Take Your Daughter To Work Day - Version Bravo
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"I heard, Honey. I'm sorry this happened," said Bob. "Your mom can get a little high-strung sometimes."
"You're being charitable, Daddy," said Judith. "You always are. Why is it that you, who don't even go to church any more, are more forgiving than my mother, who probably goes to mass three times a week?"
"I love you," said Bob. He realized how that might sound, and added, "And your mother loves you too. She just worries about you in different ways than I do." He immediately thought about that too, because he was pretty sure his worries about his beautiful daughter were pretty close to what all parents worried about when it came to a gorgeous, nubile teenage girl.
"So... ?" Her unvoiced question was obvious.
"Actually, I can come up with a ticket for your chaperone. The only problem is that it won't be in the owner's box. It's too late to swing that. Now, as for the room, that's no problem at all. We have a whole floor of the hotel, and I can have another extra bed put in the suite."
"So, what you're saying is that I can tell Sister Francine that you do have a ticket for her, and that she can be our chaperone at the Super Bowl." Judith spoke this firmly, with the full knowledge that what she was saying was the truth ... but not necessarily the whole truth.
"Maybe I should call and talk to somebody at the school," said Bob, who knew exactly what she was doing.
"No," said Judith immediately. "Mom's being a bitch about this. We both know that. And you know I don 't need a chaperone."
"I didn't say that at all," he said calmly.
"What?" His daughter sounded upset.
"Yes, your mother's being ... unkind. But you're a beautiful young lady, and you want to bring along four other girls who I'm quite sure are beautiful young ladies as well. And, having been a young man, once upon a time, in ages gone by, I know what guys think about when they see a bevy of beautiful young women. And those thoughts are not charitable, dear daughter."
"You're so silly," laughed Judith. "And you're not as ancient as you claim. I'll have you know that at least one of my friends thinks you're a hottie. And she's the innocent one!"
Bob laughed, but it was artificial. Again his mind produced a quick fantasy in which he did completely unacceptable things with more than one girl. Thankfully, their faces were misty and unformed, but he pushed those thoughts away anyway.
"Don't get in trouble with your mother," he said softly.
"I won't. Everything will be fine. I'll tell them you got another ticket. That's what they asked me to call and ask for. They didn't ask for a ticket that would sit her right next to us."
"You're being legalistic about this, Sweetheart," he said, sighing.
"So's my mother," she shot back.
Girls talk about finding men - maybe more than one man at a time. This is especially the case when girls who have access to so few men that they tend to overdo it when they think access will improve things all by itself. Janice was a particularly good example of this, as she was the slut of the group, so to speak. In fact, she had engaged in sexual intercourse only four or five times. But her uncle, who had taught her how to love sex was older, and he knew exactly how to enslave a girl through her lust. He had at least paid attention to when she might be fertile, and had avoided drenching her pussy with his sperm when she was. It did not occur to her that not all men might care so much about how good a time she had, or at what time of the month her womb was inundated with his sperm.
She was never encouraged by the others, as she talked about what she hoped to do with what they thought of as the fictional man she talked about meeting on their adventure. But her nattering affected them all.
Kendi had let a boy between her thighs twice. The first time was a disaster of the worst magnitude. The second only occurred because she was drunk at the time. But she wasn't too drunk to realize that it was a lot more fun when you were relaxed, instead of being in almost panic mode, tense, and sure you'd be caught at any second. So it had been better, if not what she dreamed of. She gave some time to wondering ... maybe even dreaming a bit ... that she might do it a third time on this trip, perhaps ... and that it might be even better than the last time.
Monica had engaged in sex only once, at a family reunion, with one of her cousins. They'd been caught in flagrante delicto, a term she got to know in Latin class, and she was sent to St. Clementine's as a result. She could still remember the sweet feelings that had been about to wash over her, and which were so abruptly destroyed by the adults one of her other cousins had directed to their hiding place. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could still feel his penis inside her, stretching her almost enough to hurt, but filling her delightfully. The only way she could get that feeling now was with her very secret vibrator, which she had stolen from her married sister's nightstand. She had known her sister could never begin asking questions about the missing article, because it was already very secret when she stole it.
