Recruited

She continued kissing Tris, holding his face with her hands, and his body with her legs. She raised and thrust her soaking vulva against his cock, and it had an effect. She continued to rub herself along him as he got very hard; her breathing quickened, her hips grew more energetic. She slowed long enough to hold him and slide him inside. This new penetration forced a moan from both young people. Hannah had driven herself toward her peak even before he slid inside, and pushed herself frantically, pressing herself against him, breathing rapidly and loudly now. Tris, up on his arms, worked hard, grinding and thrusting against her molten core. Raising up subtly, he shifted his angle against her just a little, trying to make sure she was riding every inch with her clit, instinctively grinding against her. With her mouth open and her fleshy torso convulsing, Hannah raised her knees and cried out, "OH...OH...OH...OH...!" as her rapturous waves hit. They rocked her and shook her and she held Tris tight in her arms and her legs, grinding against him, her haunches shivering as she pushed; she held his ass to feel him hard inside her. "OH!" she cried again.

She lay back, Tris still inside, his stiff cock deep and glorious. She held him as her breathing eased...panting, resting, sighing.

After disengaging, they lay together and rested; they napped. Hannah's queen size bed was appropriate, an essential asset.

As evening closed in they roused and Hannah took Tris from on top again. She leaned on him, her hands on his chest, and ground her soaking quim against his stiff ever-ready cock. He lasted through two more of Hannah's orgasms, and in her sated state, as she blissfully ground against him again, unfocused, she milked his sturdy cock for her pleasure, he announced that he might come.

"Mm," she said, "then come ahead, baby. Fuck me, plow me, give me what you've got!" After several thrusts -- delicious, ineffable for both -- he grunted, "Mmh, unh, NGNN!"

She relaxed on him, now and then grinding her sex against him, as they both worked at regaining their breath. At last she lifted off and they slept.

In the pallor of almost-morning they stirred together. They lay clenched together, feeling the gratitude and loveliness of having found each other. She whispered to him then, and guided him downward by his shoulders and placed his face at her privates. She whispered encouragement, held his face in her hands and guided him. After a tentative start, he rewarded her patience with gusto, abandoning himself to her needs, working his lips and tongue as she directed, eliciting such gasps and expressions, her massive thighs and abdomen quivering violently as she gave herself over to his beginner's ministrations. After her first breathless peak, he kept his mouth on her and gently licked her a few times. She breathed out an appreciative "Ohhh" and they traced a second course, to another shaking, quaking, wheezing climax. She brought him back to her then, into a full embrace, and they fell back asleep.

"All right, doll," she told him later as they lay together with the sun streaming in, "I've got an early lab today, so I need to get going." After several languid kisses she stood and went to the bathroom. As she emerged Tris was sitting on the edge of the bed. He said, "Uh, Hannah?" She went to the closet to take out a top and was about to head back for her shower.

She stood near him and said, "Yes, my prize stud?"

He scoffed and looked up at her. "That's something I never thought I'd be called."

"Can't imagine why not," she said. She cupped his face and bent down and kissed him again. As she walked back toward the bathroom, she said over her shoulder, "I'm going to shower. Sorry I can't offer you one too, there's just no time."

He bent down to pick up a sock. He said, "That's OK."

About to close the bathroom door, she turned and said, "There's really not enough time for us to shower together." She smirked and disappeared inside.

When she came out to finish dressing she saw he'd dressed and had helped himself to some orange juice. "Hannah?"

She stood by the refrigerator, "Yeah, baby."

"I have the feeling we'll do this again some time," Tris said. "God, I really want to!"

"Oh!" Hannah said, and smiled at him. "So I haven't scared you off?"

He scoffed. "Doing what we did isn't the way to scare somebody off."

"Well," she said, "I didn't think so either. Come on." And they went out to her car.

The pattern for nearly the next two weeks had Tris and Hannah locked tight to each other during nights at her apartment, sharing chores at one of the care facilities that Sentry Coast operated, and in the car as the routes back and forth became routine. They talked almost constantly, but their most pointed conversations were physical, not verbal. Their agreement that Tris would interview at Sentry Coast had been assumed from early on, so they'd been shopping and upgraded his wardrobe. He insisted that the cost was a loan only. Apparently they believed once he agreed to go on the interview, the outcome was a forgone conclusion. Hannah's bit of malaise grew out of her uncertainty of where Tris would end up. In a completely different region of the country was a definite possibility. She recognized to her surprise that she'd made the emotional assumption she'd move with him. It seemed her heart would allow no two ways about it. She assured herself that she (they) would make it work. Every signal she got from Tris confirmed it.

