FOREVER AUTUMN
The Myrtle Beach Experience Continues
Another Novel Idea By
Bill Lawless
Copyright © 2009 Bill Lawless
Smashwords Edition
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This book is a work of fiction based in part on the author’s personal experiences. The names, characters, places, incidents, dialogue, and plot are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or companies is entirely coincidental.
ISBN (EPUB): 978-1-4580-4250-7
ISBN (Amazon): B002OHD27A
Website: ForeverAutumn.us
Blog: ToplessDelivery.blogspot.com
INTRODUCTION
Walking along the beach on a warm, starry night in early September, I find myself reflecting on how quickly another summer tourist season has come and gone here in the oceanfront resort town of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. This summer season has been a very exciting time for me. After completing my Master of Business Administration degree at the University of Illinois at Chicago in May, I came down to Myrtle Beach for my 8th, and final, summer season as a guest driver at Papa’s Pizza in Myrtle Beach. In previous seasons I would have returned to my family home near Chicago by mid-August. However, this season is very different. My name is David Lawrence, and this is my story.
Within a couple of weeks after moving here in May, I made a very special delivery to a beautiful bikini-clad blonde by the name of Ashley Lynn Cooper that changed my life forever. From our initial meeting at her condo on the 11th floor of Regency Towers that fateful night, I knew that something magical was about to happen between us…and I was not to be disappointed. At the time we first met, she was the “#1 Entertainer” at Club Paradise, far and away the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in the South. I knew, just from talking to her, that she was more than just another pretty face in the crowd. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, deep sapphire eyes, and long, tight, well-tanned legs make her the obvious choice as Wave 104.1’s “Ultimate Beach Babe” for 2007. She is also well-versed in the ways of Southern high society due to her upper-class upbringing. We hit it off instantly and three months later, she invited me to move in with her. The day after her stunningly gorgeous roommate and long-time best friend, Heather Roberts, got married in a beachfront ceremony in August; I moved in with Ashley and started a new life.
Thanks to an act of God, in the form of a Category 5 hurricane named Erika, both of our lives changed forever. Erika completely destroyed many homes and businesses, including Club Paradise and Papa’s Pizza in both Myrtle Beach and North Myrtle Beach. As a direct result, we both lost our jobs. Ashley and I escaped the storm’s destruction by making the 1500 km, 17-hour, drive to my parents’ house near Chicago where we rode out the storm.
I have often referred to Myrtle Beach as the “Sodom of the South” because if you have enough money and you know where to look, you can find any form of decadence or perversion you can imagine, along with a few more that I would rather not. Using that analogy, I often wonder aloud if Hurricane Erika was the modern-day equivalent of “fire and brimstone.”
Thanks to an act of the South Carolina Assembly, her exotic dancing career came to an end. During our three-week stay at my parents’ house, the Governor signed a new law now known in the strip club industry as the “2-Meter Rule”. This law requires all exotic dancers to maintain a distance of at least 2 m from their customers while performing, which also means that all lap dances are now illegal. The new law also imposes a mandatory midnight closing time for all adult entertainment venues such as strip clubs and adult video stores. Given the fact that most strip clubs are busiest after midnight, and the fact that VIP couch dances and lap dances are traditionally major sources of revenue for both the clubs and their dancers, most strip club owners will very quickly find that the new law will make it very difficult, if not totally impossible, for them to keep their doors open and remain profitable. Whatever strip clubs Hurricane Erika did not destroy, the new law will. While we were in the Chicago area, Ashley brought her exotic dancing career to the perfect conclusion as the featured performer at a high-end club near my parents’ house about 45 km south of Downtown Chicago called Atlantis. She performed her final VIP couch dances there…on me! Atlantis even donated a portion of the proceeds from her performances to the Hurricane Erika Relief Fund through the American Red Cross to help the tens of thousands of Horry County residents left homeless by Erika’s sustained winds of up to 280 km/h and storm surges of up to 10 m high. The storm also killed hundreds and injured thousands in Horry County alone.
Upon returning to my new home in Myrtle Beach from our three-week trip to Chicago, Ashley started her final semester as a graduate student at Coastal Carolina University in Conway and is currently working part-time as a Graduate Assistant for an economics professor in the Wall College of Business at CCU. The best part of the job is that the university pays her tuition and fees for the final two courses of her MBA degree. She is also making good money teaching “stripper classes” to the members of several sororities on campus. Because CCU doesn’t allow any of its fraternities or sororities to have chapter houses on campus, the classes for each sorority are held at the apartment of a member of that sorority chapter.
Thanks, at least in part, to Ashley’s family connections, I have recently started a wonderful job as a Research Analyst in the Division of Strategic Planning and Development at Burgess & Cooper, where her father, Don Cooper, serves as the Chairman of the Board and is the company’s majority owner. Ashley is expected to join her family’s company after she graduates in December. The greatest difficulty I had in changing careers was in resetting my biological clock for a 9-to-5 job after working late nights at Papa’s Pizza for so many years. My primary assignment is to research and implement a recovery plan for the company and its many commercial tenants.
Once we repair the physical damage to all of our commercial properties, we must work with our many commercial tenants and their employees to reopen the businesses as quickly as possible so that they can generate revenues and we can collect rent payments again. The priority in my economic recovery proposal is to put the local residents back to work as quickly as possible. Once we put them back to work, they can shop at the many local businesses that rent their retail space from Burgess & Cooper...thereby generating more revenue for the company.