Tiffany and Judith, despite the fact they had experienced only hurried kisses with boys (Tiffany had been groped on one occasion, but Judith not, ), had explored orgasms quite thoroughly. They had, in fact, explored them together. They were undeniably both sworn virgins in a legal sense (to the point of having made a pact that they would only lose their virginity in the presence of each other). There was, however, no hint of a shred of either of their hymens left, both as a practical matter of having adopted the use of tampons, as well as being torn, ripped and plundered by excited fingers, both their own, and each other's.
They were not lesbians. The love they felt for each other was genuinely of the friendship variety. But they had been roommates for over ten years, and had discovered puberty together. They had, in fact, discovered almost everything together. If the Catholic Church had approved of multiple marriage, these girls would have tried to find the same husband to share.
So their expectations, concerning the trip, were a bit different than those of the more experienced girls. Still, just like boys brag about what they expect to do, girls dream about romance and sex too.
And on long evenings as the event they so looked forward to slowly approached ... they talked about all these things.
The school had a van, and since the girls were representing the school, the decision was made that the van should be used to get them all there and safely back. Sister Francine would drive. It was only a six or seven hour drive, depending on game traffic. If it was bad, it might take an additional hour. But they left in plenty of time. If they got there early, they'd stop somewhere and eat something before they got to the game. Everybody was sure that anything to eat or drink at the Super Bowl would cost a fortune. They didn't even think about the fact that the owner's box would be catered.
The first three hours of the trip were actually fun for everybody. Sister Francine told a few stories about her life before the convent, and the girls actually had an interesting and informative discussion about the differences between the old and new testaments, and whether those differences meant God had changed His mind or not. The very concept that God might be able to change His mind about something was good for an hour's worth of argument, since the concept of changing one's mind carried with it the assumption that the only reason for doing so was because you decided you were wrong.
Eventually conversation died off, and the monotony of traveling set in. Two more hours went by and Francine mentioned that they were in Super Bowl traffic. The girls perked up as they began an impromptu game of trying to identify cars with passengers bound for the game.
Then, while everything was going great, and they were right on schedule, the right rear tire had a catastrophic blowout. What that means is that the tire went from being full of air and supporting its share of the weight of the van, to being out of air and coming apart, in the space of about five or six seconds. By the time Sister Francine's brain registered the fact that something was wrong, the tire was already flying in a dozen different directions.
Tires are made of layers of steel webbing, polyester cords and rubber. The carcass is hand made by wrapping a drum with the right number, thickness and width of various belts of things, all attached to two thick wire circles called beads. The bead is a circle, but it will distort such that it can be stretched over the rim of a wheel that is larger than that circle. The carcass is then put into a mold, where liquid rubber is injected all around it, sealing all those layers and the beads together.
Normally, this would be too much information for the average reader, but it's really important to this story, because when a tire has a catastrophic blowout, and comes apart, those woven steel belts come apart like shrapnel. They can tear shit up really bad too. Like the spare tire hanging under the back of the van ... ten inches away from that exploding tire.
You think I'm exaggerating? You know those strips of rubber you see lying on the highway that have come off of an eighteen wheeler's tires? The common name for one of those is "gator." Why? Not only do they look a little like a gator, lying in the sun, but run over one at seventy miles an hour sometime. The exposed steel will do things to your tires and underbody that will make someone think your car was attacked by an alligator.
Francine kept it on the road, but by the time she got it down to forty miles an hour, they were riding on a bare rim on the right rear, and it was shooting sparks fifteen feet.
They didn't find out the spare had also been destroyed until they cranked it down.
The chances of a woman who looks like a nun being picked up with a destroyed tire, mounted on a steel wheel, are actually pretty good. Most people will pick up a nun under just about any circumstances. But the chances of a vehicle coming along that can pick up that nun, the tire and five Catholic school girls ... well, now we're talking more in the lottery range. Especially if more than half of those cars are on their way to the Super Bowl.
