Mr. Tovall Speaks His Mind Ch. 02

The premise of this story was fun, but after nearing the end of this sequel, I questioned the value of making it into a series. Probably not, so I hope it's left on an interesting note. Feedback is always appreciated, even for these highly-fantastical, silly romps.

Quick warning. There are elements of this story that may be incestuous in nature, so if that's not your bag, please avoid. However, I don't want to place it in the Incest category, as that is not the theme. It was always intended to have an exhibitionist bent, with a few hardcore elements. I'll leave it to admins to decide if it's appropriately left here.

Cheers!

*****

"Sexual Tourettes."

That is the best way to describe my boss' condition. Suffering from a mental disorder similar to tourettes, Mr. Henry Tovall voices almost every fleeting thought that enters his mind. I might be exaggerating - but only by a little - when I say that Mr. Tovall proves the theory that men think about sex every seven seconds. He will often blurt out lewd, sexual comments during the course of any conversation. It doesn't help that I have big tits. They draw attention, whether I want them to, or not.

Serving as Mr. Tovall's personal assistant over this past month thrust me into an interesting world. I stayed on his island, where I had my own office in his mansion. I hesitate to call it a real mansion, but it did have at least eight bedrooms, multiple living and recreation areas, two kitchens, and plenty of bathrooms. As Mr. Tovall is a billionaire, we had every amenity one can imagine: tennis, bowling, an enormous pool, two hot tubs, the the beach (of course). We even have great cell phone reception. It was like living on holiday all the time.

Technically, my office was Miss Patricia Marsh's office. She was Mr. Tovall's long-term PA, but needed a replacement while undergoing a series of surgeries on a bad leg, back on the main land. It was a Wednesday morning when I got up early, and rather than heading to the shower like usual, I threw on a short robe and zipped over to the office, located on the opposite wing of the property. I needed to print out a string of emails before Henry arrived. I'd start it up, and come back to shower and dress, before officially starting the day.

Henry and I meet every morning at seven sharp to discuss each day's itinerary. That gave me almost a half hour, but just as I flicked on the computer, the purple line rang. Mr. Tovall has two land lines, and the purple one indicates 'pick up at all costs'. Very few people have that number. Without hesitating, I snatched it up and answered, "Mr. Henry Tovall's office. May I help you?"

"Pat? It's Mona," said the voice on the phone. She was speaking loud and fast, not pausing between words or sentences. "Tell Henry I'll be there Friday before lunch. I'm only staying the weekend."

Immediately, sirens went off in my head. Mona Tovall is Henry's mother. From what Patricia told me, Henry loves her like any son would, but she drives him crazy, often trying to interject herself into his affairs. "Miss Tovall, this is Lucy. Lucy Landers. I'm filling in for Miss Pa-"

"Great, Lucy. Tell Henry I'll be there Friday. Probably before lunch."

Before I could respond, the line went dead. Frantic, I rushed to pull up the call-back number, but it was unlisted. I checked the Rolodex and tried the number I found there. There was no answer. I opened up old emails in Patricia's inbox to see if I could find any communication from Henry's mother. I had to find a way to reach out, with an excuse to disrupt her intention of coming here Friday.

In the short month I'd worked with Henry, I knew such a short-warning stressor was a bad thing for him. When stressed, his thinking gets scattered, and his sexual tourettes issue only gets worse. I bet his annoying mother knew that, too. I had no luck with finding anything in the emails, and was about to try the phone number again, when Henry barged through the door. Surprisingly, he was already dressed, a look often reserved for later in the day... or not at all.

Did I mention that? The folks around here, on this secluded island, sometimes go naked, and Henry does it more than the others. When he does dress, it's surprisingly stylish. He looks more like a GQ model, than a tech billionaire. Today, it was slim-fitting slacks and a spotless, solid-blue shirt, looking utterly handsome in his attire. Regardless, I'd be lying if I didn't say I preferred seeing Henry naked. Some guys just got it, and while I hadn't crossed any sexual lines with Mr. Tovall (unless you count that bizarre incident on my first day), I enjoyed his body for the eye candy, if nothing else.

"Holy shit, you're already here!" exclaimed Henry. It wasn't quite ten minutes to seven. Henry scanned me up and down in my short robe, and I realized half of my left breast was practically pouring out. I immediately adjusted, as I knew it would get comments. He started right in with the first one, "I am so glad I wore pants today. I'll get hard looking at that. Should I leave the door open, or closed?"

