by Lexi Duval
I'm not surprised by the fact that my mom's initial instinct when describing the guy is by telling me he's loaded. Money has always been the primary motivator in her life, although she's never really earned a penny herself.
“OK...and what about him, you know, his character, his personality. How about we start with this – what does he look like?”
My condescending tone isn't lost on her, but she seems too excited to reprimand me right now. Sometimes I think that I'm the parent in this relationship, not her.
“He's quite tall, dark hair. Well, it was dark, now it's mainly gray, especially at the sides. But in a good way. He still looks very young.”
“And how old is he?”
“Mid 50's...but he looks younger. Very attractive Abby, here's a photo.”
She pulls up her cell and loads a picture of them together. He does look very handsome, to be fair to her, which is no real surprise given that she's a prize beauty herself. What strikes me most, however, is the background. It looks like a tropical beach.
“Where the hell was this taken? Have you been on vacation with him already?”
She nods feverishly. “He took me to Hawaii on a long weekend a few weeks ago. So beautiful there, Abby, do you remember?”
I do remember. We used to go there as a family all the time, until my dad lost all his money...
“So it's obviously going well with him then, if he's taking you away already. How come you haven't mentioned him before.”
“Because I didn't want to jinx it. I really like this one, I think he's a real keeper.”
Sure you like him...or is it his money you like?
“Well, I'm happy for you mom, I really am.”
“Thanks Abs, maybe things are starting to look up for the both of us!”
Her words, for a reason I can't explain, brings the thought of Vince's superdick back into my mind.
Man he could wield that thing like a Jedi with a lightsaber.
“Oh, so now that you know, how do you feel about meeting him?”
I have to quickly turn my mind away from the sex from last night and bring it back down to earth.
“Um...sure, yeah, of course.”
“Well great, because he's invited us both over to his place for dinner tonight. Are you free?”
My inclination is to think of some excuse, but the look on my mom's face, nodding quietly with hope, forces me to agree. Frankly, meeting the guy who's fucking my mother isn't hugely appealing.
“Great, I can't wait!”
I literally have never seen my mother this excited.
“Why don't we finish up here, have a nice lunch, and then go back home to my house and get ready together? How does that sound?”
“Er, what about my clothes? They're all at my flat.”
“Don't worry about that. Mine will fit you. I've got some lovely new ones that will look beautiful on you.”
Probably bought by the new beau, no doubt...
It doesn't take much more wrangling for me to agree, before we set to more regular gossip and begin working our way more quickly through the remaining bottle of wine.
And every time a little more rose passes my lips, I find my mind drifting back a few hours to the form of Vince, pumping, grinding, and fucking me into oblivion.
Chapter Four
Back at my mom's house, which isn't the house I grew up in but a much smaller place she was forced to buy after the divorce, I set about finding something suitable to wear. In actual fact, it's really my mom making the decisions here, dressing me up like a doll until she finds something that satisfies both of us.
“Happy?” she asks.
“Happy,” I respond, looking at the flowery dress in the mirror and thinking I look like summer and spring all rolled into one.
My mom looks even more stunning than she did at lunch when she emerges wearing yet another new dress. And I quickly realize that when she described the guy as 'filthy rich' she can't have been lying.
Some of these designs look like they'd cost in the thousands. The thought makes me feel suddenly awkward wearing a dress of such value.
At 7 PM there's a knock at the door.
“Expecting company?” I ask my mom as she puts the finishing touches to her make up.
She looks at me, smiles, and tells me to go answer it with a wink and a twinkle in her eye.
When I descend the short staircase and open the front door, I'm greeted with the youthful face of what looks to be a chauffeur.
“You must be Miss Grace.”
“Um...yes, Abby.”
“Good evening Abby. I'm here to escort you to Mr Black's home for dinner.”
I glance over his shoulder, and see a luxury Bentley sedan parked on the street at the front of the yard.
“You're here to drive us there?”
“Yes, Miss. I'll be waiting in the car for you and your mother.”
He twists on the soles of his feet and paces back toward the car before stepping behind the wheel.
“Err Mom, how rich is this guy!” I shout upstairs.
Her laughter echoes down into the hall. “You'll see...”
A few moments later, she emerges, looking glamorous and classy, at the top of the stairs.
We go out toward the car as the driver quickly jumps out and opens the door to the back. Inside it's lush, the interior all cream leather and incredibly comfortable.
“There's champagne in the fridge ladies, if you want it.”
The voice comes from a small speaker, the driver unseen through the blacked out dividing window just behind him.
“Mr Black said to enjoy yourself, but not overindulge. His words, not mine, I can assure you ladies. I'd never make such an assumption.”
My mother laughs, pops the bottle open and we start as if we're going to go completely against the rules. Within about 20 minutes we're already onto our second glass.
“Enjoy it honey,” my mom whispers to me with a furtive glance to the front. “Isn't it like prom!”