This is not to say a number of men didn't wish they could stop and pick them all up. The nun notwithstanding, those girls were babes. And, in fact, it was almost astonishing how many cars did stop to try to help them. Or at least to get a chance to look at them. A lot of men frowned, and looked at the ruined, bare wheel, lying beside the jack, and then at the spare, which had a ragged rip in the sidewall that was about nine inches long. All of them decided that the time expenditure would be great, and the possibility of tapping one of those sweet young things probably non existent. So they shrugged their shoulders and left.
Sister Francine didn't know what to do. She decided not to call back to St. Clementine's, because there was nothing they could do for her clear back there. It never even occurred to her that they might have Triple A. In her previous life, she'd been too poor to have that kind of assistance on tap. The school did, in fact, have roadside assistance as part of their insurance policy, but she didn't think of that. She felt compelled to stay with the van, which was school property. But she couldn't ask one of the girls to get in a stranger's car and take the tire somewhere. It was suggested that two girls go with the tire, leaving the other three and Sister Francine with the van. But she was nervous about that too. In the end, a highway patrolman stopped. He offered to take Sister Francine to a truck stop about half an hour behind them, and gave the girls a number they could call him directly on, if they felt threatened.
Ten minutes later, the girls were scattered around the interior of the van ... killing time.
"We're going to be late," said Monica, about half an hour later.
"Nothing we can do about that," said Kendi.
"I hope they still let us in," said Janice. "What if the person with the list goes away after the game starts?"
"They won't," said Judith. "Besides, even if they do, all I have to do is find somebody and tell them who I am. My dad had to have told people to expect us, and take care of us during the game. He has to be on the field, but they'll know we're coming."
"We're still going to be late," said Monica. "We're going to miss part of the game."
"Maybe you should call your dad," said Kendi. Everybody knew who she was talking to.
"He's in the middle of the biggest game of his life," said Judith. "If I call him he'll just worry."
"He'll worry more if you don't."
In the end, Judith didn't have to worry about distracting her father. His phone went directly to voicemail.
Thirty miles down the road, Officer Caulfield pulled up to the gaping entrance to the service bay closest to the office of HTC International. All the other bays were occupied. There was a school bus in one, a couple of big rigs with sleepers on them in others, a dump truck filled another one, and even a honey wagon in one at the far end. He could smell the honey wagon, as far away as it was.
"Ask for Charlie," he said. "I have to get back on the road, but I'll have somebody check on the girls, and I'll be back here in an hour. If you're still here, I'll take you back to your vehicle, but Charlie can probably get you going quicker than that. He's in the business of doing this sort of thing."
"I hope so," said Francine. "This put us seriously behind schedule to get to the game."
Officer Caulfield grinned. "I'm imagining you sitting beside some big, bare-chested, painted up fat guy, who planned to scream and cuss at the Super Bowl and then gets saddled with a nun sitting next to him." He chuckled.
"It's novice, not nun," said Francine, smiling tightly.
"Not so's a man could tell just by looking," said the officer, still smiling. "Whatever the deal is, I'm glad I could help."
"Thank you. I'll say a prayer for you," she said.
"Make sure Charlie can help you first," he said. "You might need to save that prayer for yourself."
He opened the trunk and took the tire out. He let it flop down onto the ground.
"Charlie will have somebody come get it," he called. "Good luck."
"Where is she?" moaned Tiffany. "She's been gone an hour!"
Nobody answered. Jessica had thought to turn on the radio and they'd found a station that was broadcasting the game. They had listened to the end of the pre-game show. It was now midway through the first quarter.
"We're going to miss all the fun!" complained Kendi.
Francine knew the news would not be good when she saw Charlie's face.
"I'm sorry, Sister," he said. "All they have is a P rated tire. You've got a full size van, and it takes an E load tire."
"But if I understand you, this P rated tire is still the right size ... right?" Francine was getting impatient.
"Yes, Ma'am, but I can't sell you a passenger rated tire when the book calls for an E load. The van's too heavy. If I put a P on it, it could blow again, and this time you might not be so lucky."
"You call this lucky?" Francine was definitely frustrated now. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. It wasn't Charlie's fault.
"There's liability issues, Sister," he said, looking like he wished he was anywhere else. "I can get you the E load, but it won't be until tomorrow. That's the best I can do."
"How am I supposed to get my girls to the Super Bowl?" she moaned.
