Jessie & The Tornado Ch. 03

The argument continued until the sailor comes up with what he thinks will end the discussion. With a flourish of finality he says . . . "The Navy invented sex!"

The Marine replies, "That is true, but it was the Marines who introduced it to women."

Another one of my favorite jokes (and probably fairly accurate) was as follows:

Secure The Building

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff is ordered by the Secretary of Defense to gather together a Navy Lieutenant and Captains from the Army, Marine Corps, and Air Force to discover why the services have trouble communicating with each other.

He begins by saying that their first project task is to "secure" a certain building, and asks each of them to go home and prepare a list of steps for the project management plan and bring them to the meeting the next morning.

The Navy Lieutenant calls his Master Chief and says:

Tell those swabs to:
-- Unplug the coffeepots
-- Turn off the computers
-- Turn out the lights
-- Lock the doors and leave the building unoccupied

The Army Captain has his list in his notepad:
-- Assemble the company
-- Appoint guard mount and Sergeant of the Guard
-- Take control of all exits
-- Make sure no one gets into the building without a pass

The Marine Corps Captain writes down his steps on palm of his hand:
-- Assemble the platoon and supplies
-- Approach the building while remaining concealed
-- Bring the building under mortar and machine gun fire
-- Assault the building under covering fire
-- Sequester surviving prisoners
-- Establish lanes of fire
-- Prepare artillery calls
-- Repel counterattacks

The Air Force Captain types his list into his laptop:
-- Contact real estate agent
-- Negotiate 3-year lease
-- Be sure to get option to buy

I don't know how a month passed so quickly, but suddenly it was the Friday before our Saturday at the "Y", and then dinner.

Jessie said she probably would not get to her parents until late, so we agreed to call each other Saturday morning. One thing Jessie had asked was if we could reschedule our meeting at the "Y" for 10 am, saying she hadn't been home in a month and had some other stuff she also had to do before our dinner.

That was fine with me.

I called Jessie about 9:45, asking if she wanted a ride, but she said she was already pulling into the "Y", so I drove myself over.

I changed in the locker room and walked to the pool. Jessie was already in the water.

I'm not sure which of us was smiling more when we saw each other.

Then Jessie swam over to a ladder and climbed out.

I was really waiting to see this "revealing bikini."

She was wearing a one piece swim suit.

I just held my hands up with a questioning look.

Jessie immediately blushed red, and said, "Don't ask!" She then pushed me into the pool.

We played around, horsed around, clowned around for an hour and a half. Anyone looking would probably have thought we acted more like teenagers than supposedly responsible adults.

I would chase Jessie, she would chase me. We would tickle each other, we would dive under each other, grabbing a leg and pulling the other person under the water.

Several times we found ourselves almost face to face in the water.

Each time, one of us would turn away, then start splashing the other.

Finally, we both climbed out of the water, laughing like little kids.

We found some chairs to sit on.

"Okay," I said, "what's up with the swimsuit?"

Jessie blushed red again, and said, "Don't ask."

"I am asking. Where is the revealing bikini?"

"Don't ask."

"I am asking."

"Don't ask."

"I am asking."

Finally Jessie said, "Okay. I'll tell you what. If I tell you about the bikini, then you have to tell me what the "O" stands for."

I tried to act like I was really shocked.

"I don't know. That's kind of personal."

I finally agreed.

"Well," Jessie began, blushing bright red again, "I hadn't tried on that, or any other bikini in nearly two years. When I tried it on this morning, I realized I couldn't wear it here."

"What?" I asked in mock horror, "Don't tell me you've gotten fat and it wouldn't fit?"

"No, it fit fine, you dumb-ass Marine," she exclaimed.

"When I tried it on this morning, that's when I realized I haven't done something else in nearly two years."

I had a puzzled look on my face.

"I haven't groomed myself in nearly two years," she said as her face turned ever redder.

I think I knew immediately what she was talking about but pretended not to know.

"I don't understand," I said.

Her face turned even redder, if that is possible.

"Look . . . I'm kind of hairy, down there," she finally admitted.

I laughed out loud as she glared at me.

"If that is all it was, then I could have offered to trim it for you," I blurted out, not quite realizing what I was saying.

