Rebecca's Story

This is the first of two sequels to The Lake House Lessons/Dana's Side stories, so familiarity with at least one of those series is probably necessary to fully enjoy this. It bridges some of the time gap between the epilogues of those stories and the second sequel, which will be posted next. Although this story contains references to sex, there are no explicit descriptions of it.

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I first noticed Jack Davis at a physics symposium in Indianapolis. He was presenting a paper on a topic that had nothing to do with my work, but I had some time to kill, and it seemed like an interesting topic. The paper wasn't bad, but even though it was out of my area of specialization, I had some concerns about the methodology and conclusions. Overall, however, it was a pretty strong piece of work. When I saw him on the stage, I thought that he was a nice looking guy, certainly not the stereotypical physics professor—he was tall, well built and handsome, with short, dirty blonde hair.

His presentation was also well done—he had a certain self-deprecating charm, and was able to explain his findings clearly, and with some humor. In fact, since it looked like he was about the same age as me, I was surprised that I hadn't noticed him before, but it was possible that our paths had never actually crossed. I was kind of intrigued, and admit to looking to see whether he was wearing a wedding ring, and noticed that he was not.

At lunch, I sat with some friends from my college, and a few other attendees who I knew. One guy, Tomas, from Harvard, had been trying unsuccessfully to pick me up for years, and I had to shoot him down again. I steered the conversation to Jack, and the general consensus was that he was pretty good, although a couple of my lunch companions also had some issues with the paper. I decided to make my real intentions clear, and asked if anyone knew about his personal life. Mary, who taught at Indiana, said that she had spoken to him once a couple of years ago, and that he was single, but dating a biologist from his school. No one else had any more intelligence than that, so we returned to shop talk. I decided that I would try to meet him and see what the story was.

I mentioned that Jack didn't look like the stereotypical physicist, and frankly, neither did I. I was 5'10", with blonde hair, and still had the body that I had in college, when I supplemented my income with some live modeling for art classes. Which is not to say that there weren't other attractive physicists at the symposium, but I did kind of stand out. I also had finished at the top of my class at Stanford, and received my Ph.D. from Cal Tech.

I was always a bit of a freak. In high school, I was captain of the cheerleaders in the fall, the point guard on the basketball team in the winter, and performed in the spring musical, getting the lead my senior year. I was valedictorian and prom queen in our small high school. Because my father, a history professor, and my mother, a psychiatrist, were busy with their work, and saw my accomplishments as proof that I was able to take care of myself, in my limited free time, I was able to party hard. After losing my virginity in 10th grade, I found that I really enjoyed sex, and was rarely without a regular partner, or partners, which never distracted me from my schoolwork.

College and grad school was more of the same, minus most of the extracurricular activities. I worked hard, and played hard. Once I got my doctorate, with my resume, I actually had a pick of great schools to work at, and chose to work at not the most prestigious of them, but at the one where I thought I would have the most freedom to do research and to teach undergraduates. It had worked out, and I enjoyed my work, and there was a great group of younger faculty to socialize with. But, when I showed up in Indianapolis, I was not seeing anyone, and found myself intrigued by Professor Davis.

I saw him standing in the lobby of the convention center, chatting with a bunch of much shorter people, and worked my way toward him. As I got closer, I could see that he was cute, and looked friendly. I also confirmed that he had a nice body and no wedding ring. I insinuated myself into the group surrounding him and asking him questions, and listened to him patiently and competently answer the questions. He turned to look at me, and we briefly locked eyes. His widened and he stopped talking for a second before he sputtered and resumed responding to an older man. I stood there listening, saying nothing, and he occasionally flashed a look at me, as if trying to make sure that I was still there.

Eventually, the circle around him started to melt away, until I was the only one left. He leaned over and made a show of looking at my name tag, and likely my breasts, because even brilliant male physicists are, at heart, 12 year-old boys when it comes to breasts, before saying, "So, Professor Berman, you stayed here so long, you must have a question."

