The Vetting Ch. 01
byJayDavid©
This is a two-parter, which developed a little differently for me than most of my other stories. This time, I came up with the characters first, then tried to figure out a way to have them interact. The final plot only revealed itself to me after I had "finished," requiring a little editing and reshaping so that the whole thing made sense. As with most of my recent work, although there is plentiful sex, there is little description of the mechanics of it, so if that's what you are looking for, there are many fine stories on this site to satisfy your needs.
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I understand that you need me to tell you the whole story, so that nothing comes back to bite us in the ass, so I will be frank. But I have to tell it my way, from my perspective, because that's how I know it. I can't tell you what was going through anyone else's mind, or speculate on anyone else's motives, but I will tell you what was going on in my mind, and what my motives were. As you have requested, I will tell you the details, for the most part, because there are some specifics that you don't need. But under the circumstances, my incentive is to tell you all, and let you decide what is important.
Some people say that everything happens for a reason, but I think that is bullshit, and I think that this situation is proof of that, don't you think? Things happen, and then other things happen, and sometimes, through hard work or dumb luck or some combination of the two, things work out well. Or poorly. Or sometimes both, even at the same time. There are probably as many people who were dealt a great hand who ended up miserable as there are people who had nothing and ended up with everything. The world is a series of random events, and while people can have some effect on their own lives, sometimes the effects are unintended. And sometimes your actions are influenced or interfered with by the powerful actions of others. Or the random actions of others.
Which is not to say that you shouldn't try. To the contrary, you should try like a son of a bitch to lead your life to the place that you want to go, even if you don't know where you want to end up. Because even if things don't always work out the way you want, you always end up somewhere, right?
I should start by telling you a bit about my background, although I'm sure you already know most of the details. I had as good a childhood as you could have wanted. My great grandfather started the family business as a small, local operation, and his two sons, my grandfather and great uncle, expanded it some. My father took over the business when grandpa died, and Great Uncle Carl's kids showed no interest. Dad bought out his cousins, and became sole owner, and turned the company, as you know, into the big success that I ultimately took over and tried not to run into the ground.
I know, that is false modesty. We've actually done pretty well by the company. Right. Better than pretty well. But we will get there, eventually.
So, growing up, I wanted for nothing, except maybe for a little parent time. Mom was not really a stay-at-homer. A graduate of one of the finest women's colleges on the East Coast and with an Ivy League law degree, she started in our company's law department after working at a Wall Street firm for a couple of years. She apparently didn't love New York, and thought that a smaller city would be better. As the story goes, Dad spotted her at the far end of a long conference table in a big meeting, asked her opinion about something, and was impressed when she disagreed with the general counsel, her boss. Now, it turned out that she was only half right, but Dad was intrigued, he said, by her thought process and courage. It also must have helped that she was gorgeous, if that is not weird for a son to say.
Even after they were married, and she was technically off the payroll, Dad considered her his top advisor, and she regularly attended meetings all over the world with him, and had a small office at headquarters. And woe be it to anyone who thought that she was just decorative eye-candy. Dad told me that we once lost a big Chilean deal when Mom verbally eviscerated a top executive who condescended to her. And she did it in Spanish, using local slang.
But I digress. I was far from ignored by my parents, and they were there for almost every important event or game in my life, even if they flew in right before, and out right after. Growing up, I was a friendly, popular kid, and, as you know, I was a very good athlete. In high school, I was the football team's star wide receiver, gaining All-State and honorable mention All-American recognition. I was my parents' child, so I also did well in school, although not as well, I think, as Mom hoped. I played a couple of musical instruments pretty proficiently, so you could say that I was well rounded.
All of this meant, too, that I was popular with the girls. I've been told that I'm nice looking, I always had money, thanks to my generous parents, and I never wanted for female companionship through high school. I lost my virginity freshman year, to a junior girl who I had been dating, after the junior ball, and honestly, after that, I dated—in a serially monogamous way—a number of very attractive and often sexually adventurous girls, who I learned a great deal from. I'd like to think that all of them had good experiences with me, and I always tried to end relationships on a good note, although I know it didn't always happen.
I'm not sure why I'm telling you that, but I guess it is all a preface to my college experiences, because that is where the randomness begins to get interesting.
I had been recruited by a number of colleges to play football, and although we didn't need the scholarships, it was flattering to have them offered. I was also gently recruited by a few Ivies, which was also flattering, but I decided that I wanted to test my football skills against the best competition that I could, while not ignoring my intellectual development. So, I narrowed my choices down to two. But the day that I was supposed to visit the first school, there was a freak snow storm which dropped a foot and a half of snow, and they postponed the trip until after I visited what turned out to be my alma mater.
When I showed up at the school for my official visit, I was surprised at how many of the other players came with their parents. Mine were in Hong Kong, or maybe Singapore—the details are a bit fuzzy now. It was an interesting mix of street smart kids, country boys and suburban guys like me, and everyone was sizing each other up. We all knew who was seriously good, and who was just good, and we dutifully took the tours of the academic buildings, dorms, and, finally, the athletic buildings and the stadium, which was pretty impressive, even with only empty seats.
The coaches spoke to us in coach-talk, sounding impressive without really saying anything other than "we brought you here because we want you to come here." Overall, it was what I expected, and better in most ways than my first visit.
After the coaches' talk, we were told that we were free to explore the campus on our own, and that they would have a student assigned to show us around. At which point the coaches hit the road, and the doors opened to admit a group of what had to be some of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen in one place. They were every shade possible, from dark, dark black to fair and blonde, but every one of them was shockingly beautiful. It sort of seemed that the girls had been told what guys to go for, and in retrospect, it was pretty obvious. Black girls for black guys, Hispanic girls for the Hispanic guys and white girls for the white guys. There were no Asian guys, but a couple of stunning Asian girls were mingling with the white guys.
I was watching this all unfold, and it took me a second to realize that no hot girl was talking to me, and when I did, I looked around and saw her.
She was not the most classically beautiful girl in the room, but she was the most formidable looking. Tall, with dark wavy hair that cascaded, but in a well-tended way, over her shoulders and down her back. Perfect makeup, dark eyes, olive skin and a body that was, well, extraordinary. And unlike most of the others in the room, who were in tight jeans, or shorts, with body-hugging shirts or bikini tops, she was wearing a dress which accentuated her curves, but without looking sleazy, and heels high enough to be impressive without looking dangerous. The only thing that might have detracted from her looks was a strong Roman nose, but somehow it gave her face character and made it interesting. She was looking at me, with an enigmatic smile, and when she caught my eye, she stepped forward, reached out her hand and said, "Anna Marie Raspoli. You must be Justin Osland."
As I mentioned, I'm not afraid of women, and even then, I was pretty glib, but there was something about Anna Marie Raspoli that was intimidating, and I didn't respond right away. She seemed to smile at my inability to form words, but it didn't seem condescending at all. No, it really seemed like tongue-tied men was something that she was used to experiencing, and she was just amused that it was happening again. But, after a few seconds, I was able to gather my wits somewhat and respond. "Yeah, that's me, Justin." I was still holding her hand after giving it a shake, awkwardly, but she tightened her grip and started leading me toward the door.
Walking through the crowd, I could see that some of my fellow recruits were already groping their "hostesses," and others were talking and flirting. So, when this incredible woman was leading me toward the door, I assumed that we were going somewhere to be alone. We stepped outside and walked through the campus. It was twilight, and the grounds were filled with students, walking, talking, carrying books and the like. Still holding my hand, An
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