and buy myself a five second window, I manage to catch her glancing back at me. I need to figure this out; the iron is most certainly hot right now and I have to make my move before we leave. Mr. Michaels is my saving grace as he continues to interact with Cromwell and allow me time to replay in my mind the conversation Meg and I had at the bar. Surely there’s some intel to be gleaned from it.

Actually, we didn’t cover much at all. It gave me the opportunity to really soak in the shape of that ass. The upside-down heart shape has always been my weakness and hers is so plump and delicious. If that’s what it looks like when she’s standing up, I can only imagine what it would have looked like to have her bend over at the waist on that bar stool she was leaning on. I can’t help but bite my lips as I think about grabbing her by the hips and gently squeezing my thumbs into the meaty part of her ass as she looks back at me beckoning with her eyes. She’s got to leave those heels on, too. That is one hell of a pleasant thought right now. Wait, was she watching the Tuesday night football highlight show when I walked up? She did say she’d rather watch that than chat with Father Time over there. She was probably just watching it to kill time while they made her drink...which was a scotch, I’m pretty sure. Yeah, the barkeep poured our drinks from the same bottle. Okay, that’s a little something.

Satisfied that I scoured as much useful data from that memory as I possibly could, I shift my shoulders and attention towards Cromwell so I can finally participate in this conversation and not look too interested in Meg. Catching up to where they are, I realize that they’ve been discussing methods for humanely shearing sheep and some sort of controversy over the issue in Australia. It’s not exactly the kind of thing that normal people would discuss over a meal, but we’re dealing with a bunch of science nerds here. The topic actually does interest me a bit, however. I fix my lips to chime in with a tidbit from a related article I recently read when my leg is jolted by the buzz of my cell phone in my pocket. I whip out my phone under the table and check out the screen. It’s a text message from Nick:

**Huuungry eyes** … you two need to get a room already. You’ve got that one in the bag!

Immediately, I lean forward and look at the far right end of the table. Nick is looking right back at me, face smeared with that boyish grin of his. How in the world did I not see him when I scanned the table a few minutes ago? He either really wasn’t looking at me or I simply saw what I wanted to see. I shake my head at him and chuckle, recommitting myself to this sheep conversation with my body language. My brain is right back on Meg, my confidence reinforced by Nick’s astute observation. Self doubt is definitely my worst enemy and it crept in ever-so-slightly when I couldn’t get more out of her at the bar.

“And whenever you’re ready, sir.” The server’s voice almost startles me as he’s already over my left shoulder and placing my bill upright on the table beside my bread dish. Looking around the table, suddenly an active member of my environment again, I see everyone fishing out wallets and billfolds to pay for their meals. Meg has already handed her check back to the server on her side as has almost everyone at that end. Wow, where in the hell was I? I pull out my wallet and beckon the server’s attention, handing over my bank card and the bill. Quickly, I down the last of my alcohol. Conversations are wrapped up, jackets are donned, and most of my colleagues seem to be saying their goodbyes. Professor Chamberlain stands up from the far right end of the table.

“Again,” he starts, even though he’s said nothing to this point, as far as I know or remember, “I want to thank everyone for coming out. Take care of each other and let’s all have a productive semester. Don’t be afraid to ask anyone for help, and don’t feel like you’re going it alone. I hope to see you all back on campus this week.”

Rousing words, Professor, but this means we’re really packing up this show. It’s great, but I still haven’t gotten my card back from the server. I glance at Meg’s side of the table. Everyone has already signed their cards or sorted their cash and they all begin to rise. My eyes connect with Meg once more, and I might be imagining this, but it almost seems like she’s moving in slow motion. Yes, there’s a deliberate slowness to her but nonetheless, she pushes her chair under the table and heads toward the front door. Damn.

“All right, young Chris. Stay out of trouble this year, Sara and I will keep you in our prayers,” Cromwell says as he pats me on the shoulder.

Damn it, server, get back here with my card! Finally, I can see him slow poking around from the door leading to the kitchen area. Any day now, molasses ass! Meg’s probably already in her car. Tonight was a bust. I can’t believe how close I was. The server finally gets to the table where only three other professors and I are still sitting.