The main objective is to accelerate the long and difficult process of reviving the local economy after Erika destroyed many businesses in the area and forced an early end to the tourist season. The problem with the tourism-driven economy is that many local businesses earn between 60 and 80 percent of their annual revenues between May and August. Among my many recommendations is to diversify the local economy by attracting new businesses that are unrelated to tourism, such as technology and financial services, to the area. A similar reconstruction effort had taken place here after the Myrtle Beach Air Force Base was shut down in 1992. The transformation of the base during the last 15 years has been absolutely incredible with several new subdivisions, a new campus of Horry-Georgetown Technical College, the Market Common Shopping Center, the Myrtle Beach International Airport, and several beautiful parks.
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MYRTLE BEACH
Driving down a deserted South Ocean Boulevard on a sunny September afternoon, I can clearly see evidence of the destruction that Hurricane Erika had left behind when she blew into town barely a month ago. Many of the older motels and single-family homes have been completely destroyed, while the newer high-rise hotels and condo buildings remain standing with varying degrees of damage. What I see around me as I drive home from work is nothing short of eerie. Myrtle Beach, after Hurricane Erika, looks a lot like Hiroshima did after the atom bomb was dropped there in 1945. I must give proper credit to the maintenance crews at both the Palace Resort, the 23-story building where I had lived for three months before moving in with Ashley, and Regency Towers, the 18-story building we now call home.
The work that the Santee Cooper repair crews have done to restore power here in only three weeks is nothing short of miraculous, given the magnitude of the damage from the storm. Construction trucks and crews are everywhere to be seen throughout the area. The smell of their diesel generators and sawdust, along with the very loud noises from their power tools, permeates the air. Because many of these workers come from outside the Grand Strand Area, local restaurants need to be rebuilt to feed them and local hotels need to be restored to accommodate them. An encouraging sight is that several of the newer hotels on Ocean Boulevard, which have been built in compliance with tougher building codes adopted over the last 20 years, have reopened every week since we returned home. Many of the older, smaller motels within the three-block wide area between Kings Highway and Ocean Boulevard were completely destroyed or damaged so severely that they will have to be demolished. I wonder if any of them will ever be rebuilt or if more luxury high-rise condos and timeshares will be built in their place. Only time will tell.
Returning home to Regency Towers just after 5:30 pm, I pull my dark grey 2003 Mitsubishi Eclipse GTS Spyder (also known as the “Clipper”, which is short for “Yankee Clipper”) into one of our two assigned parking spaces and put the top up. Ashley’s cat, Princess, greets me at the door with a friendly meow as I walk into the condo. I stoop down for a minute to pet the Seal-Point Himalayan cat who thanks me with a purr. After putting my briefcase on my desk in the study, I walk over to the kitchen and feed Princess. I shake the box and she comes running into the kitchen to eat her dinner. Sitting down at my desk in the study, I power up my laptop and check my e-mail. Ashley leaves me a message say that she is going straight from work at CCU to her Advanced Economics class tonight due to a late meeting with her boss, Dr. Linda Allen, one of her favorite professors. Dr. Allen happens to be teaching her Advanced Economics class this semester. At UIC this class was the horror show affectionately known as “Econ 500”, the toughest “A” grade I ever earned in my life.
While I am online I send my car payment as well as the electronic payment to Santee Cooper for the electric bill. I print out the receipt for the Santee Cooper payment and put it on Ashley’s desk. I grab my cell phone and send her a text message to let her know that the power bill has been paid and to ask her what she wants me to make for dinner. About ten minutes later, she sends a reply thanking me for sending the payment and telling me that she is bringing a pizza for us on her way home. The Papa’s Pizza in Conway, on US 501 near the CCU campus, is the only Papa’s Pizza location in the Grand Strand Area to survive the hurricane intact. Stepping out onto the balcony I can see that the beach has been severely eroded as a result of Hurricane Erika. Despite the heavy erosion I still see a few brave souls down on the beach.
A few minutes later I step back inside, grab a favorite book, and sit down on the leather sofa. The book is “Think and Grow Rich” by Napoleon Hill, which was required reading in college. Ashley and I each have our own copy of this book and we started reading it together recently. One of our recent discussions was on encouraging my co-workers at B & C to read “The Seventeen Keys to Success”, as well as “Think and Grow Rich”, as part of a personal development program. Her father swears by both of these great books by Napoleon Hill. We now endeavor to apply the “17 Principles” described in these books to every aspect of our personal and professional lives. The first principle is to find the definite major purpose for our lives. My problem with that principle is the fact that I have several definite major purposes and I must align them so that they complement each other.
I finish the first chapter just before 10:00 pm, when Ashley comes home from class with a large thin-crust pepperoni and mushroom pizza. After greeting me with a hug and a quick kiss, she puts the pizza on the dining room table and goes into the master bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable. Meanwhile, I prepare a salad and set the table.
Ashley emerges a few minutes later, wearing a pair of black satin jogging shorts and a black T-shirt, and asks me, “How was your day, sweetie?”
As I seat her at the table in my usual way, I reply, “My day went very well. I’m very excited about the progress of the area’s economic recovery, honey. How was class tonight?”
She smiles and replies in a very excited voice, “The class went well tonight. Honey, I have something to show you.”
