4th and Goal

"I don't know if I'll ever fit in with this crowd. I'm only here to do research and teach. I managed to score a grant for the next three years. I'm working on a model for..."

Elizabeth stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Please, dear. Don't tell me all you can talk about is your work. Surely you have more interesting things we could discuss."

As she took a sip of the mediocre white wine she had been served, she saw the young woman look at her glass with distaste.

"Atrocious isn't it? I would prefer a cold beer myself. If not, we could find a more convivial place to get to know each other." 'Score one for the old gaydar.' She thought when she saw the beaming smile on the woman's lips. "Let's ask the barman if we can get ourselves some brewskies."

Holding her elbow, she steered her new companion to the refreshment table at the back of the room.

*****

Elizabeth took a moment to look at the young woman sleeping on her bed. Her alabaster skin a nice contrast on the charcoal silk sheets.

She had been an enthusiastic lover, eager to please and unafraid to try new things. She had confessed to being somewhat inexperienced, but responded with equal passion to the older woman's lovemaking.

She had giggled charmingly when Elizabeth brought out her strap-on with a selection of attachments. She took each in her hands as she chose which she wanted used on her. There had been no hesitation when she was told to get on her knees and to suck it. She spread her legs willingly to be ravished repeatedly.

Neither did she balk when her lover fitted it on her and attached the largest dildo before getting on her hands and knees to be taken in the ass. She followed her instructions and took hold of her hips as Elizabeth arched her back, offering herself. It had been a long time since she was sodomized so roughly, so... deliciously. When she asked her to grab a handful of hair to pull her against the invading implement, she had done so, shouting crude insults at her, as told to.

After she brought Elizabeth to multiple orgasms, she held her tenderly, misinterpreting the tears running down her cheeks, only to smile brightly when she was reassured that they were expressions of pleasure.

In the early hours of morning, they made mutual oral love, giving each other a last orgasm before falling asleep.

Two hours later, Elizabeth got up at her usual time for a session of yoga followed by a leisurely shower and a cup of Earl Grey tea.

As tempted as she was to slip under the sheets and spend the day making love with the woman, they both had work to do, and it was better to set the boundaries of their relationship right from the start.

She compromised by crawling in from the foot of the bed and woke her by licking her to a toe-curling orgasm.

*****

The two TAs assigned to her were experienced, as she found when they discussed what she needed from them. They gave her some pointers on what to expect in the first-year classes she had been given to get her feet wet.

Both were eager to assist her in the classroom and in dealing with the students' needs.

The young man, Donald, grumbled good-naturedly at being asked to wear something other than jeans and a varsity sweatshirt, but agreed that it would bring some much needed decorum to the classroom.

The young woman, Kelly, already had a casual pant suit on. They all laughed when she opened the jacket to reveal that her shirt was knotted below her pert breasts, exposing her firm belly. She explained that she always wore something to remind herself not to take things too seriously.

"I understand what you mean." Elizabeth told her. "Whenever I go in a stressful situation, I wear the sexiest underwear I have. I'm partial to red silk thong and bra, but I'll wear other colors if I have to."

"You should have seen the push-up bras she wore last year." Donald laughed. "She had to stop because the teacher we were assigned to was an old lecher who kept staring at her chest."

"If you don't mind my giving it the occasional glance, feel free to resume your favorite dress code." Elizabeth laughed with them. "That is, if you don't mind fueling my own fantasies."

All in all, it promised to be a relaxed working atmosphere, which suited Elizabeth just fine.

*****

The first day, she brought her lunch to the football field to watch the young women prance under the watchful eye of the players who were engaged in a scrimmage further down the field.

She had just finished her tuna sandwich when a familiar figure climbed the steps to sit on the top bench, ten feet away from her.

Tabitha

Tabs knew she had been lucky. As a baby in the system, she hit the jackpot when a nice suburban family adopted her.

She had a happy childhood in a good neighborhood with loving parents and a sister she adored.

Paula was three older than her. She was a nice kid who took her younger sister under her wing, including her in all her games. They were inseparable as they grew up.

