Pygmalion, Part 1 | |
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Meet Beth Peterson - a recent divorcee from Albuquerque. She's an attractive, intelligent, workaholic career woman that is trying to balance a new job and a life of athletics and super-fitness. But Beth is also lonely and does not seem to know the meaning of the word 'relax'. Enter William Henry "Hank" Graham - a wealthy businessman / playboy from Paradise Valley, Arizona. He has surrounded himself with many beautiful women and knows exactly how to relax. But Hank is searching for something beyond the hedonistic lifestyle he has created for himself and others around him. Enjoy our story and the turns it takes when Hank meets Beth and, on a bet, attempts to impose his pleasure-taking existence on her and create his 'ultimate woman'. Author's note: A caution from the start - the story is long. However, there is strong depth of development in all the characters that is essential in making the story credible as well as enjoyable. I hope you bear with me - it was fun creating the concept and fun watching the characters come to life. Enjoy! A final thanks - to SSTORYMAN for his support, guidance and friendship. Should you have any comments, please feel free to respond to azman2k@yahoo.com. The following story is fictional and is provided solely for the enjoyment of its readers. While there are references to actual establishments such as major corporations, smaller companies, restaurants and locations, the characters in the story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to a real person either living or dead is completely coincidental. Several non-fictional characters (celebrities) make brief cameo appearances. Their role is purely fictional and no way linked to their actual lives. This fictional account does contain adult language and themes. If such language and themes offend you, please read no further. This story is copyrighted by AZ-MAN, 2000, all rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce it in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person reproducing it. PYGMALION Part 1 of 10 1. New Horizons "Hurry up Pam, we're going to be late," Beth called from her driver's seat. "I'm coming," she answered cheerfully. "Just a couple more things I need to check inside." It's always just 'a couple more things', Beth muttered softly to herself sitting in her late model Mazda Miata as it idled in front of Bill and Pam's large house. She watched Pam go back through her front door then began to fidget with her sporty but feminine-sized wristwatch. Pam had never been on time for anything in the six years that she'd known her. Finally Pam reappeared. She came bouncing down the tiled walkway from her house fumbling with something in her purse then slid into the passenger seat next to Beth. "There, all set. We can go now." "Honestly, Pam. Sometimes I think you'll be late to your own funeral." "What's the rush? We don't have to be in Phoenix at any set time, do we?" Pam asked, still smiling brushing wisps of hair from her face. "I'd just like to get there sometime before dark. It's eight hours you know," Beth stated as if Pam were unaware of their destination. "Relax. This'll be an adventure." She tried to offer Beth a soothing smile. "More for me than you," Beth snapped. Then she realized that maybe she was sounding a little tense. "I'm sorry. Did I mention that I really do appreciate your coming along with me?" "Yes. About a thousand times already." Both women laughed in unison as Pam put her hand on Beth's thigh in a comforting, reassuring gesture. Beth Peterson and Pam Ostrand had been close friends the entire time that Beth and her husband Wayne lived in Albuquerque. Now their friendship was going to be tested by a long distance relationship as Beth moved to Scottsdale, Arizona in the wake of a bitter, drawn out divorce from husband Wayne. Pam had been very supportive of Beth during the messy proceedings and had agreed to accompany her on her drive to Arizona then fly back home the next day. Both Beth and Pam were in their late twenties and had married men now in their early forties. They also had the commonality of being second wives to their husbands - trophy wives as they sometimes sarcastically put it. They lived near each other in the exclusive Sandia Heights area of Albuquerque for six years and had gotten acquainted at their husbands' country club. They played tennis together, jogged together, went to aerobics class together and even entered some local 10K races together. They were both competitive, outgoing extroverts obsessed with staying in shape yet Pam had always teased Beth about being too driven, too competitive and too tense for her own good. The usual exchange would go: Pam: "You're too intense." Beth: "I can't help it. It's