I smiled and responded, "I do, Professor Davis." He waited until I continued, "Would you like to have a drink with me later?" I looked at him in a way that I knew was usually pretty effective with men.

"Um, that isn't exactly related to my paper," he said, smiling, and I laughed back at him. "I'd love to," he said, looking at his copy of the program. "How about at 6:30 in the hotel bar?"

"That works for me," I said, "And call me Rebecca."

He stuck out his hand and said, "Jack."

We shook hands, and I definitely felt something. We went our separate ways, but I found myself thinking more about Jack than about any of the presentations that I went to that afternoon.

My last meeting ended at 6, so I ran up to my room, changed my lingerie from functional to fun, fixed my makeup and hair, and waited until 6:30 to head back down to the lobby. Although I asked him for the drink, I didn't want him to think I was desperate. When I arrived at the bar, he was sitting at a table, drinking a beer. He stood up when I came to the table, we shook hands again, and sat down. "You look beautiful, Rebecca," he said, out of the blue.

I don't think that there is a woman alive who doesn't like hearing that from an attractive man, and I responded, "Thanks."

He waved the waitress over, and I ordered a glass of red wine.

We started to talk about our backgrounds, where we grew up, were we went to school, and about our work and our current jobs. I decided not to raise my concerns with his paper yet, but we discussed it generally, and also some of the research that I was doing. We both enjoyed teaching undergraduates, which is actually kind of unusual in our field. I realized that I was doing all of the flirting things, like touching his arm, touching my hair, etc., and I don't think he took his eyes off of me the whole time we were talking. I also began to feel a little drunk, because we talked so long I was on my third glass of wine.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Jack looked at his watch and said, "How about we skip the dinner tonight and go someplace else."

I agreed, and we left the bar. Jack placed his hand gently on my lower back as we walked out, and I found that gesture very intimate, yet I wasn't put off by it despite the fact that we had just met. We got a cab and he directed the driver to take us to St. Elmo's, which I had never been to, but had heard was great. When we got there, it was crowded, but Jack slipped the maitre d' some money, and we quickly got a table.

Dinner was excellent, and we drank some delicious wine and kept talking. I felt incredibly comfortable with Jack, even though we barely knew each other, and I noticed that he was looking at me in a very fond way. I was pretty sure how the night would end, and was hoping that I was right.

We split a dessert and had coffee, and when the check came, he firmly, but gently, refused my offer to split the check. In the cab going back to the hotel, I reached over and held his hand, and he squeezed mine back. As we walked into the lobby, he put his hand back on my lower back, and as we got onto the elevator, I said, "I'm in room 1409. If you'd like, give me a few minutes and come on by."

He smiled and pressed 14 and 19, then leaned over and gave me a kiss. He was an excellent kisser and I felt tingling all over my body. The elevator was empty, and we kissed all the way to the 14th floor, when I got out, looked back at him and waved as the door closed. I ran to my room, took off my heels, straightened up a little, fixed my makeup again, brushed my teeth, and went back into the bedroom area. I put my iPod into the docking station, and not knowing what kind of music he liked, set it for a jazz playlist. I sat on the couch, waiting for him to arrive, idly reading a magazine. In the past, I had the occasional tryst at these kinds of meetings, but there was something about this one that felt more serious, and I was both aroused and nervous.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and I opened it, to find Jack, who had changed into more casual clothing. He stepped into the room gave me a hungry once over, and kissed me again. I led him to the couch, and we sat down.

"Take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable," I said, and he did.

We briefly discussed dinner, and I asked him if he wanted a drink from the minibar. He looked at me, smiled, and said, "No," leaned over and kissed me again.

We made out on the couch like a couple of teenagers for a while, before I stood up, took his hand and led him to bed. That night, I had the best sex that I had in years, maybe the best I'd ever had, but that is hard to really quantify, and as a scientist, I don't like to make statements like that without good data. But it was mind blowing, and I think Jack was equally pleased. Normally, in a situation like this, I would send the guy back to his room, but lying in bed, in his arms, felt so good that I didn't want him to go, and he showed no inclination to leave, either, so we fell asleep, entwined.

