Placement Office

Central Texas, early May, 1967

Placement Office

The Camaro turned into the parking lot and eased up to an empty space beside the sign that proclaimed "Taylor University, Placement Office, 9:00-4:30, M-F". The driver moved the Hurst shifter to neutral and set the parking brake, but didn't turn the key off. The exhausts burbled a promise of power with a press on the accelerator. The driver, Kit Morgan, shook his head and considered how he had arrived in the position of needing part time work. Twenty years old and never had a job other than being a jock and the only son of the biggest architect and builder in Huaco, Texas. But he needed a job now and so he checked the Rolex on his wrist—4:05—time to do it.

As he unfolded his 77 inches of height off the black leather seat, he wished he had parked in the shade. The May sun in Texas was going to burn his butt when he got back in, but he didn't have the energy to get back in and move it. No need to lock up a convertible, so he walked toward the institutionally bland building like a man headed to the gallows. He hardly limped at all any more.

Inside the building, the phone rang and was answered by a petite blond at the reception desk. "Hello, placement office---oh, Mrs. Fox, is everything OK with Katie? Oh, no—she cut her head on what? Excuse me a moment—young man, fill out the information on this form and I will get to you in a moment—Mrs. Fox, how does a five year old cut her head on a snack tray? Oh, her friend Sam threw it, and it is bleeding, and she may need stitches."

Kit was standing quietly with the clipboard full of papers needing his information, but was feeling that today was not a good day at all. When the blond stabbed him with an angry look, he said, "Look, you're busy, I'll come back."

"Sit down and fill out the form and quit lurking over me." She turned back to the phone, "I'll be there as quickly as I can. Mrs. Fox." Wheeling back on Kit, "You're not filling that out."

"I don't have a pen."

"Why didn't you say so?" as she pitched him a pen and stormed off into an inner office. Kit noticed that within a conservative wool skirt a very pert behind waved over a pair of medium heels.

"Forget it, boy, and fill out the form before she comes back and blows you up. You need her help."

In the inner office, Sandy Rhoades was explaining the problem to her boss. Sandy was a short, thin, blonde and in constant motion. Theda Pullin, the administrator in charge of the office, was as tall in her desk chair as Sandy was standing. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat roll on the back of her head and she was as quiet and still as Sandy was animated.

"So you need to get to day care to check on Katie and maybe take her for stitches? Why are you still here? Get your stuff, go see about your kid. It's Friday afternoon; take off and I will see you on Monday. It's been still as church here all day anyway."

"But a young man just came in. I have him filling out the information sheet. He is really tall and..."

"Hush, get your stuff and leave. I can still take care of one tall boy needing some help."

"Oh, I know you can. I just..."

"Hush, not another word—get your purse and coat and go take care of Katie."

"OK, but---"

"GO!!!!"

When the blond reappeared and began digging in her desk, Kit stood up and walked toward the desk. As she came around the desk with a purse and small tote, she said, "I've got to go. Family emergency. Mrs. Pullin will handle your application. She is the boss and knows everything." The last words were almost lost as she went out the door and into the sunshine, leaving Kit standing with a mostly filled out form in his hand.

The door closed and Kit considered following the blond back into the parking lost. If the big boss was worse than the blond, he didn't know if he wanted to face her. As he turned to place the clipboard on the desk, he was surprised to find a tall woman standing practically beside him. He hadn't even heard her come into the room.

"She's excited and frightened by an injury to her daughter. She is not always so jumpy and irritated. She will be embarrassed by her behavior the next time you come in." The woman's voice was deep and smooth. It carried a lilt of an accent that the flat, nasal tones of Texas would never cause. "Give me the form and tell me what you were hoping we could do and we will see what we can do."

Kit handed her the clipboard and noticed that her large dark eyes were only a few inches below his own. That was unusual. When you are 6'5" you become used to looking at the top of women's heads. Mrs. Pullin was only 3 or 4 inches shorter than Kit.

"I was hoping you could give me some leads for part time work for basically spending money. My scholarship covers tuition, books, and fees. I can eat either in the athletic dining room or at home. I live at home so housing is not an expense. Basically I need money for nonessentials."

"What about your parents? Can't they provide spending money if the rest of your education is paid for?"

