At Long Last: Gwen Ch. 04

I nodded approval. Edwards continued, "Gwen has impressed upon us that we aren't really up to speed in our teaching methods and we need to learn how to get students much more engaged in their learning."

Again, I nodded approval and Edwards said, "McDermott¸ the head of the Teaching Center, is putting us off and saying he can't meet with us for at least a month so we can't make any traction there."

I looked at Marcie and asked, "Who is McDermott?"

Marcie dryly remarked, "Richard McDermott is His Rotundness. He's the fat guy with the big mustache who bustles around like he's the reason the school exists."

Interestingly, both Olsen and Edwards nodded their agreement with Marcie's assessment.

I thought a moment and asked Marcie to go get the school's budget. She had it in a moment and I asked what the overall budget of the Teaching Center was.

Marcie reported that the overall budget for the Center was $145,000.

I followed that up with the question, "What does a three credit course cost in this department?"

Marcie said, "Three hundred dollars."

"How many undergraduate students did this department teach last year?" was my follow-up question to Marcie.

Marcie left the room momentarily and returned to say, "We taught three thousand undergrads last year."

"So," I concluded, "this department generated nine hundred thousand dollars last year."

Marcie nodded her agreement.

My next question was, "What percentage of the revenue we generate is siphoned off the top to support administrative functions?"

"Twenty percent," was Marcie's response.

"Uh huh," I grunted. "So, we generated one hundred and eighty thousand in administrative fees last year which is more than McDermott's entire budget."

Marcie started smiling and Olsen and Edwards started laughing and I said, "Marcie, please call McDermott's Office this afternoon and inform whomever that Richard the Fat will be here at 10:00 a.m. Monday morning," and I glanced at Edwards who shook his head and said, "11:00 a.m."

Marcie said, "11:00 a.m. on Monday to meet with you and Dr. Edwards."

"Correct," was my response.

"Well done, gentlemen. Shall we meet next Friday at the same time for another progress report?"

Both men nodded agreement and before I said, "Meeting adjourned," Marcie injected, "What would you guys like to bet on for next week?"

Both Olsen and Edwards scowled at Marcie who enjoyed a quiet laugh and held up her two $5 bills.

I went home to Gwen's and made two phone calls. The first was to my editor informing her that I was satisfied with my revisions and was sending her the book, by e-mail, chapter by chapter. We had a good phone visit and concluded that she would let me know about revisions as she reviewed the text.

My second call was to Sheik Abdullah of the Ministry of Education in the Emirate of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. After the extended courtesies of our greetings to each other the Sheik inquired about the purpose of my call. I explained that by July, when I was to fly in for a few days of consulting, I would be married and I asked if my wife could accompany me. The Sheik appeared overjoyed at the news and extended the hope that she was very young and voluptuous. We laughed heartily at this and the Sheik went on to explain that not only was my future wife welcome, she had to come as a guest of the Emirate.

I was simply floored by the Sheik's generosity, but he absolutely insisted that Gwen must be their guest. He assured me that he would send a ticket for Gwen along with mine and he quietly mentioned that he would also include what he judiciously referred to as "guidelines" for dress and behavior for Western visitors.

I thanked the Sheik profusely for his generosity and we wished each other good health and long life and much virility.

I hung up the phone laughing at the Sheik's priorities, but it was a laugh of appreciation.

Gwen returned home at 6:00 p.m. yet again and I was impressed that the faculty were working late even on a Friday. Gwen said that the faculty had met as a whole to hear Olsen and Edwards report on their meeting with you.

They raved about the meeting because it was brief and to the point and you were helpful. I think the faculty got a whole new appreciation for you after today.

"Just doing my job, Princess. Speaking of, tell me what you know about this McDermott fellow."

Interestingly, Gwen frowned at his name and she said, "Oh, he knows his stuff, but he's so pompous he turns off everyone. He's arrogance personified."

Gwen added, "He'll make trouble for you because Edwards told us that you had him summarily summoned to your office Monday."

I responded, "Did Edwards also tell you McDermott had said that he could meet with Edwards' group in a month or more?"

"Oh, yes, Edwards mentioned that, but everyone agreed that McDermott will do his best to make trouble for you."

"Well, we'll see, Princess, we'll see."

