The GFBJ Ch. 09

My thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.

Chapter 9

"I can't believe the time went by so fast." Sloan snapped her fingers. "Like that." They were sitting in Liz's office, having an informal exit interview.

Liz knew that Sloan had been applying to several schools, even though she had a full grad school scholarship waiting. Liz had written references herself and had no doubt that Sloan could go anywhere she wanted. "So what's next? Picked a place yet?"

"My mom . . ."

"Mymom? I'm not familiar with that? Did you mean Mymom University? Give me a sec to get their site." She pretended to reach for her phone.

Sloan laughed. They'd had this conversation before. Sloan's mother was pressuring her to pick a second tier school because it was religious.

"Sloan."

"Ms. Moore, I never wanted to disappoint you." Sloan fiddled with that damned necklace with the crucifix.

"You haven't. At least not yet." To the girl's silent downcast look, Liz said, "You're an adult. You can vote. You can sign a contract. Whatever you want. But there is one limitation."

Sloan raised her head, waiting.

"You only get one life. This is true for everyone. Even your mother only gets one life. Hers. She doesn't get yours. You get yours. You need to make the decisions that are best for you, not her. She doesn't get to do that. It's not right."

"I mean, yeah, if it were up to me—"

"It is up to you. That's my point."

"She'll hate me."

"That's up to her. Whether to love or hate someone is the decision of the lover or hater, not the loved or hated. But—" Sloan's eyes had wandered, part of her resisting Liz's speech. When the eyes returned Liz continued, "You don't want to end up hating yourself."

"I think I'm going to hate myself either way."

"Well, then it's a no-brainer. Do what you want. Hate yourself when you're not busy living your life to the fullest."

Sloan didn't laugh, but Liz thought the little bit of humor had penetrated.

"She's afraid I'll get pregnant."

It took Liz too long to figure out what that statement meant. When she did, the rickety house-of-cards of falsehoods that had to be constructed to get to Sloan's latest admission crashed down in a whimpering mess that left her speechless.

"What's really weird," Sloan added, "is that she also wants me to have a baby."

"I'm really not following—"

"She wants me to find a guy and get married and, you know . . ."

"What do you want?" Sloan didn't answer, so Liz said it for her. "You want to build things that have never existed before. I know you. You want to build the next robot that's going to crawl across the Moon. You want to build the robot that will build that robot. You want to go to the Moon so you can—"

Sloan was crying. Liz went to her and knelt to take her head on her shoulder and let her cry it out.

Liz's phone made the meeting alert sound. "Okay," she said to Sloan, "I'm hungry. So are you, I imagine. I'm supposed to meet my husband for dinner. Why don't you join us?"

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"Very happy to meet you, Sloan. I've heard a lot about you." J shook her hand.

"I don't want to intrude."

"Not at all. Dim sum is always better with more people."

Liz felt lucky that tonight's dinner wasn't at one of J's favorite gourmet places, which might have intimidated the young woman. She learned instead that even dim sum was a new experience for Sloan.

"My mom— I mean my family— we didn't eat Chinese."

The flat way Sloan said it told Liz everything. No reason given. That's just the way it was. She didn't even know how to use chopsticks, an extraordinary gap in her experience compared to everyone else of her generation, at least as far as Liz knew. J, always the charmer, taught her how to hold the sticks. She caught on quickly.

"Mm-mm!" she exclaimed when, with more of J's instruction, she carefully tried the first super-hot soup dumpling. J described the elaborate process to make them. As more dishes came out, she paused and held up the chopsticks, studying them. "This is so cool. I thought I'd want a fork, but really, the food— most of these things I wouldn't want to poke with a fork, that would ruin it— but these—" she tapped the wood sticks together— "the food is designed for the implements and the implements are designed for the food."

Liz and J exchanged looks. J said, "Metal was very scarce and precious in ancient times." He seemed to know what Sloan was thinking. He added, "Look up the history of the fork. Very interesting."

She began looking up the information immediately on her phone, but then put it down. "Sorry."

"She's a lot like you," J said to Liz, which left both Liz and the girl with their eyes wide in surprise.

Liz recovered first. "So, my Love, Sloan has a big decision to make."

J looked at Sloan, whose eyes went from fixed on him down to her plate.

"She has full boats to both MIT and Caltech. Which do you think she should pick?"