just the way I am." Pam: "Relax, have a drink." Beth: "Are you kidding? The calories in alcohol are just awful. I've been down that road before." Pam: "You have too much stress going. Just relax." Beth: "I am relaxed." Pam: "Yeah, right...." It would always end in the usual stalemate and neither would touch the subject for another month unless Beth had another one of her little fits or anxiety attacks. Pam was always tempted to tell Beth that this was probably the primary reason for her marital debacle but, out of loyalty and friendship, she held her tongue. They were now about an hour into the drive and passing through endless miles of empty high desert that typified western New Mexico along this part of Interstate 40. Their cute, sporty red Miata was attracting many of the truckers' attention along this route. The drivers would leer down from their high cabs when they became aware of the two model-gorgeous blond occupants in the car speeding past them doing at least 75. Beth yawned and pushed her sunglasses up above her forehead. "You know, I'll be glad to drive anytime you'd like," interjected Pam to her pretty traveling companion. Beth appeared lost in thought. "Huh? What?" Pam repeated herself. "Oh, no thanks. I'd like to at least make Flagstaff before we stop." "You sure? You look like you need a rest." "Really Pam, I'm fine. Just thinking, I guess." "You're nervous," Pam guessed. "I can always tell when you chew on your lower lip that way." There was a pause before Beth answered. "What do you think? Of course I'm nervous. I'm scared stiff. I've got to close on my new condo tomorrow, start living in a strange city all by myself and begin a brand new job on Tuesday. Christ. I haven't really seriously worked since college." Another pause, then, "How can you ask such a question?" Their long friendship was capable of sustaining Beth's harsh response. There had been countless outbursts like this between the women during the divorce. Pam just rolled with it and offered a simple yet non-condescending smile. However, the car remained quiet until they agreed on where to turn off for lunch. 2. Smoking or Non? Beth was amazed. Well, shocked was more the operative word as she observed her best friend exhale a smooth, even stream of cigarette smoke away from their table. Pam was aware of Beth's unusual staring but followed up with a second puff on her cigarette nonetheless. At the moment, it simply tasted too good to stop. They were sitting in the smoking section (at Pam's insistence) at the Chili's restaurant on the outskirts of Flagstaff and had just ordered their food. Beth had heard from Pam's husband Bill that she had started smoking recently. Pam even confirmed it over the telephone one day but Beth couldn't believe it until she actually observed Pam doing it at this close distance. It just looked so odd to see smoke flowing from her pretty lips. Beth smiled and shook her head. "I can't believe it," she spoke softly. "What?" Pam replied, knowing full well what Beth was referring to. "This is unbelievably surreal - that is, seeing you smoking." Pam took a long third pull on her cigarette and practically yawned as she inhaled. "Yeah, well, it's out in the open now." This time she directed her bountiful exhale a bit closer to Beth. The two women never really had a chance to openly discuss Pam's smoking because she'd only made it known publicly several weeks ago. "I didn't think anyone just started smoking these days," commented Beth. What's Bill say about all this?" Beth herself was mildly annoyed by the recent development and imagined Bill would be too. "Oh, this isn't my first time experimenting with smoking. I was probably good and addicted before Bill and I met, even before I got married," said Pam as she alternated sucking on her soft drink straw and her full-flavor menthol cigarette. "I didn't know you smoked before." Beth was surprised that this fact hadn't surfaced sooner. The two women had been so close during their friendship, she surmised that she knew everything about Pam's past. Plus, given the recent health-kick regime they'd been following, guessing that Pam had ever smoked would've been the farthest thing from her mind. Hell, only two years ago they had both competed as age-groupers in a triathlon out in San Diego. "Yeah, I used to - off and on. I'll tell you something though, something that surprised even me." "I'm listening," offered Beth. Pam leaned forward and lowered her voice as if she were offering Beth a secret. "It was so easy to go back. Almost too easy. That's why when I started messing around with it again, I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it for long. Not that I really planned to hide it," she said while letting out another huge volume of smoke that was quickly becoming her