As it often happens, things changed when Paula began high school. She made new friends and it wasn't cool to have her little sister tag along though she was still the loving sibling once she came back home... until she started grade ten and her breasts sprouted.

For some reason little Tabitha didn't understand, they took an important place in her sister's life. As did her pussy.

She'd spend hours in front of her mirror, playing with them, admiring them.

"Wait 'til you get some too, Tabs, you'll understand." She'd tell her sister who was lounging on the bed, watching, fascinated.

She'd describe the exquisite pleasure she got as she kneaded the soft flesh, how it sent bolts of pleasure through her body when she tweaked her nipples.

"It's as if they're connected directly to my clit."

To prove her point, she'd pull her panties aside to show her how wet she got. Sometimes, she'd frig herself to an orgasm. The first time she did, she had to catch Tabitha before she ran out of the room to get their mother, afraid that her big sister was hurt.

"I'm okay, Tabs! Really!" She panted as she held her. "It's a good thing. You'll see one day soon."

Tabitha liked it when her sister embraced her like that. Her breasts were soft and hot against her cheek. Once, she touched them. Paula must have liked it because she moaned like she did when she played with her pussy, but she stopped her.

"You're my sister, Tabs." She told her gently. "You shouldn't touch me like that. It's wrong."

That was another thing the little girl didn't understand. Why was it so bad when Paula obviously liked it?

Then her big sister began to hang out with boys from a bad neighborhood. She would come in late, often drunk. Nothing their parents said would make a difference.

One day, she didn't come home.

The next morning, two police officers came to tell her parents that she had been killed in a drive-by shooting at a known gang hangout.

Things were never the same in the Taylor household.

*****

Once in a generation, a student came along that made all the crap the teachers had to put up with worthwhile. Tabitha Taylor was one such student.

"Hey, Tabs!" Mr. Williams called after the retreating young woman. He understood her rush. He too was in a hurry to leave after this last class of the year.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ready for the big leagues?"

"You bet, sir. Everything is set. My boss got me a part-time gig at the local Harley Davidson dealer. I only have a few projects to finish for him, then I'll move in with his sister at the end of July so I'll have time to learn my way around before class begins."

"Don't work too hard, kid. You'll need to save some time for your studies. MIT is not for pussies."

"No worry, sir. I managed here. I'll make it work up north too."

"Well, good luck, and keep in touch. I'd like to know how my star student is making out."

"You said you wouldn't try to set me up with one of your nieces anymore, sir. I can find my own girls to make out with."

They laughed at the old joke. He had actually asked her to take one of his nieces out for a bike ride... His twelve year old niece.

*****

Tabs could have gone up the coast earlier, but she had unfinished business in Orlando. It had taken years, but she finally found the bastard who killed her sister.

Over the next two weeks, she tracked him down. Wherever he went, she followed until she got a sense of his habits. Like most gangbangers, he had his favorite haunts, his posse, his girls.

He ran a few of his younger prostitutes out of a bar, in the industrial district. Many businessmen liked fresh meat, the younger, the better, though he stayed away from minors. They brought too much heat.

The scum made the rounds twice a night to collect their earnings and rough them up as an incentive to get busy.

At the tail end of one such round, he crossed paths with a tall busty blonde who could only have been another working girl from her skimpy outfit and thick make-up.

"Hey there, bitch! Whatcha doing down here? This my area!" He called aggressively.

"Are you sure? My man said this was a free corner and that I should set-up here, and make him some money."

"Who's the bastard? I'll show him a free corner!"

Without realizing it, he was following her in a shadowy area as she backed-up in fear for her safety. In fact, he started moving faster when she whined and opened her top to show him a big pair of tits. An alley was perfect. No one would see them as he taught her a lesson.

He had her pinned against the wall when he felt a sharp pain. Looking down, he saw the bimbo remove a piece of sharpened metal from his chest. As it came out, blood gushed out from the wound. Her aim had been perfect. She had skewered his heart. When he opened his mouth, more poured out of it.

The last thing he heard was a cold voice saying "Five years ago, you gunned down my sister for no other reason than she wouldn't go out with you, jerk off! This is for Paula Taylor!"

