My Only Talent Ch. 30

For some reason, I remembered one of our last times with Millie - a frenzied foursome that focused on a submissive Suzanne right after she completed one of her long training runs. After some serious flogging while Suzanne was strapped to the trapeze, Millie and Lara both donned dildos and penetrated her pussy and her ass, while I fucked her mouth with reckless abandon. I heard some new and very raucous Suzie notes from Suzanne that night, before a series of sneezing orgasms carried her away on an endorphin cloud. I realized that was probably the scene she was thinking about recreating with Günter, me and another player yet to be named, but with three authentic, real live dicks instead of the plastic peni.

If I was to 'have her any way she will have me' like I promised, and if I wanted to please her the best I could, shouldn't I be on board with her plan? And after all, wasn't all this just part of her delayed, but now seemingly resurrected, plan to have some 'wild college days' before she finished her PhD. Did I want to be with Suzanne long term? Yes. If she had done her wild college days before I ever met her, would I still want to settle down with her? Yes. Even if she told me all about it? Yes, but it would probably be better if I didn't hear it. Could I stand watching Günter penetrate my best girl? Should I go forward with the 'swapfest' planned for this Sunday night? Hadn't I already promised to? Man is not a rational animal, man is a rationalizing animal.

We all three settled down into Lara's big bed in one big cuddle fest. I lay on my back with one girl on either side. I knew from disappointing personal experience not get my hopes up, nipple-wise. But suddenly both girls were toying with my happy nipples, seemingly fascinated. They caressed my chest, rubbing from my belly button up to my shoulders and back. Nirvana with a side order of perfection.

"Robbie, I know you have just started working out, but your chest suddenly looks a lot bigger!' Lara breathed.

"Look at those pecs! I like them." Echoed Suzanne.

The both swirled their fingers around my nipples and kissed the side of my chest. A double girlfriend hall of fame moment.

"I just can't keep from wanting to touch your chest."

"Me too!"

Hoo Hah! I need more voltage. Raise the kites, Igor! I mean Saskia. You can crank up those machines to the max for me. Sock it to me. I'll endure anything you devise to get more of this action! I fell asleep on my own little Cloud Nine.

*******

Dwight was stunned to inaction, certainly not the norm for him. He could not believe what he was watching the CEO do, and on site in his own office, to boot. Just a 30 second video of this song shot with an iPhone and sent to Gawker or Deal Breaker could kill the company's next funding round deader than the dodo. If he did this shit with his office door open, who knows what might be happening behind closed doors. This CEO was ripe for manipulation, and his exploding ego was such that he could not see that these two 'very young ladies' could only be around him for not so good reasons.

But what could Dwight do about it? Whatever he did, Roger Sherman, his nitwit supervisor, would second and third guess him to death. He knew this newly appointed CEO had only been a lab rat scientist before, and with the new position, a big salary, and some female attention for the first time in his forty nine years on earth, he was feeling his oats. But the oats he was chewing were laced with corporate equivalent of the ergot fungus, and sure to give him a hell of a ride and an even worse hangover. Not to mention screw up Dwight's career path. This might be his last big field assignment if they made him quit field work to marry Carmencita, because he would give it up for her in a heartbeat if he had to. His plan had been to go out with a bang - a big success on this final field gig, and then get kicked upstairs to management on a decent trajectory. Could he still pull that off?

*******

I drifted off to sleep and suddenly I was ten years old again, and taking another long car trip with my parents in the 'Robertsmobile'. Because my father rode airplanes around for business at least three days of most weeks, when he took some vacation time, usually in the summer, he insisted on driving wherever we went. Even though he had literally a million frequent flyer miles on several different airlines, we drove. And just as he had a specialized small 'airport car' to leave parked at the airport, he also had a big honkin' full sized white Chevy Suburban for our summer vacation trips. With just the four of us, there should have been plenty of room for luggage and other stuff.

But we needed all the room we could get. My mother had never heard of the concept of traveling light. Her rule was two pieces of luggage for an overnight trip, plus at least one piece for each additional day. For a one week trip, she often brought along 8 or more bags. Or I should say she packed 8 or more bags. My father and I brought them all along, in and out of the Suburban at every overnight stop, like serfs and footmen. He stopped planning trips longer than about 10 days, because he stubbornly refused to tow a trailer behind the Suburban just for her luggage.