She took the thought right out of my head. This is just like prom; getting dressed up, relaxing in a chauffeured car, drinking champagne as the world whips by outside. And suddenly I'm feeling almost as giddy as my mother is, wondering just what surprises lie in store for me next.
The journey takes over an hour, our route taking us from the South shore of Long Island up all the way to the Hamptons in the east, through wooded areas and past some magnificent houses.
When we reach our destination, however, I realize I've seen nothing yet. Even at first glance the sight of the towering mansion, just a silhouette against the setting sun, sets my eyes opening wide and my jaw hanging a little loose.
We stop at a gate manned by a security guard who waves us through, the gate opening slowly as if unveiling the magnificent estate beyond. The driveway leads straight toward it, with perfectly manicured gardens either side, filled with lush flower formations, trees, bushes and various other shrubs.
In between are various statues of what look like Greek Gods and Goddesses. Fountains also dot the landscape, with one particularly grand one right ahead of us shooting water 20 feet into the air.
We drive round it and continue toward the front, the mansion looming ever larger and seeming almost impossibly grand for a regular man. Unless you're a King, Sultan, or Emperor, you simply have no right to occupy somewhere so palatial.
“Have you been here before, mom?” I ask, transfixed, eyes bulging at the sight.
“Once or twice. Quite something isn't it?”
We park outside on a large area of graveled ground, and the driver opens the doors to let us out. Across the gardens I see people working, tending the lawns, nurturing the plants, cleaning the fountains.
We climb a series of steps up to the mansion door, pillars framing the large entrance. Within it stands a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit, who makes me think of Alfred, Batman's butler.
“Good evening ladies. Welcome to the Black estate. Ms Grace, how are you?�
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He bows his head reverently at my mother.
“Very well thank you, Nigel. I'd like you to meet my daughter, Abby.”
He turns to me and takes my hand, shaking it gently. “A pleasure.”
I hardly know how to react or where to look. This is all just too much. And he's only the damn butler.
“Please, Mr Black is waiting for you in the rear gardens.”
Rear gardens? Aren't there enough already at the front?!
We pass through the arched doorway and into a grand hall decorated as lavishly as the outside would suggest. It's sophisticated, not gaudy, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the art on the walls, many of which I'm sure are the originals from famous artists I've studied.
We pass straight through, my eyes drifting to the various adjoining rooms linking off from the main hallway, with a wide staircase going straight up the middle like the mansion in Scarface.
Everywhere the walls are white, with marble floors, and beautiful sculptures and carvings written into the corners of the ceiling. Eventually, we come to the back, and out through a narrow corridor that seemingly leads outside once more.
Light shines beyond, and we emerge into the warm glow of the fading sun, now just dipping down below the tops of the treeline.
There, ahead of us, stands a man, holding a glass of champagne. His hair is the color of silver, his body wrapped in a gray suit with a white shirt beneath and no tie. Around him lie long lawns that stretch far into the distance toward an area of woodland right at the back. To the left I can just about make out the shimmering surface of a lake, boats moored up against a short jetty.
“Sue, darling.” Stephen Black marches gracefully forward and takes my mother's hand, kissing it as he gazes into her eyes.
Then he turns to me and smiles.
“This must be Abby. I've heard so much about you my dear.”
He takes my hand like he did my mother's, kissing it too. I put everything I have into not giggling like a schoolgirl.
I've never met anyone with such a presence. An aura seems to surround him, giving him a strange sort of glow. I feel like I'm standing with a celebrity of some kind, star-struck and feeling awkward and nervous.
“Please, ladies, take these.”
He turns to the side and lifts two glasses of champagne from a glass garden table.
“Now Abby, how do you like my home? Would you like to take a tour?”
I glance at my mom, who's almost beaming, her eyes nodding.
“Um...sure, I'd love one.”
“Well great. Let me take you around.”
He takes my mother's arm and begins leading us around the estate, pointing out the major features. We pass gardens, orchards, and wonderful, magical patches of woodland filled with birds and wildlife. He shows us the lake, the various outbuildings, the numerous tennis courts and swimming pools and other facilities.
He does it all without an air of arrogance or conceit, characteristics that are too base and immature for such a man, but with great enthusiasm and honestly. He believes, rightly, that I truly want to see his lands, and delivers the tour with a smile on his face and the tone of a friendly teacher.
As we go, I realize that he's trying to impress me, not with his wealth and obvious power, but with his personality.
In short, he wants me to like him, and all that shows me is that he truly does love my mother.
I see that in the things he does. The way he holds her hand, the way he kisses her gently on the forehead. How he's always attentive, and always chivalrous.
In fact, I look at him wishing that I could meet such a man, and I feel a pang of guilt at the thought that I'd assumed my mother was only with hism for his money. In reality, Stephen Black's true wealth it in his personality, his character, his charm and obvious allure.
It takes only 30 minutes with him for me to realize that my mother's found the ideal partner for her. And now my feigned happiness for her had solidified and become real.
Chapter Five
It takes an hour to tour the sprawling grounds and the inside of the mansion, and yet I still only catch a glimpse of what the estate has to offer.
