Pygmalion, Part 2

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. 

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. 



PYGMALION 
Part 2 of 10 


4. Welcome to "Snots-dale," Arizona 

The condominium complex near McCormick Ranch looked different to Beth as 
she approached through one of its gates and turned into the parking lot. At 
first, she thought she'd made a mistake in the address. She'd only been 
here once before when she agreed to purchase the unit and that was almost 
two months ago. Her divorce lawyer had his people help her with the 
realtor, the new mortgage and the closing inspection so there was no need 
to show up until the day her furniture arrived. It was all part of the 
service from the firm she'd hired to negotiate the best and biggest, most 
hassle-free (if there was such a thing) settlement from her adulterous, 
jerk ex-husband J. Wayne Peterson III. 

Finally, Beth spotted a familiar landmark. Her unit, she remembered was 
near the lighted, and now-deserted tennis courts. She pulled her Miata into 
one of the covered visitor parking spots and was nearly knocked down by the 
heat blast that greeted her as she climbed out of the tiny car. It was only 
10:30 in the morning and some smart-ass disk jockey on the car radio had 
already reminded her that the temperature had crossed the century mark on 
it's way to high of 112. She wondered how the movers were going to work in 
this heat. Then it hit her. Just where are the movers? She hadn't seen 
their truck. Weren't they supposed to be here at 10? Beth cursed to herself 
as she fished around for the Mayflower paperwork then dialed their number 
on her cell phone. 

After almost 10 minutes on hold, Beth had to get back into her car and 
start the engine just to get the air-conditioning going. Sweat was pouring 
down her face and back, soaking her lightweight athletic clothing. As she 
sat in the driver's seat holding the phone to her ear and re-directing a 
stream of cool air from the car's vent, she noticed in the rearview mirror 
what looked like a golf cart pull up behind her. The writing on the side 
said 'McCormick Ranch Village' and it looked like a man in his mid to 
late-sixties was getting out and ambling to her side of the car. When he 
was standing next to her, she lowered her window just a crack. 

"'Morning," spoke the man. 

"Good morning," replied Beth, somewhat suspicious of what might follow. 

"Are you here to visit one of the residents?" he asked. 

Beth noticed he was wearing some kind of quasi-cop uniform, then she 
smiled. "Uh, no. Actually, I am one of the residents. I'm moving in today." 

"Well, in that case, ma'am, you need to have a resident's sticker for your 
car. And I can't let you park in this space." 

"Oh, Jesus, what now...?" Beth muttered to herself. Then she looked back up 
at this aging security guard and asked, "Okay. Where do I park then?" 

"In your garage. All resident's are required to park their cars in their 
garage." 

"Well, I can't open my garage just yet. My door opener is in my condo and 
I'm still waiting for the key." Beth looked at her watch and wondered where 
her damn realtor was? Why is everyone late? 

"Ma'am, either you're going to have to open your garage somehow and park 
there or I'm going to have to ask you to park your car back out on 
Scottsdale Road and wait for you movers outside the complex." 

Beth was beginning to get a little more than flustered. "How am I supposed 
to wait for my movers when I can't even see when they arrive? I own 
property here! You can't make me park in the street." 

"Ma'am, these spots are for our guests. The complex can't....." 

Beth jumped from her car and cut him off. She was now standing in front of 
him looking down from her 5' 9" frame. "Listen you little rent-a-cop 
wannabe that drives a beat up golf cart. I don't know what kind of power 
trip you think you're on but I've got news for you. Until I get my keys to 
open up my garage, I'm parking here. I don't care if you threaten me, give 
me a ticket or just goddamn shoot me on the spot. I'm staying right here 
until a big yellow Mayflower truck pulls through that gate with my 
furniture on it! 

The geriatric jimmy-legs seemed mildly confused by this outbreak. He had 
treated her professionally but didn't believe her story. He had never seen 
a resident quite this young. Certainly she had to be lying. Just as he was 
about to say something, a short, very well dressed man about 40 years old, 
wearing expensive shorts, white polo shirt and Rockport loafers stepped out 
from behind a low wall adjacent to the tennis court. 

He smiled at the guard. "Is there a problem here, Carl?" 