"And if you had offered, I would probably have let you," she quickly answered back.

Whoa!

This conversation had suddenly turned in a direction neither of us was quite prepared for!

As we each realized what we had said, and the implications, Jessie turned a little pale, and I flushed red.

After a rather awkward silence, Jessie finally said, "Alright, now. What is your middle name?"

"O-b-e-d-i-a-h," I spelled out, "Obediah."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. Isn't that in the Bible," she asked.

I told her it was, then added, "Actually I've always kind of liked that name. Everyone back home knows it."

"But your mother . . ." Jessie started, then flushed red again.

"You called my mother?" I teased her.

Debbie admitted she had called directory assistance in my old home town (I had once told her where I was from), and had called a half-dozen Walkers until she found the right one.

"You mother told me she had sworn to you that she would never reveal that to anyone," she said.

"After you started asking, I called Mom and told her if someone, anyone, ever called asking about my middle name, not to tell them. I thought it a long shot that you would call her, but wanted her to be ready in case you did."

"But if you like the name, and everyone else knows it, why didn't you tell me?"

This time, I was grinning as hard as I think I have ever grinned.

"Once you started asking, I figured I might be able to parlay that into something really special if I acted like I didn't want to tell you.

"And I was right!" I said.

"I just told you something incredibly personal and embarrassing about myself, and it was for nothing? Why you sorry, no good bastard. I can't believe I fell for that. I should have known not to believe anything a Marine . . . a Leatherbrain . . . told me," she indignantly stated.

She just glared at me for a minute until she glanced at her watch.

"I have to go. I may never speak to you again," she stated, then stood up, "Still picking me up at five for dinner?"

I started laughing.

"Hey, listen asshole, I said I may never speak to you again, NOT that I was not going to cost you a small fortune tonight for dinner."

She actually leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered, "Asshole!"

I am laughing like crazy.

But WOW! Watching her walk away, with her incredibly muscular legs and firm butt swaying was like looking at a piece of art.

I swam for another hour before making my way home to get ready for our dinner.

At precisely 5 pm, I rang the doorbell at Jessie's house.
Within two or three seconds the door began to open.
While this may sound strange to some of you, one of the other things Jessie and I found out we had in common was an almost obsessive tendency to be punctual.
I hate to be late, and through our writings, I found out Jessie was the same.
One of the only sources of continuing friction between Debbie and me, and between Jessie and John Bennett, was our need to be on time, and their belief that "close" counted.

I believed, as we used to say in the Marine Corps, "Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades!"
Anyway, once the door opened . . . I think I stopped breathing!
Oh. My. God!
Was I actually stupid enough to have once thought that Jessie was cute, in an athletic sort of way, or more attractive than pretty, later revising that to well, pretty but not what you would call classically pretty or beautiful?
Was I THAT stupid?
Of course, the only two times I had actually seen Jessie was when she had been playing soccer with the neighborhood kids for a couple of hours, or at the pool. The first time she was hot and sweaty, with her long, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. At the "Y", she had already been in the pool, so her hair was wet, and of course, in a ponytail. I had never actually seen her dressed up, wearing makeup.
I don't know how long I stared before Jessie finally said, with a big smile, "Sam, Sam, close your mouth or bugs are going to start flying in."
I finally closed my mouth and took a breath.
"Jessie?" I whispered.
She laughed and said, "Yes!"
"Jessie, you are beautiful! My God, you are so beautiful," I finally managed to say.
And it was true. Her hair was gracefully arranged around her face, with long layered locks cascading across her shoulders.
It didn't look like she had much makeup on, but what she did have on was perfect. A slight blush to her cheeks, faint blue eye shadow to bring out the blue in her eyes. Pale pink lipstick, just enough to enhance her lips.
At my words, Jessie blushed, adding even more color to her cheeks.
"Well, you're not looking too bad yourself," she said.
I was wearing my nicest suit.
I held out my arm, and Jessie slid her arm through mine and we headed to my car, well actually my late wife's Mercedes.
I kept looking at Jessie. She was stunning.
Her dress was simple, a one piece sleeveless shift, which came to about mid-thigh, the top cut just low enough to be interesting, but not indecent.
As I held the door open for Jessie, it seemed like it was talking her a long time to get her long legs inside. Or in other words, I got something of an eyeful!
"Hmmm, I see your eyes are still working," she quipped. I think I blushed.
I walked around to my side, and after starting the car asked Jessie, "Where to?" She still had not told me what restaurant we were going to be eating at.
Jessie gave me the address, which I plugged into the in-dash GPS. Some 20 minutes later we pulled into a very large restaurant, named Nouveau Cordon Bleu.
"Have you ever been to a French restaurant before," Jessie asked, and I had to admit I had not.
"When we get inside, tell them we have reservations in the name of Walker," she advised.