“You have to see the eastern woods in the Fall, Abby,” Stephen tells me. “Truly, they're a marvel, an photographers dream.”
He takes a sip of champagne, before another bolt of lightning hits him. “And the vault. I don't usually show people the vault, for obvious reasons, but I've got some fine art in there that I'm sure you'll love. I am right in thinking you studied art in college?”
He glances to my mother, who gives him a nod as I answer.
“Yes Sir, that's right.”
He holds his hands up and frowns.
“No, no, none of these Sir's and Mr Blacks and any of those silly formalities. Call me Stephen. Or Steve if you'd prefer. That one I reserve for my closest friends.”
He winks at me and then turns to my mother with a wide smile.
“Sue, your daughter is delightful. I wish the same could be said for my son.”
“Right, yes. Where is Tyler?”
Stephen looks at his watch and tuts.
“He should have been here 10 minutes ago but that young man is the worst timekeeper. I suggest we start without him. I won't let him dictate us with his tardiness.”
I giggle as I follow in behind my mother and Stephen, walking back through the house and into a grand dining room. Ahead of us stretches a long table fit for a banquet, although only four places at the near end are set.
“Sue, Abby, if you'd like to take your seats...I'm just going to make a quick call, see where that son of mine is.”
He leaves the room, and I shape my eyes around the room, at the wonderful wood paneling on the walls and the glorious works of art in between. To me this house is a dream, as magical as an art museum.
“So...what do you think?”
I turn to my mom, who's looking at me with hopeful eyes.
“Oh, the mansion is magnificent,” I say with a smirk, knowing she's really talking about her new man.
“No....Stephen.” She nods her head at the door he's just exited, then leans in with a secretive air.
“He's....” I leave her in suspense for just a few moments. “Well he's amazing mom, seriously. He seems perfect for you.”
“Isn't he! Oh I'm so glad you like him sweetheart. I think he really likes you too.”
A waiter comes in, bringing with him a tray of various drinks, and asks us what we'd like. We both settle on a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and sip it as we wait.
A couple of minutes later, Stephen returns, wearing a slightly more displeased expression than what I've seen so far.
“Everything OK darling?” asks my mother.
I know, from the way she calls him darling, that it's already quite serious between them. I just wonder why she didn't tell me sooner. Maybe it was just like she said – not to jinx it, not that I believe in hoodoo rubbish like that.
“Yes, fine Sue, just fine. I couldn't get through to Tyler so we're just going to have to get along without him. You have to expect him to be at least 30 minutes late to everything, so I've kind of gotten used to it.”
He raises his glass, newly poured by the waiter to his side.
“Cheers, and fabulous to meet you Abby. Now, let's dine!”
As if switching a lever in his head, he's suddenly incredibly affable and enthusiastic again, smiling wide and nodding his head at both me and my mother in turn.
We eat, and Stephen regales us with various anecdotes, holding my attention with ease and dominating the conversation.
Soon enough he seems to realize it, checks himself, and then begins quizzing me on my own life. He does it, of course, without probing too deeply, and tends to graze the top of the more serious issues while merrily discussing just about every one of my likes and dislikes.
Eventually, however, the gentle rumble of an engine is heard.
It starts quiet, off in the distance, before gradually getting l
ouder until it's blasting into my ears, shattering the calm of our dinner.
“Excuse me ladies,” says Stephen, standing up. “That'll be my son.”
He departs the room, and my mother and I share looks.
“Have you met him before?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
“No, this was supposed to be when we introduce each other to our kids. Looks like we're winning on that front, hey honey!”
I laugh, suddenly slightly nervous again at the thought of meeting someone new. Although if he's anything like his father, Tyler will be a welcome addition to the evening.
Voices sound outside, not raised exactly, but certainly audible and slightly strained. Then, after a couple of long moments of silence, the door opens once more.
Stephen walks through, trailing his son, and my jaw drops.
Holy fuck....
“Sue, Abby, I'd like to introduce you to my extremely tardy son, Tyler.”
He steps forward, and our eyes meet, and I notice a sudden spark go off inside his.
Because we've met before, and he certainly wasn't called Tyler then.
I'm looking into the deep chestnut eyes of Vince.
PART TWO
Chapter One
Holy shit...
The same words echo in my head again and again as Vince walks forward, courteously takes my mother's hand, and kisses it just like his father did out in the gardens.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sue. I've heard so much, so it's great to put a face to the name.”
My mother smiles wide, almost embarrassed. Clearly, to her at least, he's got the same charm and affable nature as his father.
I, however, have seen a different side of him. One that's arrogant, rude, and incredibly conceited. Only last night he was writhing on top of me with that smirk on his face and those half open, cocky eyes that knew he was giving me the best fuck of my life.
And now he's here, the son of my mother's new man who, as has become clear, just happens to be a damn billionaire. No wonder he's got this air of superiority about him, this walk that aims to show people that he's the boss and he's several levels above them.