J's answer was immediate. "Neither." A different kind of shock appeared on Sloan's face. He waited a beat. He had the timing of a stand-up comedian. "You should get them to make the decision a no-brainer."

In his inimitable fashion he already had it all worked out. Sloan was to inform both institutions that she had alternative offers. "Don't lie. But don't say who. Don't give up your privacy. Make them think." He suggested she require a higher stipend. "They usually don't pay grad students nearly enough. And ask for housing assistance, help with books, airfare home each semester."

"I . . . ah . . . probably won't be going back home much."

"Tell them you live in Hawaii. Okay, the plane fare is very unlikely in any case. It's a way for you to test their limits. You're the one running the experiment."

Sloan smiled. She stared off. It was so good to see the girl smile again. Liz put her hand on J's.

"That could maybe work," Sloan said quietly, almost to herself. "My folks were going to have to countersign a loan for me to go to the place she wanted."

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After dinner Sloan hugged them both. J got an especially tight hug. Liz drove her home. During the ride Sloan said, "My mom's going to kill me."

"That'll solve the grad school decision."

Sloan laughed. "Mr. Moore is great."

"Mr. Moore is my father."

"Oh, I mean— that's just your name, not his? My mom— well, whatever. He's awesome. I wish—" She didn't finish the thought.

"That you had a guy like him? You have a crush on him, don't you?"

"Oh, no, I just—"

"I bet your mom doesn't like it when you lie."

"Okay, yes. But just a little. I mean, he's got you and you're so— no, no." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

"He's a charmer. He certainly seduced me. Charmed my socks off." She chuckled. "And my panties." That seemed to make Sloan think for a while, which was not easy to do. She was always so quick. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No! Mom says— no."

"Ever had one?"

"I knew this boy in high school. He was great! We really— but—"

"Your mom."

Sloan nodded. They'd arrived at the apartment building the company rented for interns. Liz turned to her from the driver's seat. "You're not a virgin." It wasn't a question.

"How could you—? I mean— yes. I mean no. I'm not."

"That's what got your mom so uptight?"

Liz waited. She found it fascinating that such an extremely intelligent young woman, with a gift for logical deduction, had trouble coming up with a response.

"She was already uptight. She made me talk with the Church. Our pastor," Sloan said at last.

Liz sighed. "Sloan. Sloan, dear. You mean you're listening to priests?"

"And the Pope."

"The Pope. A man. An octogenarian man who lives eight thousand miles away in his own little kingdom, that pope? Who wears fancy embroidered dresses all day and speaks a dead language to other old men in similar dresses? That pope they want you to listen to?" No answer. "Who's supposed to be a virgin? You're trusting that person with your most intimate and important life decisions?" Still no answer. "That doesn't sound like the Sloan I know, the one that plowed through a hundred objections from men, both old and young, to create a breakthrough that's going to save the company millions of dollars, not to mention a lot of lives. Are you sure?"

Sloan didn't answer except to clutch the necklace as if she were shielding the cross from Liz's words.

"And regarding priests—" Liz did her best to keep her rising anger out of her voice— "are you aware of the multitude of lawsuits and indictments against priests all over the world? It's been going on for years, decades. New ones still happening. For what they do to little boys?"

"My mom says—" but then she fell silent again.

"I cannot imagine anything anyone could say in their defense. Look, the Church is morally bankrupt. Not all priests are pedophiles, but they all know, they're all complicit. You don't have to take my advice, but you certainly shouldn't take a priest's advice. Look into your own heart. Not your mother's. Use the brain that God gave you. You certainly got a good one."

Sloan opened her door and got out of the car. She didn't look at Liz or say a word, just slipped out as if escaping. Shit, Liz thought.

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"Do you like my hair?" Liz stood in the doorway of his man-cave office. She'd just got in and went straight there, not even taking off her jacket.

He looked up. "Come closer."

She took a few steps in to stand before him as he sat in his favorite chair, a duplicate of the one in their bedroom. She took off her jacket, dropping it on the floor, and fluffed her new style. He opened his legs and she knelt between them. "You are absolutely gorgeous. Inspired." He ran his fingers through her hair. "Blonde streaks. Tommy's really got you, doesn't she?"

"I thought it was too soft for work, but she showed me this." She wound her hair up in a quick chignon. "I can wear it this way at the office."

