My Only Talent Ch. 23

Her Suzie signal growled and grew impatient as I watched her. I felt tenderness and growing lust simultaneously. I began to gently touch her shoulders, hinting at what I wanted to do to her breasts, but restraining myself from doing it yet. I thought about what I knew about her, and how best to please her one final time.

"Millie, you know how much I care about you, and how wonderful I think you are. But this is our last time together, and I am afraid I am just going to use you like an animal to get myself off. No mercy for you slut! I own you tonight."

Her Suzie soared. I knew I was doing the right thing for her. Millie needed to be owned sometimes, she needed to be taken. I was detecting a trend here: just do what I wanted to get myself off, and that seemed to get my girls off best too. What a happy coincidence! I felt in control, on top. Then she gave me the ultimate version of her hot but haughty look, and it made a direct connection from her eyes to my dick. I wasn't really in control, nature was, and the programming was hard wired. Oiler, during one of our late night philosophy sessions at UDP, which I did sober compared to everyone else's being equipped with substantial alcoholic inhibition reduction, told me that some of his biomedical engineering buddies theorized that the brain was one big FPGA, or Field Programmable Gate Array. After he had explained to me what that was, he said that the latest and most advanced ones, instead of being fully volatile and therefore completely re-programmable, had a lot of stuff built in that couldn't be changed in the field. Some section of my hard wired routines must have contained something like 'when you see a look like that from a female, go into a complete lust crazed rut' and that program soon overcame all others.

Luckily I had teased her for quite a while before that, and maybe that look said her patience for foreplay was exhausted, but at any rate I felt almost like a spectator from then on, watching a crazy monkey take a female. I squeezed her teats so hard they turned red, but that made her nipples get totally hard and her Suzie squealed with delight. I pushed my cock into the pink valley between them and then used my hands to crush them against my cock, and then fucked them like some spastic Bonobo playing with fruit. But Millie amazed me again: she pushed down hard with her neck and managed to get her lips and tongue in contact with my cock, then looked up at me hot and haughty and locked her eyes onto mine. Holy Toledo! She was my racial memory ultimate female, and I lost all semblance of reserve or judgment. I even forget to use my Suzie receiver to listen for a non verbal safe word should I go too far. But somehow with Millie, I knew I couldn't go too far. If anything, I was worried that her last memories of me would be too tame.

I grabbed two handfuls of her hair and savagely fucked her mouth like she was a blowup doll I had just bought at the XXX toy store. She loved it. I pushed myself down her throat and forced her to fight for breath so hard she almost passed out. She loved it even more. I popped out of her mouth and slammed into her pussy with no warning, just as deep and hard as I could. She groaned and pushed her hips up against the restraints, wanting more. I twisted until all my weight seemed to rest on her mons pubis; she gaped and then smiled, as if to say "is that all there is?"

I put my arms up over her head on the top of the chaise lounge, and did lunging abdominal crunches into her like a machine. She came three more times in rapid succession, and each one sent a Suzie blast that reverberated through my brain like fireworks going off beside my head and inside a garbage can. My monkey went strictly with the basics - I just fucked her like an animal. Racial memory must still be in effect, because all I could think of was planting my seed just as far up inside her as I could. Was it territorial? Was I marking her before she went off with Jay's 'tribe'? Whatever it was, it was going to take a while, it seemed. I felt like John Henry on psychiatric hospital meds – dull and insensate - not feeling much at all. I made eye contact with Millie, and her hot and haughty look had changed to worried and surprised. Nice Robbie was now animal Robbie. What big teeth you have, grandma!

She came again and big smile broke out on her face. Being fucked like an animal was just fine with her. She put both hands on my ass cheeks and began caressing them. She put her lips to my ear and said "You do own me right now Robbie, but you have to seal the deal by coming way up inside me!" and then bit my neck. I have never liked vampire stuff, but I liked that. Something was beginning to stir, and suddenly my whole brain was concentrating on nothing but the sensations from my dick. It seemed to swell at the end, like when a dog got locked into a bitch even when they turned their backs on each other.