trademark. Beth again shook her head in amazement. "I still want to know what Bill says about this." Pam thought for a moment as she savored some residual smoke resting inside her. Rather than give Beth the full version, as she told herself she would sometime later, she simply offered, "Oh Bill's cool with it. He smokes his cigars from the time he steps on, 'til the time he steps off the golf course - and other times too. No, he's," she hesitated, "he's really fine with it." Lunch came and went and Beth had to wait while Pam decided to smoke one more cigarette before resuming the drive down the mountain from Flagstaff and into the Valley of the Sun. As Beth sat and marveled at the accomplished smoker across from her, she was feeling a weird sense of betrayal. First, for not knowing about Pam's semi-secret habit in the first place and now having to sit and watch her without the slightest inclination to smoke herself. Pam noted Beth staring again. "You want to join me or something?" "God, no," Beth immediately responded. "Are you sure? You know, you should try it. It's a great way to help keep the weight off. It works a lot better than those diet pills." Pam knew she was pandering to Beth's obsession with keeping her perfect size six. Beth just shook her head. "Come on. Just try it," Pam coaxed. "Never." "Okay. Your loss." Pam took one last puff before the two young blondes rose to leave the restaurant. They made one final stop at a highway rest area before making Phoenix by 3:30 in the afternoon. Beth was stunned by the furnace heat that hit her in the face as she climbed out of the air-conditioned car and headed for the restroom. When she returned, Pam was leaning up against the red Miata greedily inhaling smoke from her quickly waning cigarette and mindlessly releasing it into the hot ambient air. A mild breeze was stirring and sending it Beth's way. How could she be so stupid as to start smoking (again), Beth wondered? Isn't she the least bit concerned about her health? As she got closer, she saw Pam was closing her eyes and smiling to herself after each exhale. Beth summarily answered her own question: apparently not. "You're not planning on smoking in the hotel room, are you?" asked Beth in a terse, almost confrontational tone when she got back to the car. Pam dropped her cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. "No, I wasn't planning on it." She courteously made sure to push all of her smoke out of her body before Beth popped the door locks. "Good." They both got inside the now unmercifully hot car and headed towards the freeway onramp with the air-conditioning going full blast. Beth's mind was racing. These last few hours had been very hard on her. She again was experiencing a betrayal of sorts by her close friend and couldn't understand why. She knew it was the smoking but from a rational point of view, Pam's smoking (or not smoking) should have nothing to do with this feeling. However, Beth also knew that this was the only reason she was feeling betrayed. Things were quickly getting very confusing. It was like putting in all these long hours with Pam working out at the gym or in the pool or on the jogging paths was for nothing. It was all a sham. It was as if Pam was making a giant mockery out of their many years of workout sessions simply by leaning up against the car and inhaling puff after puff on her long, white 100-millimeter cigarette. Finally, Beth decided to ask, "Are you going to continue working out? You know, after I'm gone?" "Sure. Why not?" came Pam's response. "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes when people are apart or when people change, they forget their routine. They stop doing what they might need to do or what they should do or...you know." Beth was intentionally trying to sound vague but Pam was having none of it. "What? Because I smoke now, I'm going to change entirely who I used to be?" Beth stared straight out at the road in front of her. "Something like that." "Beth, I don't think you're qualified to even guess that's what'll happen. Especially since you've never smoked," Pam said sternly. The car was quiet for several minutes. Then Beth turned to Pam with a look of feminine sincerity and offered, "I just don't get it. I feel confused and hurt by this." Pam looked back and raised an eyebrow. "Hurt?" "Yes, goddamn it." A couple of tears were showing on Beth's cheeks. "I do feel hurt. Here I am, having just gone through a terrible divorce, getting ready to take the biggest step of my life tomorrow and now having to deal with a sudden, what I feel, very major change in my best friend. And if that isn't enough, I've got to be prepared to say goodbye to her tomorrow for God knows how long. And I won't know a soul in Phoenix and the last picture I'll remember you by is leaning