A couple of lockers remained open as if their tenants had hurriedly removed their contents and headed home. The only lights on in the room were the al...ways-on emergency ones, recessed behind fogged-plastic panels to take the edge off the harsh, white light of the incandescent tubes. Wall-to-wall-to-floor tile lined every square foot of the place, which made every noise Eloise made in the confines of the room echo and rebound off of each surface. After shutting the stall door behind her, Eloise. “Why the fuck do you want to do that to me?” he whispered loudly. “Because I want to pay you back for not only hiring me but for giving me head under the table last time, I was really horny, probably more than you are now,” she said. “Nobody could be hornier than I am right now, and what do you mean by “pay me back”?” “We don’t have much time, Will, reach under the table and take your cock out of your pants.” Will suddenly realized her intentions and he was not about to argue to try to talk. It had a pretty sweet CS department, and it was on the West Coast. The fact that Stanford threw at me a scholarship with so much money that it's probably illegal in a dozen states didn't hurt either. So I went to Stanford, class of 1994. Yes, THE class of 1994. Yahoo, Excite, LinkExchange, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah. Oh and the Stanford name? Who knows? Maybe the founder owned my ancestors in the Caribbean. Whatever.''So I settled down out there, came back east for the major breaks and. (‘Ooh look at her, flashin’ her ankles! She’s no better than she ought to be! Do you know, she once said ‘hello’ to my seventh cousin, Mohammed? Oh yes! With a lock of hair peepin’ out of her hijab ‘an all! Poor boy nearly came in his pants. She’s a dirty slapper and no mistake!’)Still, those trips were mostly rather nice. We’d drive for hours and negotiate about the music. I couldn’t stand the Arabic hits everyone here played incessantly. Not in public, obviously, but certainly at home and in.