"Clever. Severe, but the blonde streaks leaven the look enough."

She began to undo his belt. "She's so talented." She reached into his underwear and pulled out his cock and balls. She began to massage them.

He bent down and kissed her, then licked his lips. "You ate her pussy, didn't you?" She took him in and looked up with her mouth full of growing cock. "It seems to make you cock hungry."

She smiled around his cock and slid it out. "She makes me cock hungry, especially when she makes me do what she wants me do to her. And she hinted about you. Making me even more hungry." She lifted it up. It was getting hard enough and long enough that she could hold it up and lick along the underside.

"Oh, she made you do something for her? You have to tell me. And what did she say about me?"

"She said you made a video."

He laughed. "You first. Tell me what happened. You let her use you again, didn't you?"

"It was my first time in her new salon. I thought it should be special. I guess she had the same idea."

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Liz entered off the street, a mostly residential one just a block from the trendy shopping district where Tommy's former shop had been, into a shaded front yard and up to a small porch with chairs and an outdoor sofa. She waited without sitting. She had to admit to herself that she was excited, more than a little. She was early. She answered texts she'd deliberately ignored to get here on time. She paced.

A woman came out, patting her hair and checking the late afternoon light. Tommy came out after her. They chatted and shook hands. The woman noticed Liz and looked her up and down, noticing the bag Annika had recently given Liz.

"Ms. Moore, please," Tommy said to Liz, waving her in.

Liz entered the salon. It was small but the clever design made it seem larger and a skylight gave it an airy look. Only two chairs. Only by appointment. Tommy came in. She closed and locked the door. They hugged and kissed. Tommy inspected Liz's hair. "I had an idea."

"Uh-oh."

"You need a little blonde in your life."

"I'd rather have a little brunette."

She handed Liz a robe. "Just do what I say. Trust me. Oh." She took a small bag out of a cabinet. "Put this on."

Liz looked in the bag.

"It's not what you think."

Liz pulled out what looked to her like a strap-on.

"It goes inside you."

"I expected nothing else."

"You wear it."

"I don't see how—?"

"Like this." Tommy showed how the straps should wrap around Liz's waist. "And it goes in here." Tommy put her hand in Liz's crotch. "Sex toy for a sex toy. Change in there."

Liz returned wearing the robe and sat at the wash stand. Tommy began washing her hair. "It's in?" she asked.

Liz nodded, her eyes closed. "Ooh," She sighed. Her pussy had begun humming. "Oh god, Tommy, are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

Liz leaned her head back, letting Tommy wash and then rinse her. Tommy seemed to spend an especially long time doing that, while the humming spread from her sex through her whole body. She found it a little awkward to walk to the styling chair with the humming in between her legs. Tommy just watched, not helping. Liz flopped into the chair. The humming was getting to her already, but she wasn't going to give Tommy the satisfaction of seeing the effect it was having on her.

Tommy looked at her in the big salon mirror and stroked her wet hair, then along her cheeks. Then a finger along her lips. "I have a plan."

"Which involves me keeping a vibrator up my cunt?"

Tommy showed her a small remote. She pressed it. The humming increased, causing her to tense and lift her hips, an instinctive move to protect herself from its effects. Tommy put a hand on her mound over the robe fabric, pressing her back down. "Relax."

"Easy for you to say." But Tommy's hand had the right effect. Another press and the humming subsided a bit.

"Let's get started."

Liz closed her eyes and let Tommy do her thing and the vibrator do its thing. Tommy's hands were soothing, a respite from her hectic day. Liz had blocked out these hours a week ago, right after Tommy had moved into her new place. She would never describe the vibrator's action as soothing, but it did have an effect on her muscles, not just the ones around her vagina. The steady small hum of pleasure it generated inside her was simultaneously stimulating and relaxing. She drifted off, vague images of what Tommy might be intending floating over her consciousness.

"Okay, up."

Had she fallen asleep? Tommy led her to the dryer. The warm air enveloping her head made her want to continue her drifting state. But Tommy had other ideas. She knelt next to Liz and reached a hand under the robe. "Elizabeth sex toy, what happened to your clothes?"

Liz felt the hand slide up her bare thigh, roam further up her equally bare torso. "I don't know. I forget."

