When No Woman Equals Mom Ch. 02

Thank you for all the comments, positive and negative, about the first chapter of this story. It helps to know what you think.

In Chapter 1 Zach used subliminal messages to convince his father and mother that it was time for him to become head of the household and occupy his mother's bed. In this Chapter Zach employs the same technology on a teacher who is persecuting a friend. I have one more chapter planned after this.

As per Chapter 1, Kelly Winters gets the credit for the best stuff here.

And, as always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

Ivanka, wearing a white mini-dress, standing at the top of the stairs, said, "Bob, I just got a text from Zach, he's running late and we have a date tonight. Can you give me a hand?"

Bob put down his tablet, walked up the stairs, zipped up the back of her dress, and followed her to the bedroom she shared with their son. There were several pairs of shoes on the bed.

"What do you think he'll like best?"

Shoes stylish, heels tall and thin, he knew his wife would look fabulous in all of them, but Bob recalled Zach admiring the black open-toed pumps. Ivanka slipped them on and looked at herself in one of the mirrors that adorned the bedroom's walls.

"They do look great. Thank you dear, he'll love them."

When the front door opened Ivanka hurried downstairs and greeted her son with a, "Welcome home my darling," and a non-motherly kiss. Bob, following behind, said, "Hey son, your Mom says you're running late. I can drop you off at the restaurant, it'll save a few minutes."

"Thanks Dad, that'd be great."

* * * * *

Ivanka's hand was under the table, stroking Zach's erection, when Vinceto Lombardi, the establishment's owner, approached.

"Ivanka, good of you to come."

"Very much Vincento, your food is wonderful, as always. This is my date," then, noting Vincento's quizzical look, corrected herself, "Excuse me, my son, Zach."

Zach reached for Vincento's hand. "It's good to meet you sir. Your pizza's amazing."

"Kind of you to say."

Ivanka's hand never left Zach's lap. She wanted him primed (although, to be fair, he was always primed) to fuck her.

* * * * *

When, holding hands, Zach and Ivanka came through the door, Bob said, "I could have picked you guys up."

"Thanks Dad, but the moon's full; it was the perfect night to walk home."

Bob, pleased to see his wife and son so happy, said, "How was the meal?"

Ivanka, handing him a small box, said, "Great, we brought you some, your favorite, anchovy," then turned to her son and said, "Darling, I think I ate too much, I need to lie down. Come keep me company?"

Bob popped open a beer, started on the pizza. When he heard his wife's low moans he turned up the television, thinking he used to make her sound like that, well not exactly like that, but on his best days, sorta kinda.

* * * * *

A group of students had gathered at the coffee shop. Cindy was explaining that she'd seen Walker being escorted to the headmaster's office. The rumor was that Jasmine Stokes, who taught psychology and sociology, had found a couple joints in Walker's back pack.

Zach's phone buzzed, it was Walker. He found a quiet corner to talk to his friend, Walker had left his bag in the classroom over the weekend. On Monday Ms. Stokes noticed it, opened it, found the pot. Zach returned to the group, reported on the conversation, then texted his mother to let her know he'd be late.

Ivanka read the text, told the maid to put dinner in the refrigerator, and texted Bob to let him know about the delay. Bob used the time to deposit a load in Trixie's ever-willing mouth; Ivanka used it to put on an Agent Provocateur Valentine Body Black And Multi, a short silk kimono and heels, then comb out her hair; at Zach's request she was letting it grow out.

When the door opened Ivanka hurried to the foyer, frowning when Bob stepped inside. Seeing the disappointment on his wife's face he said, "Sorry, only me, but I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Ivanka smiled, kissed her husband's cheek, and said, "I'm sorry dear, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. I'm doubly blessed, to have a lover like my son and a husband willing to let his son take his place."

"He's my son too, I'm as proud of him as you."

When the door opened Ivanka wrapped her arms around Zach, kissed his lips, then turned to her husband and said, "Bob, dinner's in the frig. Can you heat it up, three minutes on the microwave. Zach and I will set the table."

With Bob in the kitchen Ivanka and Zach exchanged a sweet French kiss. Zach considered taking her upstairs, but there was business to attend to.