"No. Basically I am on my own and can expect no help from them other than allowing me the use of their house."

"You need to ask your parents to reconsider."

"I am not in contact with either of my parents at the present time."

"I thought you said you lived at home with them."

"I said that I lived in their house, but they don't live there."

"That is unusual," she said, and looked down at the form. As she scanned the information, her eyebrows arched and her mouth firmed from a soft curve to a thinner line. "Christopher Morgan. I know who you are now. Your parents are very wealthy, so I really don't think you need part time work."

Kit said, "I don't think you know the whole story. You might know about Don Morgan, the architect and builder, who one day just shut down the largest construction firm in Huaco and left town without any explanation. Or you might know about is wife, Alicia, the socialite and philanthropist, who left a couple of weeks before he did. Or you might know about Kit Morgan, the golden boy of Taylor University athletics, freshmen all=American in basketball and baseball, who totally wrecked an ankle in the College World Series and will never be an athlete again. What you don't know is that I have not talked to my mother for more than a year, and just before my dad left he told me that I had four years of the use of his house, At the end of the four years, which will be May of 1971, he will return and I should plan on being totally self sufficient at that time. To aid me in that development, he quoted Teddy Roosevelt saying something about having his daily bread by inheritance, but he had to earn the butter and jam. He said I had been overprotected as a star athlete and as my parent's child and it was time for me to learn to fend for myself. So, yes, I do need part time work."

"Oh, well...What skills do you have?"

"Baseball, basketball, tennis, golf—but I'm out of practice—placekicking in football..."

"Stop, I don't think we have any coaching positions. What sort of work did you have in mind??

"Anything that requires a strong back and a weak mind except construction. I would feel disloyal to work for one of my dad's old competitors. Yard work, basic carpentry, plumbing and electrical, short haul moving.."

"OK, I need a mover for the larger furniture that I cannot move by myself. I am moving from my house here by campus to an apartment at the lake. I was going to spend the afternoon after work organizing and calling a local mover. I guess I could rent a truck and we could move it this afternoon and tomorrow. I'll pay you $6 an hour and buy whatever meals we eat."

"That sounds good, but I can save you the truck rental. I have a truck, well kind of a truck, it's an El Camino, it's a '65 model, two years old, but we can make as many trips as necessary in it. Why doesn't your husband help you with the moving?"

A silence fell between them. She looked at her hand where she still wore her rings. "I am by myself. The house is too big for just me, so I am making a new start." The stricken look on Kit's face urged her to change the subject. Theda looked out the glass door into the parking lot and saw only a British racing green convertible with a wide black racing stripe. "Where is your truck? I don't see it in the lot."

"It's at home. All the cars are really my dad and mom's, but he said I could use them."

"How do you buy gas for the cars?"

"I don't. Carter does."

"And who is Carter??

"He takes care of things since Dad left. He pays the bills and cleans the house and I think tells Dad what I am doing."

"So he is like a servant?"

"No, he was Dad's top financial guy while the business was going. Now he says he is on a sabbatical and will pick up his life later."

"He is not married?"

"No, never has been—he lives in the apartment over the garage. He's old, probably 50 or maybe even more."

"I'm 40, Christopher. Do I seem ancient too?"

"No! Sorry about the implication. You look great. But could you call me Kit rather than Christopher. I was only called Christopher when I was in trouble."

" I can do that. My house is just a couple of blocks off campus. How soon can you trade vehicles and get back here?"

"Probably 45 minutes."

"Fine. It is time to close the office anyway. Let's say 5:30 at 1501 Speight Street. I'll walk home and be ready when you get there. Dress coolly; the upstairs carpets have just been shampooed and the house is open with no air conditioning to get the smell out."

"Sounds good to me, but I can drive you home. Speight Street is my usual path away from campus."

"Good, I'll be just a moment closing up."

Kit waited as Theda moved quickly through the office turning off lights and adjusting the thermostat. The athlete in him appreciated the lightness and grace of her movement. Who would have thought such a bulky woman could move so well. He waited by the door as she locked up and walked over to open the passenger door for her. Her dark business suit and crisp white blouse were a bit out of touch with the Texas heat and the sports car.

