Getting out of the tub sooner than she’d have liked, Ramona wrapped a towel around her head, turban style and donned her thick terrycloth robe, belting it tightly around her body. She put on her fluffy blue slippers and padded down to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway. Debbie was stirring the mashed potatoes industriously while Robby stood behind her, his arms around her. It was obvious his hand were on Debbie’s breasts and she was wiggling her hips, pushing them into Robby’s groin.
“Robby!” scolded the girl. “Behave yourself. Mom could be down any minute.”
“I can’t resist you,” said her brother into the back of her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
“You’re sweet,” said Debbie, and Ramona could tell she meant it. “But knock it off. You’re making me horny and dinner’s almost ready.”
“Put it on warm,” suggested her brother. “Mom’s probably still soaking. We could have a little fun before she gets done.”
“Mom’s already done soaking,” said Ramona, stepping into the kitchen. She almost laughed as Robby jerked his hands away from his sister’s breasts and stepped back, looking embarrassed.
“Told you,” said Debbie, looking over her shoulder at her brother. Her cheeks were a little pink.
“The bathroom is free,” said Ramona, sitting down at the table. “In case you want to take a cold shower or something.” She wanted to smile at Robby, but didn’t. She didn’t want to get into it with her children. Not only was she feeling better, she wasn’t at all sure how much energy she could put into trying to warn them about the dangers of the path they were pursuing.
She changed the subject. “If not, I’m starved and it smells wonderful in here.”
They sat down to eat and the tension drained away as they talked about inconsequential things. The food tasted good and, if there was a little burn on the chicken and the bread was heavy and dense, Ramona didn’t care. It was the thought that counted, and she appreciated that.
That night they watched a movie together, all three sitting the couch, with Robby in the middle, sandwiched between the women. Both leaned their heads on his shoulder. It was such a satisfying evening that neither Ramona nor her children felt compelled to seek sex for the rest of the night.
The next day Ramona was at her desk, head down, going through the ever-increasing stack of bills and invoices associated with the renovation of the mansion when a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see her friend, Renee standing there.
“You have a visitor,” she said, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “I see now why you never answered my question about whether he was cute or not. I wouldn’t want anybody to know what a hunk he is either if he were mine.”
Ramona’s gut clenched. Robert? Here? In daylight?
Renee misinterpreted her look of consternation. “You want me to stall him while you go freshen up?” She looked absolutely delighted to be part of a conspiracy to bag a rich bachelor.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Robert’s deep voice from behind Renee, who jumped visibly and blushed, having been caught in her self-started conspiracy. “Ms Franklin is quite lovely enough as she is, do you not think so?” he asked in his odd speech pattern.
Renee was quick on her feet, Ramona had to admit that. “Alas, for the rest of us, she is, indeed, quite beautiful as she is.” She turned to Ramona and winked broadly. “Mister Nettleton is here to see you Ramona. Shall I get you both something to drink? We have … ah … water, I believe.”
“If I were to drink anything, I should be forced to drink in the beauty of two such lovely women,” said Robert, bowing.
Renee flushed bright red at the compliment and gasped as Robert reached for her hand to kiss it.
“Ah …” he sighed. “I see that you have foolishly wed another man. Oh well, such is life. It shall be difficult, but I shall go on.”
He said it in a way that made it obvious he was poking a little fun at Renee. But the feel of his fingers on hers, and the thought of all that money made her loins tighten. She removed her hand from his and, with a sigh, left for her own desk.
“What are you doing here?” whispered Ramona, staring up at her brother.
“Why, I’m visiting my account representative at this wonderful bank,” he said. “Is this something I should not do?”
“But you’re … you,” she said.
He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down, just as the president of the bank hurried up to her desk.
“Ah, Ramona … Mister Nettleton … we’re honored that you visit with us today. I’m Frank Peterson, president of the bank. Would you like to move to the conference room? We can call out for some refreshments.”
Robert stood. He assumed a somewhat stiff physical demeanor that was utterly alien to Ramona, and his head came up a trifle. There was a smile on his face, though, that softened the look of superiority.
“Thank you so much, kind sir,” he said graciously. “I only wanted to come in and convey my thanks to this fine woman who has done such a wonderful job thus far in managing my accounts. I understand that she caught someone trying to take advantage of me and has resolved the matter. I appreciate it when someone cares for my welfare.”
Frank fairly wiggled with excitement at Robert’s words of praise for Ramona. “Well, we try to serve,” he said happily. “And Ramona is one of our best.”
Ramona shot him an incredulous look at the blatant lie and then listened in disbelief as the man went on.
“As soon as your … ah … man … suggested her I knew you had instructed him to find only the cream of the crop. We treasure our Ramona here at the bank,” he said importantly.
“Yes …” said Robert. “I’m sure you do. And now I treasure her too. Isn’t that nice?” He reached over and patted Ramona’s hand. “Thank you my dear. I have a lot of money, but I appreciate you saving some of it from that unscrupulous contractor. Perhaps you could let me express my thanks more effusively over dinner?”
Ramona couldn’t believe what was going on around her. She was so unsettled that she parroted the company line. “Thanks so much, but employees aren’t allowed to date customers.”
“Nonsense!” barked the president, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. “Mister Nettleton isn’t just a customer. He’s almost family.”
It sounded ridiculous to everyone within earshot … and there were suddenly a lot of employees within earshot. His comment about family, even though it was obviously ignorant of the true situation, struck Ramona like a blow.
Almost as an afterthought Peterson went on. “And you two can discuss a little business at dinner. That will make it all perfectly on the up and up.”
It was an almost blatant pimping of the resources of the bank, and everyone in the room knew it. Frank Peterson was all smiles though, as Robert nodded.
“Yes, that would be fine. Alas, I have no automobile yet. Nor have I hired a chef. Would it be too base of me to call for you in a taxi this evening? Where would you like to go? I’m so new in town that I fear I have no idea of good places to eat.”
Ramona saw Frank taking a breath that she feared would lead to all kinds of problems as he made what would likely be insane suggestions. Without thinking it through she spoke.
“Mr. Nettleton, as it happens I live right next door to your house. Perhaps you’d like to just have dinner at my house. I have two children, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having a guest for dinner.”
Robert lit up, his smile wide. “What a stupendous idea,” he said. “I accept!” He reached for her hand and kissed it like he had Renee’s. “What time shall I be there?” he asked. “And which of my neighbors are you?”
His acting was impeccable to the point that Ramona even found herself believing he didn’t know anything about her. She described how he could get to her house and suggested that she could have dinner ready by seven. He grinned and, whirled to find twenty people standing around the desk, staring at him.
“You have a wonderful bank,” he pronounced, as if he had gathered them together intentionally and was now delivering a planned speech. “Thank you so much.”
Then he strode for the front door, the sea of people parting before him as if he were a huge ship on the ocean.
There was a general babble of excitement when the front door closed, and several customers looked around, wondering what was going on, and why no one paid any attention to them at all. Frank Peterson shooed everyone back to their work stations and then turned to Ramona.
