Mom was giddy on the ride back home. She was as happy as I'd seen her in months.
"Things'll be different now, Julia," she said. "We're actually really lucky. Not many people have rich relatives who can help them out like this."
I listened to her in glum silence as the rain pattered over the windscreen and the wipers squeaked over the glass. Aunt Martha had never actually agreed to help, only that they'd 'discuss it.' That smirk on her face sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever her 'proposal' was, would surely not be as simple as just gifting us the money.
Mom continued, oblivious to my discomfort. "This is just what we needed. I'm so proud of you. I know it wasn't easy for you to deal with Shannon."
The devil on my shoulder snickered into my ear.
She doesn't know the half of it, does she, freak?
I blushed, picturing myself on my hands and knees, kissing Shannon's Mary Jane pumps, declaring her as my queen. It was like an out-of-body experience like I was watching someone else.
Except it didn't, freak. It happened to you.
Mom continued, happily. "I don't think Shannon's ever invited you anywhere before. This is huge. Maybe this'll be the start of a real friendship? If she's finally taken a liking to you, this will open up so many possibilities for you. She's really popular. She might even invite you to parties. Wouldn't that be cool?"
I cringed. "Mom, Shannon doesn't want me as a friend."
"Nonsense, she's taking you shopping! I'll have to find some money for you. You can't not buy anything. That would look bad. I think I can find you twenty dollars. Just don't let on that's all you have. Oh gosh, this is so exciting."
I'd not seen her this animated for a long time. It was like her hope was renewed. I felt awful. If she knew the only reason Shannon had asked me to go with her was to prank and humiliate me, it would crush her.
Mom patted my knee and smiled. "Be extra nice to her. If she sees you as a friend then she'll definitely put in a good word to her mother. Shannon won't want to see you evicted."
I blinked at her. "Evicted? What the hell, mom?"
"Shhhh, it won't come to that. Martha will help us. For all our issues, she's still my sister. We're family. The only family we have left."
It was a sore topic that Martha didn't want anything to do with Grandma when she got sick. The burden of care rested solely on Mom. I tried to help as best I could, but I was just a kid. There was only so much I could do. Martha wanted to throw Grandma into a home and forget about her. Mom fought for Grandma to stay in her own house, even taking a hiatus from work to be her full-time carer.
Martha refused to help after that. It was like she was punishing Mom for not agreeing with her. It was how we'd ended up in this financial mess to begin with.
I didn't know how Mom could stand to be around Martha after all that went down. I guessed she felt like she didn't have a choice but to swallow her pride. But did she really have to fawn over Martha, stroking her ego at every opportunity?
All of this was fuel to my desire to escape all this. I would publish a novel. Not just any novel. The great American novel. It would make us rich and we'd never have to degrade ourselves for scraps from Martha anymore.
That'll never happen. Nobody wants to read anything written by a freak with a fetish for her own cousin's feet.
My pussy squirmed with the fear and excitement of what Shannon had in store for me next.
*
The next day, Mom's Buick sputtered back along Martha's winding driveway, coughing exhaust and stalling.
"Oh god," said Mom, huddled over her steering wheel, red with embarrassment. "Please not now. Please god, not now."
Mom insisted we wear dresses again. I don't know why, but she seemed to think our clothes had played a role in Martha asking her to lunch and Shannon inviting me shopping.
It was ridiculous. Martha and Shannon were two of the most superficial people you would ever meet. We could never afford the type of clothes they would've approved of. They would look down on us no matter what we wore, so in my view, we may as well be comfortable.
Not that I said as much to Mom. She was way too stressed, anxiously emptying her wardrobe in the hopes of finding something, anything, Martha might approve of. I didn't even complain about the hideous floral print sundress she stuck me in. It was the antithesis of my grunge style. Honestly, it was the antithesis of style generally. But I wore it without complaint. The last thing I wanted was to make this more difficult than it already was for her.
Mercifully, we made it without breaking down, although the ruckus had alerted Martha and Shannon to our arrival. They were waiting outside the main entrance to the mansion under the shade of the classical front portico.
We parked a respectful distance from Shannon's brand new metallic Bentley and Martha's luxury black Mercedes-S class as if they might be offended if our 1983 Buick Estate Wagon shared their space.
We exited the car and Martha and Shannon descended the front steps of their mansion to meet us.
Martha looked as stylish and powerful as always in a pinstripe blazer and cloak jacket over a black turtleneck. She wore suit pants with a large gold Cartier square buckle belt, sockless high heels, a wide-brim black hat, aviators, silk gloves, and pearls. A Cartier purse was slung over her shoulder via a gold chain.
Shannon had opted for a chic pastel pink tweed jacket over a white blouse and matching mini skirt. But my eyes were immediately drawn to the white leather, statement block heels she wore on her feet. The same ones she'd caught me sniffing. I knew this was no accident.
My stomach twisted in horror and excitement. It didn't matter how many times I'd masturbated last night, my pussy still throbbed at the memory. I blushed and squeezed my thighs together, aware of a small wet splotch growing in my underwear.
Martha strode confidently toward us with her thumbs slotted into her Cartier cinch belt. "Having car problems?"
"No, no," answered Mom, a little too quickly. "It's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine. I've been meaning to get it checked, it's just, you know, I haven't had time. But anyway, you look amazing, Martha. I love your outfit. It looks so good on you."
Martha smirked. "That's sweet. And you," she began as if about to compliment my mom before stopping to take a closer look at her dress. She sighed and frowned.
Mom flushed and looked apologetically down at her sandals.
"Honestly, Susan," said Martha. "I told you to wear something sophisticated. Is this really the best you could manage?"
"I'm sorry, Martha," she replied, meekly. "I just...don't have many nice clothes."
Shannon giggled. "She looks like a Missouri housewife attending Sunday service."
Martha had a good chuckle at her daughter's joke.
Mom responded with the dead smile she saved for interactions with her sister.
Martha smirked once more and turned her judgemental gaze onto me. I folded my arms in the hopes of hiding myself.
"My my, Julia," she said, "what a pretty dress. I'm sure you'll be quite the talk of the fashion mall."
Her sarcasm was poorly disguised, especially with Shannon snickering alongside her.
"Thank you, Aunt Martha," I said, not knowing what else to do.
Martha opened her Cartier purse and removed the key fob to her Mercedes. "I suppose you'd better ride with me," she said to Mom. "No offense, but I doubt that 'vehicle' of yours can make it far on the freeway."
"Yes, Martha," said Mom, "that will probably be best. I'm sorry."
Martha leaned down to give Shannon a kiss on her cheek. "Okay. You girls be good."
"We will," said Shannon with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Have a great lunch."
Martha beckoned Mom with her finger and Mom followed her to her Mercedes like a summoned dog.
