"Little" Sister Pt. 02

As confusing as it was, the whole project took only two weeks. We had Sheila's home office ready for her first day on the job—June 12^th. By then she was fully up to speed on what her dedicated server and workstation could do. Doodling with CAD software on a laptop, she made an uncanny rendition of my old room. Soon she was able to set up a laser scanner and get a millimeter accurate drawing in seconds.

What she did for Hollywood defies belief and it was not her top priority. I was able to watch her rough out the key scenes of a Will Smith movie. The movie is an hour and forty seven minutes. Sheila contributed to twenty nine minutes. For that, she received a high five figure check, an Oscar—Best Film Editing, 20xx—and residuals you would not believe (she could retire rich off the one flick).

Sheila spent twice as much time designing loft apartments for her new warehouse renovation. See Architectural Digest and AIA Journal, April 20xx and New Jersey Architectural Quarterly, 2nd quarter. Michael Weston is the credited architect, but the designs are hers. The woman is frightening.

While that was going on, I dealt with mundane things like running electrical/data conduit in a 200 year old house and figuring the placement of central heat and air. I thought as a child that the fireplace did a poor job of warming my bedroom. It turned out that reality was usually much worse. My bedroom fireplace had an innovative, for the mid 1800s, radiator built into the fire grate. Similarly, there was a wind powered ventilation system built into the house, between attic and roof.

That drew attention. We had some very excited people from the Architecture Department at NJIT in Newark. They did a feature article on the all the renovations in the official quarterly journal, with a subarticle on the 19^th century modifications, see New Jersey Architectural Quarterly, 3rd quarter. I never did get rid of them. They saw some of Sheila's rough work and stayed around to write up her lofts.

Everything ends. While the planning and design was tricky, actual work on the house was relatively brief. By the 4^th of July, we had the nursery and nanny rooms complete. Christine moved into her official room and proceeded to never use it. She preferred life as my alarm clock. I was not so lucky. I needed to return to Hanover to wrap up my fellowship, defend my second dissertation and spearhead the halfway house project at the state capital in Concord. I did not owe, but it was off to work I went.

When the time to leave came, Sean wanted to throw a bash. No one throws a bash like the owner of a catering company. Add Sheila's influence and you get a memorable party. I must admit, the merry-go-round makes a statement. Naturally, I have pictures. They have proven useful through the years. The best part came first, in the form of Lars.

He worked in the City, while I was in New Jersey. That was close enough to be frustrating, because it was too far to be practical. We made do with emails and work correspondence. Phone calls were frustrating. Since spoken German was in real time, I was frustratingly slow. Lars did better. He was learning English by immersion, but even then his progress tended to be work related. Texting provided more manageable obstacles.

Since I was moving to New Hampshire, he was given a short leave to say goodbye, with the caveat that we would both return to his office. The night he arrived, Lars made a formal proposal of marriage and gave me an engagement ring. As with Sean and Sheila, the ring was historically important, in this case a family heirloom. It belonged to his great, great grandmother, who was one of the lesser German nobility. A replica was made for my hand.

George spoke fluent German, but he had returned to California. Sean suggested his best man, Curtis Albrecht, to act as interpreter. Curtis also happened to be Richard Enterprises corporate counsel. Since there were substantial legal issues for families of both Lars and I, this made sense. Still, it was awkward talking through a lawyer. I suggested that Lars and I go somewhere and not talk. It was not a casual suggestion.

Preparations for this event were impressively thorough. Since Sheila was involved, this was not surprising. For example, she arranged several live demonstrations of beginning and advanced heterosexual technique, performed by Christine and Jason Porter. Also viewing, though bound and gagged, were Elspeth and Maria. In case you were wondering, that part was Christine's idea. It should be noted that Elspeth, Maria and I were all heterosexual virgins and Sheila had less than a month of experience. Elspeth and Maria were lavish in their thanks, which I quietly seconded.

Not satisfied, Christine went to the extent of getting Lars to approve some "lab work" between myself and Jason. She even took Jason to the City to meet with Lars. Evidently, Jason had every woman in the building swooning. Francine sent a two hour video lesson in anatomy and physiology as they apply to women and sex. It involved getting naked, touching myself in every conceivable place, using everything from barely touching to firm wet friction—and slapping. The sensations had to be recorded in a journal. I thought I knew my body fairly well from years of masturbation. Wrong.

When Jason arrived for our session, I was already hot and bothered. For his part, Jason was just as clinical as Francine. That did not prevent him from making me come at least a dozen times. Days later, watching the video with Lars made me hot all over again. But, that was later. Jason taught me a great deal about how men are like women sexually, but even more about how they are different. I'm was glad for Francine's primer, because it enabled me to look up more dry clinical detail later.