“I’ll arrange for a catered meal immediately,” he said brusquely.
“Sir,” she objected. “He’s only coming for dinner. He’s just a man.”
“No, Ramona” said Frank, that small frown back between his eyebrows again. “He is not just a man. He’s a very rich man. We only have one depositor who has more money in our bank than he does. That depositor is this man’s sister, and we haven’t heard from her in so long that I’m not sure she’s even still alive.” If this man withdraws his money from this bank, almost a third of our assets will disappear in a puff of smoke and I don’t want to even think of that happening. Now, you go home and get ready. I really wish you hadn’t offered to meet him at your house. Do I need to hire a cleaning team?"
Ramona’s face had gone from pale, at his mention of Robert Nettleton’s sister, to pink and then a mottled reddish purple as this thoughtless man suggested her house wasn’t a fit place to entertain one of the bank’s customers.
“I do not need the services of a cleaning team, Mister Peterson. And I do not need anyone to cook a decent meal for my family and a guest! If you don’t think I can adequately entertain Mister Nettleton I will most happily contact him and tell him that he’s just going to have to have dinner with someone more acceptable than I am!”
When she was finished shouting she was breathing deeply, her shoulders rising and falling, her fists clenched. Frank Peterson recognized something that every man must learn to recognize, if he hopes to survive in this world … the sound of a woman who is pissed off… and who is pissed off at him.
Everyone was staring at them again and Frank raised his hands. “Okay, okay, Ramona. I meant no offense. I was just suggesting it so that you wouldn’t have to take so much of your time to prepare. No harm done. In fact, take the rest of the day off. That way you won’t have to hurry.”
He abruptly turned and went back to his office. Ramona saw a few grins on the faces of her co-workers. She sat back down angrily, and began to sort her papers, getting ready to do just what Peterson had suggested - take the rest of the day off.
TBC
Renee appeared at her desk. That she was excited was evident in several ways. She was almost panting, her face was a wreath of smiles, and her nipples were poking firmly through her bra and blouse.
“He’s gorgeous!” she whispered excitedly. “And he’s coming to your house for dinner!” She took a moment to breathe. “You want to send Robby and Debbie over to my house? So you two can be alone?”
Ramona, still furious, glared at her friend.
Once again Renee misunderstood what was going on in Ramona’s mind. She held up one finger and pointed it at Ramona, like a knife that she meant to threaten her with.
“Now you listen to me Ramona Franklin. Don’t screw this up. I don’t care if he’s quirky or even a pain in the ass, which he does not appear to be to me. You be nice to him tonight. I swear I’ll tear your hair out if you mess this up. You deserve to have a decent man in your life and he looks plenty decent to me.”
Ramona’s eyes had gone round with surprise at the forcefulness of Renee’s admonitions.
Renee deflated, her anger melting away like a snowflake on a July day. She sat down at Ramona’s desk and leaned close, speaking more softly, pleadingly.
“Come on sweetie, give the guy a chance. He likes you. I could see it in his eyes. Get to know him a little. What could it hurt. If he’s really a jerk you can blow him off later. You’ll never get another chance like this and maybe he could even make you happy.”
Ramona sensed the honesty and care in Renee’s voice, and felt a little guilty that Renee was pleading for something that had already been done.
“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll be good.”
Renee grinned. “Excellent. But don’t be good. Be bad. Be very bad. What size are you? I have this perfectly delicious little number that would look really good on you and leave him drooling. We’re about the same size aren’t we?” She nattered on, full of ideas of ways Ramona could seduce Robert Nettleton, while Ramona tried not to giggle and loved her friend for what she was trying to do.
In the end Ramona waited to leave until lunchtime, when Renee could run home and show Ramona the dress she wanted to offer for the seduction of Robert Nettleton. When Ramona saw it she actually blushed. It would show off almost every inch of skin on her body, and would allow access to every part of her without any barriers at all. It was a scandalous dress.
“I can’t wear that in front of my children,” protested Ramona.
“I told you, send them to my house. I’ll order pizza. Teenagers love pizza. They’ll be fine. What do they care about some guy coming to dinner anyway?”
“More than you might think,” said Ramona without thinking.
“Well, take the dress anyway. Talk to the kids when you get home. If they want to come visit Aunty Renee then tell them they’re welcome. Okay?”
Ramona went one way while Renee went back to work. She parked the car and went into the house, carrying the scandalous strips of flimsy cloth that somebody had decided to call a dress. She was distracted enough that she didn’t call out to her children.
Once again she approached her daughter’s bedroom door, and once again it had been carelessly left open. Once again her children were in the bed together, and once again they were naked.
But they were most definitely not sleeping this time.
Debbie’s elbows were hooked under her knees, which she had pulled up, toward her head and spread widely. Robby was between his sister’s thighs, his hands on either side of her breasts. His lips were firmly suckling one of her nipples as he slid his long, hard teenage prick slowly in and out of his sister’s pussy.
To Ramona it looked almost like a slow motion film. Robby’s movements were measured and almost gentle, as if he were easing his penis into his sister’s sex while she was asleep and he was trying not to wake her. When he reached full penetration he stopped, grinding his pelvis against hers before slowly dragging his penis out of her again. Only Debbie’s soft repeated “Yes … yes … Oh, Robby”, said at normal speed, spoiled the illusion that time had slowed.
Ramona’s pussy squirted at the tenderness of the copulation going on before her eyes. She thought of her children’s statement that they had never done this and felt the hurt of a parent lied to. Just then Debbie sighed.
“Oh Robby, I’m so glad we decided to try this. This is so … I feel so … I can’t believe how much time we’ve wasted not doing this. I completely understand why Mommy wants to do this.” Then she began to pant too hard to talk, and she pulled her knees harder, her head lifting off the bed. “Oh Robby, it’s going to happen … Oh ROBBY! OHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmm”
Ramona’s pussy clenched as she realized her daughter was having an orgasm. Even the orgasm seemed to be in slow motion, almost quiet and serene. At that moment, Ramona gave in. She recognized in her children the same love and affection and satisfaction she felt with her own brother, and had felt for years without any feeling of shame or guilt. Her children’s lovemaking was so tender and sweet that she somehow knew it was as real as what she shared with Robert.
She stayed long enough to see Robby’s buttocks clench, his penis fully embedded in his sister, as he gave a low groan of satisfaction. Ramona knew what was happening inside her daughter. She could almost feel the wet heat of Robby’s sperm flowing in her own pussy. A dim part of her mind tried to bark about how dangerous all that sperm could be, but it was pushed into the dark by her own flooding emotions.
She turned silently and tiptoed back the way she’d come. Dinner could wait. She needed to go see Robert.
She took the dress with her.
TBC in the next Chapter…….
Chapter Thirteen
Ramona found her brother at the mansion. Again he was talking to a worker, this time about the choices for a heating system for both the house and the water system. The workman was suggesting that the house, even though renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and was recommending that a boiler be installed. It would handle all the heating needs and with a heat transfer unit, could be connected to the new duct work being installed. Ramona stood quietly, waiting for them to finish.