With a bright glow on her face, Ashley pulls a legal-size envelope from her purse, containing a letter from the mortgage company along with the title to the condo. The mortgage is now paid in full and she owns the condo free and clear. Seven years of hard work and very shrewd investing has finally paid off. This is definitely a cause for celebration.
I ask her, “Ashley, how did you manage to pay off a 30-year mortgage in only 7 years?”
She pulls a spreadsheet printout from her purse and replies, “Well, David, when I bought the condo I took out a 15-year mortgage instead of the traditional 30-year mortgage. Then I budgeted for double mortgage payments every month, thanks to Heather’s rent payments. I also received this printout of the amortization schedule for the mortgage from the bank. Every time I sent my regular monthly payment, I sent a second check for the principal part of the following month’s payment and put the interest part of that payment in the bank. Seven years later the mortgage is paid off in full, saving hundreds of thousands of dollars in interest,” showing me the check marks she wrote on the printout as she made each mortgage payment.
I say, “Wow! I should start doing that for my graduate school loan and for my car loan.”
She replies, “Yes. I really think you should. You’ll save thousands of dollars in interest over the life of the loan contract. Remember from your Finance classes in business school that, in most cases, a lender cannot collect interest on principal that has already been paid. With the exception of certain types of mortgages that are guaranteed by the Federal Government, most retail installment loans have no early payment or prepayment penalties.” Ashley is one brilliant lady. I think I’ll let her create our budget.
We light the two candles and join hands in a brief prayer of Thanksgiving before we eat our lovely dinner. We drink a toast to the end of the mortgage. Tonight’s dinner conversation centers on her Advanced Economics class as well as on my experiences in that same class at UIC. She had earlier read the term paper I had done for that class. I posted that paper as part of the online portfolio on my personal website.
Ashley asks me, “David, you wouldn’t happen to have a hard copy of your Econ 500 paper here, would you?”
I reply, “Let me print one up for you tonight, right after dinner.” The paper won’t take long to print out.
After dinner, I go over to the study and print a hard copy of that term paper for Ashley. While the 60-page paper prints out, I clean up the table and load the dishwasher. Once the huge print job is completed, I staple the paper together with the big stapler and lay the paper on her desk. After a long day for both of us, we finally collapse into bed for some badly-needed sleep.
FROM SOUTHERN BELLE TO EXOTIC DANCER…AND BACK AGAIN
It is a beautiful Saturday in mid-September so Ashley and I go for a little ride to one of her favorite places, Brookgreen Gardens in Murrells Inlet. After paying the $12 gate admission charge for us and flashing her VIP Membership Card, we park the Clipper in the VIP Parking Lot. After putting the top up, I walk around and open her door for her in my usual way. We go for a nice little walk through the gardens.
As we take a nice, leisurely stroll through the beautiful gardens, hanging on to each other, I ask her, “Honey, I’m just a bit curious. How did a beautiful Southern belle like you come to be a dancer in the first place?” I had this question on my mind ever since I met her and was waiting for the most appropriate time and place to ask her.
Ashley gives my hand a gentle squeeze and says, “Well, David, it all started about eight years ago while I was a senior at USC in Columbia. It was Spring Break and four of us Kappa Zetas rented a beach house with our boyfriends in Garden City. Two of the couples in our group just got engaged on Valentine’s Day so we thought it would be really nice to celebrate their engagements, as well as to decompress after midterm exams.
After a long day at the beach, the eight of us went over to the Pink Pony for their weekly ‘Amateur Night’. I’m sure you know the place. On a dare from one of the guys, all four of us entered the contest and placed 1-2-3-4 among 18 contestants. Here we were, a bunch of proper young Southern ladies, dancing on stage at a different strip club every night while on Spring Break in Myrtle Beach. Go figure. Much to my surprise at the time, I won the $500 Grand Prize that night. The following night we all went up to the Crazy Horse for its weekly ‘Amateur Night’ and I finished a close second behind one of my sorority sisters. That’s how I met Heather and Shelli, who were dancing there at the time. Heather was there on Spring Break during her sophomore year at Clemson University. Shelli was dancing there full-time, as well as singing in a country-western band at the Beach Wagon. The three of us hit it off straight away. By the time we went back to Columbia, we made more in prize money than we spent partying. I was hooked! Can you imagine the money the four of us would have made if we had done any VIP dances while we were there? Only because our boyfriends were in the club with us did we turn down quite a few offers for such dances. We also discovered how hot and horny we got while dancing on stage at those clubs. Our boyfriends didn’t know what came over us at the time, but the sex was terrific. While I finished my Marketing degree at USC, I kept in touch with both Heather and Shelli by phone and e-mail. The three of us have been friends ever since.
Late one afternoon during Final Exam Week I got an e-mail from Shelli saying that a talent scout from a local modeling agency saw me dancing at the club and wanted to interview me for a photo shoot. The talent scout left Shelli her business card and asked her to relay the message to me. I called this lady and sent her some of my pictures from the Miss South Carolina Pageant, where I placed as the ‘First Runner-Up’ six months earlier, as well as some pictures from other modeling work I had done while at USC. Right after graduation I went over to Myrtle Beach for the photo shoot. I have been working steadily as a model and a dancer ever since. Needless to say, my boyfriend didn’t take kindly to all the attention I was getting as a result of my modeling work…and as you know, I was not about to let him take control of my life…so I left him and moved in with Shelli in Myrtle Beach. Heather came back down for the summer so the three of us lived and danced together at the Crazy Horse. We all had a lot of fun and made a lot of money that summer, which went by only too quickly.
