I know it's been months since I posted anything on this story, and some of you may have thought I was done with it, but... No, not yet.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think, and what you want from Michael and Miranda next. I really enjoy your feedback.
If you could also vote when you're done...
Thanks for reading
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When Michael had left Sophia's bed last, with a decision forming in his mind, he had proposed again to Miranda. This time he had a time frame planned. As soon as possible.
As it turns out, 'as soon as possible' was about six months away. The date was set for their nuptials. The ceremony itself would be simple, but there was much to do before then. This whole situation was much more complicated than merely booking a wedding chapel and exchanging 'I do's. Somehow, all of these potentialities had escaped his notice when they began this little escapade.
Of course, back then, he was more interested in getting laid. First, it was Miranda, his ebony princess, so strong, firm and sexy, with tits that just didn't stop. The first woman to ever let him truly have sex with her, she had been the stuff of his fantasies. Then she had introduced him to her friends, and her friends friends, and so on, and so on, until he had more girlfriends than the rest of his class combined. His 'girlfriends' were much more. They were women, with a full knowledge of what they wanted from him, and no fear of his unique attribute.
Then there was the money. Getting to fuck all these appreciative, older women, with their fabulous, mature, curvy bodies, was incentive enough, but getting paid to do it was a powerful aphrodisiac. He felt like King Kong, ready for anything.
Anything...except falling in love with Miranda. He was living the life of his dreams, bedding several different women each week, but only one was stealing his heart. He had proposed, she had accepted, but business came first.
Finally, Michael had reached the conclusion that he didn't need all these other women anymore, which brought him to this point. He needed to cut his clients back gradually, so there wouldn't be any hard feelings, that might lead to their enterprise becoming public knowledge. He knew there were a few that were not going to take it well.
Speaking of public knowledge, it was time to come clean with his parents. That was going to be painful, as he had been far from truthful in his dealings with them. While he had matured greatly in most aspects of his life, his parents were not one of those aspects. He had lied initially about Miranda, and that lie had grown exponentially, leading to this point, where he had no choice but to admit his mistakes. He hoped they could understand, and forgive him.
He had told them he had a girlfriend, named Miranda. He had told them he had roommates his own age, and male. Now those half-truths and fabrications would come to light.
His parents would probably notice that Miranda was not 'several guys Michael's age', as he had told them, right away. Dad was sure to notice that she had lots of curves, and Mom would notice that she was older, and they'd both probably not miss the fact that she was black.
"Hi Mom," he smiled, when he called to invite them over for dinner. "How'd you like to get out of cooking tonight?" Yes, it was a feeble attempt at bribery, but it worked. They would be over at seven.
Miranda had told him she was ready to meet them, but wanted it to happen fast. No long, drawn out anticipation. They had briefly discussed meeting them out, at a public place, but she had decided to just handle the shit storm in one session, instead of avoiding a scene. She would cook them a nice dinner, smile, and try to reassure them that she loved their son, regardless of their age difference.
It was sure to be a tense evening, with heightened emotions on both sides.
Hopefully, by the time it was over, things would be resolved, and she would be part of the family.
***
7:02, and the doorbell rang. Michael leapt to his feet, and answered it, making eye contact with Miranda before he opened the door. She smiled, and nodded.
"Mom! Dad!" he smiled, as they stepped in. They hugged him, and his Mother kissed him on the cheek.
"This is a very nice house, and so clean," his Mother observed. "How many guys are living here?"
Shit...she's not in the door five seconds, and she catches the first lie,
Michael thought.
It's going to be a long night.
"Well, yes, that's part of what we need to talk about, and why we asked you here," he said quietly.
Mom was always the one to voice her concerns. Dad was equally perceptive, but usually kept it to himself, initially at least.
"Uh huh...and who is 'we'?" Dad asked. "You're saying there has been a change in your living arrangements?" Mom nodded, and crossed her arms, looking annoyed. They were barely ten feet inside the house, and Michael wanted them to stay, so he gestured toward the living room.
"Please, come in and sit down," he asked, "and I'll answer all your questions. I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you, but I promise...no more lies." He walked ahead of them into the living room, wondering just how far his honesty would be tested. He took a seat, and watched them do the same.
Mom was looking around the room suspiciously. As usual she didn't miss too much.
"This room has a woman's touch," she said, staring her son down. "So I'm assuming that your 'roommate' is female...and since you said 'we', I guess that means you're either getting serious, or she's pregnant."
Well the good news is that they were figuring it out on their own, so he didn't need to tell them anything new. He simply had to confirm or deny their assumptions.
"Okay," Michael breathed. "Yes my roommate is a woman, but no, she's not pregnant. We are very serious about our relationship," he continued, "and I'm very sorry I didn't tell you the truth from the start. If you want to be mad, be mad at me, because I'm the one who kept the truth from you. I can't honestly say why I was afraid to tell you, but I ask for your forgiveness."
There was a silence in the room. Michael wondered if Miranda was listening, then realized how stupid that question was. Of course she was listening. She had a stake in this too.
"So this girlfriend you told us about...Miranda, was it? I assume she's the one you're living with?" his Dad asked.
"Yes," Michael answered. There was only one hurdle left, but it was a doozy, and two tiered. He doubted there would be much resistance to her being black. If only she wasn't nearly his mother's age.
"Well, let's meet this mysterious girlfriend, then," his Mother suggested. "Since there's nothing we can do to change the past, and there's little we can do to discipline you, as an adult, I say we meet this girl and move on. I'm not happy with you lying to us, but you've admitted your mistakes, so we need to trust you. I assume she's here?"
"Yes Mom," Michael nodded. "I'll go get her. She's making dinner."
He stood, and walked toward the kitchen, slipping in the doorway quietly. Miranda was indeed listening, and hugged him when he walked in.
"You did great, baby," she whispered, and kissed him. "I guess it's time for me to charm their pants off...metaphorically speaking," she giggled. "Wish me luck." She wiped her hands, and breezed out.
Inside, she was one big butterfly, nearly ready to throw up from the tension. She hoped it didn't show. She hoped her love for Michael did.
Walking into the living room, she extended her hand.
"Mr. Smith...Mrs. Smith...I'm Miranda," she smiled. "Miranda Walker."
They each took her hand, in turn, but said nothing, the shock clearly evident on their faces. She sat down, tucking her legs sideways demurely, with her hands folded in her lap.
She had intentionally dressed very conservatively, in an effort to keep his mother from drawing the very logical...and very correct...assumption that sex had a lot to do with their unusual relationship. Still, when you're built like she was, so amply endowed, yet lean and curvy, it's pretty much impossible to hide your light under a bushel.
They still hadn't said anything. While in the kitchen, she had played this in her head, trying to plan her moves. She could preemptively bring up the age issue, before they did, but if she did that, she might be adding to their objections. She waited, and waited some more. Finally, she had to say something.