Robert turned his head and saw Ramona. He smiled and told the man to do whatever he thought would lead to the best result.
Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her hands.
“Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight,” she said, by way of explanation. “She wants me to seduce you.”
“Smart woman,” he commented. “Perhaps you’d show me what the dress looks like now? Upstairs?” He grinned.
She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself, but didn’t. There were too many people around. “Yes,” she said simply.
She followed him and, when they were locked in the master bedroom, he watched silently as she stripped in front of him. Naked, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up and onto her body. Her breasts were a little smaller than Renee’s, and her nipples showed in the gap of the bodice. It was as if she was wearing almost nothing.
“It doesn’t fit well,” she said.
“Perhaps she’ll tell you where she got it, so I can have one made to fit you better,” he said.
She dropped the dress in answer. She was panting.
Their lovemaking was not in any way, shape or form, slow motion in nature. Ramona was wild for him, her emotions having been at a peak ever since seeing her children on the bed. She told him what she’d seen, and then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm. He sensed her need and waited, controlling his own urge and pounding her through two more orgasms before he asked for, and received permission to jet her full of his seed.
As they lay spent in each other’s arms, she kissed the teeth marks she had left in his shoulder.
“I hurt you! I’m sorry,” she said.
“It was stupendous. You must spy on the children again sometime. It made you like a tigress.”
She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too astonished that some part of her reacted positively to his suggestion to say anything. Instead she got up and got dressed and then went back home, making as much noise as she could both in the garage, and in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors and talking to herself as she got some juice to drink. She unconsciously took inventory of what there was to prepare for her brother’s visit that night.
Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.
“Hi Mom,” she said brightly. “What are you doing home so early?”
There wasn’t anything in Debbie’s voice that suggested that Ramona shouldn’t come home early, or that maybe her mother was trying to spy on her children, but something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and the lies that had flowed around this household like smoke from a fire. It was an unconscious decision on her part to do what she did. One might say she was actually driven to do it in a sense. For whatever reason, she turned and spoke.
“I saw you this afternoon,” she said, looking at her daughter. Debbie had a healthy glow about her, almost a radiance. Ramona had heard the coarse term “well fucked” but now she was seeing it for the first time and it made all kinds of sense. Her heart fluttered as she realized she probably looked exactly the same way. She felt fabulously fucked and it had to show.
“What? When?” asked Debbie, confused. They hadn’t left the house all day. When their mother had left for work the teens had succumbed to a hormonal attack and had been trying to ease that itch all day long. Though Ramona didn’t know it, the time she’d seen them was actually the fourth time that day that Robby had emptied his balls into his sister’s well-fucked belly.
“About an hour ago,” said Ramona, taking a drink of her juice.
“Oh,” said Debbie, thinking furiously. There was only one place they had been an hour ago. They had spent the first half of the morning in Robby’s room, when she snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got pinned like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match. Then they had transferred to her room for the slower, more sensual lovemaking, where she called the shots.
“Oh!” said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.
“I thought you told me you two hadn’t gone that far,” said Ramona, her voice sounding unconcerned enough that it caught Debbie’s ear and made her tense up.
“We didn’t,” said Debbie hurriedly. “Not until yesterday. When you left for work I went to tickle him and he got excited and then I got excited and …” She looked at her mother. Debbie knew that this was a time when things could work out for the good, or things could go horribly wrong. “I thought about you,” Debbie said, stopping again. “I thought about how happy you were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were … watching.” Debbie took a step toward her mother. “And I knew that you wouldn’t do that unless it was something really special and important. And Robby’s important to me, so I made him do it to me.”
“You made him?” asked Ramona, impressed that her daughter had been not only willing to tell her what happened, but pretty capable to express her state of mind at the time too. Most kids just got carried away and did things without thinking at all.
“He didn’t want to at first,” said Debbie. “He was afraid it would hurt me.”
“And did it?” Ramona was shocked that she’d asked.
“It did at first. But Mommy, you know what it’s like. I could hear it in your voice. And now I understand, because I felt it too. I never felt anything like that before.”
“So you wanted to feel it again today,” prompted Ramona.
“Yes,” said her daughter, hanging her head. “Do you hate me now?”
Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms.
“No, baby, I don’t hate you. I’m afraid for you. I worry that this will hurt you later, but I don’t hate you. I love you. I told you that will never change.
The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on her mother’s shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and happiness, and grief for making her mother worry. “He loves me mother, and I love him so much I can’t tell you how much,” she cried into her mother’s hair.
Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter’s back. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I understand exactly how you feel.”
That was pretty much it. There were no protestations that they wouldn’t do it again, and no threats about what would happen if they did. The mother/daughter relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the dust as each accepted in the other some things they might have wished were different.
“Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight,” said Ramona.
Debbie pushed back. “Really? I don’t hate him any more Mom.”
Ramona laughed. “I can’t stay mad at him either. It’s terrible. He came into the bank today and asked me out on a date!”
Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know everything. Like two best friends they chattered together as Ramona started pulling things out of the fridge to make a salad and described everything that had happened, like one girl telling another how a date with an interesting boy had gone.
Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the kitchen, looking surprised.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Debbie held up a finger to her mother. “Don’t tell him. I want to tell him later, okay?”
Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant Robert was coming over that night. But, as Debbie then launched into a retelling of what had happened at the bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her lover about being discovered - while they were alone. That was okay with Ramona. She’d had enough drama for the day.
When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the kids over for pizza to let Ramona be alone with the rich man so she could seduce him, she giggled, enjoying the same irony that Ramona had.
Robby had been grinning for some time. “So, you want us to do that Mom?” he asked. “Go over to Renee’s I mean?”
Ramona felt a rush of tenderness. Her children were going to let her have her happiness. But she shook her head. “No, that would be too out of character for me. We’re going to have to make it look like I’m playing hard to get.” She realized, as soon as she said it, that it sounded like she was going to let people think there was something between her and Robert Nettleton. That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells went off. What she and Robert had must remain a secret. All would be lost if anyone besides her children found out.
TBC
The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning the already-clean house, like they had before the last disaster that had been a visit for dinner by Robert Nettleton. This time they would know who he was, and what that meant to their mother. This time it would go much better.
Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time, and he had both a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses in his hands. It was Debbie who answered the door, based on her mother’s frantic shout that she was at a critical point in the gravy making and couldn’t leave the stove.
While there is no scientific proof to back this up, it has been hypothesized there’s a gene in females of the species that is there just to make sure that, when a woman sees flowers in a man’s hand, her sex drive kicks in. Debbie had never received flowers from a man, but she had that gene, and it kicked in. It kicked in even though Debbie’s conscious mind knew quite clearly that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her. That gene just isn’t sophisticated enough to tell who flowers are for.