It was here at the Crazy Horse that I met Chad, who is, of course, now married to Heather, in March of 2002 when he and a few of his golfing buddies came down from New York. He was a real mess at the time, after losing his wife in the World Trade Center attacks of 9-11. He felt really guilty about surviving the attack only because he was sick in bed with the flu that morning…and that guilt was on top of the pain of losing his wife so suddenly and violently. I went on a few dates with him while he was here. The sex was incredible, but what he really needed was someone to hold on to after all he went through six months earlier. I introduced him to Heather, who had only recently broken off an engagement of her own, and they hit it off instantly. He and I are still very good friends. After all, he married my best friend this summer.
Just before Heather went back to school at Clemson in August, Shelli told us that she and Randy were getting married the following May. She met him at the Crazy Horse’s Annual Bikini Bike Wash event the preceding year. That was a lot of fun…for all the girls. Once their engagement was announced, I started saving like crazy for a good down payment on my own beachfront condo. One of Shelli’s friends invited us to audition at the very exclusive Club Paradise. The following spring, just before Shelli got married, she and I left Crazy Horse and started dancing at Club Paradise. Somehow I was able to convince the club’s Talent Committee to invite Heather to audition at the club when she came back to Myrtle Beach for the summer.
I closed on my condo in Regency Towers just a few days before Shelli and Randy’s wedding. Talk about cutting things close! Heather stayed there with me while she was here for the summer. Things worked out so well that I invited her to move back in with me after she graduated from Clemson the following year. Rachel and Kristy started dancing there a few months later. The five of us got to know each other and learned that we’re all musicians, so we started writing and playing our own music together in Randy and Shelli’s garage on our days off. That, my dear, is how Pure Ecstasy came to be. We started playing together at the club about a year later and, as you know, we just released our first CD just a couple of months ago. Now with Heather married and living in New York City, the band’s future is, to say the least, uncertain.
Looking back on my eight years as a dancer, I fondly remember many of the people I have met at the various clubs. I had a lot of fun. Dancing and modeling enabled me to buy this beautiful oceanfront condo and to pay off the mortgage in just over seven years. The best part of it all is that I was actually able to pay my own way through graduate school without asking my parents for assistance or incurring any of the student loan debt that has crippled the dreams of so many of my classmates. I just wanted to prove to myself that I can make it on my own…and I did. Unlike many of my former colleagues, I actually did very few VIP dances while at Club Paradise…and charged a premium when I did. I made most of my money dancing on stage while maintaining that “good girl” image. I even wore my late brother’s Citadel class ring and used the ruse that I was engaged to a Marine in order to keep the pickup artists at bay. It worked well. After all, Donny was a newly-promoted Captain in the Marine Corps when he was killed in Afghanistan last year. I often wear his Citadel ring to remember him. Besides, under Club Paradise rules, we weren’t allowed to associate with any of the members outside the club. Many of them were married, anyway, and I have absolutely no desire to be a home wrecker. Because I had always been so selective about the guys I would date, I would stay at home a lot. When you came by to deliver my pizza that night we first met, I figured I’d take a chance on you…and I’m so glad I did.
As soon as you and I walked out of Atlantis together and started the long trip home, I finally faced the reality that my career as a dancer had come to the perfect conclusion. With the new laws in South Carolina, and the destruction of Club Paradise, I finally decided that dancing at strip clubs is no longer fun…or profitable…for me. For the first time in many years, I feel more like a respectable Southern lady once again. Well, that’s my story. What’s yours, sweetie?” Where do I begin?
I give her hand a gentle squeeze and reply, “Well, Ashley, I started delivering pizzas during my junior year at the University of Illinois, right after I bought my first car. I worked my way through college by delivering at this little pizzeria in the center of campus. I always liked driving so this would be a good way to make a living while I completed my Computer Science degree. Pizza delivery was intended to be only a short-term survival job. However, with all the mass layoffs in the technology sector around the time I graduated, job prospects for college graduates were quite bleak. My grades were good enough to earn the degree but not nearly good enough to do anything with it as I was competing against graduates with 4.0 grade point averages from such big-name schools as Stanford, MIT, and Georgia Tech, as well as against IT professionals with 10 to 20 years of experience who have just been laid off from firms like IBM and Bell Labs. Pizza delivery has, until very recently, been a lucrative profession for me and has taken me to places I never thought I could ever go…such as Myrtle Beach. I had been working at Papa’s Pizza in Myrtle Beach for each of the last eight summer seasons. It even put me through graduate school. However, the most special delivery I ever made was the night I delivered your pizza at Regency Towers back in May…the night I met you, the love of my life.”
Ashley smiles, wraps her arms tightly around me, and says, “Yes, honey. I still remember that night very fondly. You never know what you’ll get with your pizza. I also remember the night that Papa’s Pizza was robbed while we were out and about. I’m just a bit curious. Have you ever been robbed while you were out on a delivery?” It’s a rite of passage for drivers.