"Right there Robbie, right there. Let loose in me!" I could never refuse a lady. Sweet little Millie could take also everything I could manage, just as effortlessly as big Peggy did. When my wits returned, I kissed her and told her how wonderful she was. We took an exhausted shower together, washing only. There was nothing else to do or say. I was going to have to talk to Jay Kincaid though, about not letting his inhibitions hold him back when it came to Millie, and to Millie's coming.

The limo driver had already called for a second vehicle, for me, and since my stuff was much easier to move than Millie's. We had one almost chaste little kiss, and then two reciprocal hand waves through the windows. It was late enough for her driver to take the ramp onto Interstate 35 to reach Houston with little traffic delay, and he speed south and the took the overpass to go east to Ben White Blvd, which became Highway 71, and that would take them to Millie's home in River Oaks in just over two hours. My driver followed, confusing me at first, but then we went past the airport and turned north onto the 130 toll road and we were soon wending our way north at 85 mph+, seeing less than six other cars in the next 20 minutes. Georgetown flashed by as we merged into Interstate 35, and I felt almost wistful a few minutes later about not stopping in Salado to shop.

I was considering a nap when my phone buzzed an alarmed reminder from my last 'to do' list item for today - to contact Saskia with my 'cover story' about my digestion to hopefully make her turn loose of the puzzle of my energy consumption and thus my potential usefulness as a physiological experiment and anatomical curiosity. It was almost midnight, and I had no idea where she was, but I decided to call her anyway. She answered on the first ring, and I heard a background of road noise.

"Hello, Roberts. I assume you are so anxious to start your training so you are calling for some pre-semester workout suggestions?"

"No beautiful, but I am anxious to see you again." Did the road noise change, or was that her taking in a big breath? "I am calling to tell you that Asa Weltschmerz confirmed most of your test results, but he thought of one more simple but unlikely thing and that turned out to explain my anomaly."

She drew in a breath, then "Your digestion!"

"Bingo! It seems I am missing some of the normal digestive enzymes and their absence causes some foods to pass through me largely undigested, thus leaving lots of calories 'on the table' to put it politely. He sent me to see some weirdo called "Doctor Dee" and I have several supplements to take and some special yogurt to eat that is supposed to fix me up in two weeks or so. So I will be ready for the hottest personal trainer in Texas when classes start again and you may sculpt me as you will."

I thought I heard the smile in her voice that she was trying to suppress, but then her tone turned desperate. "If I ever decide to come back at all! Arturia Colorado makes me want to pull the covers up over my head and stay home. She makes me ashamed to say the word science. But she has me over a barrel by holding out on making me co-author of at least 4 papers that I have done most of the work on. If I leave my post doc with no pubs everyone will think I am a loser! So I am a loser, stuck working for that evil bitch until those paper get published."

"It sounds like you are driving somewhere?" I offered, trying to change the subject.

"Yes. I just passed through Fort Stockton on the way to my parent's house in El Paso for my annual Christmas visit and unmarried daughter period of penance. I am the only one of four daughters still unwed, and my mother takes that as a personal challenge."

"Do I detect the odor of Mom's arranged blind dates calling for you over Christmas?"

"Yes, and she is really terrible at it. Not only are they usually personally repulsive, but by any objective criteria they would be terrible husbands and fathers, and likely sire defective grandchildren, if they could produce any at all. I am not sure what she is thinking."

"Well, each time you are forced to endure an evening with one of these guys, just imagine that I am waiting to ravish you when you get home to your bedroom."

She was silent for a long time. Did I offend her?

Saskia could not speak right now. She had been fantasizing about Robbie taking her at night for about a week now. But she could never, ever tell him what she really wanted, and he would never figure it all out on his own. Even if he knew, he might not be willing. She finally made herself banter back at him. "I already have nightmares about blind dates anyway. No need to make it worse." She forced a giggle.

An image suddenly popped into Robbie's head unbidden. Was this another one of his hunches? "Actually, beautiful, if you went on a blind date with me, I would wait until we got back to your place, and then I would blindfold you! He hung up.