"Come on in, Henry," I said, waving him forward. It looked like my shower would have to wait. "I have disturbing news for you."

"What is it, and why are you such a prude? You wear too much."

He was staring at my tits, but considering they were barely covered by the robe, it was understandable. Like any man who sees a bit of flesh, they want to see more, and Henry just had to voice that opinion. He struggled to look away, yet that only led him to my legs, where the robe barely covered my crotch. He had seen me naked a time or two already, yet here I struggled, contemplating which action might be more lewd: sitting or standing? I didn't want to set his condition off any worse than it was, and telling Henry his mother was coming to visit wouldn't help. I breathed in. Here goes. "I just got off the phone with your mother."

I could see the blood immediately rush out of his cheeks. "Jesus Christ, did she say she was going to drop in unexpectedly?"

"Yes," I said.

"Of course she did. I bet she KNOWS Patricia is out. Somehow she must have found out. She never tries that shit with Patricia around." Henry was tightly closing his fists and clinching his teeth. "That bitch."

Based on what Patricia told me, Henry never says the cruel and harmful (or sexual) things, in any meaningful way. Again, it's just passing thoughts that we all have. Poor Henry just lacks the filter we all possess. I explained, "Your mother, at first, called me Patricia. She acted like she does this all the time. Dropping in. Miss Marsh warned me, though, and I tried-"

"And Mom talked all over you." Henry crossed his arms, shaking his head. "I want to milk you like a cow."

I looked down, noticing my robe was open slightly again. I shifted, fixing it. "Yes, she wouldn't let me get a word in."

"Not at a worse time. I intended to work on the Hobart project this weekend. Now she's going to make me cater to her every fucking whim. Godda-"

"I'll stop her when she lands," I exclaimed. "They can rest and refuel, but I will tell her you are buried in an important project. It's the truth."

"It isn't good enough, sugar tits. You try telling your mom, that work is more important than her. Then try telling MY mom that."

Henry had a point. My mother was furious with me right now, for leaving the city so suddenly to come work here. It was one of the reasons I avoided calling her. I hadn't visited, either, since taking the job. In fact, it was Mom who reached out to me first.

**

It was five or six days after I had started, when Mom's number came up on my cell. Mr. Tovall and I were in his back office at the time and he allowed me to take the call. "Hello?" I answered.

"Lucy! Is it true? You moved out of Boston OVERNIGHT, and you didn't call me? Your sister told me. I can't believe you would do such a thing. Are you okay? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's my mother," I whispered to Henry, who instantly fell victim to his vocal tic and boomed back with, "Oh, does she have tits like yours?"

If I were to have responded, it would have been a yes, but it was inappropriate. I waved him off and said, "I'll be just a second."

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" screamed Mom. She must have heard Henry through the phone.

"Mom, mom! Calm down. It was nothing-"

"Nothing? He just asked what my tits look like? Who was that? Where are you?"

I held the phone's receiver and looked at Henry. "Can you please give me a minute?"

Henry scooted off and I put the phone back to my ear, hearing every word of it from Mom. "Samantha says you're living on some island in God knows where, and YOU didn't even call me?"

"It happened so fast, Mom."

"And the comment about your breasts? If mine look like yours? Who was that?"

"That was Henry, my boss."

"What kind of boss would say something like that? Just who are you working for?"

"Mom, calm down. It's not at all what you think. I mean, I guess on your side it looks crazy, but I assure you it isn't."

I spent time explaining that it was indeed the billionaire Henry Tovall who I worked for, on his secluded island off the coast of Florida. I didn't bother explaining the Sexual Tourettes issue. In fact, I wasn't allowed. It was to be kept a secret, of course. Instead, I bumbled through an excuse, how Henry had tried making a joke off a previous conversation that was actually completely innocent in nature. "You heard a quip out of context," I lied.

I don't know whether it was convincing, but Mom stopped pressing the issue. "I want to go there, and see you," she insisted.

"You can't do that, Mom, but I can fly out to see you any time, on my days off. I might need to check with the boss first, but it won't be a problem."

"I want to see you now. I worry about you."

"Of course you do, but I promise in a few weeks I'll fly back and visit. I'm sorry I didn't call you about my status. I kind of got thrown into this, because of Patricia's surgery." It took a while to get her off the phone, but Mom finally calmed down and let me get back to work.

