The Scholarship Ch. 04

"Well, Mrs. Steele told me how proud you are and how you'd never let on that anything was troubling you. She thought that I would have a good feel for how you're doing since I was your roommate. She asked me if it was okay for her to call me every once in a while and see how you were doing."

"How thoughtful of her," I said sarcastically.

"Now here's the crazy part. She told me that in return for my trouble, she'd like to offer me the same scholarship you were receiving, $10,000 for the year. I thought to myself, 'Holy shit, I can pay off some of my student loans with that kind of money!'

"So I told her, sure, that I'd be glad to do it. It was then that she told me that there were three conditions."

"I'm sure there were. With Miranda, there are always conditions."

"First, I could not tell you that Ms. Steele had contacted me," Marni explained. "Second, I had to be completely honest about what was going on with you, as far as I knew."

Marni paused and looked at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. I could tell she didn't want to get to the third reason.

"And third . . .!" I demanded.

"She told me to keep my hands off you . . . you know, sexually."

"Yes, I know very well," I said with a long sigh. "So you agreed to all of this?"

I looked away from Marni for a moment, as tears of frustration began to well up in my eyes. Just when I thought I was prepared for anything Miranda might throw at me, she always seemed to find something new to torture me with.

The sky outside the tinted windows had grown dark. I could see the sparse lights from some unknown small town down below, but I had no idea of where we were or where we were going as the jet engines hummed in the background.

"Yes, I agreed, Sarah. I didn't see anything wrong with keeping her up to date on how you were doing. And as far as keeping my hands off you . . . I'd never even thought about you that way. I didn't even know you before we moved in together.

"The only trouble is . . . "

"What?"

"Ever since we started masturbating together, all I could think of was touching you." Marni's voice trailed off as she made this admission.

I could tell Marni felt bad about what she'd gotten herself into, what she'd gotten both of us into. I reached over and took her hand again and held it in both of mine. She turned to look at me again and I could see her lip quivering a little. I knew this must be very hard for her.

"That's the reason I wrote you that snotty note, you know," Marni said as she looked back at me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

"What do you mean?"

"I was mad at you for using my dildo."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

"No, I mean I was mad . . . because you used it by yourself. I wanted to be there with you and I felt you'd somehow excluded me."

"My god, Marni, I . . ."

This time it was her turn to comfort me as she stroked my cheek and used her thumb to wipe away the little tear that had started making its way from the corner of my left eye.

We leaned together and held hands without saying another word for nearly ten minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts—thoughts about opportunities lost and what might lie ahead for both of us.

After I felt we'd both collected ourselves somewhat, I turned to Marni again. "Okay, so tell me about your 'reports' to Miranda."

"Well, she only called me a couple of times during the first two months. Just asked me typical stuff. Did you seem to be enjoying your classes? Were you studying a lot? How were your spirits? The kind of things you'd expect. I told her things were going so well it was boring."

Marni tried to smile a little at her joke, but I didn't smile. I knew what was coming.

"The next time she called, she asked about your social life, whether you had any boyfriends . . . any girlfriends," her voice trailed off. "But I told her there wasn't anything to report there, either, because you kept your nose in your books all the time.

"But I did think it was sort of odd that she wanted to know about your social life."

"Any more calls?" I asked.

"Just one more . . . about three weeks ago, just after I wrote you that note. This time she really pushed me for personal information. She especially wanted to make sure I'd kept my hands off you. She acted like she didn't believe me when I told her I hadn't touched you.

"She was like a fucking district attorney, firing all these questions at me. Very personal questions, you know?"

"God, do I know," I sighed.

"Finally, she threatened to take back the $5,000 she'd already given me and to cancel my scholarship for second semester if I wasn't completely honest. And, my god, I'd already spent the first $5,000 and couldn't possibly pay her back, so I finally just blurted it all out!"

"Blurted what out?"

"About us masturbating together. About the big black dildo. Everything."

My shoulders sagged, my heart sank, and I just sat there for a long time. Finally, I turned back to Marni. "I know, Sweetie, how she can be. I know it too well."

