Jo, T-Girl Goddess! Ch. 03

In desperation, and with her father out of the office organising the hundred-and-one things left to be done, Alexander had arranged for Jo to come to the office at lunchtime two days before their departure on the pretext of giving her a letter of recommendation, to present to a potential employer should she decide to get her first part-time job when she got to the capital.

The man had literally sobbed as he'd demonstrated her specialness, twice in quick succession. Only the shortness of time and the real possibility of being discovered by his secretary returning from her lunch break had prevented a third attempt.

As it was they had barely put themselves to rights before they'd heard her moving around in the outer office.

Jo, a born actress, had opened the office door and sailed through it clutching the letter of recommendation Alexander had had the woman compose and print before going to lunch.

Jo had stopped and thanked her politely.

The old dear had gotten all misty eyed, saying that she would miss Jo's father who was such a sweet man. The woman had showed no sign of suspicion despite Jo's keener sense of smell detecting the distinctive odour that Alexander hadn't been able to completely mask with a hurried spray of air freshener.

That had been the end of Jo's and the man's secret relationship.

He'd kept calling her wanting to come to London to hook up with her, but Jo had thought it too risky and declined.

Three months later Alexander had made television and newspaper headlines by travelling to Thailand for a two-week trip with a fifteen-year-old runaway.

The boy had looked nothing like the man's younger son, yet Alexander had managed to use the boy's passport to sneak his young lover past customs officials both in the UK and Thailand on the outbound trip.

They had avoided detection in Thailand as they'd boarded the return flight, but an eagle-eyed immigration officer at Heathrow Airport had first spotted the dissimilarity between the boy's features and his passport photo and then questioned why he'd been taken out of school during the term.

An image of Alexander in handcuffs had been flashed across the television screen in the early evening news and as her parents had discussed the event over dinner, Jo's father had suddenly turned and looked at her sharply.

Jo had been caught unawares and had blushed under his eagled-eye scrutiny.

Her father had very deliberately placed his knife and fork down besides his half-eaten plate of food and had sipped his wine for the rest of the meal.

Her mother had kept asking him if anything was wrong, but he'd assured her that everything was fine.

He had never mentioned the man's name again, but Jo knew that he knew she had lied to him.

Unfortunately for Alexander Bishop, the runaway had turned out to be the child of a wealthy, well connected family and he'd received a harsher punishment than he would have if the boy had been a nobody: a total of 7 years in prison for facilitating the illegal use of a passport, unlawful kidnap of a minor and sexual assault.

He died in prison of a massive heart attack at the age of fifty-six, mid way into his sentence.

Looking back, Jo found it hard to define her feelings for him. She'd been over the age of consent, but in some ways he'd taken advantage of her youth and naivety.

Worst than that, she could never recall that period in her life without the guilt of lying to her father.

When she'd finally admitted to her parents that she was gay a day after her eighteenth birthday, they had looked at her as though expecting something further to be revealed.

Then her father had explained that they had known for years and told her that she didn't have to give up marriage, happiness and a family.

With their keen interest in art, her parents had always seemed oddball and unconventional compared to other parents she knew.

Jo had still been surprised that they hadn't shown the slightest sign of disappointment in her that day, or since.

She knew that she was incredibly lucky in having them for parents.

Her only regret was not giving them grandchildren.

Three years ago, after they'd taken her for dinner at The Ritz to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday, they had admitted that they were both bisexual and had been members of a swingers' club for years.

Their revelation had explained so much: why her father had always seemed the submissive one in the relationship, why when Aunt Linda, a childhood friend of her mother's came to stay, she slept in the same bed as Jo's parents.

And ever since their revelation, Jo had wondered if her mother strapped on and gave both her husband and her friend a good seeing-to in their threesome games. It was so wrong to think of her parents having sex, but somehow that thought always made Jo smile.

Though both born in the UK, having Jamaican ancestry and aware of the censure of homosexuality in that country and among some of their friends in Britain, Jo's parents must have made an informed decision to come together to have a family and yet have the freedom of both enjoying other partners of the same sex.

But as happy as she was for her parents, Jo didn't want to follow their example.