It’s true. If you don’t believe it, just deliver a vase of flowers to a woman in an office somewhere who works with other women around her. You don’t even have to know the woman. In fact, it’s better, for the sake of the experiment, if you don’t know the woman. Just deliver her flowers with a card that says, “From an anonymous admirer” and act like a normal delivery guy. Then watch the other women in the office. They’ll light up, and smile and make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and the smell of damp pussy might very well waft on the air.
If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched his niece, you’d see their pupils dilate as that gene tells the pleasure center of the brain to release a squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream.
And that’s for flowers they know aren’t even for them!
Of course, by the time they get home to their men … the ones who are not bringing flowers home to put on the table … that dopamine will have diluted to pretty near nothing as other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice hard cock in that damp pussy. The replacement emotions, unfortunately, generally result in statements like: “Janice got flowers at work today. Nobody ever sends me flowers at work! You haven’t slept on the couch for a while. Maybe it’s worn out. Maybe we need a new one. Why don’t you sleep on the couch for a few nights just so we know for sure.”
Of course it’s possible that that is another function of the ‘flower gene’ and that if the urge to mate is not satisfied within a reasonable time after the flowers are introduced into a woman’s life … whether they’re for her or not, the gene then brings about these other reactions.
At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by being a foreigner in hostile places for years, did notice Debbie’s pupils dilate. And he saw in those young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her.
His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.
“I have here wine for your beautiful mother,” he said. He winked and said “Perhaps she will lower her guard tonight if she drinks too much?”
Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.
“And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make up for ruining her playhouse and bringing so much turmoil to her life.”
Debbie’s ‘flower gene’ told her brain to go ahead and give another squirt of dopamine. She took the roses and smelled them.
“I don’t think you need the wine to get Mom’s guard down,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back. “Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to give you a little.”
His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was for created an instant flock of butterflies in Debbie’s stomach. Her recent arrival at full womanhood still had her hormones at high levels, and attention from a man, even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those hormones into little storms in her body. She felt her nipples crinkle and blushed.
TBC
Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house, and, because he was family, on into the kitchen, instead of the living room. It was a little thing in her mind, but it registered with him in a big way. He wanted his niece and nephew to like him. In one sense he needed his niece and nephew to like him if his plan was going to work out like he wanted it to.
“Look Mommy!” Debbie squealed as she went to her mother. “Uncle Bob …” she faltered and turned to Robert. “Is it okay if I call you Uncle Bob?”
He smiled again and nodded. “I prefer it.”
Debbie turned back to her mother. “Uncle Bob brought me flowers!”
Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and saw the roses in her hands. Ramona had the gene too, of course, and she knew immediately who had brought them. She too, would have liked them to be for her but her reaction to her daughter’s statement wasn’t one of disappointment. She was thrilled for Debbie, and was quite able to use her own shot of dopamine to channel her pleasure to happiness at her little girl’s pleasure.
“How sweet,” she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her daughter. “And roses too! You better watch out for him Deb.”
Her mother’s unknowing reference to her uncle’s teasing remark wasn’t lost on Debbie and she blushed again. She’d never really thought about what it might be like for a man other than her brother to pay attention to her. It was true that boys at school liked to look at her, but they were just a distraction to Debbie, and not material for serious consideration. They couldn’t stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn’t stack up to her uncle.
Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own. “He brought wine too. He says it’s to make you let your guard down.” She smiled sweetly at her uncle.
“Curses!” quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long moustaches. “My plan is foiled again!”
Debbie teased her mother next. “I told him he didn’t need the wine,” she said. “Then he said maybe you’d let me have some.”
Ramona laughed. “You really need to watch him then. I had hoped I’d be woman enough to satisfy him.” she wiped her hands on a towel and went to Robert, clasping him in her arms and kissing him soundly. “Perhaps I’ll have to try harder,” she said when the kiss was over.
Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into Ramona’s mound. “I could not help myself,” he said, as if it were nothing of consequence. “She looks very much like you did when you were her age.”
Ramona laughed again. “You’re a silver tongued liar. I was a skinny plain girl when I was Debbie’s age, and nothing any boy looked at.”
“You looked like she looks to me,” said Robert, kissing her gently. “And you were as desirable to me as she is to any man who sees her now.”
That flower gene I mentioned earlier? There’s another one too. It’s a gene that takes compliments and transforms them into more dopamine. Debbie was beginning to like her uncle very much.
Robby sauntered into the kitchen. “Smells good in here,” he said.
“Uncle Bob got me roses!” announced Debbie proudly, thrusting them out in front of her. Not having been thrown to the ground and ravished while her brain was still fogged with dopamine, the other response in Debbie poked up its head.
“Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before,” she said to her brother, her eyebrow raised slightly.
Robby, having neither the ‘flower gene’ nor Robert’s skill in observing other human reactions to various stimuli, made the same simple mistake that most men would make.
“That’s nice,” he said. “When do we eat? I’m starved.” Not knowing that his bed had just magically turned into a couch, he sat down at the table, his eyes going hungrily to the bowls of food already set out.
Debbie, thoroughly disgusted with her brother’s tepid response to her obvious suggestion that he should have given her flowers beginning long ago, and frequently since then, and not having received the apology that would have kept his bed a bed, decided to punctuate her displeasure with her brother. She went to her uncle, put her arms around his neck, said, “Thank you Uncle Bob,” and kissed him soundly on the lips.
Robert hadn’t been kidding when he told his sister that, in his mind, she had been just as beautiful as a teen as her daughter was. He did think Debbie was a delectable slice of womanhood. And, he had no real designs on his niece sexually, barring the occasional fleeting fantasy most men have when they see a good looking woman. But he also had no internal prohibition against incest, and he did, in fact, want his niece to like him so his plan could go forward.
So Robert kissed his niece like he meant it. Which, of course, he did. He returned her hug with strength, and Debbie felt, for the first time in her life, a hard penis other than her brother’s, pressing into her mons. He didn’t use his tongue - that would have been much too personal at this early stage of his relationship with his niece - but he didn’t need to. Debbie felt faint as she received a real kiss, from a real man, that made real things happen inside her body.
Debbie also had no designs sexually on her uncle. She had appreciated the flirting and innuendo on a basic female level. The kiss demanded more, also on a basic level - male - and it took her breath away.
Robert, being the more experienced of the two, released her, his hands on her waist, and said, “You are most welcome. It was my pleasure.”
Debbie stumbled backwards, reaching for a chair and sat down. She was already re-thinking her plan not to visit her brother’s bedroom that night.
Ramona had seen what happened and knew what Robert’s kisses were like. She felt no panic or jealousy, like she had at the thought of grasping hussies trying to steal Robert from her, for his money. Her daughter was no threat. Her daughter was part of her. Her daughter deserved to experience that kind of kiss. She stifled a giggle at her daughter’s reaction to the kiss.
“You shouldn’t do that to a poor innocent girl,” she chided Robert. She reached for the roses in Debbie’s suddenly limp grasp. “Here, let me put those in water before you drop them on the floor.”
Robby, who had watched his lover kiss another man, felt suddenly less hungry. He somehow knew he was involved in that kiss, but couldn’t quite put his finger on how, or why. He glared at his uncle.