Then I proceeded to tell Marni about my interview for the scholarship, leaving out the most embarrassing details, but including enough that she got the full impact of what might be in store for us. When I finished, Marni just stared at me.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I had no idea what you'd already been through."

"It's okay," I whispered. "We're in this together now."

"So, did Miranda tell you not to bring any luggage . . . nothing but your purse?" I asked.

I could see Marni's face begin to flush a deep crimson. The color started in her cheeks, then extended down her neck and covered the small portion of her freckled chest that I could see over her scoop neck top.

"Well, she specifically ordered me to bring one other thing."

I just sat there . . . waiting for the other boot to drop.

Wordlessly, Marni reached into her rather large purse, felt around for just a moment and found what she was looking for. As she pulled it out, I felt that combination of dread and arousal that had become so familiar to me in the past few months.

Marni was holding the massive 18-inch dildo, its two heads jutting proudly, defiantly from either end, and the thick black shaft completely filling her trembling hand.

**********

As I stared wordlessly at the big black dong, my mind wandered back to the afternoon when I lay on my bed and shamelessly fucked myself with it while fantasizing about Marni joining me on the other end. The emotions really were almost too much for me to take, both then and now.

But I was roused from my thoughts by a change in the sound of the jet engines, signaling that the plane was slowing down. About that time, we began a rapid decent that would take us to our final destination—whatever that might be. Rachel opened the door from the flight deck, stuck her head in the cabin and reminded us to buckle our seatbelts.

"Where are we, Rachel?" I managed before she disappeared again.

"It's called Executive Airpark," she responded. "It's a small airport that caters exclusively to private jets, located in upstate New York. Ms. Steele uses it exclusively when she travels and it's only about 30 minutes from her house."

"New York," I thought to myself. "I've never been to New York before. And I bet this isn't my only first this weekend."

In only a few more minutes, the airplane had touched down and taxied to one of about a dozen hangars bunched near one end of the airport. It was hard to see many details outside because of the darkness, but inside the hangar was another story.

The offices and waiting areas were very plush, and it was obvious that they catered to people who expected the very best treatment. And true to form, as I was admiring the luxurious surroundings, I saw a long limousine pull up near the front door. I knew it must be for us. And, of course, it was black.

Before we headed out the door, I quickly pulled Rachel aside.

"I've been flying for three hours and really need to go to the bathroom," I confided softly. "Could you wait just a second until I find a restroom?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah. My instructions are to bring you to Ms. Steele's home as soon as possible upon arrival. It's not a very long drive."

Fortunately, I'd not had anything to drink on the flight, so I figured by bladder could endure a little more.

The driver opened the door for Marni and me, and we scooted in to sit side by side on the rich leather seat. We sat close enough that our legs were touching, and I think it made both of us feel a little more settled. Rachel slid in and sat across from us.

Of course, the driver had no luggage to deal with, so he was quickly at the wheel and we drove away toward our meeting with Miranda Steele.

As we drove along in silence, I had the chance to study Rachel a bit more. And in the soft glow of the interior light of the limo, I could see that she was every bit as lovely as I had thought when I first saw her back in Springfield.

As I watched, she reached up and loosened her hair, allowing it to cascade down over her shoulders. She shook her head a little and fluffed it with her fingers, and the result was a much softer look for her already-pretty face. She wore a very professional, but very feminine business suit made from a lovely muted green silk. The skirt hit her just above her knee when she stood up, but seated in the back of the limo, it threatened to ride up beyond mid-thigh. She had left the top two buttons of her jacket unbuttoned, allowing a lacy lighter green camisole to peek out.

I caught just a glimpse of the tops of her thigh-high stockings as her skirt rode up a bit further, and noticed that Marni was casting an admiring glance in the same direction.

"That's a beautiful outfit, Rachel," I offered, hoping a little casual conversation would help relieve the tension that was building as we got closer to Miranda's house. I also hoped it would take my mind off the fact that I needed badly to go to the bathroom.