She was attracted to men, not women. Even if she met a woman like her mother, Jo didn't think that she would be able to deny her true inclinations, just for the chance of having children.

Fingers crossed, she would meet the right man one day who would want to marry, settle down and adopt a child or two.

***

Jo woke with a start and lay for a moment with her eyes closed trying to make sense of her surroundings.

There was an unfamiliar babble of conversation around her and--

Shit the flight!

She jumped up in a panic and reached for her backpack.

"If you're going to Barbados, they haven't called the gate number yet."

"Thank..." Jo's voice trailed off as she caught sight of the man who had slid into the seat next to her some time while she'd been slumbering.

Oh my fucking God!

"I recognized the legs, but I didn't want to wake you." He gave Jo a dazzlingly white smile. "You seemed to need some beauty sleep. It worked. You look more gorgeous than ever."

So do you!

Jayamma Johnson.

Six-foot-six of deliciousness.

He'd told Jo that his Nigerian mother had given him the first name when she'd finally conceived after seven years of marriage to his Scottish father.

Its meaning was 'Praise to the lord!"

And it was what Jo was doing right now.

Say something before the man thinks you're an imbecile!

"Hi, Jay!"

"For a moment there I thought you'd forgotten my name." He gave her another of those deadly smiles that Jo suspected came from years of the best and most expensive dental care rather than newer whitening methods. "I was beginning to feel crushed."

"I think you know that you're unforgettable," Jo replied, before her still half-asleep brain had a chance to intercept the thought and prevent it from escaping her mouth uncensored.

"So are you," he said softly.

Jo's legs felt suddenly too weak for her to stand on and she flopped inelegantly back onto the chair beside him, catching the side of her hip on the armrest.

The brief ache was enough to snap her out of her lustful stupor.

She remembered the woman she'd envied, hated almost, more than any other who had stood in the way of her getting closer to Jay.

"Where's Angel?" she asked casually.

"We're over," he replied simply. "I woke up one night and found her sexting some guy called Brandon. She swore that they only slept together once, but the texts told me otherwise."

"Maybe she was telling the truth."

"Once...a hundred times, it makes no difference to me." He shrugged his impossibly broad left shoulder as he said the words. "She knew that I expected total fidelity from her."

As he must have given the woman, despite admitting to Jo that he would have made her his, if he was single.

They had shared a hot kiss one night in the bathroom of The Pink Panther; he had been the one to pull back after a heated minute with a look of regret in his eyes.

And although she'd never been one for entangled relationships, Jo had been ready to willingly bend over and let him take her, if he'd asked.

He hadn't.

And she hadn't seen him since.

He moved in more rarefied circles and had been slumming that night at a birthday party for one of Angel's friends.

But that kiss and his hard body had been imprinted in Jo's memory.

"So who's the new girlfriend?" she asked.

"The position is currently vacant." He winked. "Care to apply?"

"Why do you assume that I don't have someone?"

He was sexy as sin, but how dare he think that she'd been sitting on the shelf waiting for him!

"I hoped rather than assumed," he told her smoothly and flashed another smile. "If you're free, I know it would be of your own choosing."

The sudden anger drained out of Jo's body as quickly as it had filled it.

"I might apply, but it would depend on the job specification," she replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could.

He leaned closer until his lips were a breath away from her right ear.

"You would need: full, sexy lips that could stretch around a thick, 91/2" cock; a tongue that could tease the bulbous head and a throat that could open up and swallow it and a sweet butthole that could accommodate its length and breadth with just the right degree of tightness. I must add that a smooth milk chocolate body and long legs would give you the edge over other applicants."

Jo had to bite back a gasp of arousal at the words.

That they were spoken in his upper-class diction made them even more erotic.

"I'll have to think about it," she replied as he straightened and sat back on his chair. "Sometimes a job description can sound exciting, but once you start you find that it's just another boring desk job."

He gave a short chuckle.

"Maybe I can give you a little preview. Are you travelling First, too?"

"Premium economy." She'd paid the extra so that she could stretch out her legs, but that was as much as she'd been willing to stretch her newly-tight budget. "I don't have a trust fund like some people."