With a deep sigh, I reply, “Yes, I have been robbed and beaten at gunpoint about three years ago on a delivery in, among all places, my old neighborhood near Chicago. It’s hard to fight back when it’s four against one and there’s a gun pointed at my head. I got checked out at the hospital and was back at work the next morning. The police had the four punks in custody but had to let them go free because my boss wouldn’t let me leave work to view a police lineup. Furthermore, he told me that I was responsible for the money that was taken in the robbery, which wasn’t very much. That was the point where I decided that this job was no longer fun and I needed to make some serious changes in the direction of my life. I don’t want my tombstone to read, ‘He gave his life to deliver the perfect pizza.’ Did you know that, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, pizza delivery drivers are the third most likely occupational group, behind police officers and taxi drivers, to be murdered in the line of duty? Robbery is usually the motive despite the fact that most drivers rarely leave the store with more than $20 in cash.
Two months after the robbery, I took my GMAT and, four months later, started graduate school at UIC. I finished my MBA degree in two years and moved down here immediately thereafter. Thanks to you and your father, I no longer have to deliver pizzas for a living.”
After walking slowly though the gardens and sharing our stories, we enjoy a nice dinner at the Divine Fish House in Murrells Inlet, one of her favorite restaurants.
Walking into the restaurant wearing khakis and my blue Illinois golf shirt, I wrap my arm around her and ask softly, “Am I a little underdressed for this place?” Ever since I met her, I’ve been paying much closer attention to my appearance.
Ashley replies as I open the door for her, “No, sweetie, you look fine.”
Once we are seated in a private booth overlooking the water, Ashley strokes my hand and says, “David, I have some wonderful news to share with you. Heather and Chad are coming down next week. The girls of Pure Ecstasy are getting back together to record a new Christmas album and to shoot a few music videos for the album. After your performance at the wedding, we really want you to join us in the studio for the recording sessions. Are you up for a little rock and roll?” I reckon the ladies want me to come out and play with them.
I kiss her hand and softly reply, “Honey, I look forward to the challenge. It will be a lot of fun,” as the waiter arrives with our dinner.
After paying for the lovely dinner with my little blue card, we take a quick ride over to Litchfield Beach, our favorite beach area, located about 30 km down the coast from Myrtle Beach. After putting the top up and opening the passenger door for Ashley, I open the trunk and grab my gym bag, preloaded for the occasion. We walk slowly across the narrow wooden bridge onto the deserted beach and lay down our beach towels. After stripping down to our swimsuits, we walk into the warm ocean water for a nice moonlight swim. The water is still very warm and there is no one else anywhere near us. That’s what I like most about the Grand Strand in the fall. We have the beach completely to ourselves and the weather is still warm enough to enjoy it. After about 30 minutes of swimming about, I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her.
Looking right at the full moon over the ocean, she leans back into me and asks me in a hot, sexy voice, “Honey, do you remember when we first made love here? I know I do. Let’s do it again…just like that,” as she puts my hands on her rock-hard nipples protruding through her black bikini top.
I pick her up and carry her onto the beach to our big towel, a distance of about 20 m. After gently laying her down on the towel, I reach into the gym bag for a Trojan. As we share a hot, deep kiss she puts my hand on her inner thigh and slowly nudges it upward. She is already dripping with excitement as I slowly untie the bow on her bikini bottom, causing it to fall away. My fingers find their way into her hot, tight wetness and her normally tan face quickly turns a nice shade of red. My little animal is all suited up and ready to play. Seconds later I find myself once again between her long, tan legs and wet, pink walls. It doesn’t get any better than this.
She wraps her arms…and her legs…very tightly around me and says, “I wish this would never end,” as her orgasmic ecstasy comes over her like a huge wave. “Sex on the Beach” does not refer to a mixed drink. You just can’t beat it!
After a couple more intense orgasms for her and one for me, we fall asleep in each other’s arms after yet another great performance. It was here just five months earlier that she had first taught me the real meaning of “Sex on the Beach.” It is an absolutely incredible experience that everyone should try at least once in their lifetime.
Driving back to Myrtle Beach on US 17 a few hours later, we pass the ruins of what were three large oceanfront campgrounds; Lakewood, Ocean Lakes, and Pirateland. All three were completely destroyed by Hurricane Erika, which made landfall right here at high tide. The adjacent Myrtle Beach Resort suffered some heavy water damage, but is expected to reopen in May, just in time for the start of the tourist season. The restoration work is already underway. Of the three gated oceanfront campgrounds, only Lakewood had allowed Papa’s Pizza drivers past the front gate. The reason for that was because the owner of the Big D franchise here had an exclusive contract with the owners of the other two campgrounds, under which he paid each of them a huge annual fee and $1.00 per delivery to their campgrounds in exchange for exclusive rights to deliver to the campsites. Even after six weeks, looking at all of the destruction from Erika still proves difficult for Ashley. After all, Myrtle Beach is her adopted home town.
I gently squeeze her hand and say, “It’s all right, honey. Myrtle Beach will be rebuilt and I believe that it will be even better than it was before the storm hit.” I sincerely believe it because new hotels and condos will replace the cheap motels.
To prove my point, we take a quick detour on South Kings Highway, I notice that the reconstruction of the Myrtle Beach location of Papa’s Pizza, my former employer, is rapidly progressing and is expected to be completed in early November. The adjacent lingerie shop, where Ashley had always bought her dance outfits, is also under reconstruction with a December re-opening scheduled. Even though she no longer dances at strip clubs professionally, she wears these hot, sexy outfits at her “stripper classes” at CCU to teach the girls how to select the right outfits for their body type, as well as the right music and lighting, for their routines. There is a whole lot more to these “stripper classes” than just hot, sexy dance moves. It’s all about developing a woman’s self-confidence. Ashley often wears one of these sexy outfits to greet me when I come home from work. Who says monogamy has to be dull?
