I got the call from my stepmother on a Saturday morning. I had not spoken to her for near two years, knowing the only reason she had called was to ask for money. I was to meet her that evening on the parking lot of a nearby factory. She always made me smile with her conspiratorial attitude and that people were always watching her.
Kay had married my father at the elderly age of 66. She was 26 at the time, making her 28, maybe 29, now, and, if my calculations were correct, a widow for just over 2 years. You can't write this stuff! Like a movie script, he had had a massive heart attack between her legs within four months of their marriage. I like to think he died a happy man.
Kay was a looker, at 5'8", an ultra-thin 118lbs, black hair cut in a boyish style, milky white skin that did not need the makeup that made her appear like a fragile China doll, small but perky breast, long legs and thin thighs that left a 2 inch gap at her crotch. Only from my father's description did I know that she touted an ample and thick bush. On my own, I figured she must be good in bed or my father would not have married her.
Now, when alive my father was involved with some seedy characters. One might consider it organized crime. When he passed away unexpectedly there was talk of money that needed to be found. Kay and I were both questioned by the powers that be and were still under surveillance to this day.
Kay assured underworld kingpins that she had had a marriage agreement which left her with $200 grand, meaning she would have been much better off had she not fucked him to death. I think that was pretty much her exact words which caused a few smiles, even laughter, but not with her present.
Fortunately, the powers that be knew how my father had warned them not to try bring me into the business. They had avoided me like the plague for my 41 years. But, I had the money - $4 million of it. It was still mostly intact because to keep that amount of money from getting me killed I had to live a simple, modest lifestyle. Though I drove a used late-model Cadillac, lived in a modest home and paid the mortgage and car payments every month. It was not a hard adjustment for me as my father went to great pains to keep me out of the "business". I owned a modest bottled water business and had a former wife with two kids to support.
I knew Kay probably wanted money, as that is what she had wanted two years earlier. She had blown through the $200 grand following the horses and greyhounds. At our meeting she had accused me of having my father's money, which he had skimmed and hidden away. In response to the accusation, I got mad and demanded pussy for any financial help she expected to get from me. Early, she had refused outright, surprising me, telling me she was not a whore. I let her tell me her troubles before I wrote her a check for $5000, assuring her it would be the last time.
I felt like a fool driving to the parking lot. Having assured her I could not help her monetarily, I was sure that's what she was after. I saw the car she had described and pulled alongside the drivers window.
"Hello mom." I said flatly. She hated me calling her mom. "I'm here. What's with all the secrecy?"
"Do you believe they're still watching me?" She replied without any greeting. "I can't go pee without them watching me!"
"Sounds thrilling." I said sarcastically. "Hell, they're still watching me. Fuck em! You can't give them what they want and neither can I. So, to hell with them."
"So your holding firm with that lie?" She accused.
I did not answer her but just sat there staring at her with a blank expression. "Kay, what the hell do you want?"
"$300,000."
"Woman, you are bat crap crazy!" I said with amazement in my tone. "Even if I had that kind of money, I sure as hell wouldn't give it to you. I've got a business and bills up my ass. The kids to support. But! Let's indulge ourselves. What do you want with that kind of money."
"I know what you're thinking!" She began. "I haven't gambled since you gave me the $5000. I want to leave the country and start a business. I want to go to Australia. And I've been working steady. I've saved a bit."
I sat there silent for long moments trying to figure out if this woman was for real.
"I'll fuck you for it." She said matter-of-factually. "If that's what it takes."
Her straightforwardness brought me back to reality. I had a decision to make.
"I don't have that kind of money." I said flatly. "As much as I would like to fuck you, I don't have what you think I have."
"Follow me."
Before I could say a word she pulled away. I was tempted, when I reached the gate, to go right instead of left, following her. As I turned left, I felt like I was headed into trouble.
20 minutes later I followed her car into a hotel parking lot. I exited the car and caught up with her as she walked towards the entrance. Another 10 minutes we were checked in and headed for the eighth floor to room 806. She opened the door and walked in. I hesitated a moment before following her. At the foot of the bed, she turned and stood looking at me.
"If you give me the money, it will be at least 30 days before I can leave. I'll fuck you every day, for the next 30 days, if you give me the money. I'm prepared to give you a taste on faith." She offered. "Then, you decide. Deal?"
After my father had married Kay, I saw her at least 2 or 3 times a week. I felt that she had truly loved my father and looked after him well. Still, I was infatuated with her youth, her skinny bubbled ass and, when she wore jeans, the gap at her crotch. It was everything I could muster not to make a move on her, but the respect for my father helped me stay at arms length. Now, my father was gone and this still youthful woman was standing in front of me offering me what I had long desired.
Kay did not wait for me to accept. She began by removing her sweater, unbuttoning her blouse, reaching behind her to un-clip her bra and removed it. It was at this point I began to remove my clothes. My cock was coming erect.
By the only light, the ceiling light by the entrance door, I watched her toe her shoes off, un-clip and zip down her straight line skirt, letting it drop. She stood there in her black panties, if you could call them that. There were only straps holding on what appeared to be a thick menstrual pad. That she had not mentioned anything caused me no alarm.
"I finished yesterday. It's been a while for me." She said. "How about you?"