I woke up the next morning at about 7 and went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, and my hair and face were a mess, so I washed off the makeup and brushed out my hair a little. After last night, I wasn't concerned about him seeing me without makeup, but I still wanted to look good. I stole a look at the program for the day, and saw that the only paper that seemed interesting to me was set for after lunch. As I walked toward the bed, I noticed Jack was awake, and looking appreciatively at my naked body. I got back under the blankets and kissed him, pressing my body against his. We made love again, and fell back asleep, our limbs entangled.

He got up about 8:15, and I pretended to sleep, but watched his ass as he went to the bathroom, and checked out his impressively large penis as he returned. I saw him check the program before he got into bed, and, noticing me awake, he said, "There is nothing I need to do at the meeting until 2, how about you?"

I smiled, satisfied, and said, "nothing for me until 1:30."

He smiled back at me and said, "How about we order up some room service, and stay here until then?"

I smiled broadly at him, kissed him again, and said, "Sounds like a plan."

We ordered breakfast, and afterwards, returned to bed for another round of incredible sex. Around 12:30, Jack went back to his room to shower and get dressed, and I did the same. We met in the lobby, but made no overt showing of affection. Tongues wag at meetings like this.

I went to hear an interesting paper presented by one of my former Cal Tech professors, and it was enjoyable, but I found my mind wandering. After the presentation, I caught up with Professor Martini, and headed for the lobby. When I turned my phone back on, there was a text from Jack, saying only "1907". I quickly walked to the elevator and pressed up. I felt myself becoming aroused, and I started to get anxious as the elevator seemed to take forever to arrive. The door opened, and I had to wait as a few guests stepped out before I could get in and jammed the button for 19. Luckily, it went straight up to that floor, and I nearly ran to room 1907.

The door was propped open by the internal latch, and I just walked in. Jack's room was a little larger than mine, which briefly annoyed me, until I saw him, in bed, under the blanket. I tore off my clothing, pulled back the blanket, revealing his naked body, and jumped into the bed. If anything, it was better than the last time, and I found myself feeling totally sated and utterly relaxed as we lay in bed cuddling.

Jack's stomach growled, and I realized that I was starving.

"Hungry?" I asked.

"For you," he said, and pressed himself close to me.

"I mean for food," I responded, laughing.

"Actually, I am," he said. "Room service or restaurant?"

As nice as it would have been to just stay there and eat, naked under robes, I thought we should get out, so I said, "Restaurant. My pick and my treat tonight."

He protested, and insisted on paying, but I held my ground. I was used to getting my way with men, and knew how to make it happen. He suggested that we shower together, but as alluring that idea was, I needed to go to my room, get clean underwear and clothing, and do my makeup and hair before going out.

When I got back to the room, I went online and found a romantic French restaurant and made reservations. I texted Jack the time we needed to leave, and got into the shower, cleaned up and got dressed and ready to go out.

At dinner, we continued to talk about our lives, and our dreams and desires for the future, but eventually the talk turned to the fact that the next day was the last day of the symposium and we would have to go our separate ways. Although in the past, I was usually happy to get away from my weekend companion, I realized that I wanted to see Jack again. In retrospect, I was probably already in love with him, but I didn't quite realize it then.

Our colleges were only a short flight, or long drive, apart, and Jack made it clear that he was prepared to do what was necessary to keep our connection alive. He admitted, sort of grudgingly, that he was from a wealthy family, and that he was prepared to spare no expense. I was intrigued by the money thing, but more impressed that he was willing to be so open about how he felt about me, so soon.

We held hands throughout dinner, and afterwards, made out in the cab. When we got back to the hotel, he guided me toward the elevator with his hand on the small of my back, and when the elevator came, he pressed only 14. Our clothing was off almost before the door to the room closed behind us, and we made passionate love through the night, until we collapsed in each other's arms, dead asleep.