So we drove all over the United States before I even started high school, seeing every tourist trap in the lower 48. My folks even kept a log book, checking off each state as we reached it. We then drove to Alaska on the Alaska Highway. But even my dad couldn't drive to Hawaii.

But he did tell a joke about it, every summer, usually just after we left our driveway. "A fellow is swimming on the beach in California when he notices something in the sand, and when it digs it up it's an old urn. He rubs it to clean the sand off and a Genie pops out. The Genie says you may have one wish, for anything you want."

Usually he would pause for effect here.

"The guy thinks for a moment and says that he hates to fly but always wanted to visit Hawaii, and asks the genie to build a bridge all the way to Hawaii so he can drive there instead of flying."

"The Genie gets a pained expression and goes on and on about tides, erosion, coral reefs and endangered species, and expansion joints and earthquakes, and disrupting sailing lanes and fish and bird migrations, and Pacific typhoons, and finally says it is just too hard to do and asks him to please pick another wish."

"The guy thinks a moment and says that if he can't have that bridge, then he wants to truly understand women."

The Genie gets another very pained expression and says "One lane, or two?"

I guess didn't really understand the significance of that joke back then.

My mother would sit in the front passenger seat and alternatively knit or read. My dad wanted to listen to the radio. Continuous news and talk stations, working the radio dial to keep a station in range as we moved across the countryside. This always engendered an argument with my mother, who wanted all music all the time. They finally compromised by playing music CDs most of the time, and my father would tune the radio and pick up the news at the top of each hour.

Perhaps in an effort to placate my mother's ire, and improve his chances to actually need the separate room with a king size bed they always got while on trips, my father would bring CDs of music that was popular when they were dating or first married. This resulted in my sister and me knowing a lot more 80's tunes and lyrics than we wanted to. My parents even had 'their song' - an old Hall and Oates ditty about "You make-uh my dreams come true." It was often the first thing we heard after that Genie joke.

In my current dream, I was wandering aimlessly across the countryside, strapped tightly in my seat belt, and someone else was driving, and the stereo was playing another song further on down the list on the Hall and Oates Greatest Hits CD, singing "You've got the body, Now you want my soul, ... Yeah, I, I-I, I'll do almost anything, That you want me too, ooh, Yeah, But I can't go for that, nooo, No, No can do."

I wonder what that dream meant.

*******

Suzanne woke me up early Saturday morning. She was going to take a bus with her soccer club girls to a tournament in Houston, spending all day Saturday and most of Sunday there. I was usually looking for any excuse to drive my still new (to me) car, so I had volunteered to run her up to the ESU Intermural Fields parking lot to board the bus. It was 0500 hours and we had to meet the bus at 0600, but Suzanne insisted on a doggie style quickie in the bathroom so we wouldn't wake Lara. She was still my kind of girl.

After kissing Suzanne goodbye and watching her board the bus and wave, I drove around mindlessly for a while. It helped me think. Or in this case, it helped me to not think. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of another way to avoid thinking about Sunday night. I thought about going to UDP for breakfast, but the cooks had Saturday morning off, and I needed some hot food. I drove the car back and parked in Lara's second space, then walked briskly north to the Jester dining hall.

I was just about the only one there. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and (previously frozen) orange juice occupied my attention for a while. Lara had an LSAT review class most of the day, then we were going to meet at her place tonight for leftovers and Netflix as a hollow substitute for the postponed Candy training. I trudged upstairs and put on my running togs. Kevin was spending the weekend with Lou Baby's parents. I would pay to see that. Hopefully he would tell me all about it when he got back. I went down and did my sprints, and then recalling last night's female reaction to my newly expanding chest, I did 100 pushups and as many chin ups as I could manage.

