The Vetting Ch. 01

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, Anna Marie Raspoli led me through a quad, then up a long flight of stairs to the top of a small hill. There was a bench at the top, and a guy and a girl were there, holding hands and looking out over the campus. It was a pretty incredible view, actually, but it was weird standing there, holding hands with a strange, beautiful woman, while another couple sat there on the bench.

After a couple of seconds, Anna Marie turned to the two on the bench and said, "Excuse us, I think you need to leave."

The guy looked at us, then stood up and stepped toward us, looking angry.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he fumed.

Being a jock and all, I stepped forward to defend us, but felt Anna Marie pull me back. She looked at the guy, who was a couple of inches shorter than her in her heels and said, quietly, but in a voice with real menace, "I'm the person who has asked you nicely to leave. And I suggest you do so. Now."

There was something in the way she carried herself, and the way she spoke that took any thought of resisting from the guy. He turned to his girlfriend and said, in a forced way, "Caitlin, I think I have to get back now, come on." He took her hand and left without looking at us again.

She motioned to the now empty bench and said, "Justin, sit down, please."

Of course, I did, and she sat next to me. The campus was laid out below us, and it was truly an impressive sight. Buildings old and new surrounded by grassy areas and sculpture. And the light at that hour only enhanced the beauty of the campus. I felt the breeze shift, and I got a whiff of her scent, and again, it was something more sophisticated than I would have expected from a college girl. We still hadn't exchanged more than a few words.

"Justin, I want to make a couple of things clear," she said. "As you probably guessed, because I know you are a smart guy, I'm here to convince you to attend this esteemed institution of learning. But, unlike some of those other girls you saw today, I am not going to have sex with you as part of that process."

I can't deny that I was disappointed, although a part of me was relieved, because she was more than a little scary. It seemed like I was supposed to listen and not talk, so I did, as she continued.

"I don't know for sure why I was assigned to you, but my research confirmed what the coaches think, which is that you have a bit more depth than most of the other boys who are being recruited. And I can be persuasive, even with my clothing on."

I continued to sit there quietly. There really was something about this girl that made you just shut up and listen.

"So, here's the story, and it is pretty simple. If you come here, you will not only be playing for a good team, in one of the best conferences, with one of the best coaching staffs around, but you will be getting a top-flight education. Although if you want that education, and I suspect that you do, you will have to work harder than the average jock. We have incredible academic programs available if you choose to take advantage of them and, best of all, we have a group of alumni who will take care of you when you are done."

I had to speak. "I know all of that, and that's why I'm here."

"But what you didn't know before today is that if you come here, I will be here. And I am the type of friend that you want."

I waited for a further explanation, but none was forthcoming. It was very odd. Who was Anna Marie Raspoli, I was thinking, and why would her friendship be that important? I mean, other than the fact that she was beautiful, sexy, mysterious and scary?

She let it sink in, whatever it was, before taking my hand and leading me back down the hill. She led me back across campus, then into town, and before I knew it I was at the hotel where all the recruits were being put up. She let go of my hand and said, "I'm sure you are disappointed that my recruiting style is less overt than some others." She used her head to point to one of the other recruits entering the hotel with his arm around one of the other "hostesses," whose hair was mussed, her shirt was askew and was carrying a bottle of vodka. "So," she continued, reaching for her phone and flipping it open, "if you want, I can make a call and someone will be over to keep you company."

I looked into her dark eyes and, without thinking, said, "No thanks. That won't be necessary."

She smiled that smile again, put her phone away and said, "Good answer. I hope to see you in the fall, Justin."

When I entered the lobby, I found the business center and Googled her on one of the computers. Only one article came up with her name, and I read it, and a few other articles that the first article led me to, and they explained a lot. And, although I was pretty sure I wanted to come here for college, I was more than intrigued by Anna Marie Raspoli, and that clinched the deal.