The next morning, we did shower together, and then Jack went back to his room to change and pack. We met downstairs for breakfast, each attended one presentation, then met again briefly before getting our luggage, checking out and sharing a cab to the airport, in which we sat, quietly, holding hands. We were flying from separate terminals, and texted each other until our flights boarded.

When I arrived home, there was a box on my front steps, and when I opened it, there were 2 dozen perfect red roses and a note. "Thank you for the best weekend ever. Love, J." I realized that he was serious, and I realized that I was, too.

Over the next few months, we were in almost constant contact. Between texting, email, Skype and phone calls, not to mention seeing each other on many weekends, and getting together over school breaks, including an amazing week at Jack's family's lake house, our relationship continued to flourish. He met my parents and my sister Leah, and I met his father, his sister Sarah, Sarah's husband Steve and their first child, and everything seemed great.

During Christmas break, Jack got access to his sister's company villa in St. Bart's (he explained that he was also an investor in the company), and we went there for a week. It was an incredible place, and we had an amazing time. About midway through our stay, Jack said, "I need to tell you a story."

Intrigued, I poured us a glass of wine and sat down on the couch. Jack sat in a chair, facing me. He told me about how he had been a social outcast and shy in high school, and how his sister Sarah had arranged for him to be deflowered by some of her friends during a weekend at the lake house, who also tried to teach him how to treat women.

It was sort of sad, but also not, and I interrupted him to say, "They did a good job."

He smiled and continued, saying that after that, the younger sister of the girl who was Jack's first, who was a classmate, needed physics tutoring. Her name was Dana, and Jack described her as the beautiful alpha girl of his school, and he tutored her, and they started to sleep together, and had really, until the present, had this sort of open relationship, where they would hookup when they weren't seeing anyone. And to make it more complicated, Dana was a junior partner in Sarah's company and was, in many ways, like part of the family.

I started to get a little confused and said, "Why are you telling me this?"

He responded, "I wanted you to know about me, but mostly about my relationship with Dana, because if we are going to be together, you are going to meet her. She is nearly as beautiful as you, and I don't want you to think that she is a threat to us, because I will want to stay friends with her. I want you to know, in no uncertain terms, that the moment you asked me for a drink in Indianapolis, any feelings that I ever had for Dana disappeared. I want you to know that I love you, completely, and with every fiber of my being." He paused, as if gauging my response.

I was processing this bit of information, and when I was done, I said, "I love you, too, and if you tell me that this Dana is no threat to us, then I trust you, completely."

He looked at me with an expression of total love. "I'm glad that you said that," he said, sincerely. He then reached into his pocket, pulled something out, dropped to his knees and said, "And, Professor Rebecca Berman, would you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?" He opened a small black box, which held a simple, beautiful engagement ring, but with some serious diamonds.

I jumped off the couch, and ran over to him. He stood up and we hugged, and I said, "Yes. Yes. I love you." We kissed, and I put the ring on. It fit perfectly and looked stunning. "This is a gorgeous ring," I said.

"Sarah picked it out," he said, a little sheepishly.

"She really does look out for you," I said, and he nodded. I took his hand and led him to the bedroom, where I demonstrated exactly how pleased I was with the latest turn of events.

Afterwards, I called my parents and sister, and they were ecstatic, although Jack had called my parents in advance to let them know what he was going to do, and to essentially get their blessing. The rest of the week went by in a haze of sun, good food, and great sex. Over a bottle of wine, we discussed the important logistical issues. We agreed that if we were going to get married, we needed to work in the same location, preferably at the same college. We decided to start by asking our respective department heads if there was a spot available, and see what happened.

When I returned from the vacation, I called Sidney Jones, my department head, and told him I was engaged. He was happy for me, but was wondering why I was telling him. He had met Jack during a visit, and I told him that we were looking for a college where we could both work. I described Jack's impressive credentials, but at the end of my discussion, he said that his budget was maxed out, and there was no room for another physicist with Jack's expertise. He congratulated me and wished me luck. I called Jack and he was disappointed, but not deterred.