* * * * *

After dinner they gathered in the living room, where Bob said, "I was on the employment committee when Jasmine Stokes was hired. She was smart, but didn't have the kind of experience we normally require. On the other hand, her husband had just made a substantial contribution to the school." He looked to Ivanka and said, "Didn't you interview her?"

Ivanka, absent-mindedly stroking the back of Zach's neck, said, "I did. Professional, smart, excellent educational background, but, as you said, she was just out of school. During our conversation I also sensed a stubbornness to her. I asked whether, in light of her lack of experience, she was ready for Trinity's spoiled teenagers and their sense of entitlement. She immediately got defensive, dug in her heels. She was angry I'd questioned her. I was afraid that when challenged by a student she'd do the same. I expressed my concern to the administration, but, as your father said, her husband had made that contribution."

Zach said, "You guys were right on the money. She works hard, is well prepared, but when questioned she takes it personally."

Bob handed Zach his tablet. "I found her application." There was a photograph accompanying it.

* * * * *

Jasmine Stokes had the face of a model, oval with perfectly symmetrical features, but that wasn't a surprise, she'd been a model. After winning a partial scholarship to play volleyball and softball at the University of Southern California, she majored in education and modeled part-time. After her junior year she signed with IMG for the European summer shoot that turned into a full time job. Quickly known for a dishonest competitive streak, she was unpopular with the other models, but she always had work. She was, you see, unique: her mixed ancestry, African, Brazilian, and West Indian, gave her skin a light brown color that was both exotic and classic and her build -- 121 pounds spread over a 34-24-34 five feet nine inch frame, with slim shoulders and hips, flat belly, "B" breasts and small butt cheeks -- was paired with a natural athletic grace. She never reached the stratosphere, no Sports Illustrated cover, but she'd done well.

She'd dated her share of hunky male models but as she approached thirty started seeing Justin Stokes, wealthy, twenty-five years her senior, who was clear about one thing, if they married she'd have to give up modeling and take employment that kept her close to home.

"My companies keep me on the road. So did my first wife's. When we were going through our divorce I told my lawyer we'd grown apart, had little in common.

"He stared at me, thinking, I'm sure, how can such a smart man be so dumb, and said, 'Let me show you something the paralegal put together.' He turned on his computer. They'd charted my and my wife's schedules over the preceding three and a half years. We'd spent 91 nights together. I can't give up traveling, so I need you to."

Jasmine didn't love Justin, but she liked him, at thirty her work had started drying up, he had a oodles of money, and having truly loved the idea of teaching, married Justin and returned to school for her degree in education.

She was not happy when she learned Justin had sent her resume to the Trinity School and was surprised when called in for an interview. When offered a job she knew something was up. First year teachers were not offered jobs at Trinity. An angry fight led to the disclosure that he'd made a significant contribution to the school and while, although she'd never admit it, concerned she might be in over her head, accepted the position

* * * *

The three of them looked up from the photograph.

"Walker left his bag in her classroom over the weekend. On Monday she went through it, found two joints. He denied they were his and she got angry, called him a liar, then went to the headmaster and demanded his suspension.

"What's Walker going to do?"

"His parents talked about hiring a lawyer, but I checked the rules. Since this is Walker's first offense he's entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. I convinced him that's the way to go. I'll represent him."

* * * * *

Zach was sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair Jasmine had placed before her desk, waiting in uncomfortable silence as she finished working on her computer before turning to face him.

"You're here about Walker?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And this is a private meeting, off the record?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll need to see your cell phone to ensure you're not recording it."

Not responding to the insult, Zach said, "Of course ma'am," placed his phone on her desk, and said, "Ms. Stokes, most of the kids in this school, including myself, have done what Walker's accused of. Iit doesn't warrant suspension."

Jasmine knew Zach was right, she'd smoked a few joints in high school, but that wasn't important. What was important was that Walker had refused to admit his crime, that he'd stood up to her. She'd invested a lot of energy building a reputation as a fire-eating bitch. Regardless of Zach's logic or Walker's future, she couldn't be seen as giving in to a student.

"Zach, the school has a zero tolerance policy. I've no discretion in this matter, but even if I did, I'd do the same."