**

Though a few weeks had passed since that conversation, I had yet to make any attempt to leave the island and visit her. Now, with Henry's own mother flying in this weekend, it would delay that opportunity even longer. I suppose I should at least call my mother to schedule a time to see her.

"Fuck it, fine, whatever," said Henry now, mulling over his mother's coming visit. "It's one weekend. We'll bear through it. I might hide from everyone for most of it, but screw it."

"I'm surprised you're taking it so calmly," I said.

"Oh, I'm not calm about it, just distracted. Jesus, will you pull those out already? And do you have the emails I asked you to get?"

I ignored the comment about my tits, of course. "Shit, that's why I came down here in the first place. Those emails. I'll print them now."

I leaned forward at the computer and tapped a few times on the mouse, pulling up the appropriate files. It took a second for me to realize that my left breast had fallen completely out during the act. 'Damn this stupid, short robe!' I screamed in my head. I snatched at the cloth, a bit too quickly, pulling it up from the bottom, exposing my stubble.

"Nice patch. I could graze on that all day. How long will it take those emails to print?"

Once again, I disregarded the vulgarity and answered, "A few minutes at most, but I was intending to take a quick shower."

"What, are you fucking nasty?"

By now, Henry knew me well enough not to be embarrassed by his awkward statements, but sometimes, when they're just left hanging there... well, it still feels a bit odd.

"Uh, not nasty, but not clean, either," I giggled. "Do you mind?"

"Hurry back."

I did, but not without taking a moment to knock one out. Henry, eyeballing me like he did, while I was barely dressed in that robe, was undeniably hot. His unusual condition, coupled with the unique "bohemian" environment I found myself in, where any manner of dress is acceptable, made it very easy for me to get sexually stimulated. I masturbated much more here, than when I lived in the city.

Without addressing the matter about his mother too often, Henry and I spent the rest of Wednesday and Thursday attending regular business matters. The plane was scheduled to arrive at eleven on Friday, and I was the only one greeting them on the tarmac. "I'll be in my back office," Henry told me. "Just buzz me or something when she gets here."

I wasn't sure how Mona Tovall would take to not being met by her son, but instead by me, a stranger. I was dressed in my nicest business suit, and prepared myself mentally. I'd been warned she was boisterous, and could be overbearing.

The small planes that land on this island don't require a long airstrip. Once they're visible in the sky, they're soon parked on the concrete. The hatch opened downward, and a small staircase extended from it. To my horror, the first person that stepped out wasn't Mona Tovall, but Betty Landers, my mother. My heart jumped out of my chest. Every unimaginable thought I could fathom raced through my mind. My mother was a "newborn" Christian conservative. She wasn't always that way (quite the opposite), but she was about to be in the presence of Henry Tovall. It was going to get awkward.

"Lucy? Lucy!" My mom screamed, rushing down the metal steps. "Oh, baby. Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"Uh, too busy learning the new job, Mom. What is this? How did you...?"

Then, the woman whom I could only assume was Mona, stepped out of the plane. Like the assets my mother and I share, her tits were big, but unlike us, obviously fake. She approached, while Mom answered me, "What did you expect me to do? You rush off to take some job out of nowhere? Living with some billionaire? And expect me to not worry? I called his mother, of course!"

"His mother? How did even get her number? I couldn't even find her number." I looked to Mona and attempted a smile, but it was in vain. My mother's presence had me completely caught off guard. That's when I saw Samantha, my sister, popping through the plane's door. Her arms were piled with luggage, as she clumsily made her way down.

"It's not like Miss Mona is some deeply reclusive public figure. Not like her son, anyway" said Mom, scoffing. "I just made a few phone calls, and she got back to me. Unlike you, young lady, you never got to me. More to the point, what is happening with you? Why have you been ignoring me?"

Mona burst in, "She's no different than my son, Betty. Never thinks to call. They don't understand that we mothers worry."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I pleaded to Mom. "And you brought Samantha?" The anxiety was so overwhelming, I thought I might pass out.

"I decided to surprise you. After the third time you didn't call me back, I thought maybe I ought to see this place myself."

"Mom, you can't just-"

"Hey, who's this?" asked Henry, coming up from behind me. It might have been back in my chest, but I think my heart stopped beating for a moment, this time. I'd had no time to warn my mother and sister about Henry's condition, and no time to warn Henry about their presence. "And what is this? A tit jamboree? My God, look at yourselves. It's utterly ridiculous. Cows, the lot of you." Then he glanced at Samantha. "Almost the lot of you."

