BLIND DATE #1	
By MERZ, mrmerz@yahoo.com
Betty Hunt, the ultimate blind date

Rick and I went through college together, which is the only 
reason he was a friend of mine.  In a lot of ways he finished 
maturing emotionally sometime in high school with only the 
added refinement of binge drinking rounding out his 
personality.  That talent was added to good looks, innate 
ability for sports, and lots of charm with women.  It's no 
coincidence that Rick was doing quite well in sales.  

I, on the other hand, went from doing very well studying 
English literature to not doing very well at all finding a 
job I wanted that did more than pay my bills.  Like a lot of 
people I assumed I could always just go into teaching, and I 
even got a teaching credential in case times got really hard.  
But during a term of student teaching I realized that my idea 
of hell was trying to get 30 adolescents to even pay 
attention to the subjects nearest to my heart.  I tried and 
failed to convince my class there was anything more to Romeo 
and Juliet than a couple neat sword fights that would make an 
awesome video game.  The education system and I are both 
lucky I tasted reality and spit it back up before I harmed 
any young minds in a classroom of my own.  So I've been sort 
of drifting from job to job writing ad copy, writing 
technical manuals on things I didn't understand, and learning 
about word processing hardware.

Thursday Rick called to say the woman he'd been dating 
recently, Julia, who is a legal assistant in a big law 
office, needed to find a date for one of the lawyers there.  
Rick knew I had no social calendar to check so he called me 
at ten in the morning for a blind date at six that evening.   
I knew Rick has no conscience so I didn't bother listening to 
him list the wonderful qualities of this woman he might never 
have met.  He would swear to me that Rosie O'Donnell was a 
twin of Jennifer Lopez if it would help him score with Julia.  
I had met Julia and she seemed nice as well as drop-dead 
gorgeous.  I called her at work for the real story before 
agreeing.  She assured me the woman really was an attorney at 
the law firm where Julia worked, was quite smart, seemed 
athletic, had a good sense of humor, not addicted to drugs 
and had a good sense of humor.  She also let me know the 
woman was a few years older than I, somewhere in her early 
thirties, Julia guessed.  She promised that if I went out 
with this woman, Betty, I would not be sorry and would have a 
memorable evening.  When she asked me as a favor to her to go 
on the date I melted.  Julia is not only a knockout, she is a 
very sweet woman.  I got the idea Julia was not telling me 
something but I couldn't pin her down beyond saying Betty 
didn't go out much but was not unattractive.  I agreed to the 
blind date and arranged for Rick to pick me up after work.  

We got to the club and spotted the lovely Julia already 
seated.  She saw us when we were close to the table and 
whispered to the woman sitting with her.  They rose together 
and I could see Julia was a head taller than my date and 
about half as wide.  Rick headed around to sit by Julia and I 
took the seat by my date.  Just before I sat I stepped on 
something by my chair: a folded white cane with a red tip 
that blind people use.  I stared at Rick, at Julia and at my 
date, feeling myself turning crimson from a variety of 
emotions.  Julia had the grace to look a little embarrassed 
when she realized what I was looking down at, but Rick was 
nearly bursting from contained laughter.

"Hi, I'm Betty Hunt. You must be Stan," my date said to me, 
holding out her hand and facing vaguely in my direction, her 
eyes lightly closed.  I shook her firm, square hand and told 
her Julia had said she was a lawyer.  Betty wore an 
attractive, loose velvet-looking tunic and pants combination.  
She had a broad face, a wide firm mouth and strong chin.  Her 
blonde hair was pulled back from her face and fell to her 
shoulders.  I wouldn't have been able to place her age more 
precisely than between 30 and 50.  Her face gave a sense of 
strength and had some animal quality I couldn't name. 

She told me that yes, she worked in the same firm as Julia, 
she had done public defense work for two years out of law 
school, and kept her social conscience at bay with a little 
pro bono work.  She much preferred the class of clients she 
mostly got to work with now in a private firm, mostly doing 
contracts and a little litigation.  She then said Julia told 
her I was a writer and wasn't it wonderful to be so creative.  
I reflected for a moment on all the creativity that had gone 
into setting me up on a blind date with a blind woman.  Then 
I explained how I really made a living.  Betty looked a 
little disappointed that she hadn't been fixed up with an 
undiscovered novelist, but Julia jumped in to say she heard I 
wrote poetry in college.