Robert sat down, seeing the glare coming from his nephew. He used camaraderie to repair hurt feelings. “I see why you like to kiss her,” he said, winking. “Her lips are soft and sweet, yes?”
Robby, less comfortable with talking about what he and his sister had been doing, and completely unaware that his mother knew all of it, felt his face get hot. “Well … you shouldn’t … I mean we … Oh let’s eat!” he said, giving up on trying to deal with the subject.
Robert laughed. “I tell you what. From now on I will not kiss your sister unless you say it is okay to do so.” He looked at Robby for agreement, and when he saw Robby’s astonishment he twisted the verbal knife. “And you shall not kiss my sister like that unless I say it is okay to do so.” He folded his arms across his chest like he had made some royal decree, and leaned back in his chair.
Robby was aghast. “I’ve never kissed my mother like that!” he yelped.
Robert picked up his napkin and began to arrange it on his lap. “Well you should some time. Her lips are also tender and sweet.” He grinned.
“Bobby!” scolded Ramona, putting a platter of meat on the table. “You have no shame!”
“This is true,” said Robert, nodding his head. “When it comes to kissing beautiful women I have no shame. I have just joy that I get to do so.”
Robert relented and stopped teasing as they all sat down to share food. Instead, he listened with glee at Debbie’s retelling of the scene at the bank when he had come in and invited Ramona to dinner.
In a fateful way, the telling of that story, and the laughter it produced, set the stage for Robert much better than anything else he could have done. When it was clear the story was over, and the chuckles had died down, he put down his fork.
“I am thinking of something,” he said, as if he had just thought of it that very moment, when in fact he had thought of little else ever since he had heard that Ramona’s husband had died so tragically.
Three sets of eyes fastened on him.
TBC
“Here I am, having dinner with Ramona Franklin and her lovely children,” he said. “And people in town are assuming I find her desirable.” So far he hadn’t said anything that caused any stir.
“I do find her desirable,” he said. Ramona blushed, even though she knew her children were quite aware of just how desirable he found her.
“And on a first date, I should get to know some things about her, yes?” he asked.
Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion.
“Tell me, Mrs. Franklin, if you would,” he paused for effect. “What was your maiden name when you married Mr. Franklin?”
“Ramona Shanks,” replied Ramona automatically.
“How interesting,” mused Robert. “I had heard a vague rumor that you had a different name at one time.”
Ramona stared at him. “I changed my name, Robert. You know that! What are you getting at?”
“And how many people here in this delightful little town, would remember you as Elizabeth Nettleton?” asked Robert, his eyes boring into his sister’s.
Ramona blinked again. “I don’t think anybody would,” she said. “They’d all be so old now. Most of them have passed on already, I’m sure. What in the world are you talking about?” she asked, exasperated.
Robert waved a hand negligently. “I was just thinking that if Robert Nettleton found the widowed Ramona Franklin desireable, and wished to date her, no one would think that strange in the least.”
He waited until there were somewhat dazed nods of affirmation from the other three people at the table. Ramona’s looked a little doubting, but there was suddenly hope in her eyes.
Then he dropped the bombshell.
“And, if, as I recall, a wedding license requires only a maiden name and some form of identification. It seems to me that the names of Ramona Shanks, also known as Ramona Franklin, paired with that of Robert Nettleton on such a document, would not appear strange to anyone either.”
He gave another negligent wave of his hand. “That is all I was thinking.”
He picked up his fork and took a bite as if he had merely suggested that having a picnic in the park might be a wonderful idea.
There was a moment of hushed silence, so complete that Robert’s chewing could easily be heard by the other three. A clock ticked loudly on the wall over the sink. Robby’s chair creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. Then the fork Ramona had been holding over her plate fell from her fingers, to bounce off her plate and clatter against her glass.
“You can’t be serious!” she said, her voice hushed.
Robert looked at her calmly. “I have never been more serious in my life.”
Debbie’s lip quivered. “You’d be my Daddy?”
Robert shook his head. “People would call me your step-father, but I could never replace your real father. I am content that you think of me as uncle. In fact, even if you were to call me ‘Uncle Bob’, I don’t think people would find that too troubling, yes? You are almost adults yourselves, and to call a step-father ‘uncle’ instead of father would suggest your respect for the man who helped create you.”
“But you’d live with us?” asked Debbie.
“I had hoped you would give some thought to living with me … in our family home,” he said.
“In the Manor?!” Debbie said. She leaned forward. “We could live in the Manor?!”
“I would be most happy if the Nettleton mansion was again filled with happy … Nettletons,” said Robert. “But perhaps we move too quickly. Your mother has said nothing.”
Debbie’s face turned to that of her mother. “Mommy?” she asked, her voice high.
Ramona looked gray. She was looking fixedly at her brother. “You don’t fight fair,” she said, her voice low. “You would bribe my children to force me to live in that place.”
Robert held up his hands, palms outward. “No, dear one. This is only a dream I have had … that our home could be brought back, and the sadness chased out. That we could be together as we were, free to love each other. But I would never force you to do anything. If you choose to marry me I would be happy beyond my ability to proclaim. But if taking you home cost me your love, or cost you your happiness, I would not ask you to do that. I love you Elizabeth.” He used her real name intentionally, to remind her of what they had felt for each other when she still used that name. “And if I must love you from afar, in the dark of night, then so be it. I would never force you.”
Ramona looked torn and sad. “But we could never marry. That’s craziness.”
Robby ventured to say something. “Mom?”
She looked at him.
“What he said … about your maiden name. It makes sense to me. I don’t think anyone would think it was odd.”
“I suppose you want to go live there too,” said Ramona tightly.
“No! That’s not what I meant at all Mom. I don’t care where we live. But I’ve seen you … when you look at him. You don’t look at anybody else like that. I didn’t even like him at first, but he makes you happy, doesn’t he?”
Ramona’s weak spot had been probed. Robert did, indeed, make her the happiest she’d ever been, both in the past and now. “That’s not fair,” she said petulantly. “You know I love him.”
“Well gee, Mom,” said Robby with sarcasm in his voice. “What do people in love do? They get married Mom.”
Ramona still didn’t want to make a decision. Something deep inside her lit up at the thought of openly calling herself Robert’s wife. But she was still afraid. She veered off from making that decision.
“I suppose, since you love your sister, you want to marry her too?” she asked, throwing Robby’s sarcasm back at him.
“No,” he said immediately. “I would, if I could, but people know who we are. Mom, they don’t know who you really are. Nobody knows. Debbie and I didn’t even know. You could do this Mom. It would work.” He waited several heartbeats and then added, “If you wanted it to.”
Ramona had felt the pressure building ever since she heard Robert speak of marriage licenses. It had grown as Robert pulled at her heart strings. Debbie’s attitude, though mercenary to some degree in Ramona’s mind, suggested strongly that her hatred of Robert was a thing of the past. And now Robby approved of this mad scheme.
“Of course I would want it to work,” she groaned. “Nothing would make me happier than to be … really be Bobby’s wife.”