Saskia almost drove off the side of Interstate 10 at 80 mph. What the hell made him say that? Oh God, that just made it even worse! She forced her concentration onto the road, and on reaching her family's home in Coronado Hills.

I must have fallen asleep after talking to Saskia, and I had a very colorful dream. Millie was on "Meet the Press" being questioned by that grey headed guy that looked gay but supposedly wasn't. I had trouble telling him apart from the other grey haired news guy that tried not to act gay but supposedly was. Not that it made any actual difference to me. In my dream, Millie was on the show and on the spot.

"Is it true that you had college orgies with dozens of men and women at the same time?"

"No, of course not."

"But you have been with more than one person at a time?"

Millie smiled. "That would hardly qualify as an orgy, David, but that question has been asked and answered. How about you? I hear some wild rumors about you."

"I'm not the subject of this program. Is it true your husband likes to watch you having sex with other men?"

"No. Aren't you projecting a little here, David?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He was shouting now and hardly in control of the conversation. Point to Millie.

"Calm down, David. You should 'open up' and reveal more of your fantasies to your audience. It makes you seem so much more 'approachable' eh, David?"

"You stupid cunt!" He lunged for her throat in the dream as I was awakened by the rapid motion of the car.

The driver had almost missed the right exit from 35 to the Tollway, making a dash all the way across the freeway from the far left lane, where he had been traveling well above the speed limit at this now early morning hour. He had to slow a bit to negotiate the narrow overhead ramp, and then he accelerated again on the toll way, where the few cars around us were also traveling at 85 mph or more. We were now less than 30 minutes from my house. Soon the porch lights of Alley's house were burning brightly off to our left as we passed by Preston Road and continued on into the long single lane driveway of my folk's new place.

Eldee and the other dogs were the only ones awake when I let myself in. She took one look at me and snorted. I get it, old girl. No Nora, no Lara, and no Suzanne. I was disappointed in myself too. She plopped down in her spot near the base of the stairs, grudgingly acknowledging that I was still family and just barely worthy of guarding: otherwise she would have shown me her rump and gone up to Grandma's room. I dragged my stuff up to my old room, discovering that my mom had already claimed a corner of it for storage of some of her sewing stuff. I thought of that Thomas Wolfe book from Rhetoric and Composition, and then crazy Sarah, the hot but obsessed brunette that had kept the dogs so worked up. Sleep beckoned.

But the short nap in the limo had messed up my sleep cycle, and I was now wired, as everyone else slept throughout the house in complete silence. I pulled out my laptop and started through the big document from Sapiento, which was now to be my textbook until classes started again. You never can tell what would prove useful, and I might not have time on the trip to look stuff up. The thing was chock full of factoids, but I used my 'teach the class' routine to try to put it all in context. Sapiento and Brujo had multiple perspectives: some companies were potential takeover targets which they wanted to be available cheap, some were direct competitors that they wanted to die off, and some were suppliers or customers that they wanted to prosper. The consultants had not only analyzed them individually, but in combination and competition with each other.

The report was dry and boring on the surface, but when you realized the stakes and the number of people's lives that would be affected by the potential scenarios that were being described it did get a lot more interesting. I reminded myself to take the perspective of being their potential insurer: which ones would I be glad to ensure, and which would keep me up at night worrying about them, and which risks should I be certain never to undertake. It drew me in, especially when it got to the detailed discussion of Abelard Peter's Tier Group, and what their prospects were: high risk and high return. Brujo was penciling them in to become a big supplier to Sapiento's companies. One conclusion that I could already draw – the consultants were saying that the energy business was changing in a big and irreversible way over the next few years. The US shale boom was driving prices down in the near US markets, and threatening the traditional cartel suppliers, most of whose economies were 'one trick ponies' that could only sell oil. China and Japan had little choice but to important oil, Europe could import oil, gas, or LNG, and the Americas had all sorts of options. Renewable energy sources like photovoltaic panels had driven down demand for electricity used in homes and offices, and shaved peak demand some, but had not changed industrial energy needs or base load demand much. Some big bets were about to be made, and cashing in would require some huge construction projects for oil pipelines and tanker terminals, LNG tankers and terminals, and new refineries that could take several feed stocks and be rapidly re-configured for multiple outputs. Tier group was going to have lots of bids and lots of projects, and huge billings. The key was to pick the customers who could finish the projects and operate them long enough to pay the bill. The losers would either run out of money or run out of political power before they could pay.