"All English majors wrote poetry in college.  We also read 
enough that we were able to tell none of it was any good," I 
responded.  I wanted to quickly sink into the background of 
this evening, as Rick no doubt intended.  He had scared up a 
date for Betty so he had scored points with Julia.  Now he 
was just figuring out how long he had to party until he could 
take her home and really score.  Betty and I were just props 
for this evening as far as he was concerned.  

"So recite somebody else's poetry," Betty said.  She was 
sitting forward, her head pivoting slightly to catch noises 
and scraps of conversation around her.  Evidently she hadn't 
figured out her role as part of tonight's scenery. "Please."

Well, if she wasn't yet ready to turn invisible I figured I'd 
cut off Rick before he could make the point more clearly.  
"Here's one," I said, facing Betty.

Now let no charitable hope
Confuse my mind with images 
Of eagle or of antelope.
I am by nature none of these.
I was, being human, born alone.
I am, being woman, hard beset.
I live by squeezing from a stone
The little nourishment I get.
In masks outrageous and austere
The years pass by in single file.
But none has ever merited my fear,
And none has quite escaped my smile."      

Enough silence followed for Rick to ask us all what we wanted 
to drink and to start waving for a waitress.  Betty sat back 
in her chair looking thoughtful while Julia studied Betty.  
Rick gave our drink order, then stood and suggested Julia 
dance with him.  I talked with Betty about her work and about 
books and poetry while they were gone.  Our drinks arrived at 
the same time the dancers returned and Rick ordered another 
round since this one had taken so long to arrive.  We talked 
a bit more among the four of us when Rick announced it was 
dance time again for him and Julia.  This time as they arose 
Betty asked if I would like to dance.  I said yes and she 
stood up.  I got up quickly to lead the way through the crowd 
to the dance floor.  We danced to a fast tune and I got to 
study Betty a bit more.  She was of average height but seemed 
rather heavy set.  She moved well to the music and seemed to 
enjoy dancing.  When that song ended and the band began a 
slow number I was surprised that Betty stepped toward me with 
one arm up at shoulder height indicating she wanted to dance 
close.  I was even more surprised as I put my hand on her 
back and felt that her body was much firmer than I expected.  
I moved my hand around a little as we danced exploring the 
hidden terrain and trying to figure out what it might look 
like.  Not fat, that was for sure.  At the end of that tune I 
put my hand on her upper arm to steer the way back to the 
table.  It felt large and firm as well, larger and at least 
as firm as my own.  She quickly shifted to hold my arm so I 
wasn't pointing or pushing her, just setting our course back 
to the table.  

The next few hours passed in a pretty standard bar manner.  I 
alternated my drinks with glasses of water to pace myself, 
the women sipped their drinks at half or a third the pace I 
was going, and Rick charged right along.  I had the sense 
Betty was sizing up both Rick and me through conversation on 
various topics - sports, politics, art, and hobbies.  Rick is 
a charming guy and got some good laughs out of her, but was 
clearly getting drunk and kept steering the conversation back 
to his favorite topics: sex and himself.  We ate and drank 
and danced until about nine when Betty announced she needed 
to go.  I offered to see her home in a cab because I was 
ready to leave as well, and she agreed.  As we headed toward 
the exit she again held my arm, but I was able to put a hand 
on her shoulder as we went through the door.  It was as thick 
and firm as the other places I had felt.  By this time I had 
reconsidered my original impression that Betty was a stout 
woman and was agreeing with Julia's description of her being 
athletic in some way.  In the cab I sat close enough that my 
arm was pressed against hers, and I got a thrill pushing 
against such solid flesh.  I didn't muster the courage to put 
an arm around her shoulders, but I had decided to ask for a 
phone number so I could call about going out again.

No need.  When we got to her building she asked if I would 
like to come up for a nightcap.  I agreed quickly.

She unfolded her stick and walked confidently up the stairs 
to her door.  Inside Betty flicked on the light switch, 
nearly blinding me.  She asked me to please switch off as 
many as I wished, that of course she had no sense of the 
right light level and preferred erring on the high side, then 
let her guests fine tune things.  As she got the drinks I 
went around switching off all but two lamps around the room 
to set a conversational mood for myself.  It seemed a little 
disorienting to me that the adjoining rooms were pitch dark.  
Betty walked in and out of the blacked out kitchen with no 
hesitation and I heard the tinkle of glasses and a bottle.  