Hannah escorted Tris downtown to Joyce Holcomb's office for his appointment. Tris looked spectacular in his suit and tie, Hannah thought. The shirt she'd picked out really sparked his eyes, and the gray suit only enhanced the whole ensemble.

"Well," Joyce stood as they arrived at her office, "here we are! Come in, Tris, a great pleasure to meet you." His eyes startled her, forcing her to shift her eyes off them, but then she felt compelled to look at them. Quite surprised at her own reaction, she worked to shake it off. She greeted Hannah as an old friend.

Settling into seats took a moment, and Joyce sat back down behind her desk. "Tris," she began, "I'm sure Hannah's told you quite a bit about us. But I want to emphasize the informal nature of our interview. It's not necessarily an employment interview, it's less formal than that, but it can certainly serve as an initial talk with either temporary or permanent employment as an eventual result."

"All right," said Tris.

"I told Hannah it would be best for us to approach it as though it were a formal get-together," Joyce said, "and I see she's dressed you in a beautiful suit. You look very handsome and distinguished for such a young man."

"Thank you." Tris was as polite as ever, but...

"Please breathe deeply and relax," she told him. "This is in fact a joyous occasion."

Hannah touched his arm. "You got this, Tris. Just be you -- fantastic as ever."

"Tris," Joyce said, "I don't know if Hannah told you, but one of our trustees is joining us for the interview. It's pretty unusual, but we believe you're a pretty unusual case. During the second part of the interview, we'll be meeting with Hélène Morel, who happens to be in town and is anxious to meet you."

He looked at Hannah, who raised her brows as if to say, "Wow -- you go, boy!" Then she stood up, and clamped her hand on his shoulder. "All right, honey. Knock 'em dead." She turned to Joyce and shook her hand, gave Tris one last smile, more like a grimace, and left.

He knew she'd be leaving, they'd discussed it, but to his surprise he felt her sudden absence keenly. He couldn't figure out that last face that Hannah'd made, it made it worse. A weight settled in his gut. He couldn't explain why he felt suddenly felt so alone and exposed.

After arriving home twenty minutes later, Hannah checked her phone and found a text from Tris: I call it "All I do is Fall"

And the second text followed:

Random!--how can utter chance,

So haphazard, an impulse so improbable, fire its bolt

To fuse me, cleave, divide, refract me,

Until when flares and comets calm, my heart's capsized?

Endo-deep where dreams huddle hopeside,

An orrery hums, it spins abuilding, it

Drives hopes, lights a prism vibrant now

With you, my thrilling solar prominence,

Time bends with space and all I do is fall.

A staggering weight came from some unknown place and plunged deep inside and hit her lower gut. She very nearly started to cry; held her lips tightly together and shook her head. She breathed deeply, rested an elbow on the table, and dropped her forehead into her hand. Breathed deeply again. "Shit. God damn it!" She started to cry and the crying built into real weeping for a few moments. Her crying surprised her, it was all out of proportion...she'd brought Tris to the interview -- that was a good thing! Why -- where did this stupid premonition come from, that she'd never see him again? She cried out of surprise at her own tears. She cried for Tris, she cried for her time with him, and cried for her strength and resolve, now missing, flown.

Joyce

Joyce joined Tris on the little couch, now that it was just the two of them. They were not separated by much space. Less than a foot.

"Now, Tris," she said, extending her arm across the back of the couch, "we've covered a lot of ground on the phone, and Hannah has done her usual excellent job of briefing you as to the many advantages of joining Sentry Coast. There are a lot of slots, a lot of opportunities for a young man such as yourself." Joyce looked him in the eye, pausing to see if Tris was picking up on her significance. Of course not, she hadn't dealt with the meat of the matter yet.

"I should tell you," she said, "that we consider you an unusually good prospect."

"Really?" said Tris. "Unusually good?"

"Yes, my dear young man," Joyce said "We consider you rare indeed." She held his eyes in hers. "It's almost unheard of for one of the managing trustees to make a trip simply to meet and assess a young prospective associate. So when I tell you that Hélène Morel is here in town, specifically to meet you, you should be very flattered."