He didn't take offence at the little jab.

"I'll get you an upgrade."

"You don't have to," she protested weakly. Yes, please!

"It will be no trouble. The seats aren't all taken, so it won't cost me a penny."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He got to his feet, grabbed the handles of his supple leather, rather expensive-looking travel bag and reached down for Jo's backpack before she could. Slinging it over his shoulder, he said, "Let's go to the lounge."

Jo's whole inside warmed at the thought that he'd forgone taking advantage of the more luxurious waiting area because he'd been waiting for her.

***

Three hours later, Jo was tucked into a seat that was almost as comfortable as her bed at home.

Jay had switched his pre-booked window seat for one of the pair in the middle aisle; Jo had been given the other.

The update had been no trouble, as he'd predicted. He had simply walked up to the desk and told the woman that he'd discovered that his friend was on the same flight and since he knew that there were seats available, he would like her to have an upgrade.

The woman hadn't blinked an eyelid. All she'd asked was if he would like to change seats, so that he and Jo could sit together.

Jay had told her, 'Of course!' politely, but in a manner that hinted it was what he'd expected to happen without being asked the question.

Jo had never flown in such luxury.

It had started even before they'd boarded with free food and drinks in the executive lounge.

She could so easily get accustomed to living like this.

Her only complaint, and it was a small one, was that even with the middle divider down, there was a substantial gap between their seats.

The downside of travelling in luxury, Jo thought with a smile.

The seats in Economy were so close together, you had to wrestle the person sitting next to you for possession of the armrests. Some selfish buggers hog the ones of either side of them, leaving the neighbouring passengers the job of supporting their arms for entire flights. And though shoulders were meant to support the weight of arms, on a cramped flight with little room to reposition your body, your arms can feel as though they weigh a ton.

But, when those armrests are raised between those closely packed seats, some very interesting things can take place.

The biggest problem was suppressing your groans which can be easily overheard by those in nearby seats.

Thankfully, the gap between Jo's and Jay's seats didn't totally ruin the vibe. Once the flight was well on its way and after food that had turned out to be nothing special but served with a full bottle of exceptional champagne, they settled down under their blankets for a snooze.

"Are you ready for your preview?"

"What?" Jo gaped.

It was dark, but he couldn't be serious.

"Give me your hand!" he commanded softly, overlapping the edges of their blankets.

Jo slipped her right hand from under hers and up under his, thankful that they had somehow chosen to sit in the right order, so that her dominant hand was closer to him.

Or perhaps, Jay had been thinking ahead.

A head.

It certainly was a bulbous one she noted as her hand reached into his already opened fly and closed around it.

He wasn't fully erect, but he quickly pulsed into hardness as Jo stroked him.

"Is that job offer looking more tempting now?" he queried.

"A little," she admitted.

"Let me make it a bit more exciting."

He laid one long arm alongside Jo's under the blankets and reached up under her dress and the thong she was wearing.

They both turned their heads and lock gazes in the dim light of the cabin.

By mutual but unspoken concurrence, they stroked each other softly and slowly.

Before getting on the plane, Jo had entertained notions of joining the Mile High Club, but had realized on boarding that it would be too risky, even impossible.

She sensed that Jay was a master of control.

For him, this was little more than foreplay.

For him.

She felt pre-cum liberally oozing from her girldick as his large hand worked it like a pro.

He stilled when she was almost on the verge of coming and she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

"Bastard!" she whispered softly.

His eyes sparkled as he smiled unapologetically and moved his fingers lower.

Jo pulled her legs up, placed her feet on the edge of the seat and tilted her bottom upwards as his now-slippery fingers probed her bottom.

He slipped one long finger inside her and moved it slowly, frustratingly, back and forth.

"Ordinarily," he whispered across the gap between their faces, "I would push several digits into such a sweet, tight asshole, but this, as I mentioned before, is only a preview. You have to accept the job and sign a contract before I reveal more to you."

"Bastard!" she repeated softly and laughed.

He knew that she wanted at least another finger up inside her.

She also knew that he wouldn't oblige her.

