Free Super Born: Seduction of Being by kkornell

a good candidate after our meeting, it would be a good
idea.”
    “ You have all the papers from the
university about the research project and survey?”
    “ Yes,” I said. He was referring to
the “real” Penn State Psychology Department survey that would be my
cover to meet Jennifer. I’d told her that she fit a profile our
researchers were looking for and that we would give her a whole
twenty-five dollars just to meet with me and answer a few simple,
confidential questions about her parents and her success later in
life.
    “ Good,” he said, then patted me on
the shoulder and pushed me toward the door. “I’m certain you’re
right about the private eye. Good luck and good hunting, my friend.
Now, if you will excuse me, it’s ladies night at The
Banshee.”

Chapter 4
    Jennifer Lowe (Bitch): Not My Finest
Hour
    I now know what a bug feels like just before it
gets fried by a bug zapper. The exhilaration, heightened by
anticipation and hope, totally overrides what should be an
impending sense of risk and doom. As I approached the coffee shop
where I was to meet Jennifer Lowe, the hope that she was the blond
with flashing eyes made me ignore all else. Simple things, like how
I was going to communicate in more than single slurred syllables,
or what I would say to her, or what in heaven I could offer someone
like her, or if I would end up like Ed if I got too close and she
felt exposed.
    “ Hi, I’m a rarely published writer
whose work you’ve probably seen in your cat’s litter box. Pardon
me, but did you flash your eyes at me and save a hundred people on
flight 118, and do you have super powers? Do you want to go get a
burger or something?” somehow just didn’t
seem to cut it. I wondered what Jones said to attract all of his
women. Or did he just open his wallet? I shook my head. Jones’s
women were great, I’m sure, but she…she was a super
woman.
    I concluded that the excitement I had felt
since learning of her existence made any risk worth it. She had
brought me back from a dull life that now seemed meaningless to one
alive with the risky anticipation of what was around every corner.
But in actuality, it wasn’t a logical choice at all; I was
emotionally compelled to be there, and that was that; just a bug
drawn to a light.
    I arrived way early to be certain I got there
first and found a table near the window. I would see her before she
saw me—that was for sure. What possible good that would do, I don’t
know, but give me credit; it sounded good. Despite not needing the
artificial energy, I sipped a coffee as I waited.
    For the next half hour, people came and went
with their lattes and chai teas: some groups, some couples, and the
occasional lone female. No one I saw fit the bill. I was just about
ready to get a refill on my coffee when I heard a voice , “You must
be Mr. Penn State,” a woman said in a cheery tone, suddenly
standing beside me.
    I got through an instant of surprise and panic
without showing much of it, then rose and offered my hand. “You
must be Jennifer,” I said to the woman, who was obviously not the
blond. “I’m Tom,” I lied—why, I don’t know. “Have a seat. Can I get
you a…”
    “ Latte, please, extra foam,” she
answered, slipping off her coat revealing a rack the visual guy
half of me couldn’t help but notice.
    I put my eyeballs back in my head and asked,
“And?”
    “ How about a cinnamon roll,” she
said, sitting down, crossing her legs, revealing muscular skater’s
thighs pushing the limits of her jeans.
    I went to the counter, placed her order and got
my refill, then leaned back against it to try to figure her out
while I waited. The hopeful anticipation had drained out of me
faster than money through my checking account…on a Friday. Jennifer
had reddish-brown hair down to her shoulders and a sober, almost
cocky look on her rather plain face. She wore jeans and a
light-colored blouse, expensive but not flashy; but oh, the way she
filled them.