“Will you then at least think about it?” asked Robert.
“You know good and well I’ll think of nothing else you … you … you man!” she barked.
“That is all I could hope for,” smiled Robert. “And we,” his hand swung in a small circle that included Debbie, Robby and himself, “We will refrain from speaking of this again until you have had time to consider this.” He pushed his plate away. “In fact, I shall leave now, so that my presence does not sway you.”
Ramona stood too. “But Bobby …” she held out a hand. “What about tonight?” Ramona had planned on wearing the dress for him again that night, before he left."
As if he could read her mind he said, “My sweet, the dress will wait for another night. I am quite serious about this idea, and you need to be serious about your decision when you make it. I tell you now, I will abide by it, and my love will not lessen, whatever you decide. I care most for your happiness. If there are conditions under which you would accept, then think on those, so that I may abide by them too.”
He stepped away from the table. “If I were to stay, I would hold you and kiss you and make love to you, and that would not be fair. No, you must think on this.”
He stepped over to Ramona and took her hand. Very slowly and tenderly he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.
“Mrs. Franklin, I was honored to be invited to your home for dinner. I had a wonderful time, and would like to see you again. May I call on you at the bank?”
Ramona sat down hard and her shoulders shook with a mixture of laughter and tears as her emotions boiled over.
“Go on!” she barked, wiping her face with her hands. “I can’t think with you in the house!”
Robert bowed to his niece and nephew and wagged a finger at them. “Remember … not a word to your mother.”
He had made it to the front door on his own when he heard Ramona’s shriek.
“Yes! Yes you may call on me at the bank!”
He was smiling as he closed the front door behind him.
Inside it was not as happy a place, at least not for Ramona. She sobbed, mostly just to release her emotions, but because as much as she wanted her brother’s crazy idea to work, she just couldn’t believe it would. Somebody would remember, or find out, and then everything would be ruined. One moment she decided firmly it was too great a chance to take. Then she slid down the slippery slope of thinking how wonderful it would be if it did work. She felt arms around her - two sets of arms - and heads placed against each side of her own. They said nothing. They were just there.
She looked up with tearstained eyes at her children, first at Robby and then at her daughter.
“You have to tell me what to do,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do.”
Debbie had made tremendous strides toward becoming an adult in the past month or so, but she wasn’t quite there yet. She pantomimed turning a key to her lips and then threw it over her shoulder.
Ramona raged at them, then jumped up and stalked all around the kitchen, circling the table. She picked up one of her pieces of good china and drew her arm back to throw it, so great was her rage and frustration. A hand gripped her wrist, clamping it in a way that felt completely unbreakable, and the plate was pulled from her fingers. She turned to see Robby, his face grave, and she realized he was seeing her throwing a tantrum.
She wilted, and flowed against her son, who handed the plate to Debbie and hugged his mother tightly. He kissed her hair and said soft words that everything would be all right. Her rage abated as quickly as it had come and she looked over at Debbie, who had tears running down her cheeks too, though she cried silently. There was pain on her face and Ramona couldn’t take that. She reached out an arm and drew Debbie into the huddle.
They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each other.
TBC in the next Chapter……..
Chapter Fourteen
In the end, it was Debbie who spoke first. “We love you Mommy. We will always love you. It doesn’t matter what you decide to do … we’ll love you.”
“I know” Ramona sighed. “Will you two do the dishes?” she asked.
They both nodded and, after a warning to be careful with her good china, she went to soak in a hot bath. She always thought better in a hot bath.
Back in the kitchen Robby and Debbie worked on the dishes silently. Seeing their mother in such obvious distress had sobered them. They’d never seen her that distressed, and it impressed on them like nothing else could how serious this was to their mother.
When the last dish had been carefully dried and put away in the china cabinet, Debbie went to her brother for a hug. The hug turned into a kiss and Debbie felt his arousal pushing at her.
She touched his face, and then pushed him away. “If Mom can’t do that tonight, then we shouldn’t either,” she said, drawing on that special secret set of rules that only women have access to.
Robby groaned, but didn’t argue. He too had taken long strides toward manhood, and knew that sometimes you just did what the woman wanted, whether you understood it or not.
Instead of chasing their newfound joy, they sat together on the couch and watched TV for a while, just being together. Had you asked them what they were watching they wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Like their mother, they were thinking about what life might be like in the Nettleton mansion. Oddly they weren’t thinking about the glitter and expensive wood and trimmings. They were both thinking of being able to love each other in those rooms, where their love had initially taken root, and grown and blossomed.
When they heard the bathroom door open and saw their mother in her robe, heading toward her bedroom, they stood and went to their own rooms too, hoping to find sleep. Debbie dropped Robby off at his door, kissing him a long, sensual kiss.
Inside his room, Robby still tasted that kiss. Like any man, when the woman he loves kisses him like that, it gets him going. It was a warm night and he lay down naked on his bed, his erection standing tall. He reached for a tissue and began to stroke his lust away.
Ramona had been able, in the bath, to let her mind wander. She let it go where it wanted to, beginning with memories that were tattered, like a battle flag shot to pieces and torn by the wind. Those were the oldest memories she had; of her mother, and her bedroom, and her dolls. There was no pain in those memories. Then there was the memory of Bobby, pulling her through the darkness of the secret passageway, telling her to be quiet. She shook the screams out of her head and pushed her mind to her mother’s face, eyes open and staring. She hadn’t understood what was happening then, and only later in life did she learn what that meant. Instead of letting her manufactured memories mar her mother’s face, she tried to imagine the eyes looking like they were focused on some far distant place … a better place … where there were no screams, ever.
A sudden memory assailed her, un-remembered these long years. She had been at the old woman’s house, and had cried that she wanted her dolly. The woman had held her, saying that the dolly was gone, but that she’d get her a new one. That doll was probably still in her room next door. The doll wasn’t gone. It had lain there, alone all this time, waiting for Lizzy to come back and hold her again.
She had caught herself half crouching in the bath, unconsciously having started to get up and go get her dolly. The air was cool and she sank back down in the tub. Somehow, knowing that her doll was there was comforting. It would be there tomorrow, and she’d go get it then.
Her mind stayed in the house, in the room where she now believed her doll lay. All she had of that room were good memories. She reflected intentionally on the concept that it wasn’t the house that had killed her parents. Men had done that. Greed had done that. The house couldn’t stop it from happening. The house had, in fact, protected Bobby and her as they hid in its dark, secret places. Then she thought about what the house looked like now, the last time she’d seen it. It wasn’t dark and painful there … not really. There was pain associated with it, and that pain would never really go away, but the house wasn’t responsible for that.
And now, against all odds, Bobby offered her something that, if somehow it worked, would fulfill all her dreams and let her spend the rest of her life sharing that love.
Except that she couldn’t believe it would work.
Her own doubts were strong, but her mind flitted back to what her son had said. He had said it would work. Her children, who had been so violently opposed to the man next door, had altered their opinions to the point that they were in favor of this crazy idea.