Beth's back was to the man and she gasped and jumped at the sound of his 
voice. "Good God! You scared the shit, uh, you scared me. I'm sorry. Who 
are you?" Beth was now completely befuddled. 

The man extended his right hand and smiled genially. "Douglas Duritz, 
ma'am," he said in a snappy, mock comic fashion. "Philosopher, teacher, 
handyman, perpetual graduate student, chief bottle washer and all-around 
good guy, at your service." 

Beth smiled. She half expected him to hand her his business card. As she 
shook his hand, she noticed that it was small and cool despite the 
100-degree heat outside. And every hair on his head was plastered in place. 
This guy was the epitome of meticulousness. "Nice to meet you Doug, err, 
Douglas. I'm Beth Peterson and I'm moving in today. It seems this gentleman 
here either doesn't believe me or just likes being a prick." 

"Carl? A prick? Certainly not!" Then Douglas lowered his voice and moved 
closer to Beth. "Will you walk with me for a moment, Beth? Oh, may I call 
you Beth?" 

She nodded. Beth was still tense from her little skirmish with Carl but was 
oddly curious about the appearance of Douglas. He certainly didn't seem 
threatening so she walked. 

They headed away from Carl-the-rent-a-cop and towards the tennis court. 
Douglas was walking unusually close to Beth and talking in a soft, low 
voice. "Don't let him bother you. He's a little gruff but he's got a good 
heart. He's had a tough go at life." 

Because of Douglas's manner, Beth also lowered her voice and stayed close 
to him as they walked. She felt strange. It was like talking to one of her 
girlfriends. "You know that guy? I mean as a friend?" 

"That depends what you mean by friend," Douglas smiled. 

"Does he live here?" 

"Yes." Douglas paused. "Forget about Carl for a moment, Beth. You say 
you're moving in today? Here?" 

"Yes. Why doesn't anyone believe me? I was here a few months ago to sign 
the contract and closed last Friday. My movers would be here right now if 
they weren't late." Beth nervously looked at her watch. 

"I believe you," spoke Douglas. He shook has head and let out a respectful 
whistle. "So, it looks like you're the first. Well, first after me that is. 
I'm technically the first." 

"First in what?" Beth asked, sensing something was amiss. 

"You really don't know, do you?" 

Beth raised her voice for the first time in Douglas's presence. "Christ! 
Will you just tell me? I feel like I'm in for a big surprise or something." 

"Okay, Beth. By the way, where are you from?" 

"Albuquerque." 

"Okay, Beth-from-Albuquerque. You and I are it. We are the only ones living 
in McCormick Ranch Village below the age of 55. They just lowered the 
minimum from 55 to 18, so it's still an adult community but not a 
retirement community. Did your realtor clue you in on this little fact? 

"No. Well, I didn't have a realtor in the traditional sense. But no, I 
wasn't aware that this is a retirement community." 

"Was, Beth. Was," reminded Douglas. 

"Well, I guess I don't really care. I'm not planning on spending much time 
here anyway." 

"Oh. You a fast-moving career woman?" Douglas asked, sounding impressed 
with his pretty new acquaintance. 

"I'm starting work for Motorola tomorrow. We'll see about the fast-moving 
part. But I am the type that likes to immerse myself in my work. Classic 
Type-A all around, I guess." 

"Uh huh," uttered Douglas, accentuating the word huh. 

"What?" 

"Oh, nothing." Douglas tilted his head and smiled. "Tell me Beth, are you 
recently divorced?" 

"Yes. How'd you guess?" 

"Uh huh." Again the accent on huh. 

"What? What are you doing?" Beth was smiling back at the small man but was 
mildly disconcerted. 

Douglas put his arm around her in a friendly, soothing manner. His gesture 
didn't seem to bother her. "Relax Beth. I just like people. I like to get 
to know them. You could call it my hobby. I like to try to understand 
them." 

"What are you - a shrink or something?" 

Douglas laughed. "Oh no. Like I said, it's just a hobby. I have some 
friends. We all like to do it. You should meet them sometime." 

Beth grinned nervously and compressed her face feigning a mild defense. 
"Not on your life. The last thing I need right now is a group diagnosis of 
what makes me tick. No thank you Douglas Duritz. I'm doing just fine." 

"Oh, it's nothing like that. Think of it as entertainment." 