The hand moved back down to her crotch, where it found the vibrator and worked it around inside her, increasing the pressure. And the pleasure. "Now, sex toy, I'm going to tell you the plan," Tommy said.

"It doesn't matter. I'll do whatever you want."

"I know." The hum increased again. Liz tensed, then made herself relax and accept the stimulation. Tommy still had a hand on her and was continuing to wriggle the vibrator inside her. "But it's fun to tell you. First, I'm going to torture you. About ten minutes." The hum increased another notch. Liz's knees lifted in response, trying to curl her body around the plastic rod. Tommy pushed her thighs back down. "Keep your head in the dryer. Keep your feet on the ground." The vibration— it was more than a hum now— went up yet another notch. She had to hold onto the arms of the chair. She wanted to slide down onto the floor and curl up around the vibration. "This is level four of seven. How do you like it?"

"I— I don't think I can take anything more than this." She wasn't sure she could take what Tommy was doing to her now, not for long. She'd tried vibrators long ago, before J. This one was quite strong.

"I'm sure you can't. After this torture, I'm going to finish your hair. I think you'll love it. I know I will. I'm really looking forward to seeing you with your new look. You're going to look so beautiful, so sexy."

"I hope I please you."

"Oh, you will, I'll make sure of that. You definitely will please me."

The vibration continued. Liz went through a series of emotions as the vibrator, aided by Tommy, did its job on her pussy. At first she did her best to stay calm and breathe. She had to let the pleasure flow into her without resistance. She didn't let herself fight it. That's not what Tommy wanted. She tried to focus on Tommy. But Tommy just stared into her eyes and she wanted to melt, she wanted to come for Tommy right now and let Tommy watch. "Can I— can I— come for you?"

"You will. Not now. You have a long way to go before I tell you to come. A long way. Don't you dare do it before I tell you." Tommy pulled her hand away, stood, and moved around the shop, straightening up the place, leaving Liz alone.

The torturing pleasure, the pleasure of being tortured, seemed to go on and on. She had to stop looking at Tommy or she wouldn't be able to keep control. "Isn't it time?"

Tommy returned and reached to her head to test a lock of hair. "Almost done."

"Can I beg?"

"No, later. Well, you can beg to be allowed to beg, I suppose."

"Please allow me to beg for a taste of your pussy. Please."

The vibrator went up a level. Five? She needed to keep track, to know how far from the max she was. She couldn't speak, though she tried. She couldn't tell whether she was being rewarded or punished for her begging. The vibrator abruptly stopped, leaving her straining against nothing.

"What did you say? Something about my pussy?" Tommy's hand went back under Liz's robe.

"I need to— I need to beg— on my knees. Please put me on my knees. I'll beg, I'll beg."

The vibrator hit her again. She couldn't tell what level. Maybe four, maybe five again, maybe higher. Tommy pressed it in deep. She gave up and let Tommy and the vibrator and the dryer do what they would. The edging seemed to have taken her past the first sharp desire to come and she was now on a plateau of longing.

The dryer stopped. The vibrator relented to a low hum. Tommy got her out of the chair and helped her limp to the styling chair. In a few minutes Tommy was combing and stroking and snipping. Liz couldn't tell what was actual styling and what was an excuse to pet her, and didn't care. She felt tingly all over, as if every cell in her body had a tiny vibrator installed in it, all in sync with the one still turning her pussy liquid.

"There." Liz hadn't closed her eyes, at least not consciously, but she hadn't been paying attention to sight, just to feeling. She looked in a hand mirror that Tommy was holding up to her. And was amazed.

"That's me?" Liz recognized herself of course. But she also didn't.

"You're really gorgeous. Here, up." Tommy helped her out of the chair, then pulled off the robe, and together they looked at her in the big mirror. Threads of blonde now traced through her waves. She thought she looked like an angel, maybe because she was naked, a naked angel out of an old painting. Except for the straps around her waist. "Like it?"

A dozen responses crowded her mind. She took a breath, then another. She turned to Tommy, who was continuing to just stare at her. "I'm ready," she said.

Tommy took a towel off a stack, folded it to a fluffy mound, and dropped it on the floor before her. "Kneel." Liz immediately sank to her knees and put her hands on Tommy's thighs. Tommy looked down at her. "Damn, girl, you look so good."