Before I knew it, the morning sun was flooding into the eastern window, and I heard Grandma going down the stairs, which meant that some of the world's greatest breakfast stuff was in the offing. I took a quick shower and went down to the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a grey Longhorn tee shirt. The smells hit me halfway down the stairs: bacon and buttermilk pecan pancakes for breakfast as expected, but now also the unique smells of the preparation of our traditional holiday tamales. Masa, chopped walnuts, pecans, currants, raisins, Bing cherries, cinnamon, Ancho chile peppers, chocolate, and Mexican vanilla put me under their spell. She usually made about ten different varieties and put them out on a schedule of a few new ones each day as Christmas approached. We had a ritual: I would offer to help, and she would refuse but assure me I could have some when they were ready. Eldee looked on from her little matt under the half desk in the kitchen that housed a landline telephone, cookbooks, and boxes of recipe cards. No one else had ventured out of their room yet.

"Good morning, Robbie. I was hoping you would bring Nora, or Lara, or...." She let it hang, waiting for me to respond. Eldee growled.

"I tried, Grandma. Nora is in the Bahamas with her whole 'famdamily', and I won't even get to see her in London when I am there before Christmas, so I will have to hope that I can catch up with her on my after Christmas trip. Lara and her dad are in Colorado for Christmas, and Suzanne is visiting her father and mother in DC. Millie is going home to Houston, where Jay Kincaid and his family are going to visit them for Christmas. It turns out their grandfathers are old oil field arch rivals, so that should make for an interesting visit. I am hoping to see my bird watching girlfriend, Peggy, who has now moved to London to take a job there, but our schedules may not line up."

She laughed, like she used to do when six year old Robbie would tell her his troubles. "You poor, poor, pitiful little mistreated boy! How do you ever manage to survive? Try to console yourself with some pancakes and bacon." It worked.

My dad was the next one down, and after a quick breakfast, he took me aside to his study for a long discussion about Nora, my meeting her family, and what to say and not to say, and what questions to ask. I told him about Asa Weltschmerz, the energy balance issue, the x-ray images, and his theory of my only talent.

"I suppose I knew this day would come." He said. "An army surgeon got very curious about my father's anatomy when he suffered a head wound in World War 2. He advised me not to join up because when they looked at my X-rays, they would either classify me as 4F or send me to some research lab somewhere. That's why I freaked out when you got your head hit on the tennis court. Today's diagnostic imaging stuff is so much better that it is going to get tougher and tougher to stay undercover, so to speak." It suddenly hit me. Nine year old Robbie's comic book dreams had been realized: I was a mutant freak! I wasn't too sure yet about the superhero part.

Mom came down then and guilt tripped me into accompanying her on a shopping trip. Perfect. Dallas area malls and shopping centers on December 19 were sure to be crowded, with a distinct lack of parking spaces. But if it could keep me distracted and awake until my flight left DFW this afternoon, I could sleep all the way over and then wake up synchronized to London time.

* * * * *

Carmencita looked up at him, smiled wonderfully across the BBQ joints' rustic table service, but then said "Bullshit!"

Dwight had anticipated this reaction to his cover identify. He would have been very disappointed in her if she had bought the story. He must now start the dance that the agency requires someone with his clearance and level of access to dance when a relationship 'gets serious'. But before he could speak, she let loose again.

"I spent all my summers growing up on my grandparent's farm, and USDA you are not, my mysterious friend. That laptop, your training, your vocabulary, and that instant shoulder dislocation move last week all say you are not USDA. If you think you love me, why don't you call me back when you think want to tell me the real deal?"

"Carmencita, I cannot tell you more right now. I have to get permission from my bosses first, and to do that I have to tell them who you are and why you are important to me. I will do that tonight via secure email, and move things forward as quickly as I can. They are going to ask me a big question: do I want to marry this woman? I am going to tell them yes."