She placed two brandy glasses on the coffee table in front of 
me. I was sitting on her couch and she sat in an easy chair 
with our knees almost touching.  Before we drank she asked 
what I could tell her about Rick.  My heart fell.  Another 
conquest by my charming friend.  I started mumbling some 
vague, noncommittal things - great jokester, life of the 
party - when she stopped me and said she got the idea. 

"Julia asked me to go out with the two of them so I could 
help size him up.  She wanted a second opinion before she got 
too serious with him.  I'm going to tell you the same thing I 
plan to tell her tomorrow.  He's bad news.  He isn't just a 
drunk, although that will probably take over everything else 
in a few years if he doesn't move on to something stronger.  
He's a manipulator who isn't capable of giving a damn about 
anybody around him.  Unless it's to find a way to use them.  
I defended enough criminals to have good radar about that 
sort.  He may not break laws, but he is not somebody you want 
to trust."

I started to protest but she cut me off.  "Did he mention I 
was blind when he invited you tonight?  Did he tell you 
anything to help make an informed decision?  I've met him 
before so he knows some basic facts about me.  What did he 
tell you?  If he were a friend he had some obligation to let 
you know some basic information.  If you talked with Julia 
she might have hedged out of concern for me, but I'll bet she 
would have given you something to base your decision on."

This was a little scary.  She was talking like she had known 
Rick for years rather than a few hours. I decided to change 
the subject rather than go into all the flaws of my friend.  
I proposed a toast to good poetry.  We drank and she asked 
why I picked the poem I had recited earlier.  I said it 
somehow seemed like it would speak to her, a woman who had 
made it through law school and into her profession.  I 
avoided mentioning anything about a handicap.  

"I liked it.  It did feel like it was talking directly to me, 
and could talk just as directly to any woman.  I guess that's 
a sign of a good poem," she said, and sipped her brandy.

I told her the poet was named Elinor Wylie.  Then I finally 
got my courage up.  "I'd like to see you again.  Would you 
like to go to dinner Saturday?"
 
"Possibly," she said slowly.  "Would you take me out without 
asking for what you have wanted from me all evening?"

I sputtered, stammered, choked and asked what she meant.  She 
stood up and ran her hands down the front of her body.

"You want to know what my body is like.  You've been stealing 
little pokes and feels all evening.  Would you ask me out 
without getting the answers to your questions?  I'm blind.  I 
use the same methods to find out what people look like that 
you were using. I'll let you check me out if I get the same 
permission."

I thought quickly.  "Let's do it this way.  What do you think 
is the most important thing I should know about you 
physically?" 

She hesitated only a second, then walked into the black 
hallway and went through a doorway.  I followed.  When I 
stepped inside she said I should turn on the light next to 
the door.  We were in what could have been a second bedroom.  
It had a desk with a computer keyboard, some speakers, a tape 
recorder and some books in Braille.  And weights.  Betty was 
standing in front of a barbell I gauged at 100 pounds.  There 
were more iron plates stacked around and two pair of 
dumbbells, along with a small bench for doing presses.  

"The most important thing you should know about me physically 
is that I can do this," she said.  She crouched over the bar, 
lifted it smoothly to shoulder level and pressed it ten times 
overhead.  "What I wonder is can you do the same," she said 
setting the bar back down and stepping aside.

I'm in pretty good shape, but I don't use free weights much.  
I suppose I can push that much seated at a nautilus machine 
but frankly hadn't lifted a barbell that heavy.  I took off 
my sport coat and took my place.  I got it up to my chin all 
right and paused.  Betty laid a hand very gently on my 
shoulder.  I started pressing the bar overhead.  After the 
first couple I needed more body English than Betty had used.  
Each rep became a struggle trying to balance the bar overhead 
and keep my back straight.  Before I got to ten Betty said, 
"That's enough.  Go ahead and put it down.  Now we both know.  
Would you still like to ask me out?"

I was a little embarrassed, but said I would very much like 
to see her this weekend.

She walked me to the door and offered her hand again rather 
than a good night hug, much less a kiss.  My mind was 
spinning as I sorted out the right bus to take home, and it 
wasn't because of the brandy.

On Saturday I drove Betty to dinner at a jazz club.  We had 
time to talk and get to know one another better.  She wasn't 
very familiar with jazz, but I had picked a pretty mainstream 
group in a club that wouldn't be too smokey.  I thought the 
evening went well and I was really getting to enjoy Betty's 
humor and intelligence.  I was careful not to go probing 
beneath the loose dress she wore without a clear invitation.