"Uh huh," said Beth. It was her turn to mock Douglas. 

"No, really. We should continue this conversation sometime soon." 

"Let's just say sometime. Look Douglas, I'd like to stay here and chat but 
it's burning hot outside and I've got to catch up with my movers. Those 
idiots better show up soon or else there's going to be hell to pay." Beth 
reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Before she walked 
away from Douglas and started dialing, she called back, "Nice to meet you." 



After Beth stormed away to deal with the Mayflower Company, Douglas 
practically skipped back to his condo and placed a phone call. 

"Hank, it's Douglas." 

"Dougie! What's going on? Long time, no talk." 

"I think I've got someone for the project that we talked about last month." 

"Project...project...what project?" 

"You know, the one we talked about that night in your Jacuzzi." 

A light bulb finally went on. "Oh, right, right. Yeah. Hmmm. So, you say 
you've found someone? Who is she? This is great. When does she want to come 
over?" 

"Slow down, Hank. I'm still working on her. She doesn't know that she wants 
to come over yet. Give me a little more time. But I think she's perfect. 
Late twenties, gorgeous, single, recently divorced, new to town and get 
this - a perfect Type A, perfect. You should've seen the way she exploded 
at our security guard." 

"Oh Dougie, really? You've got to get her over here. She'll be great. Make 
it happen then give me a call. You'll need to move quickly though. I'm 
going to be in New York next week for the rest of the month. Call me 
though...gotta run." Click went the phone in Douglas's ear. 

Douglas smiled. Hank's right, he thought. She will be great. She'll be 
perfect. 


5. On-the-Job Training 

When Beth walked through the security gate, got badged-in and was escorted 
to the conference room on her first day, she knew she was going to love 
working here. 'Here' was the Motorola Government Communications division in 
Scottsdale. The campus was a large cluster of buildings located near Thomas 
and Hayden Roads and it took Beth forever to find a parking space. But the 
long walk to the guard shack in the heat didn't bother her nor did the 
delay to get checked in. She could feel the excitement, the power, the pure 
business of it all. 

This was going to be Beth's first 'real' job since college. She had done 
some part-time free-lance writing assignments for some local companies in 
Albuquerque - mainly press releases for Intel, Terra Vida and some others. 
She worked out of the home but when she would visit some of these 
facilities in Albuquerque to deliver her work or meet with someone in their 
marketing department, she was envious of all the people there. This is 
where she wanted to work - right in the middle of it all. She imagined 
important meetings to attend, conference calls, customers to meet, travel 
overseas. 

Beth had a huge smile on her face as her new supervisor led her down one of 
the long corridors to her workstation. She could hear phones ringing, 
people talking and scurrying about. This was sooo exciting. Suddenly she 
forgot the hassle with the movers yesterday, the shock that she'd moved 
into a retirement community, the odd run-in with that security guard and 
even the messy remnants of her divorce. She felt at home in this building. 
She was positive, excited and even a little giddy. 



"So, what do you think of this place?" asked Deborah Wiegand. She went by 
Deb and was the efficient, effervescent marketing communications admin 
assistant. Deb supported several managers and Beth was now one of them. She 
was 25 years old and reminded Beth of a Marcia Brady that grew up. She had 
long soft brown hair, a few freckles and seemed to be always be smiling. 

"I love it. I absolutely was cut out for the corporate life, I think." 

Deb had just finished giving Beth a quick tour of the facility and now they 
were slowly walking towards the cafeteria. She started laughing. "No, no. I 
mean Phoenix, silly. You say you just moved here, right?" 

"Oh, Phoenix," Beth pondered. "Hmmm. Well, it's hot. Is it always this hot 
during the summer?" 

"Actually, it's been a mild one so far. That is until last weekend," Deb 
commented. "But you know what they say, right?" 

"Yeah, 'but it's a dry heat'," Beth quickly replied. 

"Right." 

They both laughed knowing that 115 is hot no matter what the humidity. They 
were now inside the cafeteria heading for some double doors. Deb paused 
then spoke, "I need to step outside for a few minutes. The tour's over. 
I'll meet you back in our area. That is, unless you want to join me." 

"Step out there?" Beth gestured at the patio before them. "Why on earth 
would you want to do that?" 