I pulled up in front, and a valet came to get the car.
"Bonjour, Monsieur, Madame," said the head waiter as we entered. "Do you have reservations?"
I gave him my name and we were soon seated in a beautiful little private spot, overlooking a lake.

Jessie and I both ordered wine, based on the waiter's recommendations. He also left menus for us to look at.

"Look Sam, this is my all-time favorite restaurant, but I have only been here twice because it is so expensive. My parents brought me here for my 16th birthday, then when I graduated from high school.

"I know firemen are not exactly highly paid, so I have several hundred dollars with me. I want you to take it," she said, as she tried to slip some bills to me.

I refused the money, then tried to explain.

"Jessie, really, you don't have to worry about that. I have enough to cover everything," I enjoined her.

"Sam, depending on what we order, this could easily cost $400 to $500. Take the money," she insisted, as she again tried to slip me the bills.

"Jessie, it's not necessary," I insisted, as I put my hand on top of hers. "Look, Debbie insisted on both of us carrying rather large life insurance policies. The fact is, I could probably retire and just live off the interest. I really don't need your money."

She still looked doubtful, adding "Are you sure?"

I again reassured her, and asked what exactly would $500 buy at this restaurant.

When she said that would be a medium expensive meal, I asked what $1,000 would buy.

At the thought of spending that much money, Jessie looked like a kid in a candy store.

"$1,000? Do you mean it? I can order something that expensive?"

I looked in her eyes and told her to order whatever she wanted.

"Do you trust me to order for us?" she asked.

"Yes, under two conditions. One, no and I mean no escargot or snails." I actually shuddered, just thinking about those. "And while I will occasionally eat mushrooms, I really don't care for them. And if I am paying that much, I want it to be something I like."

When the waiter came back, Debbie ordered our entire meal in French, so I had no idea what she was ordering.

I could not really tell you what we ate. We started with a pre-appetizer, then an appetizer, then apparently a post-appetizer.

I simply could not keep my eyes off Jessie.

"Why do you keep staring at me like that?" she finally asked.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are!" I exclaimed. "How did you become so gorgeous in one afternoon?"

She didn't just smile, she beamed!

"I spent four hours at a spa this afternoon," she explained. "They cut and styled my hair, I had a complete facial, and massage and steam bath.

"They even gave me a complete Brazilian wax," she said, then as she realized just what she had said her eyes widened in horror and she blushed scarlet red.

I was just starting to take a sip of wine, and tried to laugh as I was swallowing. I began choking and one of the waiters rushed over and started hitting me on the back.

It took several minutes before I could talk again, but I knew I had to ask one question.

"Does that mean you can wear that bikini for me now?"

Again, Jessie flushed scarlet red and started glaring at me.

"Yes, Obediah, Yes, I can wear that bikini now. You Asshole!

"I STILL can't believe you tricked me like that this morning!" she stated.

Soon we were laughing so hard, I thought one of the waiters was going to come over and start pounding on both our backs.

I reached over and held Jessie's hand for a few minutes until they brought the main course.

I still don't know what I had, but it was some kind of thinly sliced steak in an amazing cream sauce, served with potatoes and asparagus. I can't really say I chewed the steak, since it was so tender it seemed to almost melt in my mouth.

It was the best steak I have ever eaten.

Throughout dinner, Jessie and I talked and laughed and talked and laughed some more.

Dessert, a crème Brule followed our entree.