I dropped her on the sidewalk right in front of her apartment 
and she again invited me to come up.  I did a u-turn to find 
a parking spot halfway down the block.  I thought it would be 
better if she were standing on familiar ground in front of 
her building rather than crossing a sporadically busy street 
with me.  She heard my footsteps approaching and turned to 
start up the stairs.  I saw a figure emerge from the shadows 
under the stairs and approach her.  Suddenly the stranger hit 
Betty in the side of her face and grabbed the purse she wore 
across her body bandoleer style.  I shouted and started 
running toward them.  Betty was almost jerked from her feet 
by the strap of her purse but recovered.  Her attacker gave 
another jerk and the strap broke, but Betty held on to the 
purse.  Then she swung a roundhouse right that caught her 
attacker in the side of the head. He let out a shout, and 
Betty yelled for me to stay back.  I saw he wore a ski mask 
to disguise his face.  She released her purse and dropped 
into an odd boxer's stance with her arms crossed about a foot 
in front of her face.  She was bobbing and weaving and 
talking to the person in front of her, whom she was 
maneuvering into a corner between the building wall the 
stairs.  As I got closer I heard her say, "Come on Rick, no 
balls for a fight?  Are you pissed because Julia got tired of 
your limp-dick games?"  

Her opponent said something I couldn't make out and she 
exploded with a combination of fast punches.  A left jab 
landed squarely on the mouth that had given her range and 
direction to her target.  His head snapped back so her second 
left jab glanced off, but she followed with a right hook to 
the body that landed hard.  The larger man grunted in pain, 
but recovered to throw some punches of his own.  Betty caught 
most of them on her forearms and shoulders, but some got 
partially through her guard.  She threw a couple more quick 
jabs and her attacker backed off the sidewalk into a gravel 
bed that ran along the building wall.  With the sound of his 
feet on the gravel she drove forward and forced him back 
against the wall.  She put her head down in the middle of his 
chest and threw half a dozen hard shots into his midsection.  
She didn't have a lot of room to swing but she was delivering 
solid blows left right left right into his stomach and ribs 
while he hammered ineffectually on her back and shoulders.  
Her punches sounded like the collision of something hollow 
against a solid surface, like a basketball dribbled hard on 
cement. Finally he cried out, braced against the wall and 
used both hands to push her backward by the shoulders.  Then 
he spun away from the wall and ran off into the darkness.

Betty dropped back into her boxing stance when she was pushed 
off and was again bobbing and weaving trying to find her 
target as I approached.  She heard my step behind her and 
spun ready to fight but I told her it was over.  I saw blood 
trickling from her nose and a murderous expression on her 
face.  For an instant I was afraid for my own safety as well 
as hers, but then she dropped her hands and began crying.  
She told me to bring her things and ran up the stairs, one 
hand feeling in front of her and the other fumbling for her 
keys in a pocket.  I found her stick and purse and followed 
her to her apartment.  The door was open and I turned on the 
lights.  I closed the door behind me and heard sounds from 
her back room.  Turning on lights as I went I followed the 
sound.

She had wiped a hand across the bloody nose so her face now 
had a crimson smear across one cheek as well as a trickle to 
her chin.  Her hair was disheveled and her face had a wild 
expression as she frantically raised and lowered the barbell.  
Each time she raised it with such force it looked like it 
would sail a foot above her hands if she didn't hold on.  She 
was chanting over and over, "God damn it, God damn it! I hate 
this!"  After several presses she shifted her grip without 
putting the weight down and began curling the hundred pound 
bar, again with explosive power and ferocity.

I stepped over and put a hand on her huge, hard biceps.  
"It's over, Betty.  You beat him.  It's over."  She let the 
weight hang, then set it down and turned away from me.  

"I hate feeling helpless like this.  I hate knowing that 
anybody could just attack me and I'd never know it was 
coming.  I hate having to wonder if I'm going to trip over 
something or step in a hole or have some invisible bastard 
hit me in the face.  I hate feeling like a helpless blind 
woman waiting for something awful to happen," she sobbed.

I put my handkerchief under her nose and hugged her close to 
me. In the back of my mind I noted how wide her back and 
shoulders were as I put my arms around her, and how solid.  
"It's over.  You beat him."  I murmured it over and over.  
After a minute of this I led her into the living room and got 
her seated in her easy chair.  "Is there someone I should 
call?  Do you want me to call the police?  Would you like a 
glass of brandy?  Please tell something I can do here."