Deb acted slightly embarrassed. She leaned over and almost whispered, "I 
smoke. I need a cigarette." 

Beth tried to not let any disapproval show despite being faced with the 
prospect of now knowing a second smoker. She wanted to continue their 
previous conversation on the business routine so she decided to join Deb on 
the patio. "Well, I don't mind. I'll go outside with you." 

"Great." Deb's slight embarrassment turned back to joy. "You smoke too?" 

"No. Sorry." Beth's 'sorry' sounded anything but genuine. 



Once they stepped outside, Beth was surprised at how nice the patio seemed. 
The large mesquite trees and queen palms provided a soft filtered shade 
from the harsh sun. There were also umbrella-covered tables with chairs and 
a lush green lawn bordering the patio. The air seemed warm but not 
stifling. 

As they sat down, Beth commented, "It's really not too bad out here. Nice 
actually." 

At the moment, Deb couldn't answer. She had just lit her cigarette and was 
pulling hard while reaching down to put her lighter back in her purse. Her 
hands were busy and she double-pumped on her cigarette before she could get 
the lighter stowed. "Yeah, it is nice," Deb uttered with her smoke still 
inside her. She decided to take one more puff before exhaling, then added, 
"They've done a nice job fixing this place up." 

Beth watched as Deb blew her smoke out over several breaths then asked, 
"Fixing what up?" 

"Oh, the patio. It was pretty barren out here until we complained. Motorola 
initially banned smokers from the entire campus. If you wanted to smoke, 
you had to go through the parking lot and across the street. Can you 
believe that?" 

"No." It did seem harsh, even to a non-smoker like Beth. 

"Anyway, people started smoking in their cars in the parking lot and then 
security got involved. They actually started citing people." 

Beth was amazed. "Really?" 

"Yeah. So anyway, management finally rescinded the ban after a lot of 
meetings then realized they had to install provisions for smokers. So they 
did this." Deb waved her arm around then started another long drag on her 
cigarette. 

Beth couldn't help but notice the same contented look on Deb's face during 
her luxurious exhale as she saw on her best friend's face at that rest 
stop. So she asked, "Deb, how long have you been smoking? That is, if you 
don't mind my asking." 

"Not at all. I guess it's been about seven years now. I started on my 18th 
birthday in earnest," Deb spoke between puffs. 

"On your birthday?" Beth was now smiling showing some interest. "Well, the 
reason I ask, uh, what I'm interested in is, have you ever quit or tried to 
quit? I have this friend, my best friend actually, that I never knew smoked 
before I met her. And I've known her six years. Then just last week I find 
out she's started again. And I don't mean just trying it every now and 
then. She admitted to me that she smoked a pack her first day 'off the 
wagon' and has been smoking a pack a day ever since. Does that make sense? 
Is that possible?" 

Deb tipped her head to exhale some smoke away from Beth but maintained eye 
contact. "Well, to answer your first question, yes, I tried to quit once. 
It lasted about three weeks and was during the Motorola smoking ban. 
Anyway, when I finally broke down and decided to 'just try one', I knew I 
was hooked. That cigarette felt and tasted sooo wonderful. After that 
experience, I learned that once you get addicted to these things," Deb 
looked down at her half-smoked cigarette, "you're addicted for life. All it 
takes one cigarette after abstinence to tell you that. I think your friend 
experienced it - even after her six year hiatus." 

All Beth could respond with was, "Hmmm." She was thinking. She wanted to 
ask Deb what she thought about the sex appeal of smoking but knew she 
couldn't. She was still reeling from the conversation she had with Pam 
Sunday night and remained uncomfortable with the strange topic. 

Silence ensued between the women as Deb finished her cigarette in a series 
of three consecutive puffs. As she ground out the remains in the ashtray 
and blew the huge volume of smoke away from Beth, she spoke, "Beth, what do 
you do for fun? Do you like to go out dancing, bar-hopping, stuff like 
that?" Based on their conversation, Deb thought perhaps she'd detected some 
interest by Beth to try smoking. 

Beth laughed. "Far from it. I'm into running. I even compete in some races. 
When I need to relax or de-stress, I go for a run. I'm not really 
interested in trying smoking if that's what you think. Actually, I was 
interested in asking you if you knew of any health clubs in the area." Then 
she added rather condescendingly, "I suppose no chance of that, huh?" 

