The following day, after that incredible night at the Starlight club, I dragged Tom to Mrs. Johansson's Malibu beach house where we measured the place for new blinds and curtains. Tom was still upset about last night so needless to say he was useless as he moped around the house thinking about Julie while I took every opportunity to stare at Mrs. Johansson's incredible body. She never missed a chance to flaunt her abundant cleavage or her shapely calves. I would return the favor by smiling back with an inviting grin as my body ached with anticipation for what would be awaiting me when we were done. I had to distract my mind from thinking about Betty. As you're probably wondering, I did indeed sell Mrs. Johansson the most expensive fabrics in Big Al's inventory.

Afterwards Tom waited outside in the car while I gave Mrs. Johansson some extra services, at no additional charge. The way she looked at me after we were done was payment enough. Messy hair, happy eyes with that look of satisfaction that said "damn, I needed that". Mrs. Johansson always ended our time together by biting her lower lip; one of the sexiest things a woman could ever do. I wondered if I there were things I did every time I was with a woman. I wouldn't know because no one ever told me.

I never felt any guilt for providing those extra services. Mrs. Johansson was happy, which meant that Mr. Johansson was happy, which in turn meant that Big Al was happy and when Big Al was happy, I was happy. At least that's how I justified it to Tom. And after all, making Big Al's clients happy is how I got my car.

When I got back to the car Tom was visibly angry, his teeth still clenched from the night before only this time the anger was due to waiting so long while I was, well, you know. It's not that Tom was jealous about me and Mrs. Johansson; he never even glanced at her except when he gave her the invoice. It was because I was able to get women so easily while he was reduced to waiting in the car like a chauffeur, not that I would ever let him drive.

Later that afternoon I called Betty. First Mrs. Johansson, then Betty; sleeping with both of them in the same day would make any man jealous. It would also be the greatest day of my life. If only.

"Hi Betty, it's Adam."

"Who" ? she asked playfully.

"I'm the handsome and charming gentleman from last night."

"Sorry, but that description doesn't ring a bell. What was that name again?"

She was good at this. For a brief moment I actually believed she didn't remember me.

"It's Adam. I stole your seat at the bar. "

"I think you might have the wrong number," she replied.

My heart stopped. All of the anticipation that I had built up in my mind was for nothing. Betty wasn't interested and this was her way of telling me.

I paused. No, she must have remembered me. I'm Adam Baker. Only I wasn't really certain of anything right now. Part of me wanted go home and cry like a two year old who just found out that his mother had thrown away his favourite blanket. What's going on with me? This isn't who I am. The great Adam Baker reduced to tears by a woman he had only met briefly at a bar.

"Hello" ? Betty broke the uncomfortable silence. "I hope you find who you're looking for."

I decided to give this one more try, praying that Betty was simply better at these games than I was. It had to be a game. It just had to be. Besides, Adam Baker doesn't give up.

"It's too bad you don't remember me. I was calling to invite you to dinner at the best restaurant on the strip followed by something very special."

"I told you Adam, I'm not sleeping with you so save your something special for someone else."

So she was just playing with me. I breathed easier. Betty had complete control over me. I gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

"You have me all wrong," I replied. Actually she was right. "Since when is it a crime to invite a beautiful woman to a round of mini-golf under the stars."

"I love mini-golf," she replied, "but I'm sure that isn't what you had in mind."

"Of course it is. I figured that if I win then..."

"I'll stop you right there," she interjected, "because if you finish that sentence the date's off."

One thought crossed my mind. If Betty knew what I wanted then why would she agree to go out with me, unless she wanted the same thing as well. Betty was obviously just teasing me and worst of all she seemed completely impervious to my charms.

I found that playful banter was the easiest way to find out if a girl was easy or not. Betty was definitely not. So much for a two for one. Mrs. Johansson would have to suffice.

Betty refused to let me pick her up. Instead she insisted we meet at the restaurant. She got out of the car legs first, slowly dangling her toes in the air as she left the front seat. She stood up on the sidewalk, then waved to the driver as he sped away. Betty was now mine for the evening.

I went in to give her a little kiss on her lips but was politely pushed back as she gave me a gentle hug instead while leaving a bit of space between our bodies.

"You look absolutely beautiful ," I said to Betty as I gave her an orchid. I spent an hour at the florist asking the meaning of every flower. The orchid, it turned out, stood for admiration of beauty; perfect for how I felt about Betty. She slid it though her hair. My heart skipped a beat.

Betty and I walked into the restaurant to stares of all the patrons. She was ravishing with a confidence about her that made people naturally want to look and admire her physical perfection. She wasn't flirty or inappropriate, no not at all. If anything she radiated class and sweetness. Her eyes however gave off a hint of sadness that didn't quite fit with the rest of her.

"You must hear this question quite often," I began, "but did you ever model?"

"Adam, you don't have to flatter me. I'm here."

"I wasn't trying to flatter you. You don't need me to tell you how incredibly gorgeous you are. When a woman is as beautiful as you she knows it no matter how often she pretends she doesn't."

"Ok Adam, I'll answer as long as you promise to stop this ."

"I promise never to tell you how great you look again. I'll still think it but you'll never hear another compliment from me."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she replied as she gently touched my arm. For just a moment I swear I stopped breathing. Her touch paralyzed me.

"Modeling was my mother's idea," she continued. "She felt it would be good for my confidence. When I turned 16 my father made me stop because all of the contract offers I ever got were for modeling bathing suits or underwear. That did not sit well with him."

"I can see why. Teenage boys are horrible," I explained. "Guys would have had your picture up in every locker in school."

"You wouldn't have, right Adam?" she asked playfully.

If I ever thought that I was for even for one second in control of the evening, this was the moment when I knew I wasn't, and that I never would be. I was completely and utterly taken by her charms.

"Who drove you here," I asked.

"That was my father. He's coming back to get me in two hours, so you'll have to wait until our next date for me to beat you silly at mini golf."

Our next date; those three little words made my pulse race so quickly that I had to stop and ask myself what the hell was going on here. I thought very seriously about never seeing Betty again after tonight because being rejected by her would be unbearable. I was officially lost, and very, very scared. In the end I had no control over the situation. I would see Betty whenever and wherever she wanted. I was hers to be played with.

Once I had accepted my fate I relaxed and felt like I could be the Adam Baker she had met at the Starlight club. The next two hours passed in what seemed like a few minutes. We talked, laughed, and simply enjoyed each other. I was falling for her, fully and completely.

I tried to keep my emotions in check so I avoided going out with Betty too often hoping that it would somehow make her want me more. Who was I kidding? The choice would always be Betty's. She could literally walk into a room and decide to be with whomever she wanted. I don't care if the guy preferred men or was married to a supermodel, she could have them without any effort at all. There was nothing I could do to make her want me more. In reality I was probably avoiding spending too much time with her to keep myself from becoming a little puppy; the great Adam Baker reduced to a lap dog.

We went out a few more times during the summer, and like she had promised, we never slept together. But still, she was hot, and we always had fun. We even made it out for a round of mini golf. She kicked my butt although I pretended we weren't keeping score. The honest truth is that it was her beauty that caused my ineptitude. Every time I looked at her, especially into her eyes, my next words would be incomprehensible. Betty would just laugh and call me cute. So naturally I had to distract myself when I wasn't with her.

The rest of the summer was fairly uneventful. Tom and Julie stayed friends, exactly as they had been before, although I don't feel that Tom ever truly forgave me; Thinking back on it, that's probably because I never apologized to him. The next major event I suppose happened around Thanksgiving when Betty invited me to her grandparents' house.