We certainly did see. The phone rang and it was Gwen's dean wanting to speak with me. Gwen put the phone in speaker mode and I took the receiver from her.

The dean explained that he had just got off the phone with an apoplectic McDermott whom the dean suspected was foaming at the mouth because I had demanded his presence on Monday. "What," the Dean wanted to know, "is the story?"

I explained it to the dean who thought a moment and then said, "Thanks for the clarification. I'll call the pompous ass right back and tell him to get his chubby cheeks into your office as specified."

We said, "Goodnight and have a nice weekend."

Gwen burst out laughing and said, "Old Man, you lead a charmed life."

I responded, "I know. I have you."

Gwen beamed and said, "Ohhhhhhhh" and melted into my arms for an extended hug. Of course she followed up this tender moment with "Feed me!"

//

Barb arrived early on Saturday and she and Gwen talked wedding plans while I headed to the driving range and hit a few bucket of balls.

Upon my return home I found a restive Gwen and Barb. They were obviously worried about the condition in which they would find their son and brother.

We had a light lunch and we all read until 1:30 p.m. when the two Charles' appeared.

Charles the First alighted from his SUV spryly and Charles the Second managed to fall flat on his face doing so. Barb expressed distress and Gwen cautioned her that it might be the effects of medication.

Gwen's ex walked to the door and Charles, the Second wobbled. Charles the First shook his head despairingly at Gwen and Barb. Clearly, something was not right. They came inside and Charles the Second greeted his mother and sister civilly.

Gwen hugged her son and asked him a few simple questions about his health, but Charles was vague and unhelpful. Gwen brought them into the living room and seated them and went to the kitchen to bring some cold drinks.

Charles the Second asked where the cats were and Barb said, "Oh, they're probably all outside playing somewhere."

During all this I sat motionless on the couch taking in everything while beginning to wonder what the psychiatrist treating Charles had accomplished.

Charles the Second began a rambling soliloquy about how sorry he was for the trouble he had caused and, in mid-sentence; he realized that someone else was in the room. He studied me carefully for a few seconds and then turned to his dad and said, "That's the bastard who broke my nose."

Gwen's ex, a small man by any measure, seemed to shrink into himself and he threw up his hands and asked, "Does anyone have any ideas what I can do with this kid? He's a mess!"

Gwen froze with a tray of drinks half-way into the living room. She turned to me and said, "Will?"

I nodded to Gwen and turned to her ex and said, "Get a referral to the University's Medical School. He needs a complete physical and neurological work-up and he needs it at the hands of the best in the State."

Gwen's ex stared at me for a long moment and then nodded his head. With some effort he stood and said, "Come on Charles; let's go get you some of that chocolate ice cream you've been wanting."

The son stood up shakily and forgot to say goodbye. He merely shuffled after his father who held the door for his son and helped him negotiate the steps.

Gwen was shaking and I got to her in a hurry and relieved her of the tray of drinks and put them down. I half-swept and half-carried Gwen to the couch and had her lie down.

No one spoke for the longest time until Gwen asked, "Will, do you think it's something neurological?"

"I do."

"Do you think," Gwen asked, "it's a brain tumor?"

My response was, "I would think so, but it's inconceivable that a hospital would miss that."

To make a long, sad, story a lot shorter, a radiologist at the hospital had missed the brain tumor which was the first thing the medical college found. It was benign, but it was, by then, so large that the subsequent surgery only saved Charles' life. He was consigned to a facility for life because he simply could not function well enough to take care of himself. In fact, he was so impaired that he had genuine difficulty recognizing people he did not see every day. Essentially, Gwen and her ex-husband had lost their son and Barb had lost her brother.

As a footnote to the disastrous visit to Gwen's house, Barb came to me later that day and asked me, "Will you be my daddy?"

Puzzled, I looked at Barb who said, "My biological father never even said, 'Hi' to me this afternoon."

I looked to Gwen who shook her head affirmatively so I said to Barb, "I'm not sure what it means to be your daddy, but I'll give it a shot."

Barb wrapped her arms around me and said, "You'll do fine."

We pretty much sleep-walked our way through Sunday. Barb returned to college Sunday evening and a very subdued Gwen retired early and I later joined her. Interestingly, the cats surrounded the sleeping Gwen.