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Summer practice was as hard as I expected. It was hot, there were lots of players and lots to learn. After the first few days, I pretty much stopped making dumb mistakes, and after a couple of weeks, the coaches stopped yelling at me as much and even tossed a few grudging compliments my way. The guys on the team were pretty nice, although it pretty quickly broke down into mostly race based cliques. Not that there was tension that I saw, but in general, people gravitated to their own. I found a group of players who, like me, had an academic bent, and the upperclassmen gave me tips. I especially got help from Gage Padgett, who at that point was the sophomore backup QB, but you could tell he was talented. I spent a bunch of time working with him, running patterns and talking football. And although he was a born again Christian, and I was, at best, agnostic, we still got along great.

By the end of training, I had survived, and was on the depth chart. There were guys with more talent than me who simply couldn't cut it at this level, because they lacked the work ethic or intelligence, and they were told to either quit the team, or better yet, transfer to a less demanding program. We were, for the most part, so tired and sore by the end of the day that it was rare that we did anything at night, and the only women that I saw worked in the cafeteria, although I did hear some female laughter a couple of nights coming from some of the seniors' rooms.

Our first game was away, and I got in for a few snaps and on special teams. Being on the field at a major college game, with a full stadium and the crowd yelling was a rush, and it made me glad that I had made my choice, and not decided to go to a smaller school where I might have been a starter. We won, and the bus ride back to campus was a blast, until we all passed out from fatigue. I woke up as we were pulling into campus. The bus took us to the stadium, where we dragged our asses into our cars and drove to the dorms. I was bone tired and sore from a hit I took blocking on a kick return, and all I wanted to do was to take a handful of Aleve and get into bed. I was happy that my status as a football recruit got me a single room, because I wanted the quiet and the solitude.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan. Standing in front of my door, wearing jeans and a school t-shirt that was curving in ways that should have been illegal, was Anna Marie Raspoli. She had a calm look on her face, as if she could stand there waiting for hours, and maybe she had been.

"Nice game, Justin," she said, as if we had been talking daily.

"Thanks. The team played well."

"You're right. I thought that double move you made in the third quarter was impressive."

That surprised me, almost as much as the fact that she was standing in front of my door a week before classes started.

"You never responded to my emails or texts," I responded, getting to the point. I was exhausted and annoyed.

"I had nothing to say," she said, her face a mask—a beautiful mask, but still not betraying anything.

"I wanted to talk after we met that day," I said, aggravation leaking into my voice.

She shot me a look that reminded me that she was not to be trifled with. "I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I knew what you wanted to talk about."

"How?" And as the word escaped my lips, I realized how stupid that sounded. Of course, she knew that I would Google her, and she knew what I would find.

Her glare cracked, and a hint of that enigmatic smile that I had memorized months ago flittered across her dark red lips. "You can be a smart boy."

"So, why are you here?"

She smiled fully, lighting up her face and causing a warmth to spread from my belly to my balls. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"I don't know."

Her smile returned to its prior, mysterious level and she nodded. "Good answer. Invite me in?"

I did a quick mental review of what the room looked like before I left for the road trip, and I couldn't remember any particularly embarrassing thing that I left out, so I said, "Sure."

"You really know how to treat a lady."

"You caught me off guard."

"That was the plan."

I opened the door. "It worked."

Anna Marie Raspoli entered my small single room, took a quick look at the bare walls and piles of clothing. "I love what you've done with the place."

"My decorator won't be available until next week. She's in Milan."

Her head snapped around and her dark eyes bored into me. "Funny," she said, without any hint of laughter.

What the fuck was going on? Why was she here, after ignoring me since she left me at the hotel on my recruiting trip? I was having trouble standing from a combination of fatigue and confusion. I motioned to the bed. "Want to sit? I need to."

"So you can take advantage of me?"

"I don't think that is possible."

And at that, she let out a belly laugh and, for a brief moment, seemed vulnerable. But that moment passed, she composed herself. "No, thanks, but you should feel free."