"I suspect it's the Super Bowl that's causing the shortage in two-forty-five, seventy-five, sixteen, E load tires, Ma'am. They use them on a lot of trucks too. But as to getting your girls to the game, We got a four door pickup we use for a service truck. We can fit two in the front, and if they're really good friends, four in the back. In fact, if we're going all the way to Glendale, I can find you a tire there. I'll drop you off, get the tire, get you going, and you can pick up the van tomorrow on the way back home."
Francine wondered how she and the girls were supposed to get back to the truck stop, eighty miles from where they'd be, but that was a problem for later. Right now, she needed to attend to the present problem, and Charlie had just provided a solution. She blinked, and cast her eyes upward. "My pardon, Lord. I know it was you who provided the solution," she said to herself softly.
"They're back!" yipped Tiffany. They all looked behind them to see a state police car, lights flashing, pull in behind them.
"I don't see Sister," said Monica.
"And that's a different cop," said Janice.
They opened the side door as the officer walked up.
"You ladies still here?" asked the handsome young man, sticking his head into the van. He was wearing sunglasses and a Smokey The Bear hat.
"Yes!" came the sad chorus.
"Dick said you might be. I'm Tim Wade. Officer Caulfield asked me to look in on you ladies on my way to Glendale."
"You're going to Glendale?" asked Judith. "That's where we're going! We're going to the Super Bowl!"
"I know," he said. "Me too. I'm on the after-game traffic detail."
"Can we ride with you?" asked Janice, excitedly.
"I'd love to help you out, girls, but that's against policy."
"Oh, come on," moaned Monica. "You're going there anyway."
"I know, but I'd get in big trouble if my zone sergeant found out. I'd like to help you ... but I can't."
Janice put her face close to his.
"You know who she is?" she asked, pointing at Judith. "She's Judith Tanner ... Bob Tanner's daughter."
"As in Bob Tanner, Head Coach of the Albuquerque Ocelots?" His eyebrows rose above the upper rim of his sunglasses.
"That's right," cooed Janice. "And I bet he'd be very thankful if you helped out his little girl." She smiled. "And her friends, of course."
He suddenly squatted beside the car, and took off his sunglasses. He had blue eyes, which ranged over the girls like they were steaks and he was in the mood to do some grilling.
"There are state police on the security detail at the game," he mused softly. "And I guess I could say that I was seeing to the safety of a relative of the coach."
"Yes!" blurted Kendi. "Oh, pleeeease?"
He stood up. "I must be crazy," he said. "What the hell. Come on, before I change my mind. Four of you are going to have to ride in the cage, in back."
"That's okay," said Janice. "Just get us there."
"Wait!" yelled Tiffany. "What about Sister?"
Judith froze, frowned, and then said "We'll leave her a note."
"I don't see any of your girls," said Charlie, as he eased in behind the van.
"I don't either," said Francine, worried.
Three minutes later they were on the road again, the note in Francine's hand. Her eyes ranged over it again as she urged Charlie to go faster.
Officer Wade was sweating. Partly, it was due to the fact that his A/C was having trouble dealing with the fact there were six people in the car with the windows rolled up. But there was something else too, and that was the very soft, very large breast pressing into his right shoulder, and the delightful scent of lilacs coming from the girl upon whose body that breast had grown. Janice had insisted that four in the back was too crowded, and had pointed out that his cruiser had a bench seat in the front. She had slid in, picked up his clipboard and the other gear he usually kept right next to him, put it on her lap, smiled and said "See? Plenty of room for me up here."
"You really don't have to put your arm around me," he said to Janice. "I think there's plenty of room."
"How many girls get a chance to put their arm around a real, live Arizona State Trooper?" she asked, breathing on his cheek.
"Officer," he said, weakly. "We don't use 'trooper' here in Arizona."
"Doesn't matter. I don't know a single girl at school who can say she got to cuddle up to a cop of any kind."
"You're a bit young to be cuddling with anybody," said Officer Wade.
"I'm nineteen!" she insisted.
"Yeah, and Santa Claus and his reindeer are real," he said, looking sideways at her admittedly gorgeous face. "It's a violation of law to lie to an officer in the commission of his duty."