I was heartened, during the wee hours of the night to awake to Gwen slowly sucking my cock, but she surprised me by not asking for sex. Instead, she merely slid up the bed and asked me to hold her until she fell back to sleep.

Monday represented a new challenge with McDermott and I decided not to tolerate any nonsense so I brought my tape recorders to the office.

Edwards showed up at 11:00 a.m. and McDermott displayed his importance by showing up ten minutes late. Edwards and I were duly impressed.

McDermott rumbled into my office looking like the wrath of god and did a double-take when I made a major show of turning on the tape recorders. "What the hell is with the recorders?" he snapped.

I said, quite pleasantly, "Good morning, Dr. McDermott. Thank you for joining us this morning as we consider the problem of enhancing our teaching skills. The recorders will serve as a record of our discussion so that, at a later time, you and we can return to the recording and confirm our understanding of what each of us has agreed to do this morning."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, I do not appreciate one bit being summoned to your office in the rude manner in which I was summoned," was McDermott's rejoinder.

My response was, "If I may quote the dashing Rhett Butler, 'Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.'"

McDermott stared, almost incredulously, at me and I said, 'Now, let's dispense with the posturing and get on with the meeting. Let me turn this meeting over to Josh Edwards who will give you an outline of what we need."

The meeting went swimmingly well if we discount the occasional dirty look McDermott threw at me. But, he did articulate clearly what Edwards had expressed and he and Edwards worked out a summer-long schedule that would enhance the teaching skills of the faculty.

At the end of the meeting I indicated that I thought things had gone well and, as a memento of our meeting, I indicated that I wanted to give McDermott one of the two tapes of our meeting if he needed to consult it at any time in the future.

I thought it was quite ungracious of him to instruct me to "Shove your tape." Collegiality was certainly not Dr. McDermott's strong suit.

McDermott left huffily and Edwards enjoyed a good, long laugh. He asked, "Why didn't you respond to his 'shove your tape' crack?"

"Let him have his little victory," was my response. "He needed to recover some dignity," and I shared with Edwards the dean's phone call to me of Friday evening.

Edwards nodded and said, "See you Friday."

I called after him, "Don't forget grade inflation and how that's tied to the teaching issue."

"Don't worry," Edwards called back. "That's the elephant in the room with our committee."

The rest of the week was series of peaks and valleys. The meeting with Olsen and the dean went very well and the dean was receptive to Olsen's thinking. Much time was given to how the department would implement the applied statistics theme and we determined that, in addition to Gwen, two other young fellows in the department were likely to depart so that there was a distinct possibility of three new hires that could contribute to the desired departmental mission.

Thursday was a really awful day because that was the day Gwen learned that the radiology faculty at the medical school had discovered Charles' large tumor and the very guarded prognosis suggested that a productive life for Charles the Second was very doubtful.

On the other hand, in a week, Barb would be graduating from college and we would all be headed to Alabama for Gwen's interview.

Friday's meeting with Olsen and Edwards went well and I began to think that the departmental faculty was actually a pretty good group and their utter disarray had really been grounded in Gearhart's utter incompetence.

I was so heartened by what I was seeing, I arranged another meeting with the dean and urged him to fire me and turn the department over to Marcie and Olsen and Edwards until a new chairperson was hired. The dean asked for a few days to think it over.

Barb stayed at college over the weekend as she attended to getting her stuff packed and stored and dealing with graduation issues.

Gwen had been quiet and reserved all week. Perhaps 'listless' would be a better descriptor of her mood and behavior in light of her son's condition.

Over the weekend, I thought it might brighten Gwen's outlook if I told her about out upcoming trips in July. I explained my consulting trips to Michigan, Delaware, and Texas and indicated that I wanted her to accompany me. She perked up and asked lots of questions which I answered and when she wound down I told her about our trip to Dubai in July. She squealed with delight and said, "Oh, I'll need clothes!"

"You will not need clothes for Dubai, Princess. In fact," and I lifted her sweatshirt to reveal her braless breasts, "you will keep these beauties under wraps at all times in Dubai." As I said this, I tweaked her nipples and rolled them between my thumb and finger. Gwen's eyes fluttered and she gave a little gasp.

It dawned on me that the usually highly orgasmic Princess had not expressed interest in sex for at least a week. Acting on that thought, I slid my hand down the front of her jeans. Not surprisingly, I encountered no panties. I placed my hand on her pussy and said, "And, in Dubai, you'll keep this covered¸ too."

