CHAPER ONE
Mike Paulson sat in stunned silence in the large, high backed Victorian chair. He could hear the clock ticking in the background as he heard his mother clear her voice from the seat beside him.
"Did you say two million?" Becky Paulson asked stunned.
The lawyer in front of the pair looked back down at the papers on his desk. "I must say Mrs. Paulson; your husband was a meticulously organized man."
Mike didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the comment. His sadness over the loss of his father had been all consuming over the last two weeks for both he and his mothers.
Richard Paulson had been a strong and almost dominant figure in their house all his life. He had guided his family with a loving and caring hand, yet firmly in control.
Mike wondered what that last moment his father had thought. To not be in control the seconds before the semi-truck had slid and slammed into his SUV on that icy road. He couldn't imagine his father ever NOT being in control, even in his own death.
The voice of the lawyer brought the 26 year old back from his thoughts.
"His insurance policies were very strong. The mortgage for your home and both cars are now paid. "The man looked at Mike. "His son Michael is now the owner of his construction company, which is doing strong business."
The lawyer turned to Mikes' mother. "He had a two million dollar investment portfolio that has lain dormant during his life. Upon his death, it will activate and essentially replace dollar for dollar your monthly income."
The lawyer shook his head. "Your husband, Mrs. Paulson, thought of every minor detail."
Mike watched as a tear dripped down his mother's cheek. "Not everything" she quietly whispered. "Oh Richard, what will I do." she quietly sighed.
As the lawyer rose to his feet, mother and son realized the reading of the will had been completed and both stood to leave. Mike stretched his hand out to the man. "Thank you for everything."
Rather than shaking the young man's hand, the lawyer reached down and picked up two white envelopes. "There is one last detail." He handed one envelope to Becky and the other to Mike. On the front was written their names in the flourish of their father's handwriting.
"These were given to us to hold a few years ago. We have very specific instructions for them." As Mike started to open the envelope, the; lawyer raised his voice "Stop!"
The two looked at the man in surprise. "I am sorry," he added quietly. "Per Mr. Paulson's instructions. Each is to be given their envelope. They are not to open them until they are alone. Only then may they be read."
The man cleared his voice, almost nervous. "Of course, you realize, we do not know the contents. Therefore, we cannot accept any responsibility for what is written inside" His face grew solemn. "Mr. Paulson was very specific; this was to be his final instructions to each of you."
Mike slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket, while his mother slid hers into her purse. Reaching out his hand again, he shook and thanked the lawyer for all their work. Making sure his father's wishes had been completed.
As Mike and his mother left the building, he looked down at his mother's face. "Now what?" he asked quietly. Even in her grief, he saw the soft markings of her cheeks, the color of her lips. Like his father, he knew this woman beside him was special, and always had been. He felt a tingle in his groin as he looked at her. 'God, her husband is just dead and you are getting a hard on for her...asshole'
Becky took her sons hand in hers, reassured at the feeling of strength in his grip. Like her husband Richard, Michael was a tall strapping man. A fitting 'replacement' for her husband. Except in one thing, her mind wandered.
"I just want to go home" she replied softly.
The drive home had been slow and quiet. Entering their home, the pair had separated. Mike to head for his room to change, Becky to hers.
As the young man pulled his shirt off, his eyes fell on the white envelope he had discarded on his desk. Stepping over, he closed the bedroom door, and then sat. Opening the envelope he slid out a single sheet of paper. He instantly recognized his father's own handwriting.
As the young man began to read his father's words, unknown to him, his mother sat alone, at the kitchen table doing the same. Both, hearing the last words of Richard Paulson.
Dear Michael
Well, something must have gone wrong, or you wouldn't be holding this right now. I don't know what or how, but it means I am gone.
First, know that I love you, as my son, my partner, and my friend. I will miss you as much as you will miss me my boy.
Second, if everything went the way it should have. Then the lawyers should have taken care of any major issues. The house, the car, the bills...everything. I can only hope so.
Third, you will take the next two weeks off work. The company will do just fine. I would prefer a month. But I know you. You are as driven as me. The office has instructions that for the next two weeks you are not to be disturbed. You have another 'job' to do.
The lawyers should have handled all of my property, but one. That is for you to handle. You are a man now, the man of the house. In that house is the most valued piece of property I own. Rebecca Paulson.
Mike gasped at the words he just read. Property? Jesus dad. How in the hell could you even consider your wife to be your property.
As he read further, Mike began to see the hidden world that had existed in his own house for years. One he had never known about, but had been very real.
Your mother is a strong woman in her own rights. Yet, she lacks the ability for direction. She NEEDS someone to show her. That someone is now you.
Give up the Mikey, cast aside the Mike. BE Michael Paulson. Give your mother what she desperately needs. A man.
She now belongs to you, my son and heir. She will serve you faithfully and loyally, in whatever way you wish. Whether domestic. Or yes sexual. But she must be told. Do not let her shrink back...do not let her hide inside that shell I found her in. MAKE her obey. TELL her what her role is.
Be loyal and loving to her. She deserves that. But be her man. My one piece of advice I could give you. Don't make love to her the first time. Fuck her. Hard, strong, commanding. Take what you now own my son.
You lucky bastard.
Love dad