Deb had just put another fresh cigarette between her pretty lips and 
readied her lighter. It bounced up and down as she talked. "I work out too. 
Why do people that don't smoke think smokers don't go to the gym? I think 
you'd be surprised by how many people you see on those Stair Masters or 
treadmills or in the aerobics classes that smoke." Deb's tone had changed 
after Beth's last remark. She continued, "I go to LA Fitness. There's one 
just up on Scottsdale Road and Motorola employees get a discount." Her 
little speech almost sounded like a 'so there!'. 

Beth picked up on her change in tone. She put her hand on Deb's free hand 
and said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound nosy or snooty. I'm just still 
puzzled by my friend in Albuquerque, Pam's her name by the way...by Pam's 
recent decision to start smoking. It seems more complex than she's letting 
on." 

Deb had just inhaled her first puff from her long, white cigarette. "I 
think the reasons people smoke are complex. I'm learning that more all the 
time myself. If you'd asked me seven years ago why I smoke, I know the 
reasons would have been completely different than what I'd say now." 

"Give me a 'for instance'," Beth interjected. 

"Well, I'd say the first year I smoked was for fun. I could take it or 
leave it. I only craved smoking when I was out with friends. We'd all do it 
at bars or dance clubs and the like. It wasn't till I started working here 
that I took it to the next level. It took about a year of going on smoke 
breaks with the gals before I knew I was addicted. Once I admitted that to 
myself, things changed." 

"Changed? How?" Beth asked, showing more interest. 

"Well, I don't know. I guess this is where we get to the 'complex' part. 
For the first year I smoked, I thought the addiction thing that everyone 
talks about wasn't real or that I was immune. Well, come to find out, I was 
only barely inhaling during that time. As I smoked more, I got much more 
efficient and tolerant of inhaling without really realizing it. Pretty soon 
inhaling was all I wanted to do." Deb took a long pull on her cigarette and 
opened her mouth wide for Beth to see the creamy, swirling smoke then 
quickly sucked it down to her chest. "This," she said, letting the smoke 
rest in her lungs, "is what smoking's all about. It's absolutely sublime." 
Then she giggled. 

Beth didn't get it. "What's so 'complex' about that? You just need the 
nicotine. That's why you inhale and smoke in the first place, right?" 

"Not exactly. I don't smoke just to get nicotine. I enjoy the handling and 
holding." Deb rolled her cigarette between her fingers and thumb as she 
trimmed her ash in the ashtray. "I enjoy that 'heavy' feeling in my lungs 
after I inhale a long puff. I also enjoy exhaling and watching the smoke 
leave my body. No, smoking is more than just getting a drug into my 
bloodstream. It's social, it's sensual and it's seductive - that is, when I 
want it to be. That's what makes smoking 'complex'." 

Beth just gave another, "Hmmm." 

Deb showed her two more creamy inhales followed by one long, lovely exhale 
that persisted through several breaths. 

Beth watched closely then asked, "Did you teach yourself all these, what 
shall I call them, mannerisms?" 

Deb pursed her lips to exhale some residual smoke as she put out her second 
cigarette. "Well...not exactly." She seemed a bit reluctant to keep the 
conversation going now that she was done smoking. "Look Beth. I've got to 
get back to my workstation. We can finish this conversation if you agree to 
come out dancing with us sometime." Deb was encouraged by the conversation 
and was certain she could get Beth to smoke in a club environment. It was 
her opinion that this new girl was just itching to try smoking but was 
hesitant because of her athletic roots. 

"You talked about smoking being seductive, sensual. What do you mean by 
that?" 

Deb was standing up ready to leave the patio table. "Ah, ah, ah. First 
you've got to agree to go clubbing with us. Then I'll tell." 

"What? What do you mean? I'm only interested because of what my friend Pam 
told me." 

Deb just giggled and said, "Sure Beth. See you back in the work area." Then 
she was gone. 

Beth sat in the warm pre-noontime heat a bit longer. She felt less clarity 
on the smoking subject than when she first brought it up with Deb. She 
immediately had a desire to call Pam again. All of a sudden, solving this 
mystery about why people smoke was becoming an unusual priority. 

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