"I've never ridden in a convertible." She stepped into the car with her left foot and plopped down into the low slung seat. "Agggg!" her knees both flew up as she attempted to swivel out of the hot burning seat. Kit stood transfixed as her skirt fell to her lap revealing a garter belt holding up stockings containing a well-toned pair of thighs. Even more interesting were the lacy panties on full display with a smattering of curly hairs poking through the lace. Kit was frozen for a moment; then his natural athletic reflexes kicked in, and he stepped around the door to pick up Theda. He could feel the residual heat on the backs of her thighs as they lay across his right arm. Her jacket had fallen open in her struggle and he was surprised by an outstanding pair of breasts just below his chin. Kit's estimation of Mrs. Pullin was undergoing a rapid transformation. Her skirt still rode high on her thighs and her chest was only inches below his face. Kit's eyes took in most of a very lovely six-foot plus lady. What happened to the extra large office boss. He realized he had been fooled by the clothing.

"You can put me down now, Christopher."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry I forgot how hot the black leather gets in this weather. I wear jeans so it's not so hot..." He returned her to her feet and brushed her skirt down in the back. Feeling the heat, he kept lightly rubbing and fanning her back from shoulders to knees.

"That is quite enough rubbing, thank you. I am fine, but I think I will walk home as I usually do. I will see you at 5:30."

"Yes, ma'am. 5:30 it is."

Theda set off across the parking lot and Kit watched her go with a whole new appreciation of what was under the conservative business woman's suit. '

She stopped and turned around interrupting his viewing of her posterior. "Is your truck a convertible?"

"No, ma'am."

"Very well then. 5:30"

"Yes, ma'am."

As Theda walked away she felt the young man's eyes on her, and her imagination played again the quick move he had made around the door to pick her off the overheated seat. She thought the seats weren't the only thing overheated as his eyes had devoured her bare thighs and mounded breasts. And to be honest, it was exciting for her to be held. Theda did not think anyone had picked her up since she was about 10 years old. Her first growth spurt had shot her up about that time and her parents did not know what to do with a 12 year old who was taller than either of them. Kit's arms and chest were firmly muscled; she hadn't felt anything like them since she was in training. Oh, well, best to forget that and work the devil out of the young scamp who was all too appealing.

Kit's thoughts were somewhat in the same line, but he was surprised at the arousal he felt while holding Mrs. Pullin. Of course, the view up her skirt was outstanding and the urge to lean in and nip one of her nipples was almost overwhelming. Who would have thought so much nice stuff was under that frumpy suit of clothes.

Kit drove the El Camino down Speight Street not knowing what to expect. Speight was in the old part of town where the houses predated city zoning. There were older two bedroom cottages next to new apartment buildings to hold students. Some of the houses were huge leftovers that had been divided into apartments or frat houses. There were a few of the old giants that had been refurbished, usually by university professors or administrators and were private residences. The address Mrs. Pullin had given him was one of the old monsters, beautifully renovated and landscaped. He parked in the street in front of the narrow lawn bordered by an iron picket fence. As he stood on the sidewalk, he suddenly realized that emptying out this monstrosity one load at a time in his El Camino would take the whole summer.

The front door opened and his opinion changed. The Mrs. Pullin of the black suit, sensible shoes, and burned ass seemed to have dropped twenty years. A tall, athletic woman stood in the door in baggy cotton shorts, a tee shirt with the school's TU on a interesting chest. Out of the shorts were a pair of legs that showed their strength and were tanned to a smooth perfection. The dress shoes were replaced with a pair of Asics volleyball shoes without socks.

"O my gosh, you look like a jock!" The words jumped out of Kit's mouth before his brain reengaged.

"I used to be. Come on in the house and let's begin sorting what we are going to carry tonight. Is that your truck?"

"Yes, ma'am, it has a top and air conditioning and cloth seats, but this house is huge; it's going to take us forever."

She looked at him with a quizzical look for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You thought we were going to move the whole house in your little truck. No wonder you looked so lost and sad. I thought you wanted to back out. We are only taking the large furniture for two bedrooms, a living room, and an office. The rest of the furniture will either go with the house or be auctioned off—buyer's choice. Most of the furnishings for this house wouldn't be right for the townhouse."