Speaking of strippers, I notice that nearly all of the strip clubs in the Myrtle Beach area, which have not been destroyed by Hurricane Erika, are closed down due to the new South Carolina state laws such as the 2-Meter Rule and the mandatory midnight closing time for all adult entertainment venues, such as strip clubs and adult video stores. I remember Randy and Shelli telling me that several clubs had been closing their doors every week since the laws took effect. Even before these new laws were passed, these adult entertainment venues had always been among the most tightly regulated businesses in town, with rigid zoning laws restricting where they could be located. The effort to clean up the City of Myrtle Beach and the State of South Carolina in general comes at the steep price of millions of dollars annually in lost liquor and entertainment tax revenues. I wonder if it’s worth cleaning up the community if severe tax increases or budget cuts are the end result. Where will the state and county governments make up the lost tax revenues? The most likely answer to that question is in the form of increases in other taxes and fees, combined with reductions in essential public services. I can also foresee a nasty domino effect throughout the local economy in the form as hundreds, or even thousands, of people will lose their jobs in an already darkening economy such as bouncers, bartenders, cooks, and waitresses, not to mention the dancers themselves. Marty and Michelle have even put their house in Surfside Beach up for sale and are now planning to move to Savannah because even if they could rebuild Club Paradise, they, like other club owners, would not be able to fully comply with the new laws and still make a profit.
COMING OUT OF A DIFFERENT CLOSET
Once Ashley heads off to class, I feed Princess and head over to the study. I power up the laptop and check my e-mail. I reply to a few e-mails and check the economic indicators and other data I will need for work tomorrow. After several weeks of very careful consideration and discussions with both Ashley and Mom, we agree that the time has come to disclose to my colleagues that I have a neurological condition known as Asperger Syndrome, a milder variant of Autism. I was diagnosed with the condition shortly after moving back to the States at the age of 16. After many years of therapy and counseling, I am usually able to function well in a Neurotypical society. I disclosed my condition to Ashley back in August while we were staying with my parents. She is learning what my sensory triggers are and how to calm me down during my more stressful moments. I greatly appreciate her help in navigating the social and cultural minefields. Ashley also knows the company and its culture better than does anyone else. Mom is an employment lawyer and has many years of experience in litigating cases of employment discrimination, so she is the best person to consult in these matters. I type up, and send via e-mail, a “coming out” letter to my new boss, Tom Garrett, at B&C. This is not a very easy letter to write.
A few minutes after 11:00 the next morning, Tom Garrett calls me into his office and says, “David, I read your e-mail last night. I commend you, for it takes a lot of courage to disclose such a condition, especially in a very prejudicial society like we have here, and I want you to know that you have our full support. By the way, my daughter’s boyfriend has it too. I’d really like you to have a little chat with him. Remember, David. Asperger Syndrome is a difference, not a disease.” Sure, why not?
I respond, “Thank you for your support, Mr. Garrett. The symptoms are most likely to surface when I’m under a lot of stress. It took many years of counseling and therapy for me to function as well as I do today. I’m still uncomfortable in most social situations but Ashley knows how to calm me down. The biggest challenge will take place at the company Christmas Party.” Social interaction is a challenge for any Aspergian.
After shaking hands with Mr. Garrett, I return to my office and continue working on my current project assignment.
My secretary, Shelli Young, a very attractive redhead in a blue sundress, comes over to me, gives me a hug, and says, “Tom showed me the letter you sent him last night and I talked it over with him and Randy. We want you to know that we’re behind you all the way. Randy told me to tell you that you’re very brave to write that letter, not knowing what discrimination you might face as a result.” Not many redheads can get any kind of a tan, but Shelli is one of them. Wow!
I reply, “Thank you, Shelli. It took several weeks of discussions with both Ashley and my mom, who is an employment lawyer in Chicago, before I felt safe in disclosing my condition to anyone here. Keep in mind that the symptoms are most likely to surface when I’m under stress. Our daily workouts at the gym are an important coping mechanism.”
Shelli says in a flirty voice, “Don’t forget about all that hot sex with Ashley. You know she’s been bragging about you an awful lot lately.” Oh, has she now?
I reply, “Yes, that helps, too. She definitely helps me to stay sane when things get crazy. Let’s get back to work.” An Aspergian trait is the strong desire to dispense with all the social pleasantries and get straight to the heart of the matter.
Disclosing a condition such as Asperger Syndrome is very similar to a gay man coming out of the closet because of the stigma attached due to a lot of misinformation in the media. I would love a chance to speak at a support group for those with the condition. It had taken many years of therapy for me to be able to successfully maintain a job or a relationship. The best therapy is having a close friend who understands and accepts me for who I am. Ashley is certainly the best friend I have ever had. She not only knows about my condition but has shown me many ways to turn it into an asset.
GOLFING LESSONS AT PRESTWICK
It’s a sunny Saturday morning on the beach near the end of September when Mr. Cooper calls Ashley on her cell phone to invite us over to the very exclusive Prestwick Country Club for a round of golf and dinner with the family.
