To celebrate the publication of my first erotic books on Amazon's Kindle, I decided to publish the first of them, Educating Goldilocks, for free here on Pixie's Place. I'm going to be posting a few chapters at a time.
This novel is based on my earlier Goldilocks Saga stories posted here, but is heavily rewritten.
I've uploaded my first four books to Amazon, and they are pending review. I'm not certain right now if any or all of them will be published there without change, but I definitely hope so! All four of them are currently available at Smashwords, and several other sites. Waking Sleeping Beauty is available for free exclusively on Pixie's Place. You can find updates to the publication history, and upcoming titles on my blog at www.garsmechant.com
If you find this, or any other stories of mine interesting, please feel free to look up my books at all of the major online retailers, and review them!
I'm so excited!
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Chapter 1: Meeting Goldilocks
That last fight could have been a doozy; certainly others had been louder. My girlfriend had just announced that she was leaving me, and wasn’t being nice about it. No attempts to let me down easily. No “it’s not you, it’s me,” crap. Just: “Ya know, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“It shouldn’t?” I asked, agog. “Last week, you said to me ‘I love you, and I can’t see myself with anyone else!’”
“That was last week,” she said as a way of explanation.
“Last week, and pretty much every week for the last seven years!”
“Well, this week I met Henri on the light rail. He’s graduating, and then we’re going to France.”
“So you’re giving up on your education?”
“Nope, just some time off.”
“When are you leaving for Europe?”
“In a couple of weeks,” she said as she threw her backpack over her shoulder.
“Staying with him until you go?”
“Correct!”
“Well,” I said, thinking for a second. “Got everything?”
“Yep.”
I opened the door and waved. “Later,” I said.
I don’t know if she looked back as I slammed the door behind her. I didn’t look outside. I wasn’t interested in knowing if she felt some remorse.
I was angry.
Up until that day, we had been planning to get married that summer. At least, I thought that was the plan. If she was the type to leave me on such short notice, I knew I was better off without her. In theory. Probably. Well, almost certainly. I might be projecting backwards a little.
So, for the first time I was living completely alone. I had no girlfriend, no roommate, no family nearby. Outside of work, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. Heck, why not make lemonade out of this lemon? I could go out! I could have fun!
I sat down and got ready to call…someone. So we could do…something. You know, stuff. Like…things.
So, without Linda holding me back, I could do anything I wanted with anyone I wanted. Too bad I had no idea what that was. I finally looked at my address book, and realized something: All of my friends lived half a state away, near my dad. Linda was pretty good at keeping me busy, and I simply didn’t have time to make friends before she left. We’d moved over here for her college, which her parents paid for. Any friends I had in our new town were hers too, and I really didn’t want to meet up with them after that humiliating fiasco.
I was beginning to feel something worse than simply the blues after being dumped: I felt trapped. I’d gotten the condo for the two of us. It was supposed to be the place to start our lives together. Why had she let me buy the condo for us if she wasn’t serious about getting married? Why had she left me with this mortgage I couldn’t get out of? Why had she led me across the state, cut off from my family and friends?
If I had been paying attention, I would have noticed that I was spending more time inside, in bed, but less time sleeping. I wasn’t cooking anymore, just living on cheap microwave food. At work my patrols were taking longer, and things were getting past me.
It got to the point that my supervisor, Chris, pulled me into his office to talk.
“Rob, you gotta get things together,” he said to me in his office.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not on your game right now. You’re missing patrol points. You’ve lost track of time several times this month and let a patrol pass by. I’m not sure you’re even paying attention to the monitors anymore. It looks more like you’re staring off into space. You can’t do that, it’s too important. I know you had it bad for Linda, but you gotta get over her. It’s not doing you any good to be like this, and it’s not hurting her.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I replied.
“I gotta see improvement soon, or I’m going to have to invite you over to my place to enjoy my wife’s cooking. That’s a threat.”
Even the way I was feeling, Chris could make me smile.
“Good,” he said. “Get back to work.”
So, after weeks of wallowing in overly dramatic misery, I decided it was time to change something. I started by cleaning up what had become my unintended bachelor pad from top to bottom. Bedroom: Walls, dusted; Furniture, same; Floor, vacuumed; Bed, linens washed, but time for a new mattress. Check. Office: Furniture, dusted; Floor, vacuumed. Check. Bathroom: Scrubbed. Check. Laundry: Washed, dried, folded. Check. Stairs: Vacuumed. Check. Living room: Dishes in the kitchen; Floors vacuumed; Furniture dusted. Check. Dining nook: Pile o’dishes now in the kitchen; Table scrubbed; Floor mopped. Check. Kitchen: Eew. Okay, so, let's start somewhere.
I hadn’t cooked since Linda left, and barely kept up with any dishes, not counting those I left around the house. The kitchen was going to take time.
As I cleaned the kitchen, I thought about cooking. I like to cook. I’m good at it. So was Linda, which meant I often didn’t, but I enjoy the smells, the experimenting, and creating something new and tasty.