After our dessert, I glanced down at my watch. I was shocked. We had arrived at about 5:30, and it was now 7:30. Where did two whole hours go? I asked for and received our check.
Even with Jessie's warning, I was shocked at how much everything cost. The bill was a little over $1,000. I quickly added 18 percent tip, then just rounded it off to $1,200.
I was actually smiling, thinking about what a great meal it was – and great company.
I couldn't remember when I had enjoyed a meal more. Then suddenly, I could.
"Sam, Sam, are you alright?" I heard Jessie say.
"You turned pale and just kind of blanked out for a minute," she explained.
I started to tell her it was nothing, but didn't want to lie.
"I was just thinking I could not remember when I have enjoyed a meal, and someone's company, more than right now.
"Then, I realized that the last time was eight months ago . . . right after we closed on the house . . . before . . . before . . ."

Jessie immediately reached over the grabbed my right hand in both of hers.

"It's alright Sam, it's alright," she said, "Believe me, I understand. It used to happen to me all the time. Something, totally unexpectedly would make me remember a special moment with John Bennett."

"Thank you Jess. It really helps, having you here," I said as I squeezed one of her hands.

Since we were already holding hands, it just seemed very natural to continue as we walked through the restaurant.

Once outside, I had to let go to remove the claim stub for my car, and while the valet went to get the car I put her arm around Jessie's waist.

"Jessie, I don't want to . . . I mean this is not how . . . look Jessie, I know we only talked about dinner tonight but . . . this is not how I want . . . want our first . . . want our first kind of date to end. Would you like to go dancing?"

I heard Jessie give a small gasp when I said the word "date."

Jessie turned until she was facing me.

"I can't think of anything I would enjoy more," she said, "although to tell you the truth I haven't been dancing in so long, I probably don't remember how. I sure don't know any of the current dance steps."

By now our car was ready, so I helped Jessie into her side. It seemed as though she took even longer to fold her long legs inside, and I got even more an eyeful of beautiful thighs and a pair of white, lacy panties.

Once in the car, I drove over to the side of the parking lot.

"Don't worry about knowing the newest dance steps," I told her, "if I can find out where this one place is all you have to worry about is very, very old dance steps."

With those cryptic words, I pulled out of my cell phone and called a friend from the fire department.

"Jack, this is Sam. Where is that place you always go dancing with your wife? What? Yes, Jack, I am thinking about going dancing. What? Of course with a girl!"

I glance over at Jessie and she is grinning like a woman possessed.

"No, you don't know her. No, you and your wife can't come. No, she doesn't have a name."

"Hi Jack, I'm Jessie," Jessie yells across the car. I roll my eyes at her.

"Yes, Jack, you asshole, she is over 14, and less than 70! No, she did not escape from a mental hospital."

Jessie is laughing out loud.

"Sammy's Hide-A-Way! That's it. What the address?"

I punched in the address to my GPS.

"Thanks Jack. What? Listen you worthless piece of dog crap, NO I did not have to get her drunk to agree to go out with me!"

"Where's the bottle, Honey?" Jessie asks in a loud drunken slur.

I stick my tongue out at her.

She sticks her tongue out at me.

I finally disconnect the call, but not before yelling out, "Goodbye, ASSHOLE!"

I look at Jessie and she is looking at me. We both erupt into laughter.

"God, you are one crazy lady!" I tell her.

"Must be your influence," she retorts.

We finally get on the road, following the directions, as I explain the place we are going.

"I've never been there, but Jack says they only play music from the 40s, 50s and 60s. And a lot of slow dance tunes.

"He says it is interesting because half the crowd is in their 60s or older, and the other half is all young people who have gotten tired of the music today."

We laughed nearly all the way there, going over my conversation with Jack, and the things Jessie said.

Once we got inside, there was a huge dance floor, with a live band. Small tables were scattered all around. We grabbed a table, ordered some wine and listened to some swing tunes from the Big Band era, before they finally played a slow tune.

I stood up, held out my hand and asked, very formally, "Would Madame care to dance?"

"I would be honored, kind Sir," she answered, putting her hand in mine.

Our first dance was very proper. We kept a respectable distance between us, she had one hand on my shoulder, I had a hand loosely on her waist, and we were holding hands with our other hands about shoulder height.