Alex Jordan had to hold his mother's hand during the last forty-five minutes of the flight into Curaçao.
The extreme turbulence and threatening storm didn't bother him. At nineteen years old, Alex just assumed that he was immortal and that nothing could happen to him.
It was his mother, Kristen, who was pale as a ghost and clutching the arms of her seat in a death grip.
"There hasn't been a hurricane in this area in fifteen years," Alex reassured her after a quick online search. "And that one was a Level 2. We'll be fine."
Kristen nodded, staring fixedly at the animated map on the seatback in front of her.
"Maybe next time, we take the charter with the photography crews and the other models," Alex reminded her. "They got here yesterday. They've already gone on ahead to the other island."
"I know." Kristen gave her son a weak smile. "But Elena and I do so like to stay together, and she loathes what she calls the 'cattle car.'"
Across the wide aisle of the first-class cabin, Elena Kuchen and her son Justin took the airliner's shaking and shuddering in stride. Ignoring the flight attendant's announcement to return seats to their upright positions for landing, Elena napped unperturbed behind a night mask. Justin gazed out the window, occasionally tapping out a reply to a text on his phone, looking bored by it all.
But then, as a glamour model at the top of her profession for over twenty years now, the commonplace perils of international travel were old hat to Elena.
Justin, two years older than Alex, had been accompanying his mother as a personal assistant for around two years. "Glorified gofer and vassal," he'd sniffed when Alex had asked him exactly what his duties involved. Alex expected he'd be trying to fill a similar role for his mother, for the first time. "Haul luggage about. Run around trying to find the right brand of mineral water in the right flavor in cities where we don't speak the language. Massage m'lady's feet."
That fit well enough with Alex's overall impression of Elena, based on short acquaintance: a bit entitled and picky about details, demanding a certain amount of pampering from those who surrounded her. Alex didn't doubt that she got all the attention she wanted, from both men and women. At forty, the fiery redhead was still a stone fox.
And Alex was still weirded out every time she spoke to him. That was partly the glamor of her celebrity, he supposed. He'd have to get used to that, given his own mother's rapid ascendance as a top-tier fitness model. But the feeling of weirdness was mostly because he had jerked off to so many of Elena's swimsuit layouts in sports and fitness magazines in the days before she'd befriended his mom. Being close to that delectable MILF flesh in--well, in the
flesh
--overwhelmed him.
He did his best to hide his reactions from Elena, of course, and certainly from Justin whom he needed to get along with for at least the next two weeks. And most especially from his own mother.
"What was that?" Kristen clamped her fingers around Alex's hand like a vise at the sudden bump and change in the plane's behavior as the landing gear deployed.
"We're landing," Alex reassured her. "We'll be on the ground in five. Come on, Mom, you have flown for assignments a couple of times."
"Never hit weather like this before," Kristen's clear green eyes met her son's, and she smiled wanly and shook her head. "Don't worry about me, Alex. I'm overwrought, I guess. This is the first real big location shoot that I've worked. Everyone's expectations are sky-high. I've got a lot riding on this trip. And I'm so glad that you agreed to come along and help out. More than you can imagine."
"I know." Alex did know how invested his mother had become in her unexpected new career. She confided in him almost as if he were a friend rather than her son. He was sure that she was more open with him than with his father. And spending time alone with his mother, away from Dad, excited Alex in ways that he did his best not to dwell on.
After all, how many guys his age had super-hot mothers who looked young enough to be their sisters?
Kristen Jordan had been a fitness nut for as long as her son could remember. Having competed in tennis and swimming while in school, she'd thrown herself first into aerobics and running and, later, weight training and cardio to maintain her health and youthful figure. Kristen had the long, smooth legs and high girlish ass of a woman half her age. Her waist was small and her stomach flat. From head to toe, her body was far more toned and supple than he remembered her being when he was much younger.
Alex figured that his mom needed every bit of that strength to maintain her posture while supporting the weight of her tits. Kristen was a 36F. Alex knew that with precision because of the text accompanying her pictures in the lingerie catalogs she'd posed for last year.
Alex had been furtively jacking off to those photos since the day that Mom had proudly shown them to him and his father.
Alex's father had briefly perused one of the catalogs that the agency had sent over to Mom, said "It's very nice, Dear," and put it back on the stack.
Alex had taken one to keep, to take back to college with him. "Gonna brag to my friends about my gorgeous mom, the fashion model."
His father had scowled. Mom had given him a hug and kiss and blushingly thanked him for the compliment.
And that pamphlet had kept him warm in his dorm room on many a cold Boston evening. Image after image of his mother posing in bikini briefs and lacy bras that barely contained her bountiful breasts, making love to the camera with expressions that were modest, fetching, and provocative all at the same time. The camera loved her. Alex started following his mother's career on the Internet, as well, which provided even more prime jack-off fuel.