Cleaning it took time, but it was beginning to look right. And as I thought about cooking again, I discovered that I missed my dad’s fresh vegetables and herbs. My homeowners association won’t let me have a real garden, but they will let us plant ornamentals. As I prepared the kitchen for life again, I decided it was time to plant some “ornamental” herbs in my little side plot. It may not be quite as good as having fresh sun-ripened tomatoes straight off the vine, but fresh snipped rosemary, basil and sage can help make up the loss when added to a salad, pizza, or an oven-roasted chicken.
Before I knew it, the kitchen was: Dishes, washed, scrubbed, and sanitized. Floor, mopped. Counters wiped. Refrigerator cleaned, dusted, and a new box of baking soda. Pantry emptied of expired food. Check!
The next day I set out to get a new mattress and box springs, and after the old ones were hauled off, and I had put on the fresh linens, I enjoyed the best sleep I had had in quite some time.
As I got back into the habit of cooking I thought about dad’s garden and the little plot outside my living room window. I needed some kinds of herbs for my kitchen, since I doubted I could sneak tomatoes past my Homeowners Association. I set aside the next weekend to plant it.
That first day turned out to be a really nice late spring day. I was in the process of digging up the old flowers from the bed when I saw an older model sedan drive up to one of the houses visible from my condo, and let out a rather attractive young woman who seemed quite upset.
She looked like she was in her late teens, about the same age as the man at the wheel. He hadn’t the time to get out of the car to help her out when she exited the car and slammed the door. She turned around and shouted through the open window: “...and don’t think about calling me! I don’t want to ever hear from you again!” Then she stormed off into the house.
That was a bit of a surprise. I lived in a quiet neighborhood. Most of the neighbors kept to themselves, but were cordial to one another. I hadn’t heard a single argument since Linda had moved out, so this was definitely memorable.
I decided that it was none of my business, and went back to preparing my plot, digging up the old ground cover and flowers, and adding in compost and sand for the new herbs. I assume it must have been almost an hour later when I noticed the same young lady walking along the sidewalk past my condo.
I’ve never been the sort of person who finds it easy to introduce myself to other people. If she hadn’t interrupted me, I doubt I would have done much to say anything to her.
She stopped near my garden, watching for a moment until I stopped digging. When I looked at her she met my eyes and said: “Hi.”
“Oh, hello,” I replied. “Beautiful day today, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, it is, I guess,” she said. She was wearing the cut-off jeans that were still popular around here, and combined it with a midriff baring yellow tank top. It was obvious that she was a rather attractive young woman, but her wide mouth that was meant for smiling was turned into a definite pout.
“Yes, a beautiful day. Just warm enough to work in short sleeves and not hot enough to break out in a sweat. I love weather like this. How about you?” I flunked Small Talk 101 in school.
“I didn’t think about it. I guess it’s pretty nice,” she said. It wasn’t any of my business, but I figured that if she wanted to talk about her argument, it would be best to let her start that part of the conversation.
“I love it. It’s the sort of day you definitely want to spend outdoors,” I said as I stretched out the stiffness I felt from planting.
“Yeah,” she said. She was quiet for just a moment before a smile crossed her face. “Why is it that people, like, always talk about the weather?”
“Well, it’s a safe subject. It matters, but bringing up the weather isn’t likely to offend anyone.”
“Oh,” she said. I got the feeling that she’d meant the question rhetorically and was laughing at me inside.
I was going to get back to my garden, when she took a step toward me and said: “My name’s Amber.”
“I’m Rob,” I said as I took her proffered hand.
“Yeah, I know,” she said with a slight smile as she continued to shake my hand.
I didn’t know what to say about that, and continued to shake her hand until she let go. “Nice to meet you. Were you off to somewhere just now?”
“I was, like, walking over to the mall. I like to go there just to think.”
“Seems like a crowded place to go to think,” I remarked.
“Nah. Unless you’re there with your friends, it’s just like being alone.”
“Do you have a lot to think about?” I knew part of the answer, but I wanted to see how much she was willing to volunteer.
“Well, yeah.”
Not much.
“I’m getting a bit thirsty. Could I offer you something to drink?”
“Sure!” she said a bit more eagerly than I had expected. Perhaps she was looking for someone to confide in anyway. I walked into the condo and asked what she wanted to drink.
“A soda’s okay,” she replied to my question from right behind me. I was expecting her to wait outside for me to bring her something, but she had followed me in. I’m not used to attractive young women just walking into my condo, so I was a bit surprised. I did my best not to let it show.
“Oh,” she said. “Is it okay…”
“Sure. Of course. Make yourself at home,” I said and gestured at the table in the dining nook.
I got her a glass of ice and poured her a cola as she sat down. I didn’t say much except for “here you go” when I handed her the glass, and then I joined her at the table. After she had finished almost half of the glass, I asked: “So, were you going to the mall to think about that guy who dropped you off about an hour ago?”
She just looked at her glass, clouds crossing her face. I tried to lighten things up by saying: “You’ll have to excuse me. The doctors tell me that I was born with a subtlety deficiency.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, it’s about him.”