She was used to making men do her bidding.

Jay was going to be a challenge.

She should be annoyed as fuck with him right now.

Instead she was aroused to the point of pain.

She would get her own back, she vowed, when they were on terra firma and didn't have other passengers' sensibilities to consider.

***

Even though the sky was slightly overcast as if foreshadowing rain, the heat was intense as Jo disembarked, holding on tightly to the rails as she slowly followed Jay down the aircraft's steps.

Once again she'd appreciated the perks of flying in a higher class.

Their bags had been retrieved from the lockers without the usual crush of bodies and bump of shoulders and they had been among the first set of passengers to exit the plane.

She had planned to change into a pair of flat, open-toed sandals for this stage of the journey, but that idea had gone out of the window.

A girl had to work her biggest assets when the occasion called for it.

Luckily, Jay was once again playing the gentleman and carrying her backpack for her.

All she needed to do was ensure that she didn't catch one of the 4" heels and go flying headfirst into him.

"I'm staying at the Sandy Lane Hotel, where will you be?" he asked as she made it safely down to the tarmac.

She'd been avoiding all talk of Barbados for the entire flight.

"Sorry I can't tell you that," she said apologetically.

"Are you meeting a lover?"

"No."

"I'll be here for ten days," he informed her. "Will you be able to come to the hotel and meet me?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

They made small talk as they waited to clear immigration, but Jo sensed that some of his ardour had cooled.

Damn!

She couldn't let this man get away!

But she also had to consider Ricki's safety.

"I'll call you," she promised, reaching for the handle of her suitcase when she saw a uniformed driver waiting with a placard with Jay's name scrawled boldly across it.

"Are you sure you're going okay for a ride," he asked a slight frown creasing his forehead.

"Yes."

"Okay then."

She sensed that he knew that she didn't want him to see who was meeting her.

Damn!

Damn!

***

Even though she'd never met him in person before, Jo recognized Ian from her video calls to Ricki as he strode to meet her when she exited the airport.

"Ricki's in the car," he explained as he took hold of her luggage.

"Okay."

When she slipped into the back of the Range Rover, Jo found Ricki in a pair of oversized dark glasses, an equally large hat and an auburn wig.

She was tanned a deeper brown and looked absolutely fabulous.

Even the sexy, petulant pout of her lips

"You took your time getting here!"

Jo laughed.

It was nice to know the spark that Norman had tried to extinguish had survived.

'Ricki the Diva' was back in full force!

"I told the pilot that you were waiting for me," Jo explained. "I told him to hurry, that he shouldn't keep you waiting, but he just ignored me and refused to fly faster."

Ricki rolled her eyes.

Ian laughed.

"Girlfriend, we're going to have some fun in the sun!" Ricki clapped in excitement.

"Not so fast, girlfriend." Jo raised a staying hand. "You would never guess who I met on the plane and who wants me to come meet him at the Sandy Lane Hotel?"

"Who?" Ricki demanded, looking anything but pleased. "You're here to spend time with me!"

"And I will," Jo promised.

"You didn't say anything about me, did you?" Ricki asked, her expression suddenly filled with concern.

"Of course I didn't!"

"Who did you meet then?" Ricki relaxed back against the car seat, looking once again at ease.

"Jay!"

"Jay?"

Ricki hadn't met him--she'd been home playing the good little wifey to Norman that night--or she would have remembered.

"Jayamma, the mixed-race guy I told you that I met at Big Willy's bar." Jo rolled her eyes when her friend's face remained blank. "The kisser!"

"That one? Oh fuck, Jo, he sounded as hot as hell!"

"Hotter!" Jo confirmed. "His bitch of a girlfriend messed up and he's currently as free as a bird!"

"Okay, I'm willing to share you with him...maybe one day out of every five."

"I came to spend time with you and Ian and I will, but Jay is going back in ten days' time. Girlfriend, I have to stake my claim so that he doesn't think of hooking up with anyone else before I return."

"Good thinking, girlfriend," Ricki agreed, the mischievous look Jo knew and loved back on her face. "You have to do enough to turn him out before he gets back on that plane!"