Henry's mom rolled her eyes, while mine responded by raising her brows and sucking in her breath, which only made her tits look bigger. That's not good, I thought. Samantha was more like Dad, tall and wrangly. We weren't super close, but if I had to guess, she was maybe a b-cup.

I was too stunned to say anything after Henry's remark, so Mona burst in, "Henry, this is Betty Landers, Lucy's mother. She reached out to me personally, and I insisted she come see the place for herself. She was very worried, because her daughter" - Mona gave me a stern look - "ceased communicating with her."

"I didn't cease anything," I protested. "I have been very busy, and well..." It dawned on me that perhaps the reason I hadn't been talking to Mom, was I didn't want to risk telling her about my boss' strange condition. For some reason, I might have felt as much humiliation as he did about it. I certainly wanted it kept secret, every bit as much as he does.

Mona interrupted again, addressing everyone before I could finish. "So I lied to Miss Lucy, and didn't let her know her mother was coming. I promised Betty I would put her mind at ease, and what better way, than a surprise visit? I also told her all about you, son."

'Did she? Did she really?' I wondered.

"I hope you told her those tits are always welcome here." he said, pointing at my mom's chest, before addressing his own mother again. "Mona, this is more than an inconvenience. I already had my weekend booked," but he didn't argue the point further, and instead immediately turned to me. "Lucy, why did you stop talking to your Mom?"

My brain was fried. I was trying to gauge Mom's shock/reaction to Henry's rude comment on her tits, while also attempting to come up with valid reasons why I hadn't called her recently. "I, uh... I..." Mom stood there, tapping a finger against her crossed arms, waiting for an answer, or any flimsy excuse. Finally, I just sighed and confessed, "You're right. Mom, I'm sorry. I should have called. It's just been a new experience here, and I wanted to get settled in. It's not a good excuse. I don't mean to be hiding from you, or shunning you."

Mom huffed, but nodded. "You can make it up to me this weekend. Mona insisted Henry would be okay with me having the weekend to my daughter. Is that right, Mr. Tovall?"

Of course, my mother was answering for him. It was a sincerely, insincere question, yet he rolled with it and said, "If you must."

"Well, sure," I interrupted. "We can fly over to Miami and-"

"Nuh, uh, Missy. A private beach to ourselves here? And a pool? This is perfect!" Mom waved her hands around, taking in the beautiful scenery. I realized that my mother hadn't responded to Henry's lewd comments earlier. Maybe Mona had indeed briefed her, but did Mom have any idea that sometimes the people living here go naked on that beach?

"Yeah, okay, Mom." I nervously looked to Henry. "Is that okay?"

"Absolutely, glad to have you." His voice was flat. It may have been the first lie I'd ever heard from his lips, I wasn't sure. Henry wasn't smiling, nor frowning. "I'm sure Mona will keep us all busy, knowing her."

He genuinely did not seem thrilled by this; more like he was simply allowing himself to be subjected to it. I hoped my mother's imposition wasn't off-putting to Henry, about me, anyway. As I knew Henry, he was a very private person, who only enjoyed social moments on his own terms and time. Outside of work, he wasn't one to visit with others for any long duration. Understandable, considering his condition. Instead, Henry enjoyed burying his body and brain into his projects and hobbies. Often, he worked out to relieve stress, as well.

Samantha finally dropped her luggage, stepping closer to Mom. This was when Henry's condition finally got the better of him. "Jesus, here I was thinking I'd like to see these ladies naked, but you have me wondering why you bother wearing clothes at all. You don't have anything to cover." He then quickly addressed Mona. "Mom, why don't you show these girls the guest bedrooms. You know where they are."

Henry was about to walk off, when Sam butted in, "Excuse me?"

I bolted towards her, touching her forearm, "Relax. Let it go," I whispered. I saw red in her face, and squeezed harder on her arm, drawing her attention back to me. "I mean it. Calm down."

Knowing that perhaps my job was on the line, Samantha reluctantly agreed. She had Dad's temper, no doubt. An awkward silence hung in the air as Henry finally scooted off, leaving me facing these three somewhat irritated women. Sam, over Henry's comment. Mom, over not communicating with her, and Mona, by attempting to block her efforts at imposing on her son. "You have some explaining to do," said Mom.