When mom and dad were first married he was assigned to our embassy in Argentina as a military aid. They both could read and write and speak Spanish fluently. So I grew up speaking English and Spanish fluently; reading and writing both just as fluently. Dad was assigned there for three years, but was only there two, because he volunteered to go to Afghanistan, he felt that was the quickest way to get promoted. He was killed during the last days of his second tour.
When I was seven I knew that I could hear other people's thoughts. I really didn't know what to do with this information; but it was neat being able to know what people were thinking about. By the time I was twelve I knew that I could influence the way people felt or thought about things. I was entering the eighth grade in a new school in a new city.
Mom had been transferred to a new city because she had received a promotion and a raise. She had been working since she was 15. She told everyone she was 25, and looked it, she was an absolute stunner. She was also a pretty smart cookie. She taught herself short hand and typing, she was going to become a secretary. Her boss saw her as very smart and when he found out that dad was his son's commanding officer and that he had saved his son's life, he helped her move quickly up the corporate ladder.
Dad was killed saving most of his company from annihilation by the enemy or so it said on the paper that came with the posthumous MoH (Medal of Honor). Mom always put that on her applications. Widow, husband died a Medal of Honor recipient. Anyway, when I entered my eighth grade classroom, the teacher stopped me and told me to report to the school office.
When I got there the secretary told me Mrs. Lopez wanted to see me. It seems there is some kind of mix up in your class assignment. A few moments later Mrs. Lopez spoke to the secretary and asked for me to be sent in. When I entered her office Mrs. Lopez looked at me strangely and asked if I was Tom Peterson? When I told her yes, she asked my age. I said I was twelve. She excused herself and said she would be right back. When she returned she had Mrs. Abbott (the principal) with her. It seems, said Mrs. Abbott that Mrs. Lopez feels your test scores is incorrect and we need to test you again.
I, of course, knew what they were thinking. They were sure that I had in some way cheated or whoever graded the test made a silly error. Mrs. Lopez told me to follow her down the hall to an empty classroom. She handed me a new test and said you have one hour and a half to finish the test. About twenty minutes later I was at her desk. She was asking if there was anything I didn't understand. I said no, I'm finished. I knew she thought that I had only answered part of the test.
She asked for my blue book and the answer page. She was stunned to see that I had marked all one hundred and seventy five answers off on the test. She placed my test answer page on her desk and covered it with the Key. Every one of my answers was correct. She really couldn't believe what was happening. I don't suppose you can type too, or can you? She asked. Yes, I answered, I taught myself to type some years ago. I didn't feel my handwriting was very legible so I learned to type.
I knew she thought that I was just bragging. She was going to try to show me up as a braggart. She told me to follow her to the computer room so that I could finish the second half of my test. I knew that she was lying; there was no second part to my test. She just wanted to see what I would do when I was faced with trying to answer a question in a teacher's evaluation test.
As we walked into the computer room I saw that the school was using Apple Computers. I had never used an Apple before. Pick any one you want, they are all the same. There was a smirk on Mrs. Lopez's face; she had guessed correctly that I had never used an Apple before. I looked at the keyboard turned on the power and hit F1. The help menu popped up, I turn the scroll wheel and the help menu quickly scrolled down across the screen.
Five seconds later, I asked, when should I start the test? With a shaking hand she gave me the question booklet. The first question asked for a typed answer in five hundred words or less. My fingers started to fly across the keyboard at 128 words per minute. Mrs. Lopez sat there with her mouth open.
She didn't know that I had an eidetic memory. Everything I saw, read, or heard, I remembered forever and could recall at my leisure. I had read and understood all twenty five thousand seven hundred and eighty six books in the local library. Of course that also included the twelve thousand six hundred books in the reference section.
In less than four minutes I had completed the first question, and I was several sentences into the second question. Suddenly Mrs. Lopez called time. I stopped the test so that you could print out your answer to the first question. She asked me to do that now please. Printer number one suddenly came to life and in less than a minute my answer was typed out.
Mrs. Lopez told me to continue with my test while she and Mrs. Abbot discussed my answer. Twenty minutes later she returned and asked what question I was up to? Anyway, that's how it was decided I was way beyond High School. I was accepted into Harvard University at twelve years old. Two years later I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BA degree in Economics. I was fourteen. I wanted to be sure that I could earn enough to support my mother and myself without her working if she wished.
Two years later I had earned a Masters and a Doctorate in Economics. The Wharton school of business (in Philadelphia) offered me full scholarship. I zipped through their school in nine months. I had already published two books on economics both of which had sold two million copies so far.
Girls and women were throwing themselves at me. I hired a team of body guards to keep them away. I had written several articles for magazines such as Smart Money, Economics Today, Kiplinger's and one or two more. I was hired by Citi Bank as a consultant at a salary of $325,000.00. Warren Buffet hired me to consult with his company for $500.000.00 a year.
My articles and books had already earned me several million dollars. I formed an investment company. The Wall Street Journal ran a two page story about the new genius investor, who was earning millions of dollars for his clients. Inside of a year I was investing almost one billion dollars. I was seventeen years old. I bought a Penthouse condo overlooking Central park.
I asked mom to quit her job to stay home and run my house. Now I was eighteen years old. I don't think I mentioned it but mom was drop dead gorgeous. She had dark red wavy hair and emerald green eyes. I had once asked her how she and dad met. I got the whole story of how they met and everything that transpired until I was born.
She was twelve when dad married her but looked about twenty five. Hugh Hefner would have paid any amount if he could have gotten her to pose for a centerfold. When she and dad arrived in Argentina to take his post at the embassy they were assigned a two bedroom house very near the embassy.
The American Embassy had a pool on its grounds; dad got her a pass so that she could use it. Now at this time mom was 12 years old (but looked and acted older) she thought nothing of showing up in a tiny yellow bikini.
When dad had first seen her he was so smitten he couldn't get her out of his mind. When he found out her age he tried to stay away. It almost drove him crazy. He went to her parents and begged them to let him marry her. In West Virginia (that's where dad was stationed at the time) the law said a girl could marry at twelve years of age but only with her parent's written consent. Dad begged and was so persistent that they finally gave in.
Argentina has nude beaches and is the plastic surgery capital of the world. Most of the women there are beautiful and had "D" cup boobs. Mom's beauty was all God given. Almost every military man at the embassy masturbated over her as their fantasy fuck. Dad's boss (the officer above him in rank) called him into his office to tell him that the wives put up such a stink about her appearance she was not allowed to wear bikinis at the embassy pool.
So on the way home Dan (my dad) stopped at a department store and bought her a one piece black bathing suit. He checked that the size was correct and bought it. "Sorry honey, but you can't wear bikinis at the embassy pool." So the next day she put on the one piece.
The only parts that were not see thru were the cups covering her boobs and a tiny triangle covering her pussy. Because it was French cut it fit high on her hips leaving both buttocks completely bare. "When she saw how it fit she thought I can't believe Dan wants me to wear this. She called the embassy and spoke to her husband.
"Dan I can't wear this suit, it's......."
"What do you mean you can't wear this suit? It's a one piece. I picked it out especially for you. Wear it. Gotta go." When she got to the embassy she went into the ladies dressing room and put on the suit. She heard someone say, oh my God, she turned around and saw two women walking towards her.
