Requital

"Yes; here are the phone numbers of my adviser, shrink, and ex-girlfriend's younger sister and mother," I said, quickly writing all of them down. "While you check them out – by the way use the name 'Cab' because not all of them know that I'm legally changing my name to 'Tom Wilson' – why don't you give me one of your assignments. While I'm willing to write a couple of papers for you, I don't really like to be part of cheating, so after I get you out of an academic hole the rest of the time I'll just be tutoring you."

She looked over the sheet of paper I had handed her while she continued eating, then got out her iPhone. "OK, what's your email address – I'll send you the assignment for my economics term paper, asking me to analyze how Keynesian economic theory would apply to a fantasy African country's financial situation."

I gave her my email and then said "Also, send me a copy of each of at least two papers that you've prepared in the past so that I can be sure to use similar language."

Brenda smiled, tapped on her iPhone for another couple of minutes, and then we just talked about our background and interests for fifteen minutes before she went to another class.

"Meet me here Friday at 1 p. m., OK?" she said/asked with a smile.

"OK," I grinned.

Surprisingly she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then took off.

Talking to her I realized that she certainly was not as smart as most of the students at JHU, but she did have real sex appeal.

By the time that we met on Friday I had already emailed a draft economics paper to her that was designed to get her a B+. She had a big grin when she saw me and took my arm as we went into the cafeteria. "Buy me lunch again Tom?" she snickered.

"Same as last time? I inquired.

"You bet," she grinned – "I see that 'our booth' is open; meet you there."

When I got to the booth I noticed that her already short skirt had ridden up her thighs. "Nice legs" I said to myself. She was all smiles.

"You checked out with all your references – in fact your ex's mother thinks that you're the greatest guy in the world – and I loved the paper you wrote. So you really think that it will get me a B+?"

"Yes – I didn't want to do an A paper, however, since your earlier grades were Ds and it would have been too suspicious. But a B+ should work."

"How about we go to dinner and a movie tomorrow?" Brenda asked while we ate lunch. "You pick the place for dinner and pay for it, I'll pick the movie – no chick flick I promise – and pay for it; deal?"

"Deal," I replied as we shook.

Intimacy was not a problem for Brenda. That first "date" we fucked three times between Saturday night and 8 a. m. on Sunday, and would have fucked again only she ran out of condoms. These were my first condom fucks and while I really enjoyed how uninhibited Brenda was, they weren't as nice as bareback would have been. After a week where I wrote another two papers for her (on her first one she did get her B+ with an encouraging comment from the professor) and started tutoring her so no more cheating, and we fucked two more times, I asked her about condoms.

"Brenda; I'd really like to have sex bareback. Can we both get tested for STDs – I'll pay – and hopefully get rid of condoms. I assume that you're on birth control."

"Actually, I have my next BC shot next week; however, even if we're clear of STDs now that means we both have to give up sex with others."

"Is that a problem for you?" I asked.

"No – actually you're probably my best fuck, certainly in the top three – so I can get by just fucking you the rest of the school year."

"How about we go to the clinic for testing Wednesday after your last class?" I smiled.

"Sounds like a plan," she chuckled, and then kissed me on the cheek.

We celebrated our STD-free test results by spending almost an entire weekend in bed, after which neither of us could walk properly. By the time that I started classes again the next semester my depression was a thing of the past, although I still harbored deep-seated hatred – or at least animosity – for Christina and bemoaned the fact that I probably never would get vengeance.

Brenda and I thoroughly enjoyed each other for the next three semesters until we both graduated – she with a B average even though before we met it was a C-/D+ – but we never were in love. We parted friends, thankful for our really excellent sexual relationship and our friendship, but without interest in continuing them.

*************

I got my masters in biomechanical engineering at MIT and immediately moved to California and started to work for a large company that had a big government contract to develop devices that would help wounded soldiers become completely mobile despite spinal cord and other serious injuries.

Within three years there was no doubt that I was the most creative engineer at the company; however because I still was socially awkward and had no interest in playing politics or sucking up to anyone I was not as financially compensated as I should have been, and was not consulted on policy decisions like I should have been. I was making excellent progress in developing breakthrough biomechanical devices, however, and had already had a couple of successful field tests.