"Thank you, Sarah. Ms. Steele selected it for me."

Now I was curious. "She selected your outfit for you?" I was eager to see where this might lead.

"Oh yes, she chooses all my clothes. That was one of the conditions of my employment as her personal assistant. She has a certain look that she requires."

"Very interesting, Rachel. So Miranda picks out all of your outfits that you wear to work?"

"Well, not exactly," she responded, her large green eyes looking downward. "She selects all my clothes—the casual ones as well as the professional outfits."

"Of course she does," I thought to myself. "She couldn't stand it if she didn't control you in every possible way." But I tried not to let on to Rachel how unsettling I thought the whole arrangement was. Marni must have thought the same thing, because I felt her reach over to take my hand and give it a tight squeeze.

The black limousine slid along the dark highway, which seemed to be bordered on each side by tall trees. Occasionally, we would cross a bridge and the sound of the tires would change just a little, before returning to the low hum of the tires on the asphalt.

"So how long have you worked for Ms. Steel?" Marni asked.

"She gave me my first job right out of college three years ago," Rachel explained. "And I'm really going to miss working for her."

"So you're leaving soon?" I asked. "Did you find a better job?"

"Oh, no. I could never find a better job than this," Rachel hurriedly explained. "But Ms. Steele has a rule that her personal assistants can't stay over three years. She wants to offer the opportunity to other young women."

"I'll just bet she does," I thought. "And I'm sure the interviews for those positions are really something."

The car began to slow down, and in just a moment we made a hard right turn and stopped in front of a wide wrought iron gate that was flanked by two massive stone columns. In just a second, the gate began to open slowly inward, and soon the limo was moving once again, gliding along a long, curving drive, which had to be at least a half-mile long.

In a couple more minutes, we pulled through a circular drive and stopped in front of the biggest house I had ever seen. To call it a mansion, wouldn't really do it justice. It was more like a castle, built of heavy grey stone and rising three stories above us. It was hard to tell exactly how big it was, as the front of the house, which extended out from either side of the massive front door, sort of receded into the darkness without giving a hint at where it actually stopped.

Marni leaned close to me and whispered, "Holy shit!" And I thought that summed it up pretty well.

The driver opened the limo door for the three of us, and Marni and I followed Rachel up the broad stone steps to the heavy wooden front door that extended upward for two stories. Rachel rang the bell, and the door was opened almost immediately be a butler who looked just like he had stepped out of an English movie.

"Good evening, Miss Rachel," he greeted her. Then he looked at Marni and me and smiled. "And you must be Miss Sarah and Miss Marni. Welcome. "

I appreciated his apparent hospitality, but it made me wonder whether he had some idea of why we were here. I certainly hoped not.

"Thank you, Simon," Rachel said in her most businesslike tone. "Does Ms. Steele know we've arrived?"

"Oh, yes ma'am. She instructed me to bring you into the first floor spa as soon as you arrived."

With that, Simon began leading the three of us across the wide entryway and around behind the massive staircase that rose up from either side of it. We made a right turn down a long hallway, and I became keenly aware of the clicking sounds made by the heels of my boots on the slate floor. I began to wonder whether it was really a good idea to wear these boots, after all.

I also became keenly aware that I still needed to go to the bathroom. The pressure had continued to increase during the half-hour ride from the airport, and my nervousness only made it worse. But a pit stop just didn't seem to be in the cards right then.

We'd probably walked half the length of a football field down the hallway when Simon finally stopped in front of a door. He turned the knob and motioned us inside. And before my eyes could even take in this enormous room, which looked like something out of a travel and leisure magazine, my eyes locked on a figure on the far side of the room.

All at once, the emotions that I'd been trying to keep under control for the past four months . . . the emotions I had felt at that first "interview" . . . the arousal, the excitement and the shame . . . all came flooding back to me. My knees buckled, and I had to grab Marni's arm to steady myself.

"Good evening, Sarah. I'm so glad you could come." And once again, I was face-to-face with Miranda Steele.

