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The owner believed in hands-on supervision and wouldn't let me use the computer or the telephone as a substitute for face-to-face meetings.

I would leave early every Thursday morning for one of our stores, arrive about noon, review their inventory, and check on any problems they might have.

We talked for about thirty minutes, and I realized two things. Her fine blonde hair was done up in a pony tail and it went down to well below her shoulder blades. The creators of every blonde joke ever told or written must have had her in mind.

No wonder she was twenty-three years old and still single.

That, plus her marriage vows, would make her mine and mine alone. She then cupped her sex and informed me that only her husband would ever explore that territory. I was thinking along the lines of a year or so but when she said that, I moved the timetable up to as soon as possible. She wanted a nice church wedding, and it would take that long to make all of the arrangements. The only place she drew the line was about anal sex.

As for the honeymoon, well, I'm not sure that there are enough descriptive words of the right kind to properly describe it. Yes, she was a virgin, and she was as dumb about sex as the proverbial doornail. She had heard about it and decided against it long before she met me.

I learned more about sex during those four years than most men learn in a lifetime.

I got lucky after graduation and was offered a job by an electrical wholesale company. We had four satellite warehouse outlets in each of the four directions, about four hours away by car.

Why mess with that when there was a nice, soft, warm, wet pussy right next to it.

As far as I could tell, she didn't even have a boyfriend.

I was only a year older than her but light years ahead of her on the intelligence meter.

I took her to a nice place to eat, and we danced afterward.

Actually, she was light years ahead of me when it came to dancing.

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