"Ms. Stokes, there is no way to know whether that was Walker's marijuana. We don't know how long the bag was there or who had access to it. I think that should be made clear to the administration."

Thinking how dare this kid tell her what to do, Jasmine said, "Walker will be suspended, I see no point in continuing this conversation."

Calmly Zach said. "Ma'am, this is Walker's first offense, under paragraph 3.1 of the Honor Code he's entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. I will act on his behalf."

In a voice vaguely threatening Jasmine said, "Zach, that would be a mistake."

Non-plussed, Zach stood, said, "Thank you for your time," and extended his hand When Jasmine did not take it, he picked his phone from off her desk, where it had downloaded the information necessary to access her lap top, personal computer, and cell phone.

* * * * *

Jasmine Stokes got off the phone with her husband -- he was on one of his ubiquitous business trips -- and refreshed her computer. She'd been reviewing the school's disciplinary code. Zach was right; as a first time offender Walker was entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. She might be called as a witness. Would Zach have the gall to question her? No fucking way. Frustrated, she stared at her computer as its subliminal message seeped into her mind: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU."

* * * * *

Zach, having planted the message, turned off his computer just as Ivanka slinked in, hugged him from behind, kissed him, and said, "Hello my darling, how was your day? Mine was very stressful, why don't you come and work it out of me?"

* * * * *

Jasmine, heading for her meeting with the assistant-headmaster, checked her watch. She was early, which was good, it gave her time to compose herself. During class she'd given Zach her, "I am a bitch you do not want to fuck with look," the one she'd used to rattle fellow models who might upstage her at a show, the look that always worked. Zach just looked back. Neither impolite nor rude, there'd been nothing she could complain about, but it was a look of someone who could not be intimidated, like it was she, not he, that had bitten off more than she could chew.

But that wasn't the worst part, the worst part was the stab of arousal she felt at his understated defiance.

* * * * *

The assistant-headmaster said, "I'm sorry Jasmine, but Zach's correct, this is a matter for the Honor Board," then added, "Have you considered dropping this? Do you really want to be cross-examined by a student?"

Jasmine's temper flared, how dare the school not give her its full support, but she knew how to make men do what she wanted. She crossed her formidable legs, moved a few spare hairs behind her ear, touched her finger to her lips, and, eyes focused on the man across the desk, purred, "I think I can handle an eighteen year old boy, don't you?"

The assistant-headmaster, hard-on straining in his pants, said, "Of course Ms. Stokes."

* * * * *

That night, as Jasmine reviewed the Honor Board's rules, looking for a way to trip up Zach, her subconscious mind absorbed the subliminal message pulsating on the screen: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU, YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE." Hopelessly distracted by the steady burn between her legs, she turned off her computer, found her husband, and tried pushing thoughts of Zach out of her mind as they made love.

* * * * *

The next day Jasmine checked out Zach's rump as the class filed out for lunch, thinking he was a good looking young man, mature and composed. She could see why his classmates turned to him after she busted Walker.

* * * * *

Zach was arguing before the Honor Board, seeking disclosure of school's week-end activities and a copy of Friday evening's surveillance tapes. Suzie Bell, who was prosecuting the matter for the Board, took her turn, urging the Board to deny the request. Jasmine admired Suzie's effort, but realized she'd put her in an impossible position by insisting she resist the request. Zach was cleary entitled to the information. She flashed back to the meeting in which Zach had asked for the information and Jasmine had impulsively decided to take a hard line. There was something about the way Zach stood up to her, his gaze steady, his voice measured, his arguments devoid of bombast or hysterics, that infuriated her; it was like he thought he was her equal. But the decision had back-fired for now she was watching Zach show he wasn't her equal, he was her superior. There was something else bothering her. When Zach had stood up to her she'd become aroused. Now, as he demonstrated his mastery over her in public, the feeling returned, even stronger this time.

* * * * *

Jasmine was in her classroom, grading tests, as her unconscious mind drank in the computer's subliminal message: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU. YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS STRONGER THAN YOU, SUBMIT TO HIM." She turned off her computer, called her husband, suggested he hurry home, where he found his beautiful young wife ready to do. By 8:00 P.M. he was asleep and Jasmine lay next to him, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Zach.