"Yes, but you're not actually doing your duty," she said, smiling. "You're helping us instead."
"Young lady, helping you is part of my duty. But I'm supposed to put people in jail, not go there myself for messing around with jail bait."
She pressed her breast even harder against him and smiled. "Nobody's ever called me jailbait before."
So once we get there, where are you supposed to go?" asked Charlie.
Francine looked over at him. "Judith said we were supposed to go to gate six. That's all I know."
"Okay," he said, amiably. "We'll find it." He glanced over at her, still amazed that even after changing a tire and rolling one into his shop, she still looked immaculate in her formal looking habit.
"So," he said. "What makes somebody want to become a nun, anyway?"
Officer Wade knew exactly where gate six was, and he was only too glad to get there and for the babbling girls to flow out of his car and out of his life. They were trouble. He'd heard stories about Catholic school girls ... and now he was inclined to believe them. Janice turned around and blew him a kiss. The others ran on toward the gate. He'd heard on the radio that the game was well into the fourth quarter, and the score was tied. With a wave, he rolled off, to get back to his real job.
What he left behind were five girls, dressed in their school uniforms, with no luggage, and no tickets. They approached the big gate, which was crowded with vans unloading a variety of materials, including food and drink, and boxes of various sizes.
There was only one person standing around with a clipboard, and who was not attending to one of the drivers. The girls approached her. Judith said "We're here for the game. We got delayed." The woman looked at them and frowned.
Zoe had, so far, seen only ten women who worked for Jerome, and who she knew. Apparently she'd been gone longer than she thought.
"School girl outfits? All five of you? That's a bit of overkill. And you're late." She sighed, theatrically. "Dancers or hookers?" she asked.
"What?" asked Judith, who was in front.
"Sorry," said the woman, who appeared to be about the same age as Sister Francine. "Are you dancers or escorts?"
"I'm Judith," said Judith again. She held out the paper with the authorization code on it. "We're here for the game."
"Yes, and I'm Zoe, the coordinator for the locker room celebration after the game. Now, I'd love to get you where you need to be, but I need to know if you're dancers, for the locker room, or if you're going to get naked in the shower room with the team. It's not a hard question."
It was Janice who spoke next, and it was probably rubbing her titty all over Officer Wade's arm that made her speak.
"Shower room!" she blurted.
The others looked at her like she'd gone crazy. Both Monica and Tiffany said, "What?!"
Janice stood up straight and tried to put on her best twenty-one-year-old look. "We signed up for the shower room. They didn't say what to wear. We thought this might be okay."
"Well, you look like jail bait, so I'm sure that's fricking perfect," groused Zoe. "And it doesn't matter what you look like initially. You're going to shed those uniforms and frolic in the showers with a bunch of horny football players anyway. Okay, go down that hallway over there. You're looking for the fourth door on the left. Talk to Tammy. She'll tell you what to do."
"But..." Judith was interrupted by Janice, who pushed her from behind.
"Let's go, girls," said Janice officiously. "We haven't got much time."
She had to push Kendi and Monica too. She managed to get them thirty feet into the hallway before the group stopped and turned on her. A roar from the crowd filtered in from outside.
"What are you doing?" hissed Judith.
"You wanted in ... we're in," said Janice.
"What was all that about dancing and being naked in the shower room?" asked Tiffany.
"They're obviously planning some kind of wicked party for after the game," said Janice. "And we get to go!"
"We can't go," said Tiffany. "It sounds like there will be naked girls there. Naked football players too!"
"Exactly!" crowed Janice. "It will be wild. Think of the stories we'll be able to tell!"
"This is not a good idea," said Judith. "We should go find the box, where we're supposed to be."
"We're so late they probably gave those seats to somebody else," insisted Janice. "Come on. Let's at least see what this party looks like. Then we can go be good girls again."
"This is not a good idea," said Judith again.
But they had come here to have an adventure ... and her voice told them all the adventure was finally about to begin.
It wasn't the original adventure they had planned any longer. They were no longer there to watch a game. In fact, they weren't sure just what this adventure had turned into.
But none of them could resist finding out.
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