DISCLAIMER:
This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on.
Christie hid a sigh of irritation when Steve came to her bedroom. It was earlier in the evening than he usually wanted sex, and far too early for fun and games in the basement. He surprised her by slapping down a thick, cream-colored envelope on the nightstand by her side where she had been reading in bed. Glancing at his bland non-expression, which told her nothing, she picked up the envelope and opened it with misgivings. Tickets. It held tickets.
The only intersection between Steve's career and the lives of the rich and famous were those fleeting moments caught in the lens of his camera. He followed them around, intruded in their lives, and occasionally snapped a photo that would earn a few dollars. His main business, his portrait studio, was lucrative, and sometimes his clients left him valuable "tips." This time it was a $5,000 pair of tickets to a charity gala. Yes, Steve would like something like that.
"He couldn't attend for some reason," Steve said. "Find something to wear that goes with diamonds and emeralds."
"Emeralds?"
"Necklace, earrings, and matching bracelet."
"Where are you going to get something like that?"
"Borrowed."
"Borrowed? From who?"
"Whom," was all he said on the subject. "I'll be in a tux. Find something suitable." Appearances. With Steve it was all about the appearances.
He smiled. "I'm sure you'll look magnificent on my arm."
She looked at the tickets again. "This is in three days!"
"You'd probably better start tomorrow."
"I have appointments. Clients."
"You're resourceful. I'm sure you'll manage."
Resourceful. That was almost a compliment on something besides her looks. Pissed now, she said, "You can't bring a camera or business cards."
He leaned forward a little. "I am aware of that." He was using his 'this is not negotiable' tone, so Christie dialed back the irritation. At least what she showed.
"Will there be movie stars there?" she asked.
"Probably."
"Well then, I'd better go shopping. It'll be expensive."
"But worth it," he said.
#####
Three days later, dressed in a gown worth several days' worth of billable hours that she would probably wear once, Christie descended the stairs in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. She had no idea what perfume movie stars wore, so she relied on her mother's favorite.
Danny stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her with his mouth open a little. Her black gown fit like a second skin. Gems dangled from her ears, and her hair was artfully arranged at the back of her head, little curls cascading down. It looked good. Amazing.
"You should be one of the movie stars," he said.
She held up a necklace. "I can't seem to get this on." She handed it to him. "Would you?"
Danny whistled. "Is this real?"
"I think so. I have no idea where he got it." She turned her back to him. "I'm probably wearing half a million dollars of rock tonight. Maybe more."
"Don't you wonder...?"
She looked toward the basement stairs, down the hall. "I wonder," she said quietly.
Danny fumbled a bit with the catch of the necklace, then reached around her shoulders to encircle her slender throat. The dress was sleeveless and low-cut in front and back. "No bruises," he said.
"No," she agreed.
"This catch is tight, but I guess you need that with a half-million-dollar necklace." He finally got it clasped, but didn't pull away, instead lowering his hands to wrap them around her waist and pull her body closer to his. He placed a kiss on her jaw from behind and whispered, "You are so beautiful."
For the briefest moment, Christie enjoyed a quiver of arousal at the juncture of her thighs, and then pulled away from him roughly. "Your father is right down those stairs," she said in a voice only he could hear.
"We would see the light change when he opens his door," he said, his eyes on the basement stairs.
She glanced in that direction for a second. "The man is sociopath," she hissed. "Never forget that. And never,
ever
, take a risk like that again."
He nodded. At that moment the light did change, and a few seconds later they heard Steve's steps on the stairs. He appeared bearing a white mink coat that she'd never seen before.
#####
Tension again. Steve always saw the undercurrents swirling around him, but he rarely understood them. Something was going on between the kid and his mother. He had no idea what it was and it disturbed him on a fundamental level. He felt a flesh-crawling uneasiness that could easily drive him to violence.
But Christie stood tall and proud, and elegantly beautiful. It was moments like this that made him glad he had never given into his urges to truly break her. People would see them together, see the gold band on her finger, and know he was more than the ordinary man he seemed. He resented the easy way she moved through the world, but found it very useful.
"Mink?" she asked.
"Rented." He held it up for her. "Very nice," he said as he placed it around her shoulders. "You'll do."
#####