A Lesson in Passion

A Lesson in
Passion

Jennifer Connors

A Lesson in
Passion

Published by J Connors Publishing,
LLC

at Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this
book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by
law.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright
ｩ
2009 by Jennifer Connors

Cover design by Darren
Connors

ISBN 978-0-9824655-0-9

www.jenniferconnors.com

This book is dedicated to my husband, Darren.
Without his encouragement, which bordered on annoying at times,
this book would never have been printed. I love you
dearly.

A Lesson in Passion

• * Chapter 1 *
  

M
en. The
bane of every woman's existence. What did they say? Can't live with
them, can't live without them. Or was that what men said about
women? Did it matter?

Ginny kept contemplating her latest failure in
the dating department as she drove to work. Eric was at the bottom
of a long list of men she considered her “failures.” Perhaps she
was too picky, as some of her friends kept telling her. Of course,
they wouldn't have to live with Eric's constant need to quibble
every thing she said, so she didn't care what her friends
thought.

She had become the “Three Date Wonder.” Ginny
was adept at knowing a man was completely wrong for her within
three dates. Actually, she could tell after one date, but she was
always willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all,
maybe they were just nervous.

And so, like Eric, there were a
string of men with a string of reasons why they were totally wrong
for her. John picked his teeth at the dinner table in a restaurant.
Mike was a bad tipper and a little too forthcoming about his
politics. Murray spoke a little too fondly about his mother.
Altogether, they were probably really good guys, but Ginny just
couldn't cultivate any feeling about them. She was beginning to
think of her love life as one big
Seinfeld
episode.

Ginny never considered that she had high
standards. A good job, self-sufficiency and a decent sense of humor
topped her list. Some compatibility would be good, but she loved to
listen to a different point of view. She certainly didn't want a
lap dog, needy and begging. It wasn't the perfect man she needed,
just the perfect man for her.

No one would call her beautiful, but certainly
not plain or ugly. No horrible disfigurements, no huge scars across
her body. She was tall for a girl at 5 ft 9 in, with a medium build
and decent size breasts. Ginny would often remark on how she
planned on losing those last ten pounds, but the lure of the
vending machine in the late afternoon was often too great. Her
brown hair had blond highlights since the early part of the century
and was currently cut in a stylish A-line, like Posh
Spice.

And yet, here she was, thirty and alone. Some
of her friends, her married friends, would say she had no one to
blame but herself. Her only non-married friend, Lisa, would say
that all men are evil and to not waste her time anyway. Of course,
her being a lesbian, it was not wholly unexpected. So who was
right? Ginny didn't think it mattered... because she was
unhappy.

Ginny pulled into her usual parking spot at
Tinesdale Emergency Hospital in Mesa, Arizona. The hospital was
named after Dr. Albert Tinesdale, founder and long time resident of
Mesa. In his wisdom, he developed the glorified urgent care to
alleviate real hospitals from having to deal with those smaller
problems plaguing society, such as minor stitches and phlegmy
colds. The hospital also saw it's share of larger problems: broken
bones, concussions and an occasional birth.

She was a physician's assistant and worked
most of her day stitching and wiping. Her parents couldn't
understand why she didn't go to medical school and be a real
doctor. Her mother was always fond of emphasizing the “assistant”
part of her job title. Ginny was quite content in her choice of
careers. She had the fun without the responsibility. Well, not
quite, but at least she didn't have to pretend to be
God.

Ginny walked into the lobby and made her way
past the reception desk. Holly, good friend and receptionist,
winked at her while she answered one of the never ending questions
of the hospital's clientèle. Behind the last exam room was a door
leading to the staff lunch and locker rooms. Ginny went into the
locker room and bumped into Dr. Fielding. He was her mentor and
favorite co-worker. He always had a kind word and wanted
desperately to make everyone feel better. Today was no
exception.

“You're looking very pretty today,
dear,” Dr. Fielding said with enormous smile.

“And you are looking quite handsome
yourself, Dr. Fielding,” Ginny replied. Dr. Fielding was old
school, before political correctness would allow such a statement
to be uttered. Ginny never minded, since she considered it a
genuine compliment. Dr. Fielding was both happily married for over
forty years and more grandfatherly than man. Of course, many of her
other co-workers would receive a tart reply were they to give her
the same compliment.

“Only a few days left before the
big vacation, huh?” Dr. Fielding asked as he walked out of the
locker room. He started singing the Beach Boys song
Kokomo
in honor of her
upcoming vacation in the Caribbean.

Ginny started her day, which was much the same
as every other day. A baby with a bad cough, a man who had taken a
bad fall at work, an elderly woman with open sore from her
diabetes. She always tried to make everyone feel better, much like
her mentor did. Her mind just kept wandering back to her pathetic
love life and her “old maid” status.

During a rare break, Ginny met Holly in the
lunchroom. Holly was happily married to her high school sweetheart.
They lived in a beautiful home in Gilbert with their 2 beautiful
children. Holly was what Ginny would describe as “pert and perky.”
She was short, only reaching Ginny's shoulder and had a blond pixie
cut. She had big brown eyes that when applied with makeup were
smoky and alluring. Her husband, a real estate agent, was pure
schmooze and someone Ginny could see cheating on Holly, who would
probably be none the wiser.

