YOU CAN BANK ON IT
copyright 2013 Edwin P. Cutler
THE MATING GAME
Elsie Greenfield
Roger Hammerfest
Stephen Heidelback
Elsie Greenfield looked up from the bed where she had taken her pleasure. Roger Hammerfest was handsome, and well built. If a woman was interested in improving the species, he was the kind of man she would surely mate with.
Promoting the species would come later after she had firmed up a relationship which promised long term security. She had read that most women got married out of desperation or fear of embarrassment, but seldom for true love. She had a good job as a secretary and was certain she could avoid being trapped by financial deprivation. With the "pill" she could avoid the negligent negligee trap.
Roger, with five years working at the bank, seemed the ticket to a secure future. But two things worried Elsie. The most evident was his passion for football. She flatly refused to visit him on Monday nights because after he consumed the meal she fixed he became a couch potato, glued to the TV. The only passes made on Monday nights were by the quarterbacks. Her second concern, and perhaps more important from the standpoint of security, was that he was deep in debt.
"Oh, that's no problem. Since I work at the bank I have an excellent credit rating."
She had to admit that his apartment was nicely furnished and very comfortable. Soft music issued from hidden speakers and the lights brightened and dimmed on command. The oak floors were polished to a shine and a small scatter rug, under the long glass coffee table, prevented spills from marring the finish.
"If only he owned all this instead of the credit card company," she said to herself and sighed.
Since, besides football on Monday evenings, Roger played golf on both Saturday and Sunday, Elsie usually spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with Stephen, her insignificant other.
Elsie felt it was necessary at this formative stage in her young life to have more that one iron in her fire. She was twenty five and knew it would soon be time to make a choice and settle down.
Stephen Heidelback was laid-back, and she always felt relaxed when she went to work on Monday and Tuesday mornings. She wondered if it was the easy going atmosphere of his topsy turvy apartment or the casual love making that left her expended to her lusty limit.
Making love with Roger always started in bed, after the evening sitcoms and give-away shows expired and the nightly news threatened serious thinking. And when he had finished with her, he would tell her, "That was great, wasn't it," as if he had done her a favor.
With Stephen it was as unpredictable as the weather. She wondered how he seemed to sense her mood, or maybe when he looked into her eyes he hypnotized her. There was never a TV to interfere with friendly chats about books and music and things that thinking people think about. The music came from a raggle-taggle old fashioned tape player with speakers that had the trill of a nightingale and the woof of a lion. The songs were a mix, depending on what they were doing, and ranged from romantic oldies, like she had heard at home growing up, to Italian opera. The opera confused her until he told her the stories and described the scenes that went with the music -- she was soon addicted to the vibrato of the songs and the romantic tragedies.
But she knew when she saw Stephen come home from school that he would never really amount to much. Can you imagine a man of thirty still going to school? When she asked him about what kind of job he would get when he got out of school, his response further convinced her he was hopeless in the long run.
"I saw my father get up everyday and go off to work. He came home from work tired and grumpy. He complained about the people at work. I guess I just got an instinctive fear of going to work rain or shine."
"But people, men, have to work to make money to support themselves," she argued, adding, "and their families."
"Oh, I play the stock market to pay my bills," he laughed.
"You gamble?" she gasped.
"You could call it that, but actually it's more of a game," he said and shrugged in his casual dismissive way.
But when he looked into her eyes, Elsie couldn't remember why she had been worried.
Tuesday evening, during dinner with Roger, he announced that he may soon be promoted to a branch manager position.
While Elsie was assimilating that information, he went on to tell her, "I want to tell my folks in person so tomorrow evening, don't fix dinner. We'll go out to my home and have dinner with them."
"You're going to take me to meet your parents?"
"Don't you think it's about time to let them know our plans?"
"Our plans?" she breathed and bit her lip wondering when they had made their plans. But then she tossed a supportive smile across the table.
Roger's parents were everything she had hoped for. They were settled in a nice suburban home on a nice street with trees and sidewalks where children could roller skate. His mother met them at the door and gave Roger a hug then turned her cheek for an expected kiss.