Thirty minutes later, Tabitha swam back to shore, naked and clean, to join a group of friends at their graduation beach party.

"What happened to you, Tabs? We thought you'd drowned."

"No such luck. You were right. I shouldn't have gone swimming drunk. I went too far and got disoriented. I floated for a while to catch my breath. It's a good thing we made that bonfire so I could aim for it. Is there any beer left in the keg, or did you drink it all?"

After she finished her first year with a 4.0 grade average, her partial scholarship was upgraded to a full one. Tabs was glad, but she kept working at the Harley shop. That was real work. The university was just for fun.

"Jesus, Tabs. Why did you have to come up with that engine modification? Now everybody wants it."

"And your point is?"

"It takes twice as long to do. We could have those bikes out of here in half the time?"

"And you charge four times the price. What are you really complaining about?"

"There was a rep from headquarters at the bike show last month and he heard about what we do."

"So? You got kudos from the big boys. What's the problem?"

"They don't like that we modify their engines. They say we dilute the product and risk devaluing the brand name."

"You're kidding, right? Your sales are up since we started doing those mods. The shop is booked three months in advance, even if you hired two extra mechanics. I don't get it."

"It's a corporate thing. As long as we're a Harley dealer, they have a say in what we do."

"That's bullshit. Didn't they look at your bottom line? Fuck them. Let's open a customization shop. They can't say no to that."

"That's what I thought, but we're only a franchise. I can't compete with my own shop."

"For fuck's sake, you won't be competing. You'll be providing an extra service to your... to Harley Davidson's clients. You know what? The hell with them. Back me up and I'll open the shop myself."

"What about College? You can't run a business and get your engineering degree at the same time."

"Says who? I could do that school shit with half my brain tied behind my back. Come on. This is a great opportunity. We have a captive market eager for our product. Why not go for it?"

"I know you could do it, but I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with headquarters. I like things as they are. Why can't you just do the job and use that brain of yours for real important things? Who knows, you could invent the next generation of combustion engines. Hell, you could be building spaceship engines."

"Where's the fun in that? I like working on bike engines."

"You know what? I have a proposition for you. Do the regular work, keep showing those preppies at MIT what real people are capable of, and I'll let you use my shop in your free time to build the best engine that you can. I'll even supply the parts. You're right. Fuck them. We'll find a way to market it without corporate knowing about it. Deal?"

Tabitha thought about it for a minute and grinned as she spit in her palm before shaking hands with her boss.

"You've got a deal. I'll contact the supplier in Chicago for the titanium cylinder sleeves we're going to need, and damn those fuckers in Milwaukee."

*****

Three years later, she held several patents on motorcycle engine enhancements and was partner with her boss in a thriving engine rebuilding business. She had her own shop.

At the same time, her professors were doing their best to encourage her to stay on for post-graduate studies. They offered her free tuition, free lodging. They talked about the advancement of knowledge. (That one made her laugh in their faces.) Nothing worked. She had a mechanical engineer's degree and she didn't need anything else.

One evening, she was at her regular bar, drinking beer, checking out the chicks, when an old man sat beside her and ordered a shot and a beer.

"What about you, kid? I'm buying."

"You're barking up the wrong tree, buster. What do you say we see who can pick up a skirt first with that line? You or me."

"I am trying to pick you up, but not for your booty. You're the kid who makes better Harley engines?"

"What if I am? What's it to you?"

The old man downed his shot and drank his beer in two gulps.

"Come out with me. I want to show you something."

Intrigued, despite herself, she followed him. He didn't look like much in his old biker boots, grease stained jeans and old Metallica t-shirt. He was scrawny, and his long white hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush since the seventies, neither had his bushy beard.

Parked beside her custom chopper was a beat up old... She couldn't tell what it was. It had parts from almost every kind of bike she knew. She was impressed by the picassoesque result, not so much by the bike itself.

She caught the keys he flipped at her.

"Give it a spin. And not just around the block. Try it on the highway and open it up. Don't worry. No cop will catch you. They never did me. I'll be inside, drinking. See ya later."

Three hours later, she sat on the stool beside his and drank the shot waiting for her.

"You were right. They didn't even come close to catching me. I even outraced an Interceptor. What kind of engine is that?"