Finally,I played my last avoidance card - school work on a Saturday. I did a first draft of my upcoming 'debate' for linguistics with Lynn Da. That kept my head down until lunch, then I went through next week's reading assignments in math, physics, and linguistics, and wrote the damn SQUID paper for the physics lab guy. That research got me to thinking. Could a sensitive and advanced SQUID detect the Suzie signals with a technological receiver, rather than my biological receiving array?

I took a shower and skipped my usual pre-dinner at the dining hall, and walked to Lara's building. She was in a strange mood, and insisted that we go out to eat, not her usual choice. On a Saturday night in Austin, the population pressure on restaurants is pretty fierce, which usually means long waits if you didn't have a reservation. We ended up going way north on Burnet Road, almost to the Pickle Campus, and after a mercifully short wait (my stomach was playing quite a tune by now), we snagged a table for two at a Mexican restaurant in a strip center. It was right under a Planned Parenthood office, and I wasn't sure what that might mean.

They brought us a bowl of tortilla chips and offered us a choice of how hot the table prepared salsa should be. The waiter looked at me suspiciously when I asked for Habanero maximum heat, as if to say "you can't handle the truth, Gringo." He gave me a sample on a chip and I dipped it and chewed it for a while, smiling and looking him right in the eyes, then asked if they had any Xochitl brand XXX hot commercial salsa in the back. He looked insulted, and then went back to the kitchen and brought out a whole bright orange Habanero, and chopped it up finely, including the seeds, and added it to the salsa dish on the table and mixed thoroughly. Perfect. Lara had to stick to the bean dip.

The Mariachis fired up two tables away, loud and proud, for a birthday party. They were supposed to bring good luck. I wondered if they could do Daft Punk. They had a big loud Guitarron Mexicana, but no horn section. It was just as well. I couldn't look at another musical instrument right now without seeing wave motion equations from physics. The loud music seemed to improve Lara's mood, and I was hoping my habanero hot sauce fueled hormonal storm and John Henry act later would make her feel better too.

We didn't get back to Lara's place until almost 10 PM. We put on Netflix and made out on the couch all during the movie, then went to bed and fucked like rabbits. All very conventional. All very wonderful. I slept soundly, but had no dreams that I can remember, nor wanted to.

*******

Sunday started early, too, as Lara had to go the second day of her weekend LSAT prep marathon. Transportation was no issue - it was held at the Hampton Inn a block from her building. I walked her over and kissed her goodbye in the lobby, to the obvious consternation of a bellman who had that now familiar look that said 'why is that girl with that loser?' The joke is on you pal - she loves me.

I grabbed a couple of sweet rolls in the dining hall when I got back to the dorm, and took a nap, setting my alarm in time for my lunch meeting with Susan from Beta Omicron Theta. Her family's 'lake house' where we were to meet was on the other side of the river, in the (previously) little bedroom community of Westlake Hills, and Google maps said it would only take me about 15 minutes to drive there on a no traffic day like today. A quick zoom in to street view showed me it was no small cottage - it was perched on a hillside overlooking the river, and Zillow told me it was just a little over 6,000 square feet, and last sold for over $5M. Whew!

I spent the next few minutes doing a little additional research on Miss Susan. Her father was a partner in a big law firm in Houston, the same one that Susan's grandfather was 'of counsel' for, along with several other big time but now out of office politicians from both parties. Lobbyists all, I assumed. Her mother was a very high end realtor - I didn't see any houses listed with her below $2M. On the BOT website, Susan was listed as a political science major who planned to go to law school. That gave me something to think about besides Günter and Suzanne while I drove.

Oiler and Bigun had equipped my car with a speech to text SMS app that linked to my phone, so I texted Susan to let her know I was about 5 minutes away. Her reply appeared across my windshield on the heads up display "drive thru gate - park by green lantern". I guess the space next to the Flash was taken. I turned into the small driveway and sure enough there were three little single parking spaces in the front yard all surrounded by some very HGTV landscaping, and one of them was right next to an antique street light that was sort of an oxides of copper shade of green. The gate closed right behind me, and Susan appeared, holding open a big wooden door with hammered metal straps in that same shade of green and beckoning me to enter.