The division of the company that I worked for had a business manager and an engineering manager who were in charge, as well as about three dozen employees including ten biomechanical engineers and a couple of MDs. It was overseen by Elias Jackson, the V. P. of Research and Development. While the business manager was not my "boss" (the engineering manager was) without exception I had to interact with her at least twice a week when I was not out of town doing field tests and gathering information about new products and materials. That was no problem for me because the business manager, Sheila Graham, was a pleasant, smart, competent woman in her early sixties – in fact I got along better with her than the engineering manager. The engineering manager was a pompous PhD named Jeffrey George who got his PhD in the stone age as far as biomechanical technology was concerned, yet thought that he understood everything.

Part of my job was encoding large amounts of test data into our main frame computer so that it could be readily utilized to create new designs and find flaws in existing ones. The only other person who had that ability left the company at about the same time that Sheila retired. A young engineer right out of college was hired within about a month and assigned to assist me.

Apparently the V. P. and engineering manager interviewed for the new business manager when I was out of town. Even though I expressed an interest in meeting the final three candidates that the hiring decision came down to, they both kind of sluffed me off, making only vague promises to let me meet them. The final interviews took place while I was out of town doing field tests and I was simply told who the new hire was and that she would be starting in two weeks.

At least they gave me the resume of C. Lila Dwoskin, the new business manager. She had a B. S. in economics from Yale, and an MBA from the University of Chicago, was married and had young twins, a boy and a girl. Her previous jobs looked appropriate although obviously this would be a big promotion for her.

I was at my desk encoding the most recent data from my field tests trying to find a sticky flaw in our most recent design when Jeffrey George came by with Lila Dwoskin on her first day to introduce us.

I was flummoxed. "Christina?" I choked out.

She, as surprised as I was said "Cab?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked with irritation in my voice.

"I'm the new business manager," she mumbled.

"Why are they calling you Lila Dwoskin?"

"Because I started using my middle name as my first name when I left JHU for Yale, and Dwoskin is my married name. Why do they call you Tom Wilson?"

"Because after you precipitously dumped me without explanation – by the way thanks for the non-existent sympathy card when my parents died," I snarled with as much sarcasm as possible – "I went into a tail spin and my shrink recommended that I change my name, and I chose Tom Wilson."

After Jeffrey idiotically mumbled "Oh, you two know each other," I snarled "So Jeff," he hated to be called anything but Jeffrey or Dr. George, "is she really going to be the business manager, and you expect me to work with her."

"Uh...yes, for sure; even if you have a history you can work together."

"We can let bygones be bygones can't we Cab – I mean Tom," the bitch said with a half-smile.

"Fuck NO!" I yelled, loud enough for the entire office to hear me, and then stormed to V. P. Jackson's office.

Jackson's secretary said "You can't go in there Mr. Wilson" as I barged into his office. He was on the phone. Irritated he put his hand over the mouthpiece and snarled "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you right now about the new business manager – get off the phone," I responded in a no-nonsense tone.

"I'm on an important call – make arrangements with my secretary to see me tomorrow..." he was saying when I interrupted him.

"Not good enough," I snarled. I grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, wrote "I resign effectively immediately!" on it and dated and signed it, and flipped it onto his desk as I stormed out of his office.

There was a great hubbub when I got back to my desk with a lot of ashen faces, Christina's – or Lila's as she now wanted to be known as – the most ghost-like. Jeffrey saw me and stormed over to me "What do you mean by acting like that – you could be fired..." was all he got out.

"Shut the fuck up, Jeff. I've resigned so get the fuck out of my way," I yelled as with a surge of adrenaline I turned over my desk making a horrible racket.

I filled a banker's box with my few personal items and raged out of the office, people parting like the Red Sea to get out of my way.

I went for a Kraw Maga workout but after five minutes the instructor took me aside and said that I had too much anger and someone would get hurt, so I needed another outlet. I went to a gym and hit a punching bag until I was exhausted and one of my hands was bleeding. Then I went home and collapsed, emotionally drained, and slept until about six the next morning.