He'd pumped out more loads thinking about his sexy mother and looking at her online portfolio than to all the porn chicks and cam girls on the web.
Just one more weird thing about his life these days. But all the weirdness felt too good to worry about it.
Now, though, he had to get through two weeks of living in close quarters with his mom and watching her run around in skimpy swimwear striking sexy poses for a magazine, without having her notice the effect that it had on him. And given his unusual size, down there, it was pretty damned noticeable.
And then, of course, there were all the
other
models doing the island shoot.
The plane touched down with a bump and a shudder. Kristen let out a long breath.
They spent an hour and a half clearing customs. "Did you see the texts?" Elena asked Kristen. "The damn storm has a name now, and the regionals are grounding all their flights for a couple of days as a precaution. Until they see where it's headed. We're stuck here for at least two days."
"Stuck on a Caribbean resort island for two whole days and nights," Justin said to Alex in a mocking whisper. "Oh no, whatever shall we do?"
Alex smiled at him. For the first time, Justin seemed almost chummy.
In four-inch heels, Elena stood just over six feet tall and her son still towered over her. He had her features but had inherited his powerful physique as well as his midnight complexion from his father. Elena had never married. "Don't need anyone's money, don't need anybody's noise." Her son was the offspring of her long-ago relationship with a Nigerian who'd played in midfield for FC Bayern.
"Cheryl's on top of it," Kristen said, looking at a text from their travel coordinator. "She's got us a last-minute booking at a place three miles from the airport."
"Nice that someone in the agency office can find their ass with both hands." Elena pulled Kristen aside for what looked like quite a conspiratorial, whispered conversation. After a couple of minutes, she waved to Alex and Justin and said, "Kristen and I are totally wiped out. Would you fellas please do the baggage claim thing and then meet us at the hotel? We'll send the cab back for you and pay him to wait."
"Sure thing," Alex volunteered. Justin glowered at him as they traipsed off together to the carousels.
"Don't be so eager to carry hod for her. She already has me as an indentured servant, she doesn't need to be auditioning an entourage."
"Uh, your mom?" In fact, Alex had jumped at a chance to demonstrate to his own mother that he could look after her.
"Who else?" Justin snorted. "How long can baggage take, forty minutes? But no, run on ahead and pay a cabbie extra. If you have money, you don't need to have much patience."
"You're pretty down on her. Why do you agree to work for her like this?"
"Because there are compensations. The main advantage of proximity to my mother is the frequent opportunity to score some supermodel pussy."
Justin caught the astonished look on Alex's face and burst into laughter. "And all those models, they're already over on the other island at the shooting location while we're stranded here to wait hand and foot on our mothers."
"Oh! Yeah," Alex quickly agreed. For whatever reason, Justin was talking to him now as if the two of them were best buddies. "But like you said, at least we're stranded in Paradise. Right?"
"Right. You and me, we go clubbing tonight, yah? Champagne, girls--hookers, if that's what you like. We expense it all. The agency doesn't challenge Mother's receipts, and she doesn't question me."
"Um, all right." Alex hadn't expected this and wasn't sure he wanted any part of it. At the end of the day, he was a middle-class kid from Connecticut heading into his sophomore year studying pre-law at a New England school. He'd never even had a passport until two months ago.
An hour later, when Alex maneuvered the hotel baggage cart into the luxury room he'd share with his mother for the next couple of days, water was running loudly in the bathtub and steam billowing out of the open ensuite door. But his mother was in the bedroom, her back to him, fiddling with something on the back of the big-screen TV. She came over to hold the door for him.
"There you are, honey--thank you so much!" Kristen stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss her son on one cheek. She'd changed into a short, white terry bathrobe bearing the hotel's dark red embroidered monogram and, as far as Alex could tell, absolutely nothing else but a towel turbaned around her blonde hair.
She padded back over to the TV, the bright crimson toenails of her pedicured feet sinking deep into the lush carpet with every step. "I brought the extra Wi-Fi dongle from home," she explained. "To stream from my phone. Elena says there's never anything she can understand on local cable down here. And really, what are you and I going to do alone here for the next couple of nights except watch movies?"
The agency office had done a good job finding them emergency accommodations. The room, like the rest of the hotel, was pretty damn swank. Through the steam, he could see that the ensuite bathroom featured an oversized, sunken tub as well as a separate glass-enclosed rain shower and dual washbasins of thick green glass. It was all done up in pale, veined marble, bronze fixtures, and light, polished wood. The sitting and sleeping areas were similarly luxurious.
Alex saw one problem. There was only a single king-sized bed.
"I'll take the couch," he volunteered. "Or the floor, I can do that."
