The Nerd

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

I’m Ryan and I’ve never been anything special with women. I’m 40 now and most people would consider me a nerd. But, I am a really, really rich nerd. This is a story about how even a nerd like me can score if he tries hard enough.

I graduated college with a B.S. in computer science, specializing in software design. My doctoral thesis at Tech-oh, yeah, only the students at MIT call it that-dealt with new algorithms for online transactional security. Translated into English-when you go to a bank or store online you want to know that the transaction is secure. My software encrypted all the account information in such a way that it was impossible to decipher it. Each code was only used once and there were literally trillions of combinations in the algorithm. When I started my company I borrowed money from my folks to hire Cray Labs to unravel the encryption. They use super computers thousands of times more powerful and faster than even the best server available to the public. After two weeks of non-stop work they quit the project, telling me it was impossible for a hacker to break the code. That was all I needed. Banks and online retallers flocked to buy my product, knowing their customers’ (and their) information would be secure.

was a multi-millionaire by the time I was 28, and so were most of I my employees. I used profit sharing-my staff splitting forty percent of the profits. Last year Microsoft offered me $200 million to buy me out but I wasn’t interested. Eventually they gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I split $80 million among my twenty employees and kept the rest. Technically, I’m still a “consultant”; they’re paying me $500,000 a year, but realistically, I’m retired.

I moved into the south for the weather, golf, and fishing, buying a home on the Intracoastal Waterway in southeastern North Carolina. Here’s where my story really begins. I’m not much of a cook so I go out to eat often. One night last week I stopped by a low priced chain restaurant. I’d never been there before and I wasn’t expecting much of a meal but it was a case of right place at the right time. Once I was seated my waitress came for my drink order. I was really taken by her. She had to be twenty-one because she was serving alcohol, but she looked much younger with a girlish body. She couldn’t have been more than 5’3″ tall, thin with small breasts and the most wonderful tight ass I’d seen in years. I could just make out her camel toe through her tight jeans. Her name was Morgan, Til be your server tonight, she said. She was really cute-dark hair in a pony tail, freckles, and enchanting green eyes and as I ordered I wondered what I could do to get into those sexy jeans she was wearing. I figured this was a time to be really direct; the worst that could happen would be that they’d throw me out. The restaurant was crowded so I couldn’t take her aside and talk to her. I decided to let my wallet do the talking. I paid the bill in cash, leaving a generous tip and a piece of a hundred with a note written on it-“If you’d like the rest, and maybe more call me when you get off. My cell number followed.

I figured I had about a 20 percent chance that she’d call. If she didn’t still had more than half of the hundred that I could turn in at the bank for a new whole bill, so there wasn’t much risk. My biggest concern was that she’d have a really big boyfriend or brother who’d want to kill me.

It was just after 11 when my phone vibrated. “HI, Morgan,” I said when I answered, “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

Yeah, well you’re either the craziest guy I’ve met at work or the weirdest. I don’t know which. What do have to do to get the rest of the hundred?”

“You just did it. I only wanted the chance to talk with you and I couldn’t do it at dinner. Damn, that place was crowded.”

“It’s always that way at dinner time. Good thing, too. I really need the money.”

“Oh?” I queried.

“Yeah, I totaled my car last year and I didn’t have enough insurance to cover it. I owe a fortune on my new one. That’s a laugh-new. Its six years old and has over a hundred thousand miles on it. But it’s the best one I could afford.”

“Listen, is there a chance we could meet tonight-like a bar or club? I’d like to see you and maybe talk a while. You don’t really know me so I figure someplace public where you’d feel safe..” I didn’t get a chance to finish when she interrupted.

“OK, but no funny business and you’d better have the rest of that hundred or I’m out of there.” She gave me the name of a bar about 10 minutes away. She’d be able to get there a few minutes later. “How will know you’re there?”

“Just look for a high-end Porsche-red metallic. I’ll be inside it waiting for you.” I hung up before she could change her mind.

I got to the bar and found a parking spot almost by the door. It didn’t look very crowded-not what I expected. I sat back and enjoyed the stereo. Just a few minutes later there was a knock on my window. I lowered it to find Morgan in the same outfit she had worn to work. “Boy, this is some car, especially compared to mine. Is it fast? Stupid question-it’s a Porsche.”

“Zero to sixty in 3.4-I’ve actually done that but on a track, not on the road. If you’re going that fast you’ll be dong a hundred before you can react to slow down. Too dangerous! And speaking of a hundred…” I passed the rest of the bill out the window. “Don’t worry its still good. Just give both parts to a bank and they’ll honor it.”

She put the money into her pocket, looked at me questioningly, “OK, why me? There are plenty of women around here who are much hotter than me.”

I looked up at her. “You want to get in or maybe we should go in for a drink?”

She looked around then slowly walked around the back of the car to the passenger’s door. I unlocked it and she got in, savoring the bucket seat that would hold you in solidly during a 130 mph turn. She looked at me, “So I guess you want to fuck me.”

I laughed so hard I almost hurt myself. “That thought did occur to me but let’s see if we like each other first. I introduced myself and told her the essentials-name, age, occupation (OK, no occupation), where I lived-all that bullshit. She just looked around the car. “How much did this cost?”

“With tax, about $270,000, but bought it when I lived in New York where the tax is much higher than it is here.”

“Wow, you must have some payments,” she exclaimed. I laughed again. “I paid cash-actually a bank check, but the same thing.”

“You must be rich. You wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, I do. Feel better, now?” I checked my watch. “Do you have to

be home anytime soon?”

No, but I should call my folks. Damn, that sounds so childish. I have to live with my parents. You must think I’m a real loser”

“Actually, no-I had to live with my folks after finished grad school and I was older than you. Lots of young people have to live with their parents, especially these days. The economy sucks.”