There were a number of messages on my cell phone, which I had turned off the second that I left my office, including one each from George and Jackson both telling me that if I came back and apologized I could have my job back. Instead of ignoring them I called each of them back and to each said "You don't get it, do you. I quit and I don't want my fucking job back. Maybe Lila can do the encoding for you," then hung up.

The next few days I had calmed down enough so that no one would get hurt during my Kraw Maga workouts.

Within a week there was a letter hand delivered to my rented townhouse from the company's lawyers reminding me of my non-compete agreement. I had my attorney fire off a reply that said "If my client chooses to work in the next year he'll get a non-competitive biomechanical engineering job, but as you know the second year of the non-compete is illegal under California law. After a year, about the time the government contract so important to your company is up for renewal, he'll get a job with your major competitor, ––Inc., who has already offered him a position."

The last statement wasn't correct, but all I had to do was to make one call to ––Inc. and I'd have a job at almost double my previous salary.

I decided that I would take a sabbatical for six months – I had no monetary reason to work since I led a simple life and had close to half a million dollars in stocks and bank accounts. The only thing that I regretted was that I wasn't going to be able to follow through with the soldiers that I had worked with to improve their lives. I got several very sad calls from four of them begging me to come back.

It was only a month after I left work that early evening one Friday George and Jackson were at my door hat in hand. Behind them was a cretin who worked in security that always reminded me of Dipshit from my High School days.

"Can we please come in, Tom?" Jackson asked.

"What's he doing here?" I asked, pointing to the Dipshit-look-alike.

"We asked Paul to come because you were so angry when you left and in your subsequent communications that we are a little uncertain about our safety," Jeffrey replied.

I laughed. "I can assure you that if I get violent that Paul would do you no good whatsoever; you two actually no nothing about me and have underestimated me the entire time that I worked for you. Either lose him or get lost."

Jackson and George looked shocked; Paul looked irritated. After a short delay Jackson said "Paul, could you please wait for us in the car." I invited them in with a hand gesture.

I offered them a seat and sat across from them and stared. "So how are you doing, Tom?" Jackson asked with a half-smile.

"Get to the point; I'm not interested in chit-chat. Why are you here?" I replied.

"OK – we probably underestimated your value to our project. We're told by the other engineers in the division that they have no hope of fulfilling the requirements of our government contract without your assistance. Also, the soldiers that you were helping are frustrated and depressed by your absence. We come with hat in hand begging you to come back – if not for the sake of the company, for the sake of the soldiers," Jackson opened.

Jeffrey picked right up from there. "We're willing to double your pay and give you stock benefits, and a two year non-cancellable on our part employment contract."

"So you think that this is about money?" I chuckled. "WOW, are you clueless."

"What can we do to get you back?" Jackson asked.

"Fire that bitch that calls herself Lila – simple as that – plus the pay increase and stock options you mentioned of course to compensate me for my trouble."

"Uh, well Lila is qualified, and doing a good job, and we have a two year employment agreement with her so we have to pay her if she's fired for anything except dishonesty," Jackson responded.

"Tough shit – your problem, not mine," I snapped.

"What do you have against her?" Jeffrey asked.

"Ask her; I don't discuss her, nor will I ever talk to her again, or do anything except spit on her if I see her," I snarled, folding my arms.

"But we were hoping that maybe some sort of accommodation..." Jackson started to say before I interrupted.

"Sorry, Jackson – I'm not negotiating. I'll give you three weeks, and then I'm going to get another job." That wasn't true, but I wanted to light a fire under them.

They left with their tails between their legs promising to get back to me. "Whatever," was my dismissive reply.

The next Monday I got another surprise visitor. It was Lila, looking extremely nervous and hesitant.

"What the fuck do you want?" was my welcoming remark.

"I...I know that you're upset with me and you have a right to be, Tom, but can you please talk to me for just five minutes? Please?" Lila begged.