I discovered something surprising, to me at least—I liked giving oral sex. My feminist friends would be shocked and appalled, but many other women confirm it. There is a sense of control associated with bringing a man to climax. I was new and could not deep throat. Jason was an experienced connoisseur and wearing a condom. Still, I was the one that could dictate the pace. Sheila was particularly helpful in refining my technique. If anyone knows more about male genitalia and the associated trigger points, I do not know who it may be.

It might tell you something that Lars sent me the results of a recent medical examination. It was his way of proving his freedom from STDs and of sperm viability. As with Jason and condoms, something practical can also be extremely erotic. By thinking of my continued health, Lars proved his interest was for the long term. To make the story short, when I asked Lars aside for some serious necking, I was not a virgin. I cannot claim I was not blushing. Necking we did, then I went down and achieved my first taste of sperm.

Reading through this, it seems almost robotic. In a sense, that may be true. Lars is a major league geek, so he approached marriage from a very practical direction. I am an Ivy League trained social scientist. I can be clinical and observant under duress. Like Emily Deschanel in Bones, there is heat under the scientific surface. Rather than clinical, I found the whole process reassuring. I also wanted to throw Lars on his back and slam my hot cunt down on his shaft. The thought still makes my pussy twitch.

The next day was my going away party. Sean wanted to try out a new venue. The merry-go-round was so popular at his wedding, he decided to find a permanent location and build a conference center around it. By the middle of July, there were two buildings—one for the carousel and one multipurpose. Between the buildings is a circular amphitheater, with a stage and a fire pit. Off to the side were playground equipment, volleyball courts, horseshoe lines and a softball field. Not bad for five weeks, but I'll stack my wedding in four days against it.

The party started at noon with pulled pork BarBQ, followed by outdoor games, then a dance in the multipurpose building, finishing with toasted marshmallows and s'mores at the fire pit. I played volleyball against Lars (we were team captains), danced a dozen dances, was doused by a water balloon (pictures) and turned my first three marshmallows to charcoal, while Sean gave a speech. While Sean was still on stage, Christine and I drenched him with red Gatorade.

It was great fun, while it lasted.

Chapter 11 -- The Board Room

In the morning I said goodbye to everyone and headed for the City. Lars worked in the financial district and his bosses wanted to meet me. They received an open invitation to my party, which some of them accepted, but this was the official meeting. I suppose I should have been nervous, but I was more irritated than anything. Sean explained that Siemens did not like their young guns wasting time dating. The attitude was familiar. Yale and Dartmouth felt the same way. It was just as unrealistic and annoying in a business setting.

I had a quick chance to see Lars in his office on the 14^th floor. Together we went up to the 56^th. Nice view. The locally senior people were having coffee in the conference room. This was just a ploy to throw me off stride, but I had been there and done that. I asked for tea with lemon, so that I could settle for coffee with cream. Lars made a good stone face, but I caught one of the other executives flinching.

Another way the coffee ploy backfired is that I could watch everyone take their places. It was not hard to sort the pecking order. Georg Karl, the Vice President of American Operations was titular head, but a much younger man took charge. His name was Robert Swenson, Director of International Relations -- USA Branch. What he did not say was that he was local supervisor of Lars' training program. Effectively, he was Lars' boss's boss. He offered to shake hands, so I stepped six inches too close and used a firm grip.

In another setting it would have been funny. Sheila had selected a dark charcoal skirt suit and red silk top for me to wear. I knew I looked good, so confidence was easy. With my now usual three inch heels, I was at least an inch taller than Mr. Swenson. He tried very hard to stand straighter and look down on me, but physics was against him. He was also uncomfortably close, which ruined any attempt at dominance posturing. With the much taller Lars, Mr. Swenson would have known better than to try, but I was a girl. Silly boy.

The clutch took only seconds. I released Mr. Swenson's hand and took my indicated seat. Lars stepped into the gap and introduced me as Frau Doktor Richards. This caused a ripple of comment. It appeared to be new information to several of the men in the room. There were three women. None of them were surprised. They all looked openly interested. Nodding to Lars, I rose and addressed them all. From Mr. Swenson's reaction, this was not according to plan. Tough noogies.

I said, "Thank you for inviting me here today. As Lars said, I have a PhD from Yale and soon expect to receive another from Dartmouth. My name is Siobhan Richards. I was born and raised in upstate New Jersey. You may know my brother Sean, CEO of Richards Enterprises." Another ripple. More new information. "Lars and I met a few weeks ago at a club.