"Where is the townhouse?" he asked.

"Lakeshore Point out on East Lake Drive. Have you seen the development?"

"Yeah, I guess so. We'll be neighbors. That was my dad's last project. Our house is just across Bosque Bay on the point just north of you."

"That's right, the cliff house by Don Morgan. It won some sort of prize."

"The 1963 Natural Living Architectural Award."

"Is that a big deal?"

"It is to architects, but my dad thought it would be a happy place to live."

"But he left..."

"Things change."

"And you live there now."

"Not really. I live in the boathouse."

"And Carter lives above the garage, and the award winning house is empty."

"Not really," he said; "it is full of memories."

Theda did not know how to respond to that. The tall handsome boy had a wonderful presence, but she felt an underlying sadness that she knew she was unprepared to deal with.

"Come on; let's start with the furnishings for the two bedrooms. We can put them in the townhouse first and we won't be tripping over them later." At the top of the stairs, the first bedroom held only a queen bed and a chest of drawers with a large mirror. Theda said, "I thought we could take off the mirror and place it between the mattress and springs in your truck for safety. Then we can carry the chest in another trip.?

"Works for me. Do you have a hammer and screwdriver to take the bed and chest apart?"

"In the tool box on the other side of the bed."

"Wow, you're on top of things for a woman with a burned butt."

"Smart-aleck, get to work."

They spent the next half hour breaking down the beds and chests for the two bedrooms. . As the two worked, the conversation became easier and more comfortable for both. But the heat in the upstairs bedrooms made them both glisten with sweat. When everything was disassembled, they carried the first set of springs into the hall to take to the truck. Theda was in front when Kit said, "Wait, I know you are strong, but I probably need to be in front because more of the weight will be on me going down."

"OK, I'll move to the middle and hold it up while you come around to the front." Theda moved to the center of the upright mattress and held the top with her hands spread widely for stability. The bottom of the mattress had kicked out toward her and as Kit edged behind her, the mattress wobbled. Kit reached on either side of her and helped her stabilize the mattress. As he applied his strength he pressed into her back and her front pressed into the mattress. All doubts vanished from his mind about Theda being a chunk. He felt a muscled taut ass just below his pecker which immediately began to raise the flag.

"Got it?" he asked.

"Yes, I certainly did get it," she replied.

Kit moved to the front of the mattress and they carried it to the bed of the truck with no further comment. He was glad for the extra long basketball jersey he was wearing outside his shorts. At least it hid his woody, he thought.

He didn't realize that Theda had immediately recognized the stiffy poking her hams. It was obviously not intentional and she had no intention of making Kit uncomfortable. He certainly could not be thinking of a middle aged woman in that way.

They brought down the mirror next without mishap and then went back up for the mattress. Kit maneuvered their positions so that Theda led out the door with the front of the mattress. At the top of the stairs, Kit said, "Oops, we messed up again. Move to the middle to hold it up and I'll get the front."

Theda gave him a suspicious look, but moved to the middle of the mattress again. As Kit moved behind her, he placed his right hand over hers and moved closely behind her. When his left hand closed over hers on the mattress top and his warm sweaty body pressed closely to her back, she lost all doubt about Kit's thinking. There was a hard lump just above her waist, a firm chest and belly covering her back, and his hot breath on her neck and ear.

"I thought you might need some help."

"I might, but we need to carry this mattress down."

After a short pause when Kit squeezed her hands and pressed more firmly against her, Kit moved to the front of the mattress. As they carried it down the stairs and out, both were thinking of the sensations that seemed so alluring.

"I think he finds me attractive. For him I am not too big. God, I haven't been held and felt so wanted and secure since...since...since I was grown."

"Wow! Her body is amazing and she didn't blow up and fire me yet."

After loading the mattress, Theda led back up the stairs for the next set. As Kit followed, the once baggy cotton shorts had been dampened by sweat so that they molded themselves to Theda's ass. Kit was entranced by the flex of the two muscled globes as Theda trotted up the stairs. He thought they were wonderful and perfectly proportionate to her height. When Theda glanced back and saw that his attention was fixed on her butt, she felt a flush. He seemed to appreciate the view. No harm, no foul.