Generous Offers - Cover

Generous Offers

Copyright© 2018 by Mike Kaye

Chapter 1: DAY ONE - Monday

Sex Story: Chapter 1: DAY ONE - Monday - A retired engineer wants to teach a free software class at a community college. But instead is directed to a private school to teach two 19-year-old ladies for money. The private school is happy to unload problem students. The ladies are happy to cheat their parents out of room and board money. The retired engineer is happy he doesn't need Viagra.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Fiction   Oriental Female   Cream Pie   Oral Sex  

This story is fiction. All persons mentioned are fictional. The only hint of truth in this story is that the author is thinking about making the offer Mike makes to Dr. Richard. Should the author do so, he will not be expecting the generous offers he can only wish might happen.

I’d made good money as a Senior Firmware Engineer and my varied computer programming jobs over many years. Indeed, my IoT security appliance continues to provide royalties. So far my royalties are just over $1,000,000 and my break through was (at least to my mind) rather simple. Although I still get calls from previous clients, I refuse long-term contracts because I like my quiet retirement. I’ve lost touch with my ex. Good. My adult grandkids are a long air ride away. I may visit them again when they marry. I am very comfortably retired.

I am alone and loving every quiet minute. However, I also felt it was time for me to give a little something back.

My plan was to call the head of the Comp Sci department at a local community college and volunteer my services. I had no idea what was about to happen. Teaching a few days a week should do little to disturb my quiet life. But it was summer and I had forgotten about summer break. It took several days before I made contact with the right person. But now I’m parking at the college. WTF, three dollars just to park! I had to ask a student for directions but finally made my way to Dr. Richard’s office.

He listened to my background and my offer to teach a free zero unit class in ARM Cortex assembly language. I would give the class for free but would appreciate a teacher’s parking pass.

“Mike, he began, “I can try to get something like that going for the fall quarter. It’s too late to do anything like that for this summer. But I’ve been asked by PUTS (it stands for some kind of private school) to suggest someone teach a small software class for them for pay. Are you interested?”

“It won’t hurt to find out what they want.”

“I’ll put his name and number on the back of one of my cards. Call me back with your offer after the first of August.”

“Sounds good. Thank you. I’ll call the guy perhaps I will be able to meet his needs.”

Back in my car, I called William Beck. After an annoying series of prompts, I finally got an operator who could ring the director’s office.

After his hello, I said, “I have just been given your name by Dr. Richard. He sai...” I was interrupted.

“He called me. Can you teach a computer class to two students?”

“I have a lot of background in the computer field. It depends on what they need to learn. I can teach...” I was interrupted again.

“I have your cell number on my phone. Is it okay to text you our address? I want to talk with you in person.”

“I’m in my car. See you soon.”

I ended the call, my phone beeped. I pasted his address into Google maps and a 10-minute drive later I was at PUTS.

The place was a zoo. Not literally, but construction equipment was everywhere. The text told me to look for the flagpole where I would find parking. I entered the administration building as directed. I smiled at the secretary. “William Beck is expecting me.” She halfheartedly pointed toward the only hallway and went back to whatever she was doing before I arrived.

William Beck, Director was neatly stenciled on his door. I knocked. From inside a voice said, “If your Mike Ricketts please enter, if not go away.”

Not what I expected, but I entered and was directed to sit. (No opening handshake was also unexpected.)

“Mike, I have a problem and I sincerely hope you can be the solution. First, a very little background. PUTS stands for Private Universal Teaching School. Stupid name. Please don’t say I said that. We are a subsidiary of a nationally known private school chain.

“These students’ parents paid for the rather more expensive ‘GED Plus’ which includes an ecology trip to Costa Rica to work with endangered sea turtles and some kind of computer class. They have done the trip but the national chain will not issue the GED plus certificate until the computer class is completed. That’s where you come in.”

I thought, ‘What chain?’ I never asked. He never said.

“All our computer literate staff is on vacation. As if that were not enough, we have no classroom space due to the construction mess. We will pay you to teach out of your home or office. Let’s see 12 weeks, 3 hours a week is 36 hours. What do you normally get? How about $120 per hour? [He uses his desk calculator] How does $4,320 sound for your time? [I start to nod yes but he continues] Plus another $1,200 for office space is $5,520.

“What kind of car do you have?”

“Black Toyota Sienna van. Why do you ask?”

“Here is $60 cash. Take your students to lunch. Call me back telling me if you will take my offer. Here is a packet of information about your students. I’m sending them a text now. They will meet you at your car. Good luck.”

Wow, I’ve had a three-hour interview for a $1,500 gig. This was five minutes for $5,520. Hopefully, those students won’t make me wish I had said no.

I noticed two girls, both younger than my granddaughters, standing near my van. Both were wearing typical student backpacks. One looked very much Japanese, the other was, as one says politely, big boned. I would call her a smaller BBW with rather large tatahs. Both ladies seemed happy to see me.

Before I could say anything they introduced themselves. The larger one said, “I’m Bethany, but please call me Beth.”

“I’m Chrissy.”

Chrissy gave me a hug then Beth wrapped her arms around both of us saying, “Please be our computer teacher.”

This could be interesting, very interesting.

“For starters, we should get lunch then visit your classroom. What would you like to eat?

They said nothing. I suggested Togo’s soup and sandwich. They seemed happy when I asked for our order to go. “Your classroom is my den-slash-computer room. We can eat lunch at my kitchen table and talk about how we want your class work to be organized.”

As I expected, Beth was the talkative one. “We both hate PUTS. Everyone puts us down and calls us the slut sisters. Before our parents pulled us out of high school there were cheerleaders who were bigger sluts than we were.

I must have looked confused. Chrissy explained, “They only called us the slut sisters. We are not actually sisters. Both of our dads work for a large R&D company in their Pittsburg, Pennsylvania Advanced Research Department. We grew up together in the same fancy neighborhood. Went to the same stupid schools, and then we had to move to California. We only had a few boyfriends and all the girls hated us. Then our parents pulled us out of high school because we were flunking all our classes and sent us to stupid PUTS. They wanted us to at least get a GED. Then both sets of parents had to return to Pittsburg.

“And get this: they put us into separate hotels so we would have to study instead of spending all our time yakking about boys. But we are the sneaky sisters. We called our moms with a good sounding story. We said we found we could get a room in the same hotel with a small kitchen for the same $1,000 per week if we paid in cash. Then we could cook for ourselves saving money on restaurants. Counting food it came to $1,200 a week for each of us. We opened checking accounts so they could transfer money to us easily. What we actually did was share one room at Extended Stay America with a small kitchen for $750 a week. Add less than $200 per week for food. We split the extra money between us. This past week we each put $700 away for ourselves.”

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