Introduction: Princeton, New Jersey, August 9th
The most memorable summer of my life so far was almost over. The weather in Princeton was already uncomfortably warm and humid – it was a typical East Coast August. But the time I’d spent with Rebecca in the cabin in upstate New York – and in New York City the following couple of weeks was a memory I would cherish for the rest of my life.
I’d long finished packing my life into the shipment boxes – boy, I was putting a lot of stuff into storage; a lot of memories of my nerdy youth. I’d take only the bare essentials with me to England.
The house didn’t look that empty – mom and dad were renting it furnished for the moment to avoid the cost of storing the furniture. They’d also rented a furnished place in England – near Cambridge, and I’d probably move into a tiny student apartment in London for my PhD studies.
In the words of the song – my bags are packed, and I’m ready to go.
The sound of the doorbell was a surprise; the movers weren’t due until tomorrow and mom and dad were saying goodbye to friends across town. It might be a neighbour with a parting gift – I knew Mrs.. Ballotti hadn’t been able to make it to the farewell party.
When I opened the door I was surprised to see who was standing there. She was wearing a tight blue sailor-stripe T-shirt and white Capri pants that clung to her perfect figure.
“Rebecca!” I gasped. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took a personal day,” she said, stroking a lock of her long, brown hair away from her face. I marvelled again how good she looked for a lady who was my mom’s age. Then again, mom and dad had taken pretty good care of themselves too – maybe forty five was the new thirty after all!
“Are your parents here? I didn’t see the car. M…may I come in?” she asked; I smiled and stepped back, giving her a peck on the cheek as she passed me. I glanced out to the street, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around to notice us.
“Of course! I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you…we’re out of most things, but there’s still some ice tea in the refrigerator if you’re thirsty.”
“That would be nice, Anthony; thank you. It’s really hot today.”
“You said it.”
Rebecca Shaw had been a friend of the family all of my life and as the most attractive mature woman I knew it was inevitable that she’d been a key figure in some of my adolescent sexual fantasies. Twice-divorced; she was now in her mid-forties and she possessed a timeless, intelligent beauty that reminded me of an up-market news-anchor. Her long brown hair always seemed to be perfectly groomed, and her thoughtful, hazel eyes exuded an air of quiet confidence that as a teenager, had often kept me tongue-tied in her presence.
As a geek I found the fact that she worked in the high technology field an additional turn-on. She’d been a successful engineer