As Tris sat silent, considering her words, she went on. "Perhaps Hannah wasn't clear about the full opportunity before us, before you. The policy is that she's only informed after the decision of the Trustees. So, she isn't clear even now, the very favorable view the Assembly has of you, of the full potential for you."

"Now," her voice quieted to a hush, "I only learned day before yesterday, that the Trustees are preparing to offer you Sanctioned One status! This interview is just a formality. All you have to do is accept. And boom you're it!"

"And boom I'm the Sanctioned One?" Tris asked, his head tilting in incredulity.

"I know I chose an odd way of expressing it," Joyce said, "but that's essentially it." Joyce slid closer to Tris on the vinyl couch and dropped her arm to his shoulders. He frowned and turned his head in her direction.

"What are you doing, Mrs. Holcomb?"

He leaned forward slightly as though to stand up, but Joyce touched his arm. She said, "Tris, please. Here's what I'm doing. I'm laying out the whole deal for you -- all the opportunities, all the obligations, all the expectations. On both sides." He relaxed and sat back in her caress.

"Thank you," she said. "Now, the Sanctioned One gets full scholarship at the school of his choice," -- Tris's eyes got big -- "he gets first right of refusal to certain internships, paid or unpaid, he gets to travel with one or more of the Trustees to meetings around the world. They're called Convocations. Now, part of your responsibilities would be to accompany a Trustee or their designee on these journeys, to provide traveling assistance and...companionship."

"Think of it, Tris," she said as she watched it sink in. "I already know you get along with older women. The companionship part wouldn't be that burdensome, would it?"

He turned his head to her, looked her in the eye. "Hannah and I are together. I don't want to do that to her."

Joyce said, "Well, I'm glad you brought up our friend Hannah. For successfully recruiting a Sanctioned One, Hannah stipend grows to $2200 per month -- her level is $1500 currently -- AND she gets a bonus of $30,000...She's a winner on this deal too, Tris...And when you're finished abroad, Hannah will still be here." She snuggled closer. "So, honestly," she said, "a down side here pretty hard to find."

"I..." Tris started. "It's hard to believe Hannah was playing me like that."

She sat up and turned toward him. "Tris! Hannah was NOT playing you. I can't imagine what I said that gave you that idea," Joyce said. "She liked you from the start, and she loves you now. I've known her for years, I could tell easily. And she wants this for you, Tris. She wants your best outcome...As do I."

She put her arm back around his shoulders, and snuggled closer. "So," she said, "do you think you could give the old gal in the back office a little...something to remember you by?...A little secret favor for the poor gal who has to interview all these gorgeous, smiling young men, and never get a taste? It's just so frustrating. Hm?"

Having leaned close to him, her face right up by his, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. She looked him in the eyes for an instant and kissed him again, longer, deeper, hungrier. She put her arms around him; she broke off the kiss and tightened her embrace, saying "Ohh, Tris...!"

For his part, Tris wasn't offering any resistance, nor was he taking any initiative. She took his hand and put it on her breast, and began to kiss him on the neck, near his throat, near his ear. Her breathing came deeper and faster.

And the phone on her desk rang. She breathed deeply, and letting it go, whispered, "Shit!" She disengaged from Tris, stood up and straightened her skirt and blouse, and breathed in and out deeply before picking up.

"Ah," she said, "bonne soirée, Madame Morel. Et bienvenue! ...Yes, he's here, we were just wrapping up his interview....Of course." She beckoned Tris over and gave him the handset.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Tris!" she said. "It's very nice to hear your voice. How is everything going?"

"Just fine, just fine." He looked at Joyce, who smiled at him.

"Well, I'm looking forward to finally meeting you. I'll be over in...oh, perhaps 45 minutes and we'll have some dinner, get acquainted. That sounds good, yes?"

"Oh, definitely," Tris said. "I'm looking forward to meeting you too."

"All right then. See you soon." And she hung up.

Joyce looked at Tris. She said, "Now where were we?" She smiled at him and said, "We can't have my scent all over you, that woman would sniff it out immediately." She stood Tris in front of the couch and starting undoing his belt and slacks.

"What are you doing?" Tris asked.