Gwen's hand shot out and grasped my cock. She looked up at me and said, "Screw me, Old Man, right now, please."

I picked the Princess up and carried her to our bed where she asked me to undress her which I did in a few seconds. I got out of my clothes and presented her my cock so she could make me hard.

Gwen's comment was, "Poor Ivan has been so neglected this week," and she commenced sucking me to hardness. Actually, she had Ivan hard in record time and she triumphantly announced¸ "What a good boy! He's ready to screw!"

"Gee, that was elegantly put, Princess," was my response.

Gwen stuck out her tongue at me as she positioned a pillow under her beautiful tush. She spread her legs wide and announced, "The Lady Anastasia summons big, dumb Ivan."

Big, dumb Ivan maneuvered between Gwen's legs and I positioned Ivan for Gwen and she guided him just inside her pussy and I looked at Gwen and asked, "Now, what?"

Honestly, one wouldn't think a creature as tiny as Gwen could hit so hard or yell so loudly.

With my chest stinging from her punch, and my ears ringing from "You big idiot!" I began slowly thrusting into and out of Gwen. She smiled and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist and murmured, "Big dummy."

I really got into it and smiled and said, "Oh, Princess, this is so very good."

Gwen smiled and nodded and murmured, "Oh, Old Man, it is all that and more."

We thrust and thrust and thrust and when Gwen began to show the early signs of her orgasm I said, "Princess, I'm going to pull out of you for a little bit and lick you, but I'll be back inside you shortly."

Between her deep breaths, Gwen nodded her approval and I slid my cock out and backed away just far enough that I could lean down and lick her clit. Her deep breathing turned to moans and then yells. She stiffened and yelled something incomprehensible and exploded into orgasm.

While still in the throes of her orgasm I scooted back towards her and re-inserted my cock into her still pulsing pussy. Gwen let loose with an "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" that may well have shaken the windows. I resumed thrusting and she was trying, and failing, to say something comprehensible to me. She did wrap her arms around my neck and held onto me for dear life while I increased the pace of my thrusts. Ultimately Gwen let loose with a shrill cry, stiffened, and had her second orgasm.

She quickly went from stiff to jelly and her arms and legs unwrapped around me and she fell limply to the bed.

I was heaving from the exertion and waited from my breathing to become more regular before I wrapped the Princess into my arms and held her.

Perhaps five minutes later Gwen opened her eyes and whispered, "I don't think you should do that to me again."

My response was, "Oh? Why not?"

"Because I think you killed a lot of my brain cells, that's why."

She snuggled up to me and felt my now deflating cock and she looked at me with surprise and asked, "You didn't cum?"

"No."

"You mean," Gwen asked, "I could ask you later to screw me again?"

"You can certainly ask."

"You're amazing, Old Man."

"Why is that?"

"Geez, Old Man, you're 62 and you still don't use the little blue pills."

"Oh, well, living with you I'll probably never use the little blue pills. Ivan will probably drop off first from overuse."

Gwen laughed and tried to hit me, but she was so wiped out her punch lacked conviction. She then struggled to a leaning position and announced, "I have to pee."

I laughed and said, "Well, you better get yourself to the potty."

"Nay, nay," was Gwen's response. "The Princess must be carried."

"What is it with you and being carried to the potty after sex?"

Gwen grinned, "I just love being carried by you."

"Will you love it when I'm in a back brace?

Gwen said, "Ha! You think I don't see you at the Y, but I do. Your abdominal core is probably stronger now than when you were in college."

"How do you see me at the Y?"

"Spies! I have spies, Old Man."

I had nothing to say. I had no idea what I could say.

Gwen finished on the potty and announced, "Back to bed!"

"What now?" I asked?

"Clothes for Dubai, Old Man. You thought just because you violated my body that I'd forgotten about clothes."

"All right, have it your way, Princess. What clothes do you need for Dubai?"

"Well, it's quite warm there, isn't it?"

"Yes, in July the mean daytime temperature is one hundred and five degrees."

"What? Where are you taking me? I could have fainting spells in temperatures like that."

"Think of it this way, Princess. It's a dry heat. It beats the heck out of Alabama in July when it's humid and ninety-five degrees."