next to my car in some rest area in Arizona blowing smoke out of your mouth. It just doesn't fit at all. It just doesn't make any sense to me." More tears were falling, rolling down her face onto her blouse. Pam was mildly taken aback by this revelation. She recognized that poor Beth was experiencing some natural fear brought on by her relocation and upcoming new job but seemed to be using the smoking thing as an excuse to show it. Pam reached across the console and smiled as she dabbed Beth's tears with a tissue. Beth took the tissue and continued to wipe. Softly she ventured, "I'm sorry. I know. I'm probably making no sense. I admit, I don't understand it all and I definitely don't understand your wanting to smoke again." "Nor do I," Pam lied, then offered up an imitation smile. 3. The Heat Is On When they arrived in the Phoenix metro area, it was 105 degrees in the shade. And the locals they had spoken to in the coffee shop at the Sky Harbor Airport the next day seemed to think it was cool for late June. What have I gotten myself into? Beth asked herself, wiping perspiration from her brow in the open airport parking lot. Beth thought Pam had behaved admirably concerning her smoking during the overnight stay. With the exception of just one cigarette in the coffee shop before her departure back to Albuquerque, Pam hadn't smoked since the freeway rest stop the day before. Still, Beth winced as she hugged her longtime companion at the departure gate and smelled the trace of smoke on her breath. But soon they were both dabbing their eyes and crying, making promises to visit one another over the Labor Day weekend. Then Pam made the walk towards the jetway and waved one final goodbye. Despite the tearful departure and the fact she wouldn't see her friend for more than two months, a trace of optimism greeted Beth as she started her car and headed back toward the hotel where she would be staying through the weekend. She had closed on her condo in Scottsdale earlier this morning and the movers were scheduled to show up first thing Monday. Her new job at Motorola would begin on Tuesday. Everything seemed shipshape. Now, if only it weren't 100 degrees outside, she could go for an evening run. That would be a nice way to round out what had been a very long Friday. By the time Sunday night rolled around, Beth felt she was silently going stir-crazy. It had been a most miserable weekend. She spent Friday night mindlessly staring at the TV when she learned that evening on the Weather Channel that Phoenix was going to be seeing "near record temperatures" on Saturday and Sunday. She had started a late Saturday morning run along an irrigation canal near the hotel when, after about a half-mile along the unshaded path, she knew she wouldn't be able to continue. Beth went back to her room, confirmed that her air-conditioner was turned up full and just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling the rest of the day. The weatherman was true to his word as the mercury rose to a record 123 degrees at 3:55 PM. It was so hot on Saturday that airplanes at Sky Harbor were prohibited from taking off because their manuals said the temperature was never expected to go that high. Sunday's heat offered little relief over Saturday even though the official temperature at the airport 'only' reached 117. What in Christ's name am I doing here? Beth wondered aloud. This place is hell on earth. She was lonely and decided to spend most of Sunday talking on the telephone. She called her parents in California and learned that it was 65 degrees in San Francisco - the place she used to call home. Then she called her sister and finally, she couldn't resist, she called Pam. They had a bizarre talk. "So what've you been up to? Hit any of the trendy bars yet?" Pam knew the answer. "Are you kidding? It's so hot outside, I don't dare leave this hotel room." "Oh, come on, Beth. I'm sure not everyone was inside today. The locals have to deal with it every summer. Life goes on. You know...it's just like Minneapolis in the winter. You just bundle up and go ice fishing or something." "Sure. In Minneapolis you can always find more clothes to put on. Here, you can only take off so much 'til you're naked." Pam laughed. "See. There's your solution. And I'm sure it'll be a great way to meet people too." Beth failed to see the humor. "I already hate it. I wish I never moved here. I'm a prisoner in this goddamn room. I can't go running, I can't bike or go walking or..." She thought she heard Pam on the other end talking to someone. "Pam? Are you there? Hello?" "Oh yeah. Sorry. I was talking to Bill. He's all sexed up right now." Beth heard Pam start to giggle then say, "Nooo. Get away, not now." Then more giggling and more apologizing to Beth. "He's trying to nibble on my