"It's an old Shovelhead with 80 cubic-inch displacement. Of course, I fiddled with it a bit."

"A bit? What kind of torque ratio do you get? I popped a fucking wheelie beside a cop car at a hundred mph the second time I went on the highway."

The old man guffawed.

"I thought I was the only one crazy enough to pull a stunt like that. Ah, well, I guess I'll have to put it back in storage while the heat dies down. That's all right. I have two different ones. Somehow, they can never give a proper description on their APBs."

"Okay, old man. You've got my attention. What do you want from me?"

"That toy out there is just that. A toy. I work on real engines and I could use the help of a bright kid like you. Interested?"

"I like your style, man. What do you call a real engine? Formula One? Land speed record engines?"

"Space ship engines, actually. Well, rocket engines for now, but I look to the future. What's the fun in building an engine to outrace cop cars when you can build one to outpower Earth's gravity?"

"You're from the university? Is this another of their ridiculous attempts to sucker me into wasting more of my time?"

"I work for NASA right now. I'm in town because MIT has a team working on some electronic controls for the Mars Pathfinder. There are teams all over the world working on building the rover and landing it in one piece. I'm sort of a roving Jack of all trades, but my main interest is engines. I built the first version of that thing you took out to play with Johnny Law when I was in high school. If you want to see it, I still have it. I take it out sometimes. I'll race your souped-up chopper for pink slips with it if you want."

"I'll take you up on that with my real racing bike. That one outside is for show. You wouldn't believe what a chick-magnet it is."

"Anytime, kid. So, wanna job? It doesn't pay all that much, but you'll travel the world and you won't believe how well the pick-up line 'Aw, it doesn't take a rocket scientist. Wait, I am a rocket scientist.' works. Hell, I've laid chicks that didn't even speak English. What do you say?"

"What if I am interested? I'm only a graduate. You'd need a PhD or something."

"A graduate with a 4.0 average who worked full-time at building bike engines and running a business. I'm in town for six months for the Pathfinder project. While I'm here, I'm setting up a team to refine the ion thruster for use in satellites. If you agree to make your chops on this project, one of these days, you'll be working on the big one. The plasma propulsion engine. What we really need to make space travel feasible."

"Do I still get free tuition?"

"Not only that, NASA will pay you to work with us. As for the PhD, unless I miss my guess, which I rarely do, by the time you're done with this and join me on the traveling road show, you'll have earned it in spades. You're done with classrooms and stuffy professors. You'll be working and learning with real-life scientists. So will your fellow post-grads, but you're my choice. It's up to you to justify my faith in you."

After shaking on it, the two proceeded to get roaring drunk. The old man even picked up a gorgeous young woman before Tabs did.

He wisely chose to take a taxi to bring her to his hotel.

*****

The next day, Tabs was sitting at her desk, mirror Ray-Bans hiding her bleary eyes, not her self-satisfied smile, despite the headache. The girl she brought home was H-O-T-HOT. They had fucked until the sun rose, then she sent her packing. She barely had time to shower, pick-up a couple of breakfast burritos and a large coffee, black, before opening the shop.

Only the caffeine boost kept her from stretching out on her couch for a spell. Hell, even the top of her desk looked inviting. She could just rest her head...

The sound of Twin-Cams revving brought her up.

"What the fuck?" She growled. Who'd send her a text that early in the morning?

>Where the fuck are you?
Did you fuck my old man so good he's still in bed?
Or is he still riding you?
Bring his ass over here right now!
And yours too.
You're late!<

This had to be a wrong number. She was tempted to ignore it, but she was in a foul mood and needed to vent. That skank was a target of opportunity.

>Who the fuck are you?
I don't fuck men, old or otherwise.
Get his ass yourself if you want it!
I'm at work but if you want me to ride YOU, come on over.<

That felt good. Nothing like draining your spleen on a morning after. Now, where was she? Right. The couch.

>What the fuck?
I told him we didn't need another snot-nosed kid.
When's the last time you saw him?
I need his ass over here pronto.
And I have a ten inch strap-on with your name on it.
Wanna ride it?<