Author's Note: Up until this point, I've only submitted a chapter at a time, but due to the length of chapter six plus a few other factors, publishing both of the next two chapters at the same time seemed prudent. I'm working on Chapter 9 currently and have an epilogue written with an outline for Chapter 10 before that. Thanks to everyone who left me feedback, both positive and negative. Please continue to rate and leave feedback.
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Chapter 6
Present
Stephanie Ball felt like a prisoner in her own home and of her own making.
In the 48 hours since nearing fucking her younger son, Michael, in her bathroom - saved only by the cries of her baby daughter, Bella - Stephanie avoided any one-on-one moments with Michael. She locked her door at night, didn't venture out of the room during the morning as her son prepared and left for school, and had some extra one-on-one time with her daughter, Lyssa, when Michael was home to provide for needed distance. The mother tried to not compare it to a similar situation that happened well over a year ago after finding out her older son, Jacob, rather enjoyed writing smutty sex stories about her. She tried to keep her distance that time, too. She slipped up and went down a road with Jacob that she felt helpless to detour from. She was trying to keep the same thing from happening with Michael.
And then Friday night came.
Michael clearly got the memo from his mother's actions. She was ashamed, couldn't look him in the eye, and every time he tried to speak with her, she made sure to get out of the situation as quickly as humanly possible. His father was due back on Saturday. Stephanie had openly pleaded for him to return earlier, but he couldn't get an earlier flight and was far too exhausted from the long week to get a rental and drive home. Once his dad was back, his mother could far more easily hide from him - challenging him to give up. He considered forcing the issue, but decided to go in a different direction.
He was going to turn a minus into a plus. If she was going to act like a ghost anytime he was around, that meant she wouldn't stop him from enjoying himself without her.
That's where Emma Sampson came in. Emma wasn't the most beautiful girl at Springfield High in Michael's opinion and certainly, she wasn't as sexy as his mother, but she had two things going for her that Michael could, for lack of a better word, exploit. For one thing, she was straight to the point. Michael had known Emma for a long time and she was as straight of a shooter as you can come across. She didn't promise something she wouldn't deliver on or get nervous later. She didn't beat around the bush, nor expect men to be overly romantic like it was a teenage love flick starring Elle Fanning.
So, when Michael asked her out for Friday night, they both were perfectly aware that dinner and hanging out meant Michael would pay for dinner and they'd definitely have sex as long as he interested her and didn't fuck things up. Not to say Emma was "easy," but she also wasn't a prude. Treat her well and be rewarded if she was into you. And that was the second thing Michael liked about her - she was definitely into him.
The truth was she had been for a number of years. They briefly "dated" in middle school as much as you can really date in middle school. She was his first kiss with tongue. They broke up a few weeks later when he kissed another girl. Despite that, over the years, they developed a kinship. A flirtation. Occasionally, a night of sexting and pictures. But for whatever reason, a relationship never blossomed.
Emma chalked it up to not being Michael's kind of woman. He often dated or hooked up with girls - she didn't know about his pairings with older women - who all seemed to be recycled versions of the one another.
Popular? Check.
Very little body fat? Check.
Push-up bras? Absolutely a check.
Perfect smiles, perfect faces, and perfectly thin bodies? Check, check, and check.
Emma didn't measure up to those standards, which made the sexting weird. She hated to feel he took advantage of her interest in him, but it was hard not to think so when he would merely nod her way in the hallway while his arm was around some cheerleader's shoulders. Emma wasn't fat, but she definitely carried a few extra pounds. She dealt with bullying and body image issues during her early teen years, but felt more comfortable with her body in the last few years and that's why her approach to sex had opened up. She figured she may as well gets hers if nobody was beating down her door asking to be her boyfriend. She made sure no one - save for maybe Michael - took advantage of her sudden promiscuity. In fact, to help keep the power, Emma blogged about her experiences underneath a pseudonym and had started to cultivate an active following.
She was already wondering what her fans would think about Michael. She normally called her sexual partners by the first letter of their name to preserve her anonymity and any potential complaints from her conquests. She had already used "M." for a football teammate of Michael's named Martellus. That was one of her most popular posts and was titled: M. - My First Black Cock. Maybe she'd use B. for Michael Ball, though. She hadn't decided.