It suddenly occurred to her that, like she and Bobby, her children had come to love each other in that same house, a love that was obviously enduring and incredibly strong. The parallels were inescapable.
She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in her fluffy robe. She wanted to hear somebody tell her it would work again. She stood and went towards her son’s room.
TBC
Robby lay on his bed in the warm evening. He was naked and his hand was wrapped firmly around his straining prick. He had given it only a few leisurely strokes when he heard a soft tapping at his door. His face broke into a grin as he thought Debbie had relented, and was going to allow him that special closeness after all.
“Come in,” he said toward the door. It opened and a female figure slipped in quietly.
But it wasn’t his sister. It was his mother.
Ramona knew instantly what her son was doing when she slid through the door. His pale body was stark against the dark blue bedspread he was lying on. She saw the head of his penis protruding from his closed fist as his hand moved upward and his foreskin slid over the large knob at the tip. Her mind instantly returned to what she’d seen the day before, as that same long penis had plumbed her daughter’s depths.
As happens so often in life, little things … powerful little things … have the capacity to alter the way we look at things.
I’ll give you an example. When newlyweds come back from a honeymoon, we look at them a little differently than we did before they got married. We look at them as fully realized sexual beings. We know they have lain together while he rutted in her pussy and delivered up his seed to his chosen mate. We know that she welcomed that. Before this we knew them as Ralph and Cindy, and might have known a little about them beyond that. And there might even have been a little fantasy about what Ralph or Cindy was like behind closed doors.
But now we know they are sexual beings, and that may change the way we interact with them, even if it’s only unconscious and in a few unimportant ways.
Ramona knew her son was a sexual being. She had actually seen the evidence of it. Robby knew his mother was a sexual being. He had actually seen the evidence of that.
And, in this case, there was another little powerful thing that altered what would have been their normal behavior. And it was the same for both. For Ramona, that little powerful thing was her unsatisfied lust, which her brother had left her with. For Robby it was the lust his sister had refused to sate.
Robby, who would normally have rolled over and doubled up to hide what he was doing from his mother, just said, “Mom!”
Ramona, who would have backed out the door, or at least turned her back on him, just said, “Oh! I’m sorry.”
Robby, startled and not thinking too clearly, said “I thought you were …”
“Debbie” his mother finished for him.
Part of the reason Robby was so unsettled was the gap in his mother’s robe, which showed an awful lot of white skin, clear down to the point where it was obvious she was probably naked under it. Now Robby did think about rolling over to hide his erection from his mother, because the object of his lust in his mind had suddenly shifted from Debbie to his mother. But that seemed childish to him, so instead, he rolled off the bed and stood, reaching for the gym shorts that were on his desk chair. He bent over and stepped into them, pulling them up. While that hid his penis from his mother’s eyes, it did nothing to make his erection less obvious, since the shorts tented out almost obscenely.
Ramona thought now about turning to leave too, embarrassed about the feelings in her loins that were produced by her memory of her son’s penis sliding into her daughter’s mound, and seeing that penis again. But that would have left everything unsettled and she needed something to settle herself down.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, softly. “I just wanted to talk.” She felt the strangest urge to ask him to take the shorts back off.
“Oh, okay,” he said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. His eyes strayed to her open robe again, and he made his them go elsewhere. “What about?” he asked, realizing immediately how stupid that sounded.
Ramona, though, heard invitation in his question, and never thought about how obvious it was about which she wanted to speak.
“Did you really mean what you said? About it working? About what Robert … suggested” she asked.
Robby forgot that he wasn’t supposed to argue in favor of the proposal. His mind latched onto something that was firm in his mind, and allowed him to think of something other than his mother’s naked body under her robe.
“Sure,” he said easily. “Nobody knows who you are. Debbie and I didn’t even know. And the whole town knows by now that a Nettleton has come back to the manor, right? Has anybody said anything to you about that?”
“No,” she admitted, yearning to believe that he might be right. Her nervous hands toyed with the loose ends of the knot holding her robe closed.
“And don’t you think that, if anybody had any suspicion about who you are, that they’d have said something to somebody? he went on. “I mean even if they didn’t say anything directly to you, wouldn’t there at least be rumors? And wouldn’t you hear those rumors at the bank?”
That idea caused real hope to bloom in Ramona’s heart. He was right. There would be rumors if anybody suspected who she really was. It was a small town, where rumors flowed freely and quickly.
“I know it seems weird, but I think you should do it,” said her son.
Ramona wanted to pace. Everything she had heard made her heart leap for joy. She wanted to believe. Still it was hard.
“So you wouldn’t mind going to live … there?” Ramona unconsciously turned to face the direction of the Nettleton mansion.
“Mom, I don’t think Debbie and I care where we live as long as we can all be happy.” His mind flitted to the image of his mother, her legs spread as his uncle powered his prick deep into her, and her exhortations of joy. He spoke without meaning to. “And it was obvious that being with him makes you happy.”
His comment brought again to Ramona’s brain the sight of him on top of his sister, making her … happy. That fanned the fires of her unsatisfied loins. She felt the sudden need to leave the room. What she was thinking wasn’t right. Not about her own son.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I have to go now.” She moved toward him, though, instead of turning and leaving.
Robby stood up. What happened then was a result of completely normal urges on a very complicated level. It was completely normal for son to expect his mother to hug him, and it was completely normal for her to feel the urge to do that on a maternal level. It was completely normal for her to kiss him on the cheek and wish him a good night. All those things were normal on an subliminal level. But their embrace was also between two people who were very aware of the sexual nature of each other, on a level that had nothing to do with mother and son.
That caused Robby to move his head fractionally as she kissed him, which resulted in that kiss being on his lips, instead of his cheek. And, her nervous picking at the loose knot of her robe had caused it to fall apart as she stepped toward him, and, when she pressed her breasts to his chest, there was almost no cloth between them.
The kiss, and the feel of her hot, soft breasts pressing against his naked chest, shocked them both and unleashed something that, until then, had been on a tether of sorts. What resulted was not the simple good night kiss that each had expected. What resulted was a tight clasp as soft lips demanded something much more intimate. Robby’s penis, never having gotten soft, pressed the fabric of his shorts between his mother’s legs, where it contacted her swollen and sensitive labia and prodded her clitoris, sending an electric shock through her body.
You hear of moments suspended in time, or of time moving in slow motion as minds whirl at light speed, watching something unfold. That was what happened to both of them as, on one level, they felt the emotions that demanded their lusts be satisfied. On another level, though, both knew that what their bodies wanted was something that could ruin everything. And both, having found something precious in recent weeks, were strongly averse to having everything ruined.
Their lips slid off each others so they were cheek to cheek.
“We can’t,” said Ramona, her voice a croak.
“I know,” said Robby, his voice tight.
“I want to,” confessed his mother. The idea that he might not understand what she wanted never entered her mind.
“Me too,” confessed her son, confirming that he did, in fact, understand.
They managed to push each other away, but he drank in her nakedness through the gap of the robe, and her eyes went to the bulge that had so electrified her just seconds ago.