He interrupted his father at the TV to introduce her. The man, obviously having been healthily fed for years, stood and shook her hand.
"Pleased to meet you Miss...."
"Elsie Greenfield," she supplied and the man, after nodding his approval, sat down and rewarded a Volkswagen TV commercial with a belly full of laughs.
His mother and father were obviously pleased when, at dinner, Roger told them he had been promised a branch manager position at the bank. Then his father turned to Elsie and asked, "Do you work?"
"Work?" she echoed, thinking of Stephen's refusal to get a job. "Yes. I am secretary to a Vice President at an insurance company."
"Fine. Fine," the man said and, satisfied, excused himself from the table with, "The Fugitive is starting now," and fled to the living room.
Roger's mother was more hospitable and when Roger joined his father, the two women had a nice chat about Roger growing up and being on the football team in high school.
Saturday morning when she strolled in with a little overnight bag and a sack of groceries, she asked, "Stephen, where does your father work?"
"Work? I guess you could say he is retired."
"Well, where did he work when he went out, rain or shine, to that drungy place you described?"
"At a bank," Stephen said and taking her bag, led her in to what would be the living room if it were not that he often slept there and left a ripped sheet lounging on the sofa.
Elsie blushed when she remembered him telling her not to worry, after all they had had a good time ripping it and that's what counts.
"What's in the sack?" he asked and taking it looked in. "Fillet Mignon!" he enthused.
"If I don't bring you some decent food now and then I'm sure you'd dry up and blow away eating nothing but peanut butter sandwiches," she warned him.
"I eat two softboiled eggs for breakfast, like you taught me to fix," he assured her of his proper behavior and with the sack of groceries walked away to the kitchen.
Elsie was in a mood to make a choice, to get things settled. Even though she liked being with him, she was sure Stephen didn't stand a chance. She hated to end their relationship, but she couldn't continue seeing him after she and Roger became engaged.
They savored the steak he so deftly brazed to lock in the flavor, then served rather rare. Elsie sipped the wine he had opened, amazed that such a careless person would take such pains to let wine breath for a few minutes before he poured her half a glass. Encouraged by the delightful fragrance and titillated by the opulence of the meal, she blurted, "Stephen, I've had a proposal of marriage."
With only a glance across, he remarked, "I don't recall asking you."
"Not you, Silly."
Stephen put a hand over his heart and looked off toward the refrigerator, then in staged mock, he breathed, "You've been seeing another man."
"Well, yes, I have," she said but giggled at his showmanship.
"Do you love him?" he asked, sobering somewhat.
"Well, yes I do, and he is everything I want in marriage."
"And what do you want in marriage?" Stephen asked, as if he was a psychiatrist talking to a patient.
"Well, he works at a bank, and..."
"Ah! The work ethic."
"Don't make fun of me," she bit her lip and sipped her wine.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just surprised and disappointed to have lost."
"You're sweet to take it so nicely," she nodded, then continued, "He has a nice neat apartment and a new car and we talked about someday having a split level house in the suburbs."
"Sounds like you will have a rosy future," Stephen offered, but shrugged and asked, "Does he have money in the bank where he works?"
"Well, not exactly."
"You mean he owes money to the bank?"
"Some, I guess."
"I knew a young lady who told her fiancee that she would marry him when he had all his bills paid off."
"Oh, but he doesn't want to wait."
"That bad, huh?" Stephen remarked ambiguously.
"Well, I will be working too."
"What about love?"
"Love? Of course I love him." She frowned, "I wouldn't marry him if I didn't love him."
"You wouldn't?" he asked then stood up and walked around the table to her side. "Sometimes I get the feeling that you might, in some small way, love me."
"Oh, I do," she blurted, then bit her lip and lowered her eyes, "But you are still going to school and don't have a steady job and well, you seem financially irresponsible, it's just not possible." She let him take her hand and help her up from her chair.
"But what if I told you that you bring the flowers of spring into my school days where I'm surrounded by kids much younger than my ancient thirty years." He led her into the cluttered living room.