I was going to enjoy her humiliation, so I decided to talk to her. I looked at my watch, set the timer for five minutes, and said "Go – five minutes, not a second more."

"Can we go inside?" she meekly asked.

"No, right here on the front stoop is fine," I dismissively replied.

"OK...I wanted you to know that I have a bad personal situation and I really, really need this job, and it seems that they're going to fire me unless you come back and agree that I can stay."

See got no reaction from me to that.

Then she virtually blurted out in one breath, so rushed that I was barely able to understand it: "Uh...well my husband had an accident a year ago and is now a paraplegic, and I'm the sole breadwinner for the family, and our previous health insurance was inadequate and if I'm fired that will look bad on my resume and part of this job and maybe the most important part of it is that the research that you're doing could help my husband walk again and we'll get early rights to the technology, so please let me keep my job, I'm begging you."

"Is that all you have to say?" I asked

"I'm also sorry that I hurt you, but that was a long time ago, and I hope that you're a big enough person to forgive me; I'll treat you with the greatest respect."

"Get on your knees and beg," I snarled.

Lila got a startled look on her face. She saw that I wasn't kidding. Tears formed in her eyes. She sighed heavily, then got down on her knees right on the concrete stoop, put her hands together, and with more tears forming sobbed "Please forgive me and let me keep this job."

I paused for a few seconds like I was actually considering it; then with arms folded I said "Get fucked," and closed the door.

My long sought quest for vengeance was almost satisfied. I felt great. I guess that this proves what I said at the beginning of this story – my need for vengeance is sick and vicious. I can justly be criticized for by total lack of compassion, but I am what I am.

I had another visitor a few days later, specifically Friday just after noon. Standing at my door, ringing her hands, looking subservient and with bags under her eyes, but just as beautiful as I remembered, was Lila's mother Brit.

"Hi Cab – I mean Tom," she stammered. "I hope that you'll talk with me. You know that I always adored you and I think that you liked me too."

"I certainly do like you, Brit – please come in," I replied with a completely welcoming voice.

I offered her a seat and something to drink. She asked for a glass of white wine which I quickly provided.

"Brit, you look beautiful – but very sad. It looks like you're not doing too well."

"I'm not, Tom. I don't want to complain to you after not seeing you for six or seven years, I but need to give you complete perspective as to why I'm here. Will you hear me out?"

"I will; I surely will," I responded, sitting next to her and holding one of her hands, getting me the first smile since she knocked on the door.

While she went into much more detail the upshot of her sad saga was that her husband Rock died three years ago, that he had little life insurance and few assets that weren't pledged to a bank, she got conned out of what little insurance payout she had, she had only been able to get menial jobs, Bea was going to have to drop out of college because she had already maxed out on loans and couldn't afford to complete her senior year, and that without Christina's [she never called her Lila] financial help that she was going to lose what little that she had left. She concluded it with "I beg you, Tom; can you please see it in your heart, even though Christina doesn't deserve it, but for my and Bea's sake, to work out some accommodation with your company so that Christina can keep her job? I'll do anything if you will; anything!"

When she said "anything," she parted her legs – I don't know whether it was unconscious or intentional. She looked so helpless and vulnerable. I was embarrassed that my cock was rock hard – but not embarrassed enough not to do what I did next.

"Anything?" I asked.

She nodded "yes."

I stood Brit up holding both of her hands. Then I slowly unbuttoned her blouse, all the while staring into her eyes. Her eyes flicked back-and-forth between mine and her buttons. After I gently removed her top I undid her front clasp lacey bra exposing a spectacular pair of turgid mammaries with hard nipples and large dark areola. I gently stroked her puppies while Brit closed her eyes and got a look on her face somewhere between apprehension and pleasure.

Brit opened her eyes when I started unzipping the side of her skirt. When it fell to the floor I got on my knees and helped her step out of the skirt. Then still on my knees I looped my fingers in her panties and slowly removed them exposing fat moist labia surrounded by a very sparse bush, and a prominent clitoris. I heard a loud sigh from Brit. I helped her step out of her panties and then stood up, held her arms, looked her in the eye, then gently kissed her on the lips.