“Thank you very much; please come again”, he says with a hospitality smile as he walks away. With service like that, you expect me to come here again?! Quickly, I figure the math for a fifteen percent tip, scribble my signature, and stow my card. Hustle, Chris! I quick-time stride towards the front door, slowing as I reach it so I don’t look like a lunatic as I come flying through the other side. I compose myself and do my patented Joe Cool strut through the door, stepping right into a conversation between a few familiar faces here under the yellow street lights of the parking lot.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” Cromwell asks someone unseen to my right. He’s starting to walk off towards the left of the parking lot alongside Mrs. Davison.

“No, no, I’ve called a cab. It’s fine, but thank you,” replies a voice beside me. Swinging around to my right, I realize I’m practically face-to-face with the goddess herself and the beauty rattles me for a moment. Regaining my drive and catching a deep breath, I shout to Mr. Cromwell over my shoulder, “I’ll make sure she gets home, guys,” without ever fully releasing my hunter’s gaze on delectable Meg.

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Mr. Stephens. Mercy me.” Mrs. Davison’s reply is dripping with facetious attitude as she and Mr. Cromwell finally decide to call it a day and head toward their vehicles, but I couldn’t care less. All I can think is that I’m the luckiest son-of-a-biscuit on the planet right now and I fully intend to make the most of this chance. Something tells me I can roll the dice and make a few assumptions with Meg, starting now.

“You don’t actually have a cab coming, do you?” I half ask, half state with one eyebrow c****d and a smile on my face.

Returning my smile with almost a twinkle in her eyes, Meg looks caught unaware and runs her fingers through her hair, quasi-adjusting it.” Oh, of course, I....Okay, no, I don’t.” She laughs quietly at herself and probably my audacity, I’m sure.

“Great. You wanna head back in and catch the end of the highlights over some scotch? One and done, I promise. I don’t bite.”

“Um....Okay, sure. Why not?”

I love when they try to go with the noncommittal acceptance. All of her nonverbal cues are telling me to go full speed ahead and she doesn’t even realize it. Turning around, I push the door open and motion her inside. We make our way towards a booth on the left side of the bar with a perfect view of a television monitor behind our booth. I offer her the inside position facing the monitor and surprise her by sitting next to her instead of across from her.

“What, you thought I was lying, didn’t you?” I say. “I really want to see some highlights here...and maybe enjoy some good company for a minute.” Undoing my blazer button, I gauge her facial response. So far, so good. The volume of the music in the bar is higher than it was in the dining room, but I’ll be able to hear Meg as long as I stay close and maybe read her lips every now and again.

“Oh no no no, I totally believed you,” she says without missing a beat, putting extra emphasis on “totally.” This is going to be a good night.

“Mrs. Davison did tell me that I should watch out for you, though. What would make her put that kind of disclaimer on you, Chris?”

Damn. She went straight for the kill shot. The bartender working the floor walks up to our table to take our order, buying me a little bit of time to sort out this one. After ordering a pair of scotches with soda, I turn my undivided attention back to Meg.

“Mrs. Davison lives vicariously through other people. Her glory days are long behind her. She sees a good looking girl like yourself and thinks, rightfully, that you could probably land anyone you wanted; you have your pick of the litter. She used reverse psychology to make you more interested in me than you normally would have been and frankly, I’m a little surprised that as a psychology professor, you didn’t see that coming.” Whew. That was epic. Grinning, I decide to give myself an invisible pat on the back for a job well done. She belts out a hearty, sexy laugh. Mission accomplished and disaster averted.

“Wow, so you really are a full of yourself and fluent in flattery,” she says. Damn, maybe mission not accomplished. s**t. She continues, “Well, that was cute. It wouldn’t have mattered what she told me. I’m a big girl and I can figure things out for myself. I know a bullshitter when I see one.” s**t, s**t, s**t! “And so far, you seem like a pretty interesting guy to hang out with ‘for a minute,’ as you put it.” Yes, yes yes! I can’t believe the effect she’s having on my confidence tonight, but I’m trying to play it as cool as the other side of the pillow.

“Nice. Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment because I have selective hearing and that’s just how I operate. At any rate, how did you wind up here at Greenville State?” My eagerness to figure this girl out trips me up. Over the years, I have learned to stay away from yes and no questions, favoring more open-ended questioning to allow ladies to talk about themselves. Hopefully she focuses on the former question. She’s smart enough to hold more than one thought in her mind, I know it.