The first portion of this story was previously published as part of Total Woman Trainers Ch. 06. I have republished it here with some changes and continued into an expanded story. Please vote, comment, and enjoy.
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** Abby Johannsen 01
Ned, the Total Woman Academy Coach Tutor Emeritus, looked out the window of the G280 Gulfstream as the gaps in the billowy clouds peeked through with vistas of the passing ground below. He had just completed a multiday transfer recruitment and a special coed evaluation assessment last week.
Though Ned was still in good shape for a middle-aged man, the younger Coach Tutors were more adept at a typically packed schedule of Evaluation Assessments and he had scheduled himself for a holiday break to recuperate from his professional burdens. But right on the heels of the last round of assignments, TWA Headquarters had decided Ned was the perfect man for this imminent series of engagements.
It was the organization's endless ordeal to solicit sufficient numbers of fine young ladies for Total Woman Academy Scholarships. Most coed recruitments arose from covert referrals by former graduates and current Pledge Contributors. But to supplement that substantial, though insufficient pipeline, TWA Recruitment contingents trolled college campuses, modeling agencies, and cheerleader summer camps for external aspirants.
After applicant candidate background checks, the affirmatively graded ladies were rostered for additional culling.
Confidential preliminary briefings divulged vague details of the curriculum, the residential campus roles and rules, and the incomparable merits of graduation. The final roster of selectees was then assigned to Coach Tutors for pre-enrollment evaluation assessments. If those were successful, then complete program details and enrollment itineraries were shared.
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The flight deck cabin door was open and Ned could see Krystal, his dedicated Pilot and Recruitment Tour Coordinator, studying the horizon and her flight instruments. This was her annually scheduled time to fulfill her post-graduate month of service to the TWA Scholarship Fund.
Her long blonde hair was captured like a headband under the yoke of the flight headphones. He overheard Krystal's call to the control tower requesting landing permission and instructions.
"Van Nuys Control, this is TWA 001 requesting a vector for landing."
"TWA 001, proceed to the outer marker for Runway 34, winds from the northeast at 15 MPH, you are cleared as next in line. Happy Landings, Lil Miss Sunshine."
Krystal smirked at the chummy chatter. The lilt of her voice seemed to bring out the sass in the small airports' air controllers. She keyed the jet's internal intercom.
"Six minutes to touchdown, sir. Please buckle in."
Ned fixed his seatbelt and watched the ground rise up closer and closer. The concrete runway appeared beneath his view, the wheels bumped down, and the plane shuddered as Krystal reversed engine thrust. They slowed and taxied to the private jet terminal.
She shut down the engines of TWA's private aircraft, trotted down the foldout stairs, and gave directions to the ground crew to have the jet fueled and ready for takeoff tomorrow. She focused again on her VIP passenger.
Krystal escorted Ned to the black town car waiting on the apron, opened the rear door, and seated her alpha male charge inside. She took the wheel and drove them from the airport, down I-405 to Santa Monica, turned north on the Pacific Coast Highway, and ended their 30-minute ground trip at Malibu.
Pulling into their beachfront rental bungalow's driveway, Krystal carted their luggage inside and they changed to swimwear for Ned's first scheduled appointment, a meeting on the adjacent topless beach.
The pair strode across the bungalow's beachside entrance patio, shielding their eyes with flat palms as they surveyed the expanse of nudist beach speckled with tanning female flesh, searching for the blonde they were there for Ned to meet.
Krystal scanned the long surf-lapped sand and pointed out a topless sun-worshipper standing at mid-distance.
"Over there."
Ned looked where his Coordinator pointed.
A tall, tanned, athletic built female, her waist-length blonde hair fluttering in the sea breeze, was scanning beyond the sunbathing crowd. She also seemed to be looking for her party at this meeting's appointed time.
Ned turned his head back from the nude cornucopia of flesh distributed on the beach towels. He surveyed his bikini-clad combination pilot, chauffeur, and coordinator.
"Damn, girl. You're positively overdressed!"
Ned swiftly pulled the center front tie and removed the congenial Krystal's bandeau bikini top. He nodded admiringly at her generous tits. She playfully flexed her back, giving a tit waggling shimmy to give him a frisky show. He tossed the top aside on the sand; it was now superfluous for their day at the nude beach.
"Much better" he laughed, patting her thong exposed ass cheeks. She smiled at his repartee and marched toward the shore and their rendezvous with the waiting blonde.
Both strolled inconspicuously through the half-naked lounging bodies to Abby, who was waiting at her oversized beach towel laid out on the sand. Ned plopped down at her side for a nonchalant rapport building chat.
Krystal kept an alert watch for nosy neighbors while the pair got to know each other. Several muscle beach bodies scanned her direction as they passed by and she was sure they made eye contact with her. 'Check that out later' she thought.
Ned queried Abby about her life story, why she was here with him now, and let her confirm in her own words what he had reviewed in her scholarship application and background check summary.
Abby hailed from Minnesota, fourth-generation Swedish heritage, the youngest of four sisters. Her older siblings had married young and birthed a brood of children.
Her father owned a successful machine parts manufacturing conglomerate, traveled alone frequently for weekend meetings and conferences, but over the last year, he had invited Abby to tag along on several marketing trips to Florida and California. She fell in love with sand and sea, with its everyday sunshine.
She met several of her father's tycoon business associates in social settings. Some were overly attentive, indelicately remarking on her physical comeliness, even while chaperoned by their own stunning young eye candy.
Growing ambivalent about her higher education choices in the Great Northern snowfields, when approached by a boutique modeling agency, Abby fled the cold winters and foreseeable motherhood in Minnesota to the sunny shores of California.
After stagnating a few months at waitressing, modeling, and being a stand-in extra for advertising shoots, her agent favored an alternate path to success through an elite academy scholarship.
When she asked her father's advice, his voice boomed through the phone line.
"Go For It!"
She was secretly vetted by TWA Recruitment and vaguely briefed on the beauty, intelligence, and poise curriculum and its enrollment prerequisites, including today's Evaluation Assessment by an Academy recruiting representative.
Ned had reviewed her file and knew her physical particulars, but he wanted to gauge her candor for sharing her personal, especially intimate, details with a new male acquaintance similar in age and attitude to her father's over-friendly middle-aged business associates.
So he nudged the conversation to questions regarding Abby's sexuality,
He noted she exhibited no piercings or tattoos, indicating a wholesome attitude about her body. She volunteered her newfound love of healthy habits, a low-carb low-fat diet, Yoga, fresh air, and lots of sunshine.