As we clean up after breakfast, Ashley comes over to me and says, “Honey, my parents are on their way over to take us over to Prestwick for the next phase in your conversion, in the form of golf lessons. Daddy says that it’s finally time to solve your ‘switch-hitter’s dilemma’. The club pro at Prestwick is a really nice guy. You’ll really like him.”
I reply, “Ashley, I’ve wanted to solve that little problem for many years. This should be a lot of fun.”
By about 11:00 am, we hear a knock on the front door. Ashley answers the door and greets her parents with a hug.
Mr. Cooper comes over to me, shakes my hand, and says,” Hello, David. It’s really good to see you again. By the way, your recovery plan is working very nicely. Our rental receipts are at 65% of pre-storm levels and I see more tenants reopening every week. Nice work, son!”
I softly reply, “Thank you kindly, sir. The last unknown is how soon the tourists will consider Myrtle Beach to be safe to visit again. I’ve been driving around town and it seems that the reconstruction is progressing nicely. I have a business question that has been weighing on my mind lately, Mr. Cooper. Where do you want to take the company over the next one, five, and ten years? I’d like to know so that I can work on the best way to get there.”
Mr. Cooper replies, “We’ll discuss all that at the Strategic Planning meeting on Monday. The first thing I want you to do is to become familiar with the cyclical nature of the Grand Strand business environment. I’ve instructed Tom to have one of the IT guys install the latest version of the E-Views software into your office computer. It performs time-series calculations that Microsoft Excel cannot handle. Ashley knows the program like the back of her hand so if you ever have a problem using the software, just ask her. She uses it in her Advanced Economics class at CCU.” I finally get to use the full version of E-Views 5. The full version retails for about $1,500.
I say, “Yes, sir…marching orders acknowledged. I used the student version of E-Views when I took that same class at UIC. Would it be possible to get another copy authorized for my laptop?” I like to work from home sometimes.
He replies, “That won’t be necessary, son. Just log into the B&C Intranet from your laptop and access the software and your data files that way.”
Mrs. Cooper comes up to me, hugs me, and says, “How are you doing, David? Now…when are you going to propose to our little girl?” I want to propose to her in my own special way.
I politely reply, “Well, ma’am, my current plan is to take her down to the jeweler in Charleston whose business card your husband handed to me at Chad and Heather’s wedding reception back in August on our next trip down, and then make the formal proposal at Thanksgiving dinner. By the way, what size ring does she wear?”
Upon hearing that question to her mother, Ashley comes over to me, wraps her arm tightly around me, and says, “Honey, I wear a size 6 ring on that finger. Let’s go to Kay down in Charleston after I finish my midterms in a couple of weeks. The manager knows me and I saw a few engagement rings on the shop’s website that I really like. We’ll get a very good deal from him.”
The four of us head down to the parking lot where the Cooper family limousine awaits us. Ashley introduces me to Clifford, a tall black gentleman with a slight Jamaican accent, who serves as her parents’ butler and chauffeur. He is in charge of a domestic staff of 10. Once we all take our seats in the limousine, Clifford drives us to the clubhouse at Prestwick.
Ashley asks Clifford as he opens the limousine door for us, “Clifford, did you happen to find my golf clubs back at the plantation?” What?!? She plays golf too?!? I never thought that a lady like her would set foot anywhere near a golf course.
Clifford replies as he opens the trunk of the limousine, “Yes, ma’am, I found them in the basement of the house this morning, cleaned them up for you, and put them in the trunk. They’re in the purple golf bag.”
She smiles and says, “Thank you, Clifford,” as he pulls out three golf bags from the trunk and hands her the purple bag.
As Ashley’s parents walk into the clubhouse for a drink, Ashley and I walk over to the Pro Shop for my introduction to the world of golf. She then introduces me to Greg, Prestwick’s Club Professional. He leads us into a small classroom and plays an introductory DVD about the history and traditions of the sport. After we spend about an hour watching the video, we walk over to the driving range where Greg brings out two sets of golf clubs, one left-handed and one right-handed, as Mr. Cooper had requested when setting up the initial lessons for me.
Greg says to me as he hands me the left-handed driver, “David, your girlfriend here tells me that you suffer from the ‘switch-hitter’s dilemma’. The first step for us is to determine which side will be your stronger side. Let’s try the lefty driver first and see how that feels,” and helps me to get the proper grip and swinging position.
After he sets the video camera, he places the ball on a tee and says, “All right, David. Let her rip!” Here goes nothing!
I take a solid left-handed swing, hitting the ball slightly to the right of center. My first tee shot is a hook with plenty of distance, landing just a few meters to the right of the virtual green. I make a slight wrist adjustment and take another tee shot, this one landing on the near edge of the green. After about 20 tee shots from each side, we move on to the putting green for 20 practice putts from each side. In baseball, I’ve always had a higher batting average from the left side but slightly more power from the right side. In slow-pitch softball I bat exclusively left-handed. While growing up in Canada, I learned to play hockey left-handed even though I’m naturally right-handed in most things. After the practice session on the putting green, Greg removes the memory card from the digital video camera and inserts it into the computer in his office to analyze the video of each of my swings. About 20 minutes later, as Ashley’s parents walk into the Pro Shop, he summons all of us into the same classroom for the analysis.