She went to her office, masturbated, turned on her computer to prepare tomorrow's lesson plan. The subliminal message on the screen had changed: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU. YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS STRONGER THAN YOU, HE'LL BEAT YOU, ESTABLISH HIS DOMINANCE; SUBMIT TO HIM."

* * * * *

With the hearing approaching the administration suggested Jasmine drop the matter, but she refused. Her years walking runways had taught her how to project any appearance she chose, and she calmly explained this was about Walker and the principle of the thing, but she knew it wasn't; she needed to beat Zach, to prove to him, and herself, that she was stronger.

During the day Jasmine psyched herself up. She knew that while her looks were important, she'd never made it as a model without stepping on more than a few equally beautiful but weaker girls. She'd show Zach, show the entire school, show herself, who was tougher. But at night, as she thought about the way Zach looked at her, completely confident, her resolve would fray. She'd imagine the hearing, see Zach humiliate her, bend her over her desk, take her before the entire school. Then she'd hurry to bed, her fingers would find her clit, a thundering orgasm would follow.

* * * * *

Two days before the hearing Zach's computer pinged. Jasmine was accessing his school records. He watched her rummage around, down-load a few things, then sign off.

Satisfied that Jasmine's entire focus was on him, Zach changed the subliminal message: "THIS IS A BATTLE FOR YOUR SOUL. ZACH IS STRONGER, HE WILL WIN, YOU WILL LOSE. HIS DOMINANCE TURNS YOU ON, AROUSES YOU. SUBMIT TO HIM."

* * * * *

Jasmine, always professional in public, started nterrupting and snapping at her students. When she tried to meet Zach's gaze in class her sex would burn and her eyes would drop. She imagined the students were gossiping about her, talking about her upcoming clash with Zach, savoring her inevitable humiliation. She thought about going to the administration, seeing if she could extricate herself from the mess she'd created, but no, that would be an admission of r weakness. She'd see this thing through and if she lost, well that was the way it was, the weak deserved to be dominated by the strong.

* * * * *

At the hearing Zach's presentation was simple, and effective. When Jasmine went through Walker's bag it hadn't been in his possession for days. No one could say who stashed the marijuana in it.

Zach laid out the events held at he school the weekend before the drug was discovered: a Beethoven concert by the school's chamber music ensemble, a public lecture on the Tammany Hall organization, a debate by the candidates for borough president. More than a thousand visitors had wandered the school's halls. Any of them could have ducked into an empty classroom, smoked a joint, and hearing foot steps in the hallway, afraid he or she might be caught, stuff a couple of joints in an available bag and disappear.

Jasmine, sitting with Suzie, looked at the Board, their eyes were riveted on Zach. She was being taken down in front of the entire school. She tried to fire up her anger, but all she could think about was the burning need in her sex.

Zach said, "Our next witness will be Jasmine Stokes."

Jasmine approached the witness chair, tried to recall the hours she and Suzie had spent preparing, but the fire between her legs had incinerated those memories. She glanced at Zach's crotch.

"No," she had no idea how long the bag had been there.

"No," she didn't know who put the joints in the bag.

"No," she had no reason to believe drugs were in the bag.

"No," she had no reason to believe anything improper was inside the bag.

"Yes," the bag had Walker's initials on it, there'd been no need to open it to identify its owner.

Zach had her recite the number of students in each of her classes. "Yes, they all had access to the bag."

Did she lock the classroom door when she went to the bathroom: "No." So anyone in the school had access to the bag: "Yes."

And then Zach asked whether she recalled locking her classroom door Friday night.

The school's surveillance tape showed Jasmine lingering at the door, but it was unclear whether she was locking it. Susie had prepared Jasmine to say she locked the door, that she always double-checked the lock, but now, Zach's eyes boring into her, his gaze confident and steady, Jasmine, in a voice weak and submissive, said, "I don't remember."

Zach returned to his table, looked at his tablet, looked at her. "No more questions Ms. Stokes. Thank you for your time."

While imagining taking Zach's cock in her mouth, Jasmine stumbled through Suzie's questions.

The Board adjourned, returned, dismissed the charges. Jasmine hugged Suzie, praised her hard work, thanked each Board member, shook Walker's hand, then approached Zach, who was standing with his mother.