Joyce said, "The only option left open to me -- us. I'm pulling your pants down and giving you a blow job." She yanked his dress slacks to the floor, underwear too. "Sit down, baby, and enjoy yourself." She went to work on Tris's cock with skill and gusto. Tris sensed right away how much Joyce enjoyed what she was doing -- at least he could sense it when the delicious sensations allowed it. Joyce's mouth was warm and wet and divine. She used her tongue skillfully on the lower side of his penis; coming off it she puckered her soft lips around his spongy pink head and kissed it, moved her full lips around his frenulum, which brought a helpless "OH!" from Tris, and then plunged again, full bore, on his iron-hard shaft. She stroked his balls very lightly with her nails, and Tris tensed up, his legs going stiff and quivery.

"I'm...I'm gonna --" He suddenly spent himself in several energetic pulses, his cock convulsing, and his body quivering. A shocking, delicious paroxysm took him by force; Joyce's skill and timing made it inevitably so. Through his raspy breathing he said, "Oh! Oh! Oh!..." After a quick moment of calm as he tried to settle, he said, "Oh, Joyce, that was..."

Joyce sat back on her haunches, flush and smiling. There was no trace of Tris's ejaculate showing anywhere. She watched Tris, with his head back, his crotch and legs open to the world, as he regained his breath. She would have liked to do more with Tris, but that would have to wait. Still, she drank up the sight of him, the knowledge that he'd just had an outstanding orgasm through her own effort; these would do just fine. A smile became fixed on her face, and it broadened as she sat and watched him, her handiwork, his eyes closed, breath returning, body utterly spent.

After a few minutes, she stood and said, "Okay, let's get you put back together." She helped him up and started to slide his underwear up.

He said, "That was really sweet Joyce --"

"It's Mrs. Holcomb now, pussycat," she said to him and gave him a big smile.

"Mrs. Holcomb," he said. "That was really nice -- spectacular! -- for me, but it's hard to figure out what you got out of it." He took over the job of putting his clothes to rights.

"I got plenty out of it, you little sweetheart," she said. "I enjoyed it thoroughly, and seeing how it affected you was no small part of that." She kissed him again. "OK, come with me." She took him by the hand and led him to the women's room.

He held back and said "Uh --" as she pushed open the door.

"Come on, silly," she said "There's nobody else in the building. We need to get you presentable."

Joyce grabbed a cloth from a cupboard and ran it under warm water. "First we need to clean up any evidence my lipstick might have left..." She scrubbed his mouth and cheeks, stopped a moment and looked at him, kissed him again, lingeringly, and went on with her scrubbing. She smirked at Tris, and almost to herself said, "Another little bit of lipstick won't hurt." She finally judged him ready for company, and had him put his jacket back on. He looked in the mirror and straightened his tie.

They'd been back in her office, awkward and smiling, for perhaps ten minutes when her phone rang. "Yes," Joyce said. And heartily: "Well good evening to you, Madame Morel, bonne soirée! Et encore un fois bienvenue!" She looked at Tris and smirked. "Good. That's wonderful." And she hung up. "Well," she said as they walked through the suite of offices and into the hall, "Madame Hélène Morel is on her way up. She's rather friendly and not stuffy at all, kind of unusual in a French Grande Dame. But she is particular. Just be yourself, Tris, pay close attention, and try to comply as well as you can with her desires." She smiled and said, "You'll do great!"

Tris got his first glimpse at the elevator doors slid open. Her height was average, but her weight was well more than average, at least from his first glance. She wore a lovely camel's hair jacket that extended to her mid-calf. She also had on black slacks with a faint check pattern that matched the color of her jacket. She stood straight -- Tris wasn't sure what he expected, but her posture was fine.

"Mrs. Holcomb!" she said warmly. "Lovely to see you again." She took both Joyce's hands in hers. While she stood with Joyce, she looked at Tris a moment. She let go of Joyce's hands and faced Tris fully. Finally she said, "And you of course are Tris (which she pronounced "Treece"). Tris gave her both his hands and she smiled into his eyes. She looked deeply into them while Tris stood smiling, and she kissed his lips by way of greeting.

"Pleasure to meet you, Madame Morel," Tris said.

She pulled him into a full embrace. "Ah!" she said. "A very great pleasure."

Joyce said, "Well, Tris, I think you're ready to go. You have reservations, I believe?"

"I do, yes," Hélène said. "Do you have an appetite, M'sieur Tris?"