******

Miranda looked just as I remembered her—those piercing dark eyes dominating her pretty face. She must have been in her 40's, but her trim figure suggested a much younger image, especially from my vantage point across the large room. She was wearing a black wrap dress that clung tightly to her curves and, not surprisingly, she sported what appeared to be the same pair of boots that I humiliated myself on during my initial "interview."

A rich woman like Miranda Steel must own hundreds of pairs of shoes and boots. I knew it was no coincidence that she had worn these particular ones this night. Her dark hair was pulled up tightly on top of her head, giving her an even more severe look than I remembered. I was sure she had thought out her look very carefully as she planned for this evening.

The room looked to be the size of a small gymnasium, but divided into several sections. To my right was an area that featured nearly every kind of workout machine available, including the vaunted StariMaster that I had used so diligently to tone my butt. To the far left was what appeared to be a hot tub, and several massage tables, laid out side-by-side. And next to those, right out in the open, were several shower heads projecting from the tile walls. There didn't seem to be much privacy in Miranda's spa.

And in the central part of the vast room, where we were standing, was an area that seemed to be designed for aerobics and dance. There were mirrors lining one wall, and the floor was made of a resilient material that would be easy on the joints during a heavy workout. And there was this black leather chair in the center of it all—no doubt Miranda's chair. It was strategically located so she could take in everything that happened to be going on in the room at any given time.

I heard the door behind us close as Simon returned to his other duties, and Rachel left Marni and me standing together just inside as she went over to greet her employer. Miranda took Rachel's face between her two hands and caressed it lightly before giving her a brief kiss on either cheek.

Then something happened that gave me this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Miranda turned and resumed her place the leather chair, where she had apparently been seated when we entered, while Rachel very nonchalantly took a seat on the floor at Miranda's feet, tucking her long legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around Miranda's lower legs as if she was sort of "hugging" those boots.

It was clear that the title of personal assistant to Miranda Steele carried a heavy emphasis on "personal." Marni and I were standing dead still watching all this, when Miranda broke the silence.

"Come closer, please. Sarah, it's so good to see you again. And, Marni, we've not officially met until now, but I'm so pleased you are here, too." I knew these pleasantries couldn't last very long.

"Sarah, did Marni tell you how helpful she's been to me these past few months?"

"She told me about her arrangement with you on the flight out here. But I might call it something besides help."

"Frankly, dear, I'm not interested in what you'd call it." Miranda's eyes narrowed a bit as she looked me up and down. "You're here to complete the application process for the second half of your scholarships, so let's get on with it."

Well, so much for the pleasantries.

"Now, Sarah, Marni, "Miranda began. "I want to make sure you understand the requirements of this application process. First you will tell me the absolute truth whenever I ask you a question. Second, you will do as I instruct you . . . immediately upon my instruction. Do you both understand?"

Of course, I understood completely, as I had been through this before. But, as I glanced over at Marni, I could tell by the size of her big blue gray eyes that she was having a little trouble taking it all in.

"Ms. Steele?" Marni asked apprehensively. "What if you tell us to do something that we're just not comfortable with?"

Miranda looked at my roommate, allowing her dark eyes to play over Marni's supple body. It was sort of a caress without actually touching. And I noticed Marni begin to squirm a little under Miranda's gaze.

"First of all, Marni, you are not here for me to make you comfortable. You are here because you need money and I need a little diversion in my life." Miranda's words were cold, cutting—not at all the reassurance that I'm certain Marni was hoping for.

"And if you refuse to do as I instruct you, the consequences are very simple. You will be escorted to the airport immediately and will return home without your scholarship. And by the way, Marni, you and I both know how badly you need the money. It's been quite easy to find out the extent of your indebtedness.

"Besides, as Sarah can tell you, I've never told her to do anything that she hasn't enjoyed."

Miranda looked me in the eye as she said that, waiting for some acknowledgment that what she said was true. She and I both knew it was, indeed, the truth, but I didn't want to admit, even to myself, how much I'd gotten off on the humiliation of our last interview. And I certainly didn't want to admit it to my roommate.