"The occasion was the bachelorette party for Sean's wedding. Francine Martel hosted us at her restaurant and club. You may have heard of the hot sauce challenge. That was the night. I insisted on gloves, because they had Mad Dog 44 Magnum. The stuff causes blisters. I'll never know how Christine kept it down without a fire extinguisher. No one else has.

"Lars was impressed by Christine and my sister-in-law, Sheila. You know her too. The merry-go-round wedding. She wore an impossible green dress, with hand crocheted lace. You might also have noted me. I wore an English style suit, with a walking stick and top hat." Eyes widened around the room as everyone placed me.

I concluded, "That's me in a nutshell. Do you have any questions?"

One of the women asked, "Did you have anything to do with the wedding planning?" Fish in a barrel.

I took a moment to decide how to phrase the response. I knew this would come across as either hesitant and thoughtful, depending on the listener's bias. I had a sledge hammer for the negative biases, but first I played to them.

I said, "With the planning, no. Sheila wanted the garden party and the ball to be in an early 20^th century theme. Sean, who is a bit of an evil genius, provided the merry-go-round. The dress was also his. That was all settled before I arrived. Even the Amish carriages were Sean's idea. Pretty much all the planning was done when I took over."

Mr. Swenson took the bait, the hook and most of the leader. "What do you mean, when you took over?"

I said, "I'm sorry. I was unclear. I was in charge of the wedding preparation, along with nine graduate students. We had set and costume people from Francine's production company. We had the house and grounds people from the Residence. There were mechanics for the merry-go-round, events people to set up the booths, catering people to do the food, about a thousand temp workers, performers and, of course, the Amish. It was a zoo."

Mr. Swenson looked shocked. "Are you saying you were in charge of everything." It was too easy.

I laughed, because I could get away with it. "I'm sorry. I should not laugh, but that is exactly what Lars said, only in German. 'Was? Alles?'" Lars pinked a little. "I did not mean to go on so long. Did you have any specific questions?"

One of the women asked, "So you have known each other just over a month?"

This was the real crux of the matter. I suspect Mr. Swenson wanted to work up to it. Companies value stability, so impulsive behavior is discouraged. Lars was not an impulsive sort, so I only needed to point that out.

I said, "That is an excellent point, Ms...?"

"Johnson. Tamara Johnson."

I continued, "Thank you Tamara. As I said, you raise an excellent point. Since all of you already know Lars, I will point out that he is very traditional and a major league geek." This brought affirmative laughter. "Since he is traditional, he approached the head of the family, my brother Sean. Lars, what did Sean promise?"

Lars answered, "Disziplin, Kraft, Kinder." No pinking this time.

Everyone looked at Lars and heads started to nod. When the understanding was general, I moved on, "I wear a suit well, but you can see he was not smitten by beauty. I think my posture has a bigger impact. I know my accomplishments do. His pet phrase is "So, Frau Doktor..." Lars had used the phrase just a couple of minutes before. When I called Lars a geek, heads nodded. When I claimed I was no beauty, more nods. When I said, "Frau Doktor..." there was laughter. That was when I knew we had them.

To wrap things up, I said, "For my part, Lars is already like family. My brother Sean is fiercely loyal. It's one aspect that attracted Sheila to him. God knows it wasn't his looks, though this"—I waved at my face—"is less unattractive in masculine format. My other brother, George, is much smarter than I am, but he has the social skills of a rhino with a toothache. He and Lars get along like peas in a pod." To judge from the room, I should do stand up comedy. It was time for something more serious.

I smiled at Lars. "He is never going to be Prince Charming. That is OK with me, since I am not Snow White. What I am is a student of human relations. Standing next to Sean and Sheila as they took their vows, I considered that they were the sort of example that traditions, like marriage, are built around. Such things are important to me, as they are to Lars. I'll settle for someone to work with, raise children and grow old beside. He'll do that, don't you think?" There were a couple of claps, then general applause.

If Robert Swenson was ever going to say anything, he lost his chance. Georg Karl rose to his feet and extended his age spotted hand to me. As we shook he said, "Most impressive. Young Gunter good judgment has. Far he may go, but here he will stay, I think. Most impressive."

I was not sure what to make of that. A week later, Lars was transferred to Tokyo. Germans traditionally believe in long engagements, so that the husband is able to establish his financial footing. Ronald Reagan said to trust, but verify. It's an old European maxim. As much as I hated to admit it, Mr. Karl made his point. If this was to be a real marriage, it could stand the test of time. Lars would be well traveled, but he would come back. I would have to wait, but I could do that.

In the interim, I sent Mr. Karl birthday and Christmas cards—two each.