I know it is a bit long, but I didn't feel right leaving out any detail of Trixie's experience.
Over the next fifty minutes, Dr. Reedy dragged Trixie through the mud with a most detailed and humiliating recital of her dysfunctional childhood and teen years. Several times she broke down sobbing. Simon showed no sympathy but forced her to continue. After compelling her to recount, in clinical detail, her sexual activities on her post-high school dates, along with the total lack of affection on the part of the boys (clearly implying that she did it for the booze offered) he asked again about her father.
Trixie said she didn’t remember him, but she admitted that she knew he was in prison for a long time.
“His crime?”
“Dealing drugs.”
“And what is your mother’s occupation? What does she do for money? No hiding now!”
“She...she sleeps with men.”
"In your home?"
"Yes."
"When you were there?"
"Not when I was little. She would send me outside to play or have a widow-woman neighbor watch me."
"When you were older?"
"I left on my own when I saw the men come."
“She slept with these men for money?”
"Yes,” a whisper. "Except the park super. He gave her free rent."
“So she slept with any man she could for money. What do you call that? A prostitute? A whore?”
“Yes," almost inaudible.
“You must answer out loud," Simon said, suddenly raising his voice. Trixie bolted up in surprise.
"Say it! Say what your mother is!"
“She's a prostitute," Trixie spat out, sobbing.
"And what else?"
"A whore." Again the girl broke down in racking sobs.
“OK. That's better. I expect you to call a spade a spade, girl. Or I'll terminate the interview now and report you. Understand?" Dr. Reedy raised his voice again, threatening.
“Yes, Sir," Trixie managed to reply between gasps.
"So your father was a drug dealer and your mother a cheap whore. Now let's talk about your time at…" he paused to look at his papers, "The Southern Alabama Technical Institute," the name dripping from his mouth with disdain and sarcasm.
Wiping away her tears, Trixie explained that she didn't date there or at home but concentrated on her work. She had a very demanding schedule.
Simon thought there was a hint of evasion in her voice and decided to try a bluff. "I warned you, Trixie. You are withholding something again. Tell me about your sexual adventures at this Institute where you were supposed to be studying but instead were whoring around again!”
Trixie's eyes went wide with fear. "No, please. It...I... yes, I had one brief affair there, but it wasn't 'whoring around.' Not like those boys before. It was a loving relationship with just one special person!"
"Really? Just one loving relationship?" said Simon, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "And who was this one special person who monopolized your favors? What was their name?"
“I'd rather not name them," said Trixie, hoping to avoid exposing her friend.
“Would you rather be dismissed this moment and be put on a plane to go back to Alabama this afternoon?"
Trixie shook her head violently, a look of horror on her face.
“The name. Who was this special lover? Another good ol’ boy with a Lifted Truck*, sleeveless t-shirt, and cheap booze to buy the body of the even cheaper redhead on campus?"
“No! God. Nothing like that!"
Simon just stared with a self-satisfied grin. He would break this girl. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her freckled face was bright red and sweat glistened on her skin. Her frantic breathing made her breasts bounce enticingly on her chest. Her squirming on the hard, wood seat had worked her mini-skirt up her thighs so her panties were only just out of sight.
Trixie took a deep breath and prayed for a way out. None came.
"Trixie!" Simon said firmly, his cock now rock hard at the sexy girl's distress.
"Dr. Sullivan," Trixie almost whispered the words. She knew that if the story got out, it could mean her mentor would lose her job!
Dr. Reedy couldn't believe his ears. What a perfect piece of dirt to hold over this dumb slut!
"Dr. Sullivan? Your Counselor? Your Mentor? So that's how you got through there. Instead of working, you seduced your Counselor into a lesbian affair!"
"Oh, God, No! It wasn't like that. We just kinda...we were together...drinking...after dinner. If anything, she seduced me!" The instant the words were out of her mouth, Trixie regretted them.
"Trixie," said Simon in a severe and slow voice. "Are you telling me that Dr. Sullivan, an educated woman, a professional counselor, almost twice your age, is a lesbian dyke who seduces her students, breaking every rule and ethic of her profession and her employment to enjoy their nubile bodies?"
“No...I...I didn't mean that. I'm sure I was the only one. She wouldn't ever! It was natural. Neither of us planned it. Dr. Sullivan is the most wonderful woman...I mean, Counselor!"
"Trixie, think very carefully about your answer. You cannot have it both ways. Either you seduced your teacher to get ahead – an infraction that would surely disqualify you from the State Department." Trixie's hand flew to her mouth in fear.
“OR this woman took advantage of you. Took advantage of her much younger - I won't use the word innocent, it would be a travesty, after all that you've told me - student, to seduce you into a sexual relationship. Which is it?"
Tears streamed down Trixie's cheeks as she stared at Dr. Reedy like a deer caught in the headlights. She was so terrified and confused. She just couldn't accuse Dr. Sullivan. But she hadn't seduced her Counselor. And if she said that, it would destroy all her hopes. Beatrice had made the first moves? Oh, God! Get me out of this! Please! What do I say?
Dr. Reedy kept staring at her, and she felt sweat pouring down her body. Trixie took two deep breaths to try to regain some control over her breathing. At last, she replied in a whisper, "She seduced me."
"Thank you, Trixie," said Simon, as he jotted more notes on his paper. "I'm glad you finally decided to be honest and forthright. You shouldn't suffer because of the predatory actions of that immoral lesbian slut." Trixie was torn between relief and guilt.
“I think that is all I need. If there is anything else, I shall send to you.
Trixie sat sobbing, her head down, tormented by guilt and shame.
"I don’t have anything here that needs to be reported directly to the administration. I shall prepare a report to give to your supervisor.”
Trixie's head snapped back up. “You don’t need to tell him..all the…any of the...details, do you?” Trixie asked, almost begging in dread of her story being given to Mr. Watson.
“I shall report what he needs to know. If anything more is needed to be said, he will do so. You may go back to your classes. Remember that this session is strictly confidential. If you mention anything said here with any others, even the general topic discussed, it would be grounds for instant dismissal!"
"Yes Sir...er, Dr.," Trixie said, getting unsteadily to her feet.
Dr. Reedy's eyes greedily followed her ass in the still bunched-up skirt as she went to the door and left.
*Lifted Truck - per the Urban Dictionary:
A truck that has had its suspension modified so that it rides way too far off the ground, usually to the point where the high center of gravity could actually be dangerous. Normally driven by someone who chews dip, starts fights, and has an extremely tiny penis.
"My lifted truck has straight pipes and rolls coal, but my dick is still two inches hard. What in tarnation?"
...