“I have to leave,” she said, panic in her voice.
“It’s okay Mom” he managed. “I love you.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she gasped.
“Okay,” he said simply.
Ramona almost ran from the room then, fleeing to the safety of her bedroom, where she threw off her robe and bounced onto her bed, legs spread, fingers dipping into slipperiness that brought her to orgasm almost instantly.
In his room, Robby didn’t even get his shorts off before he grasped his penis and jerked it furiously, spurting semen in long arcing ropes that landed on his floor.
TBC
The next morning Ramona woke early. She didn’t want to face her son and, since she had left work early the day before, she went in early to get her work caught up. That had the side benefit that she didn’t have to face her son. She was very uncomfortable that the penis she visualized in her mind, when she had her orgasm the night before, had flitted back and forth between Robert’s and her son’s.
She had an hour of uninterrupted work before Renee came in and demanded to know what had happened the night before. Ramona tried to play it off as a normal first date, and that there was just light conversation between her, her children and Robert Nettleton.
“Did he kiss you good night?” Renee asked avidly.
“No,” said Ramona truthfully. She didn’t count a kiss on the hand as a good night kiss.
“Did he try?” asked Renee, unwilling to give up her fantasy that her friend would bag this rich bachelor. “Please tell me he tried at least.”
“He kissed my hand, like he did yours,” said Ramona.
“I thought I told you to be bad!” complained Renee. “Did you wear the dress?”
Ramona ducked her head. “I meant to, honestly I did. But the kids wanted to stay and meet him, and I couldn’t wear it with them there.”
“Remind me to talk to those kids of yours,” said Renee trying to sound gruff. “At least tell me he asked you out again.”
Ramona tried to smile uncertainly. “He did ask if he could call on me again.”
“Oooooo that’s so continental and romantic,” gushed Renee. “And this time those kids are coming to my house, or you’re going out with him or something. Maybe you could suggest that you eat at his house. There have just got to be at least ten or fifteen beds in that place!”
Ramona didn’t have to try to blush. It was easy. Renee was so blatant about her innuendo.
“Renee!” she scolded. “You’re trying to get me to act like a slut.”
“Oh posh!” said Renee. “All I’m doing is trying to get you to let him see the woman in you. You’re a sexy, desirable woman, Ramona, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Ramona shooed her friend away from her desk and went back to work. She noticed that several other employees seemed to be watching her from time to time, but no one else gave her the third degree. Frank Peterson did stop by her desk, but all he said was, “I trust everything went well last night?” When she nodded he grinned like a Cheshire cat and left.
Everything was fine until a delivery boy came in around ten in the morning with a dozen red roses. This time they were for Ramona. Renee got to her desk at the same time as he did and plucked the card out of the little plastic holder it was in before Ramona could get it herself.
“Thank you for a wonderful night,” she read. She raised an eyebrow at her friend. “A wonderful night?” she asked. “As in all night maybe? Are you holding out on me Ramona?”
Ramona stood up and snatched the card from her friend’s hand. “I told you. All I got was a kiss on the hand. I didn’t even get a hug. Get your mind out of the gutter Renee.”
Renee grinned. “Well, if he gave you a dozen roses for letting him kiss your hand, I can’t wait to see what you get when you finally cave and let him make you really happy.” She skipped off to her desk before Ramona could make an angry retort.
TBC
Robert’s proposal weighed heavily on Ramona’s mind all morning. Finally she took the phone book and leafed through it until she found the number for the clerk of the Howard County Court. She waited until lunch, when the bank was closed and almost everyone was either at lunch or out of earshot, and dialed the number.
She got transferred to three different people before a woman came on the line who said she took care of adoption records. Ramona posed as a family member of someone who had been adopted and wanted to know who her parents were.
“I know this isn’t what you’re going to want to hear,” said the woman on the phone. “But those records are sealed, and only with a court order can they be opened.”
“What would it take to get a court order?” asked Ramona, her heart in her throat.
“There are very few things that the judge will accept,” said the woman. “In my experience, about the only thing that will usually work is if there is some medical reason. By that I mean that the adopted child has some kind of medical need to know who the parents were so that doctors will be able to understand how to treat something. Even that’s pretty rare these days, because medical science has progressed so far,” she said apologetically.
“No, there’s nothing medical. She just wants to know who her parents were,” said Ramona.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to cut any mustard with the system,” said the woman.
“So there’s really no way to do this,” said Ramona, hope surging in her.
“Well, there are a few special circumstances. When was the adoption?” asked the woman.
Ramona’s hope faded just as quickly as it had arisen. “It was back in the thirties,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman, her voice taking on a note of sorrow. “I didn’t realize it was that far back. I can tell you right now that there’s nothing we can do. There was a fire in the basement of the courthouse back in the early 1950s, and the adoption records from before that were destroyed.”
“There’s nothing left?” asked Ramona, shocked.
“Nothing from before 1951 or so,” said the woman. “I’m really sorry.”
Ramona hung up the phone and stared at nothing. Even if someone suspected something, there was nothing to prove who she really was, or at least who she had been. Excitement ripped through her and she sat back in her chair, out of breath. She’d been holding her breath unconsciously and now panted.
For the rest of the day she was like a school girl, who imagines taking on the name of a boy, and practices writing it out that way, as if she were already married. Now she couldn’t wait for Robert to contact her.
But he didn’t.
When she went home that night she thought about stopping at the mansion to see him, to scream that she would, indeed marry him.
But she didn’t.
Instead she went into the house, bursting with the joy of her decision, and wanting to share it with her children.
But they weren’t home.
There were two notes on the fridge, one from Debbie that said she had gone over to Crystal’s house, and would be eating dinner there, returning home not later than nine that night. The other was from Robby, saying he’d gone to the pool, would eat out with his friends and come home “sometime tonight.”
She was so full of energy she couldn’t sit still, and trying to do things around the house didn’t satisfy her either. She had made a habit of jogging in college, and had kept it up off and on when she got married, but hadn’t run for years, ever since giving birth. She tied her hair back into a pony tail and went looking for something to jog in. In the end she had to go to Robby’s room, where she found his gym shorts hanging off his desk chair. She pulled them on, surprised that the elastic in the waistband was tight enough that it clung to her abdomen snugly. She was acutely aware that his stiff penis had been covered by them when she last felt them against her own pussy, and shivered at the thought. On a wild impulse she took them off, removed her panties, and pulled them back on so the cloth would be right next to her pussy. Then she put on a tank top over her bra and left at almost a sprint.
She lasted two blocks before she had to stop, bent over and gasping for air. She hadn’t known she was that badly out of shape. After resting she started again at a much slower pace, and alternated between jogging slowly and walking to catch her breath. It was just what she needed to work off her excess energy.
Ramona stayed out for over an hour, waving at people she knew as she jogged or walked along the streets of Nettleton. She reveled in the thought that, to these people, she was just the widow Franklin, a mother of two nice children, a teller at the bank.
TBC