“Need to talk about it?” I asked.
“Yeah. Yes, I do. So, it’s like this: Jason is, like, a friend of mine. He asked me out today to go on, well, a picnic with him.”
“That sounds nice,” I said.
“Yeah, he said it was a ‘late birthday and graduation present for the baby of the group.’”
“Happy birthday. How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” she said.
“Congratulations,” I said. “Sounds like a nice birthday present.”
“Well, kinda. It was okay, but he wanted to, you know, do it with me out there on the hill,” she said.
“Oh. Ohhhh. That kind of birthday present. Okay. So, did he try to force the issue?” I asked.
“No, he was okay about it. I told him no and he brought me back,” she explained.
“Sounds like he was a gentleman about it,” I added.
“Yeah.” She was quiet for a bit, just drinking her soda. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Is that the only reason you were so upset with him?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she asked me.
“Yeah, I guess it is. You consider him just a friend?”
“Yeah.”
“You know him from school?”
“Yeah, he hangs out with my group. He asked me out a few times, so I decided to give him a chance.”
“Are you going to have any problems with your group because of today?”
“No, I don’t think anyone will care.”
“Well, that’s good. How did you do in your classes?”
“Pretty well. I’ve got mostly, like, A’s and B’s.”
“That’s really good,” I said. I was impressed. I hated school and didn’t do as well as she said she did. “Where are you going to college?”
“Thanks! Just finishing up my G.E. at the community college,” she replied, looking around. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the inside of one of these apartments.”
“It’s actually a condo.”
“What’s that?”
“Like an apartment, but I own it. It’s what I could afford. It’s not one of the bigger units in the development. It’s just two bedrooms, two levels.”
“Oh,” she said. “Our house has three bedrooms.”
“You live across the street, right?”
“Yes. It’s nice. We each get our own room. And it’s close to school, so we just walked.”
“We?”
“Yeah, my brother and me. He’s starting high-school in the fall.”
“You two get along?”
“Yeah, he’s okay.”
“I imagine having separate rooms helps.”
She smiled. “Lots!”
We were both quiet for a bit, then before I could suggest it was time to get back to my gardening, she broke the silence by asking: “So, what do you do?”
“Besides gardening?”
“Yes! Do you work?”
“Yes, I work swing-shift security at a company nearby.”
“What’s a ‘swing-shift?’”
“Oh, it's a five-to-one-AM shift.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Actually, it’s really nice having days off. You can go shopping when the stores aren’t crowded. You get to see the daylight. You can go hiking. It’s pretty cool. And you get a higher pay for it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. People don’t want to work those hours, so you get another fifteen-percent on your check.”
“Oh, that’s pretty cool.”
“It’s how I bought this condo. I doubt I could have afforded it otherwise.”
“So, do you do anything else?”
“I love to cook.”
“Like, what do you love to cook? Do you bake, or like, fix dinners?”
I thought about it for a second and said: “Heck, it’s not too early for supper,” and I cleaned up right then and pulled out some ingredients from the refrigerator. A light supper it would be. I grabbed a mix from the Pantry closet and fixed a crust. Then as the oven heated up, I thinly sliced whole-milk mozzarella and tomatoes and stripped the stems off of some basil leaves, layering them on the crust as Amber watched.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” she said.
“Thanks, but wait until you try it.”
I baked it for about fifteen minutes while she peppered me with questions about my cooking, then I took it out of the oven and let it cool for a bit before slicing it. I offered her the first slice.
“It’s delicious!” she announced.
“Thanks! It’s a margarita pizza. It's simple, but quite good.”
“It’s great!”
“Secret is in the mozzarella. Always use a whole-milk, not part-skim, cheese.”
We shared the pizza over talk.
“What are you doing over the summer?” I asked her.
“I’m finishing up classes in English and Statistics at the college right now, and swimming there too. Then I’m free for the summer!”
“Not working?”
“No, my parents don't want me to work.”
“That's interesting, most do,” I said.
“Yeah, my parents are afraid that I'll just get stuck in the first job I take. And they want me free for our annual family vacation.”
“Interesting. Actually, that might be the wisest thing I've ever heard,” I said. “You have very smart parents.”
I could tell by the time we were finished eating that she was feeling better about the day. And even though I was behind on my gardening, so was I.
After we cleaned up the kitchen and talked over sodas for a while, I noticed the time. It was almost six. “Are your parents expecting you home soon? I’ve kept you here quite a while.”
“Not really,” she said before she noticed the time. “Wait, is it really that late?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Wow, yeah, they might be worried that I wasn’t home for dinner. You don’t mind…”
“Of course not,” I said. “Besides, I have to clean up the garden mess before it gets too dark out.”
She headed for the door, and when she got there she looked back at me.
“You know, this was, like, really fun. Could I come back again?”
“Good Lord, of course you can! It was really nice having you over, and I am very glad I met you!” I told her.
“Thanks,” she said. “You too!”
And with that, she left with a smile and wave, and I got ready to put away my gardening tools.
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