"Oh, my," she cooed and let him sit her on the ripped sheet on the ancient sofa.
He turned on the tape player and turned to her, "Perhaps, from time to time, you can return the books I've loaned you."
"Oh, no!" she shook her head laying down the law. "Once I'm married there will be no more hanky panky."
Stephen commented, "You're not wearing a ring," and took her hand in his.
"Not yet. He's going to ask for a credit extension to buy a nice one."
"What I mean is, since you're not married yet, not even officially engaged there's still time for a little hanky panky."
"Oh, Stephen." She wagged a schoolmarm finger, "You're always teasing me."
"Look at me," he said and with a finger under her chin turned her head until she was looking into his eyes.
Monday morning dressing to go to work, she explained, "I don't think I should come here anymore."
"I hope he's good in bed." Stephen lifted her overnight bag strap onto her shoulder.
"Let's don't get so personal." She stuck her tongue out at him.
"But Elsie, you're the kind of woman that needs to be... well you know." He waved a hand toward the living room with the big sofa, the thick cozy rug, the scattered books and the ripped sheet.
"Roger is quiet adequate in bed, I assure you."
"In bed?" Stephen gasped.
"Yes. In bed," Elsie stated and lifting her chin, explained, "He doesn't drag me all over the living room."
"Drag you? Elsie, I couldn't get away from you."
"Hush, now. I'll be late for work," she pecked his cheek and with a sigh of regret walked out of his life.
Elsie spent Monday night in her own, small, seldom used apartment. She went over the two men in her life wondering if she was making the right choice.
"Stephen is certainly more fun to be with, but Roger is more stable," she argued.
"I'll help Roger pay off his bills," she nodded approval of her devotion to the success of the marriage, then wondered, "I guess Stephen doesn't buy enough stuff to owe any significant bills?"
"Roger dresses so very nice while Stephen wears jeans and old saggy sweaters. Admittedly they are Angora but he pulls them all out of shape."
"Maybe with time, Roger will become a little more thoughtful," she mused, then blushed, "Stephen is just awful the way he makes me misbehave."
"Well, a girl can't have everything," she shrugged and climbed into her big double bed -- alone.
Tuesday, at Roger's insistence, Elsie asked for the afternoon off so she could go to lunch with her fiancee who wants to show me the rings he has chosen.
In the jewelry store she wondered aloud, "Oh, the engagement ring is rather large."
"Only the best for my fiancee." He said the words as if they tasted good on his lips.
After a nervous lunch, Elsie with the afternoon off, walked him back to the bank. He showed her his office cubicle with the soundproof half-partions, explaining that when his promotion comes through, he'll have an office of his own.
They were interrupted by a teller who had a problem with a check and Roger stalked off importantly.
Left standing alone, Elsie said to his disappearing back, "I'll see you this evening," and turned to leave.
Walking through the maze, hoping to find her way back to the main lobby, she staggered to a stop.
"What is Stephen doing in this bank?" she asked and stepped into an empty cubicle when he came toward her, walking with an older man who asked, "When are you going to get serious about your life, professor?"
"Professor?" she gasped and suddenly realized why he was so vague about the school, the university.
"Perhaps you're right, Dad. I've met a young lady who wants security and, well, she's everything I've ever wanted in a woman. When she walks into my place it seems to get brighter."
"Dad? That old man's his father?" She looked again when she remembered that his father worked in a bank before he retired, well sort of retired.
"Don't tell me. You've fallen in love?" the old man asked.
"I hate to admit it, but when she smiles, the sun comes out and her laugh sounds like she's singing."
Elsie's legs went limp and she sank into a chair as they walked away. "He loves me? I guess it's him I really love. And he's not a student, he's a professor. But I've got to be practical, do professors make enough to support a family?"
"May I help you?" a woman walked into Elsie's hideout, obviously the owner of the little office cubicle.
"I?... Can... can you tell me who that old man is who just walked by?"
"Oh, that's Mr. Heidelback. He owns the bank."
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