She said she didn't want to see anyone, didn't want anyone 
knowing she had had a close call because she hated people 
worrying or feeling sorry for her.  She didn't want to call 
the police because that would just be a waste of time.  Of 
course she hadn't seen who it was and neither had I.  She 
said she did know it was Rick because he made enough noises 
that she could recognize him from his voice, even if he 
hadn't said any words.  And she thought she might have 
recognized the sound of his footsteps.  None of that would 
convince a jury.  She said she had talked on Friday with 
Julia about her impressions of Rick, and that Julia had 
broken off with Rick as a result.  Now he was evidently 
taking it out on Betty.

"I'm going to spend the night here on your couch," I 
announced.  "You shouldn't have to be alone after what just 
happened."  I went into the kitchen to look for her brandy 
and glasses.  When I had a couple shots poured I came back.  
I told her she had blood on her cheek from the nosebleed, and 
a bruise high on one cheek.  I told her I would wait while 
she took a shower, then I would go to my place to get some 
things for staying the night.  She agreed and went into the 
darkness of her bedroom, then into the dark bathroom where I 
heard her run the shower.  She spent about ten minutes 
letting the water run over her.  When she returned to the 
living room she was wrapped in a long bathroom with her wet 
hair pulled back.  She sat with her legs tucked under.  I was 
struck how her broad features, fair hair and coloring made 
her resemble a lioness - the dangerous sort of lion.

We talked for a few minutes, then I asked if she would be all 
right if I went out for half an hour to get things from my 
apartment for staying over.  She said she would be fine. 
Before I left I turned out all the lights again, feeling she 
was safer in the dark.

It took me ten minutes to drive to my apartment, another five 
to grab the clothes and bathroom things I needed, and five 
more to get to Rick's.  When I pulled up in front of his 
place he was just coming down the stairs, holding his 
midsection.  One look at his split lip and I knew Betty was 
right.  He had attacked her.

"Hey, Rick, how's it going?" I greeted him, smiling.

"Not so good.  I must have the flu or something.  I'm headed 
for the doctor.  Sorry I can't talk," he mumbled and tried 
going around me.

I poked my finger in his side and watched him recoil in 
agony.  "I'd say it was something more than flu.  Did she 
break a rib for you?"

He looked around to see if anyone else was with me, and 
nodded.  "I'm hurt inside.  I just puked blood.  I gotta get 
to the emergency room," he whined.

"Good idea.  Then I'd get packed and head out of town. It 
took her about five seconds to beat the shit out of you in a 
fight you started.  Next time she'll pick a dark spot where 
you can't see any better than she can and really take you 
apart.  You won't know if your next date is leading you to 
her, or if I am, or if she's waiting in your room when you 
come in some night.  Good luck, buddy.  I can't wait until 
Julia and I start spreading the word to everyone you know."  
I poked him in the side again and left.

I was back at Betty's apartment within my half hour.  We 
hugged good night, then she went back to her dark bedroom.  I 
turned out all the lights and stretched out on the couch. I 
had been lying awake in the darkness for about an hour when I 
heard her soft footsteps come to my side.  She lifted me like 
a baby in her strong arms and whispered, "Its time we went to 
bed."  For the first time I was feeling her naked flesh next 
to mine, the skin softer, the muscles larger and harder than 
I had expected.

She carried me into her room and laid me on the bed and 
crouched above me.  "Sorry, no lights in this room.  You'll 
just have to look me over the same way I will you."

In the blackness I tried to form a picture of her body.  It 
was just like the old story of the blind men and the 
elephant.  Betty was like a stone wall, a cannon ball, a tree 
trunk tapering to a hand.  So many impressions as I ran my 
hands over her.  I would feel an arm and massage its 
firmness, then ask her to flex and feel muscle explode under 
my fingers.  I rubbed my hands over her back and asked her to 
tense the muscles.  The flesh suddenly felt like oak.  She 
was running her hands over me at the same time, and we both 
got to electric curling hair at the same time, probing 
genitals and preparing to move to the next act.  She pushed 
me down and ran her tongue up and down my body, then took my 
prick in her mouth and worked it for a moment.  I barely 
saved myself from exploding, and she stretched herself over 
me, body to body at full length.  She rubbed her hard body 
against mine, then took me in her hand and began to slowly 
insert my dick into her.  I was in an agony of anticipation 
as she slid up toward my hilt by millimeters, then began 
powerful thrusts against me.  At no point was I in doubt who 
was in control.  I gripped her powerful glutes and she slid 
her hands under my own butt and began lifting me against her.  
I moved my hands to her shoulders and felt them tense and 
relax rhythmically, swelling with power as she pressed me 
into her, then let me ease down, in and out, in and out.  Her 
shoulders and upper body felt solid as stone, large as a 
mountain. 