She led me up one level to giant 'great room' that looked out over the landscape with a nice view of the river and all the other expensive houses nearby, and we sat on stools at a countertop that was between the great room and the big kitchen. They must share a decorator with Lara's dad: lots of duplicated stainless steel appliances. There was a little 'mini-spread' brunch laid out on the counter top and she told me to serve my own plate and then we would talk. The covered and heated dishes had scrambled eggs, bacon, some corn tortillas, pico de gallo, sliced avocado, and some lukewarm but passable commercial hot sauce. Some fresh orange juice in a glass pitcher nearby finished my lunch checklist. I was going to be okay, food wise. I chowed down and prepared to listen.

Like the women at the 'Addicted to' party, I expected she would waste some time telling me what she thought she should say, rather than the truth. Not this time, Master.

"When I came to Austin to go to school, I was going to be Daddy's little angel. Go to law school and be an even better lawyer than anyone in his big law firm, marry a hot quarterback or a stellar heart surgeon, and after a brief but brilliant legal career where I got my picture on the cover of several glossy magazines, settle down and have 3 or 4 beautiful kids and play golf or tennis in the afternoons while the kids excelled at private school, and then take wonderful weekend trips with my stud muffin husband while Grandma and Grandpa doted on the kids."

Pretty complete little plan, I thought. "What happened?"

She sighed. "I was a legacy to my mother's sorority, and when I pledged it was the happiest day of my life. I was assigned to be the little sister helper to the sorority president, Debra Plouff, a senior who was also the most beautiful and smartest woman on campus. I was in awe of her. I wanted to be like her."

I sensed there was a lot more to this story. She launched a little Suzie signal, off key and melancholy sounding.

"I had a big crush on Debra, too. The first time I had ever felt that way about another girl. She was a one woman clique within the sorority, and I desperately wanted to be a part of that clique. She made me do her laundry, and brush her hair, and even do her nails. I loved it. I wanted to spend every minute with her. I wanted to know everything about her."

She shifted around on the little chair. "When the first away football game came along, all the other girls took the charter bus to go to the game. But Debra said she had to stay to study for a test on Monday after the game, and she asked me to stay with her. I was so happy! I took my books to her room after the bus left, and quietly studied so as not to break her concentration. About 11 PM, she put all her books up, and stretched, and told me to come over and give her a massage to help her relax."

She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height, sighing. Her Suzie sighed too. "She shed her clothes and I rubbed her and after a while told me she wanted me to kiss her breasts and eat her pussy. I was mortified, but frantically excited at the same time. She told me what to do, and I did it, craving her approval. When she said it felt good, I was overjoyed. When she came, I felt a buzz of excitement like never before."

"Then she pulled her covers up and said I could stay the night in her roommate's bed if I wanted to, and went to sleep by herself in her bed in two seconds. I was crushed. I went from the highest high to the lowest low. I wanted her to touch me too. The next night the same thing happened. She kept me like a yoyo on a string for that whole semester. Then one night Debra gave me a little kiss on the lips before sending me back to my room. I was hooked all over again."

"Then she taught me to eat her ass. I was grossed out at first but I wanted to please her. It made her come very strongly, and she would kiss me several times on the nights when I did that. Then she taught me how to use Ben Wa balls on her, and it made her come really hard, and she would touch my breasts when she kissed me. Now I was truly in love, and even more desperate for her to touch me."

She stood up and hugged herself, with a funny look on her face. "At Spring Break in the second semester, she went off to spend the week with her new boyfriend at his family's place in Florida, leaving me heart broken in Austin without even saying goodbye. When she got back, she asked for another massage and I ended up doing everything for her again. After she came several times, she kissed my breasts, driving me crazy, and then made me go down on her again. The next day, she began to touch my ass when she passed by me sometimes at the sorority house. I was enchanted again."

"About two weeks before the semester ended, Debra asked me to spend the night with her while her roommate was gone on a weekend trip. She sat on my face and roughly got herself off. Then she pulled me under the covers with her and kissed my breasts and gently touched my pussy through my nightgown. I was infatuated with her all over again. Then she had me spend the rest of the night licking her ass while I used my fingers in her pussy. I was so desperate for her to touch me some more that I would do anything for her. Anything!"