Greg says, “David, after a careful analysis of your initial swings, both on the driving range and on the putting green, I come to the conclusion that many of your better swings have come from the left side. Therefore, the next step is to get you fitted for your first proper set of left-handed clubs. It is not an uncommon occurrence for normally right-handed people to play golf left-handed. By the way, Ashley is also naturally right-handed but she plays golf left-handed.” Problem solved.
Ashley gently squeezes my left hand and says, “Honey, now we have something else in common.” We both play lefty.
Her father steps over to me and says, “So, you decided to play lefty, too. I think we solved the dilemma.”
I buy my first pair of proper golf shoes and my first set of left-handed golf clubs at the Pro Shop with my little blue card. However, looking out the window, the rain has started coming down…in torrents. Well, so much for my first real golf game. We’ll play another day…on another course.
Seeing the torrential rain outside, Mr. Cooper turns to me, hands me a folded map of the golf course, and says, “Well, David. Let’s all go over to the clubhouse for a nice dinner and I’ll introduce you to a few of the members.”
As I seat Ashley in my usual way at a table overlooking the 1st tee, Mrs. Cooper elaborates on the finer points of the Southern Society’s way of life, and how some of their customs and courtesies are very different from those I learned back home. While Ashley and I would normally chat quite freely at the dinner table at home, I usually observe a strict rule of silence when others are present so as not to risk offending Southern sensibilities, speaking only when directly spoken to.
Mr. Cooper asks me, “How do you like working at B&C so far, son?” B&C is a really cool place to work.
I reply, “Well, sir, I really enjoy working at B&C and I love my job. Just by driving around town, I can see that the plan I drew up seems to be working well. What’s your assessment?”
He says, “I am very pleased with the work you’ve done so far. However, something troubles me. I understand that you make no mention at all of your relationship with Ashley at work. May I ask why?” I want to avoid feeding the gossip mill.
I politely reply, “Well, sir, I make it a rule to keep my personal life very private…out of respect for the Cooper Family, of course. I fear that my professional integrity would be called into question if word ever got out that I got my job because of my relationship with the boss’ daughter instead of on my own merits. I merely want to avoid the appearance of any conflict of interest. Nepotism is against the policies of many companies back home. No offense intended.”
He says, “None taken, son. I understand where you’re coming from. That’s one of the big differences in how we do things around here. Family connections are very important in the South. In fact, Ashley will be joining the company after she graduates in December. At many companies here in the South, nepotism is not against company policy…it is company policy. You see, the company is one big tightly-knit family.”
All I can say in response is, “Thank you kindly, sir, for everything you have done for me since I moved here. I’ll do my very best to not let you…or anyone else…down.”
The dinner is lovely as is the company. The more time I spend with Ashley’s parents, the better we get along. As Mr. Cooper pays for the dinner with his American Express card, I lay down a $20 bill for the tip. The waitress really earned it tonight. Remember, Ashley and I lived on tips for many years.
As Clifford loads our golf clubs into the trunk of the black Cooper Family limousine, Mrs. Cooper asks me, “Will your parents be able to make the trip down to Charleston for the Thanksgiving Weekend? Don and I would really love to meet them, our daughter’s future in-laws.” Her parents want to meet mine. That’s another encouraging sign for our relationship.
I write down my parent’s names, phone number, and e-mail addresses on the back of one of my business cards and hand her the card, saying, “Well, ma’am, here is their contact information. I’ll let them know to expect your call.”
As we take the short limousine ride back to Regency Towers, I cannot help but notice the stark contrast between the gated subdivisions surrounding the Prestwick Country Club and Crystal Lake Park, the rundown trailer park less than 800 m down the road from Prestwick’s front gate. Crystal Lake Park was completely destroyed by Hurricane Erika back in August and police barricades still block off the streets leading into the park. It is my sincere hope that a more durable housing stock will soon be built here to replace the thousands of mobile homes that were destroyed in the hurricane.
I ask, “Mr. Cooper, what will become of the poor souls who lost their homes here?”
He replies, “Give it time, David. We need to develop a plan with the Red Cross, the United Way, and other local agencies to keep these employees in the area and working.”
Ashley says as she leans her head on my shoulder, “Let me talk to Dr. Allen about this when I go to work on Monday. She would know what to do.”
We finally return to Regency Towers after a long day. As Clifford grabs our golf bags out of the trunk and hands them to me, Ashley says goodbye to her parents. Her mother comes over to me and gives me a hug as her father follows up with a tight handshake and a few words of encouragement. Then they step into the limousine for the long ride back to Charleston. Ashley and I scurry into the lobby to get out of the rain and step into the left elevator for the quick ride home. Upon entering the condo with two heavy golf bags, I put them into the front closet when Princess greets us at the door with a friendly meow. After closing the closet door, I stoop down to pet the cat while Ashley refills her food and water dishes. Ashley shakes the box of cat food and Princess runs over to eat her dinner.
As Ashley and I settle into the deep leather sofa and discuss the day’s events, I wrap my arm tightly around her and say, “I think I will need some practice time on the golf course, as well as on the dance floor, in order to make my conversion into a Southern gentleman a smooth one.”
She leans her golden locks onto my shoulder and softly replies, “Give it time, sweetie. The conversion is coming along well,” as we wind down from another new adventure.
THE REUNION OF PURE ECSTASY
Coming home from work on a stormy Friday afternoon the following week, I get a call from Ashley asking me to pick up Chad and Heather at the airport. I arrive at the airport about 10 minutes later and see them emerging together from the terminal building.