“I have something for you,” Holly
said handing a large plastic grocery bag to Ginny.

“Oh, you shouldn't have,” Ginny
said. Then she looked in the bag. “Really, you shouldn't have,”
Ginny remarked sarcastically.

“Come on. You're going on a beach
vacation. You'll need something to read.”

Ginny began removing the paperback
books, one at a time.
Desire in the
Highlands, Lover's Cove, The One Perfect Love
. There must have been at least fifteen romance novels in the
bag. Ginny quickly put the books back in the bag before someone
came in and saw them. How embarrassing would that be?

“Not my thing, Holly, but thank you
for thinking of me,” Ginny said trying to hand her back the
bag.

“You are not going on a nice
vacation, sitting on the beach reading work stuff. You're going to
have a fun, relaxing time. These books are perfect.” There was that
word again: perfect.

“I've never really been into
romance novels. I would much prefer history or biography or better
yet, gory serial killer stuff.”

“I can't understand why you don't
have a boyfriend," Holly said with her own measure of sarcasm.
"Consider these books instructional. How to be a damsel to catch
the perfect husband,” Holly smiled.

Dear God
,
Ginny thought.
Is she kidding? Romance
novels instructional?
Ginny began to
consider that maybe Holly was a serial killer on the side. No one
could actually believe that the “romance” in romance novels ever
happens in real life. She was going to become part of some
adventure where a bare chested mega hunk would sweep her off her
feet and beg for her hand in marriage? Ginny didn't think
so.

“This is one of my favorites,”
Holly said as she pulled out one of the books. “The heroine is
saved by her one true love. Oh, it's so romantic. And the sex parts
are really hot!”

“You know what these are, don't
you?” Ginny asked jokingly. “These books are girl porn, pure and
simple.”

“Ewwww. What are you talking about?
They are romantic and fun and elegant. They are set a long time ago
when life was simpler. They're about aristocracy and lords and
ladies. How is that 'porn'?”

“It's well documented that men are
visual while women are emotional. These books feed the female
imagination with ideas of far off lands and singularly perfect men.
Regular porn shows men boobs. It's the same thing but appealing to
a different audience.”

“You really are insane, Ginny!”
Holly looked close to slapping Ginny. “These books show you that
life can be as wonderful as you hope.”

Ginny stared at Holly intently. For the first
time, she considered the possibility that maybe Holly's life wasn't
as perfect as she led everyone to believe. Maybe Holly needed the
escape that these books provided, because her life was as tedious
as the rest of theirs.

“Take them with you. You'll see
they're easy to read and enjoyable. I know you won't be
disappointed,” Holly said as she left the lunch room.

Ginny would be polite, bring them home and
forget about them. Holly would only hear that “Oh no, I forgot to
bring them.” She took a few out and stared at the covers. Do men
like this really exist? Not the Fabio types who pose for the
covers. She wondered if any of these guys ever quibbled about every
little thing you said.

*
*
*

Ginny was always a stickler when it came to
packing. She loved to travel, so she had gotten quite good at
packing over the years. This trip was an easy one, just a week at a
beach resort in Jamaica. She was going with her best friend Lisa.
The best part of going on vacation with a lesbian was they never
fought over the same love interest. If anything, Ginny was often
jealous with how easily Lisa found love interests. Lisa got to pick
the locale this time, since Ginny had dragged her up to Machu
Picchu last year and was still listening to Lisa complain about it.
Make a girl climb one mountain and it was bitch, bitch,
bitch.

She rechecked her bags to make sure
she had everything she needed. The essentials were all there:
bathing suits, razor and sunscreen. Was there anything she forgot?
Oh yeah, reading material. Ginny went to her pile of books, but
realized she had read everything there.
Crap
, she thought. She didn't have
time to stop at the bookstore or library.

She could pick up some books at the airport,
but Ginny was notoriously cheap and hated paying a premium for
reading materials. Suddenly, she was staring at the pile of books
given to her by Holly. She didn't have time to get anything else
and these were free. They were also small paperbacks, so they
wouldn't take up that much space in her carry-on.

Ginny grabbed the bunch and stuffed them into
her beach bag. She thought about what Holly had said about the
books being “instructional.” She started to look forward to ripping
them apart. “Oh, Gerald, could our life be anymore perfect?” “No,
my darling, it couldn't!” Should be a blast!

Just then, a car honked in her driveway. Lisa
was usually late, but Ginny had gotten into the habit of always
telling her to be at her house a half hour earlier than necessary.
Worked like a charm, Lisa was on time. Lisa was what Ginny would
call “the pretty lesbian.” She was almost as tall as Ginny, but
much more buff. Hours at the gym had defined every muscle on Lisa's
body to perfection. Her hair was long and the most beautiful shade
of chestnut, natural of course. She had pretty blue eyes and a
heart shaped face. Most guys tripped over her when she walked into
a room. Lisa loved taunting men... it was her favorite game at
parties.