I awoke slowly the next morning.  I was disoriented from 
waking in a room and bed I had never seen before.  I had only 
fragmentary impressions of the night before.  Making love to 
Betty in the darkness seemed unreal, despite the signals my 
tender groin was sending that something powerful had been at 
work there.  I tried assembling the partial impressions I had 
formed of her body as I felt it in the dark, but could not 
come up with a picture of a complete person.  I thought I 
must have been confused in some of my impressions of size 
when I thought about her shoulders, arms, thighs. 

I smelled the coffee she was bringing before she entered the 
room.  One glance brought all the confused impressions into 
focus.  Naked in the morning, her body looked like it was 
built from concrete blocks.  She walked to the edge of the 
bed and set a cup of coffee on the nightstand next to me.  I 
reached out to rub her leg and wish her a good morning.  

"Good morning, sleepy head," she purred, running her hand 
over my chest and bending to give me a kiss.  "That's for 
sleeping over with me last night.  I hope I wasn't too 
aggressive.  After being attacked, all of a sudden I just got 
this combination of horniness and needing to be held.  Was it 
okay?"

"It was fabulous.  I knew you must be strong from your 
weights, but you are incredible.  I've never seen muscle like 
this on a woman," I said a little nervously.

"Thanks" she said.  "You're in good shape yourself. I haven't 
been with many men, but it's nice that you don't have any 
fat."  She said the last part a little shyly, like she was 
uncertain about her experience as a lover.  "Listen, I'm 
sorry that I suspect your friend of attacking me last night.  
I'm just glad Daddy insisted I learn to box when I was 
growing up.  He had to raise me and my two brothers alone and 
he refused to let me ever feel helpless despite my blindness.  
Sometimes something just happens that leaves me feeling 
completely alone and vulnerable.  It was sweet of you to stay 
with me last night."  

I gave her a little kiss on the bruise that showed on her 
cheek from where she had been punched last night.  "I don't 
think you'll ever have to worry about Rick again."  I thought 
about how thoroughly she had mauled him, and got more 
nervous.

"Is that going to show?" she asked.  "I'm supposed to meet my 
brother at the gym on Tuesday and I don't like getting him 
worried.  I'm the oldest but he always wants to take care of 
his poor blind sister.  I suppose I can use the old 'walked 
into a door' story."

"You work out with your brother?  That's nice," I said a 
little vaguely as I started caressing her soft skin.

She giggled a bit.  "Yes, he wants to make the Olympic team 
again, and I work out with him twice a week.  I actually work 
out six days a week, but he lets me lift with him so we can 
get time together regularly.  I found out years ago I can 
concentrate and remember information like case briefs and 
statutes and contracts better if I hear them while I'm 
exercising.  It's like the information gets absorbed deeper 
than just into my brain.  I spend about three hours lifting 
weights while I listen to taped transcripts or law books on 
tape or other stuff like that."

Wow!  Three hours a day pumping iron.  No wonder she was in 
such great shape.  I pulled my hand back.  "What does your 
brother compete in?"

"He's a weight lifter.  This will be his second Olympics, if 
he makes the team.  But he still says his proudest day was 
when he bench-pressed more than I could. He finally caught up 
with big sister."

I had grown up with sibling rivalry in my home as well, so I 
could relate to this a little.  "How old was he when he 
caught you?"

"Well, I think it was when he was a sophomore at the state 
college.  I know I was in law school and a combination of his 
growth spurt and my getting too busy studying to stay in 
shape let him slip past.  He hasn't looked back since."

Now I was getting scared.  She has a brother who lifts at a 
national level, and she was stronger than him until he was 
roughly twenty?  I suggested we go out for breakfast, but 
Betty said she felt like staying inside for the morning.  She 
wasn't worried about her safety in the daylight, she just 
felt like nesting for a while.  I showered and dressed 
quickly.  She gave me a long kiss as I left and said she 
hoped I would start writing my own poetry again someday, she 
would like to read it.  As I drove home I wondered if I would 
ever get up the courage to call Betty again.  I never did, 
but the next weekend I did start going out with Julia.