ear....no, down boy," she heard Pam say. Their private banter was annoying Beth and making her just a little jealous. "Pam, you want to just call me back?" she asked. She was tempted to add, "...after you two have fucked?" "No, no, no. I'm sorry. He's gone now," Pam laughed. "So, where were we?" "You were giving dog commands to your husband," Beth deadpanned. Pam laughed again then lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "You know Beth, I'm not sure you want to hear this, what with your dour mood and all, but lately Bill's been a complete sex animal. All he wants to do is mess around. Six months ago we'd probably do it once every other week. Now he wants it almost twice a day." Beth was growing interested. Both women had always been fairly free in sharing information about each other's sex lives at home. It was always interesting comparing notes. "That sounds drastic. Why the change? He's not going through some sort of mid-life crisis, is he?" "I don't know." Pam lowered her voice softer still. "But you want to hear something really weird?" Pam's whispering further intrigued Beth. "Sure. I guess." "I think he gets off watching me smoke." "What?" "No kidding. I think he likes watching me smoke. It turns him on or something." Beth was having trouble associating the two acts. She wasn't even sure she understood Pam. "What are you saying? That he's horny because you smoke?" "Something like that. Listen, you want me to tell you about last night?" Pam asked, sounding eager to tell yet nervous at the same time. "That depends." Beth was also dubious that they should continue down this avenue. But just then Pam decided to blurt it out in one quick sentence: "We did it in bed last night while I smoked for him." "Oh God, Pam," Beth reacted. "Why'd you tell me that?" she asked, sounding embarrassed and almost fearful of what would follow. "I know. I know. It is so weird. I don't even understand it yet. The thing was, he was as hard and big as I've ever felt him. I practically came instantly." "All the while laying there and smoking?" "Yes." "Did you enjoy it? The smoking I mean, while having sex? She thought for a moment. "I think so. I mean, yes." "Yes?!" "Yes. It was a titillating combination." "God, this sounds so strange Pam. Do you think you'll ever do it that way again?" "Probably. I'm not sure. That's why he came in a few minutes ago. I had just lit a cigarette when I sat down to talk to you. Beth thought about things for awhile then said, "Pam, I don't know what to tell you but if you ask me, it sounds pretty damn bizarre. Maybe Bill needs help, counseling perhaps." "You think so?" Pam replied, truly asking. "I don't know." Beth continued, "Have you guys discussed this little fetish of his?" "Fetish?" "Yeah. Sexual attraction to an inanimate object. Fetish." Pam laughed for the first time since bringing up the topic. "Oh, I don't know, Beth. Right now the sex we are having is pleasing us both. I don't think there's anything wrong with it or that Bill may need help. Why bring it up?" Beth felt she was thinking clearly now. "Because, it sounds pretty damn psychotic to me," she said sounding pissed off. "We should probably just drop the whole thing," Pam suggested after hearing the tone of Beth's voice. "You're right, we probably should." "Okay, goodnight then. Call me again sometime?" Pam asked, regretting bringing up her little story. "Sure. Goodnight." Beth hung up. Strange. Strange, strange, strange. That's all Beth could think after getting off the phone with Pam. Imagine...having sex twice a day. And doing it while you smoke. What the hell's gotten into that couple? She was still upset that her best friend had started smoking in the first place. But the truth was, Beth was jealous. Despite the odd-sounding ritual that Pam described, Beth was envious of Pam gaining her man's attention and getting to have sex more regularly. By the time she and Wayne had gotten up the nerve to finally separate, the frequency of their sex had dwindled to maybe once a month before it stopped altogether. Beth went to sleep in her hotel bed on this Sunday night amidst a sea of tumultuous emotions and anxiety. She was very tempted to call Pam back as she switched out the light but before she knew it, she was making imaginary lists in her mind containing a multitude of instructions and reminders of what she needed to cover over the next two days. It was time to focus on the move into her condo, her new job and then finding a place to work out. All this talk about sex and whatever would have to wait. Order and control first, pleasure later on. That's my motto, she reminded herself before she dozed off. However, Beth Peterson's trouble had always been in finding the elusive pleasure later on. |
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