Boardroom Bitch Ch. 01

"Cel...Billie-Jo...I'm sorry..."

"Don't say anything. I know. I never had a chance, did I? No one did. Not with him in your life. You like a bit of gash now and then, but I'd never be enough. There's one cock you couldn't live without, isn't there?"

"Yes, you're right."

"You know, I wish there was someone out there who looked at me the way you look at him. You've fallen for him pretty bad, haven't you?"

"Oh God, yes. It's insane, I know it, but I have."

Billie-Jo reached out and cupped Vanessa's cheek in her hand.

"You're right, it's insane. It's crazy. It's completely fucking crazy, but you can't help who you fall in love with. I know that. I hope you make each other happy. I hope you can live as normal life as possible. Together. What was it The Beatles said? All you need is love? Be happy. Both of you."

"Thank you."

"I love you, Mommy." Billie-Jo kissed her tenderly on the lips, and then quietly slipped out of the room.

Vanessa stood there for a few minutes, surprised to discover she was crying. Then she padded back into the bedroom, determined to prove Billie-Jo right.

13

A couple of months later, and Vanessa and Vincent were lying on the couch in the living room, smoking a joint. This was not what you would call a regular occurrence, but it wasn't exactly a unique event either. Vincent was, apart from the whole fucking-his-mother thing, actually quite conservative in his private life. It turns out he had become a perverted little demon between the sheets, but he wasn't a huge drinker and he had only dabbled in soft drugs.

Vanessa, on the other hand, belying her image as a corporate titan, had actually always been a bit of a stoner. So, it was her who would occasionally whip out a doobie and suggest they have a smoke. It was yet another example of the weird and somewhat distorted nature of their relationship. Sometimes it was difficult to work out who was the parent and who was the child.

Vanessa was lying on top of her son, resting her head on his broad chest. She would lift herself up a little, to take a toke, then she would lower herself back down again. She felt supremely relaxed, a little light-headed, and she also felt horny. Vanessa always got turned on when she was high. Although, to be honest, it didn't take a whole hell of a lot to get her sexual motor started.

Vincent was coughing after every draw. He was not an experienced smoker, of any substance, so his consumption was always a little more clumsy. Eventually, his mother got a little impatient with his technique.

"Here." She said, taking the joint out of his hand. "Open your mouth."

She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. Then she leant forward, as if she was kissing him, and exhaled right into his mouth.

"Take a deep breath." She told him.

He did, and his eyes glazed over, his pupils rolling back as the full effect hit him. She smiled, proudly, suddenly reminded of his father and a joint she had shared with him more than twenty years earlier. From little acorns grow mighty oaks, she thought to herself.

This was a post coital moment. Although, if Vanessa's urges took hold again, it might turn out to be a pre coital moment too. They'd been fucking in the swimming pool earlier that morning. One of the advantages of being obscenely rich, was the privacy it could buy you. Their house came with a lot of land, so they had no near neighbours and no one looking on to their property. Sex in the pool was a pretty regular thing. Both of them liked the sun on their backs, as they fooled around.

By their own dizzying standards, the day's coupling had been fairly pedestrian. She had blown him for a few minutes and then he fucked her doggy style. After they both came, they splashed around in the water some more, helping them to get clean, and then they headed inside.

Vincent was wearing surfer shorts and a US national soccer jersey. Vanessa had on a pair of sweatpants and a tight little t-shirt. Her hair was a lot longer now; she had been letting it grow. It was full of curls too. She rarely straightened it much these days. Vincent had remarked how much he liked it in its natural state and, just like that, a lifetime of obsessive, fastidious haircare was abandoned.

People at work had been commenting on how great she looked. Not just her hair. Everything. There was a glow about her. A bounce in her step. She was happier than she had ever been, and people noticed. No one in the office knew why, but they could see the consequences nonetheless. A couple of her more bold employees had even asked if she was seeing someone. She had just smiled, blushed a little, and moved on.

It wasn't just her appearance that had been transformed. Her whole demeanour was different. Vanessa had enjoyed, or more accurately endured, a reputation as being a bit of a bitch. She was essentially fair, most of the time, but she could be tough. Very tough. She was no harder or meaner than any man in her position, but the expectations for women were different. Her brusque manner had upset some people and alienated others; but now she was a lot easier to get on with.

Not that she was spending all that much time at work these days. Vanessa had been playing hooky quite regularly, ever since she and Vincent had begun sleeping together. Suddenly, her job just meant a lot less to her than it used to. She had other things to focus on, other priorities. So, that's why, a little after lunchtime, on a perfectly unremarkable weekday, Vanessa began the conversation that would potentially change their lives.

"Vincent?"

There was no answer.

"Vincent!?" She repeated, louder this time.

"What?" He replied, groggily. This was some pretty strong shit she'd bought, and her son was not a seasoned stoner, so he was a little out of it.

Maybe now is not the right time, she thought to herself.

"What's up, Mom?"

"It doesn't matter, we can talk later." She said.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm awake." He rubbed his eyes with his fists and looked down at her. "Shoot."

Here goes nothing, she thought.

"Well, the thing is, I've been thinking."

"Okay. About what?"

"I was thinking of taking a sabbatical from work. Taking some time off."

"I know what a sabbatical is, Mom. I may be stoned, but I'm not brain damaged."

"No, sorry."

"Why do you want to take time off?"

"Well, my heart's not really in it anymore. My whole life revolved around work. But now I have you."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

"So, how long are you thinking this sabbatical will take?"

"Well, that kind of depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On what happens when I'm not working."

"I don't understand."

This was it. This was the big reveal.

"Well, you see, the thing is...I was kind of wondering if...perhaps...maybe...you and I...could...well...try for a baby?"

His body stiffened, and she could hear him gasp quietly.

"What?"

"I thought we might try and have a baby. You and me."

"Are you serious? Or is this a joke, and you're teasing me?"

"No. I mean it." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. She was so scared to see what his reaction would be.

"A baby? Our baby?"

"Yes. I want to be a mother again. With you by my side. I want to do it right this time. I let you down throughout your life. I was never the kind of mother you needed me to be."

"Mom! You're exactly the kind of mother I need you to be. I love you like crazy."

"I know, I know, but this isn't normal. It's wonderful, it's amazing, but it's not normal. I wouldn't change what we have for anything. I love you so much it hurts. I love being your dirty, nasty mommy slut. I love doing all this crazy, sexy shit with you. I love being your girlfriend too. Your partner. Your woman. But I want to be a proper mother. I want to hold a baby in my hands and love it the way it should be loved. I want to change diapers, breast feed. The whole nine yards."

"There are risks."

"Yes, I know, but I want to at least try. I started this, I started us, because I wanted us to be closer. I thought this was a way to repair our relationship."

"And it worked. Oh boy, did it work."

"Yes. And no. We are closer. Much closer. As close as two human beings can be. There's no one I've ever been closer to. But what we have is a totally transformed relationship. You call me Mom, and we both get turned on by the fact we fuck each other. By the fact it's incest. But I'm not your mother. Not really. Not anymore. And I never will be. I'm your wife. There isn't a ring on my finger, but that's what I am. I'm your wife and you're my husband. And I want us to have a baby together. So, what do you think?"

Vincent didn't say anything for what felt like the longest time. She lay there: terrified, uncertain, desperate to hear good news.

Then...

"I think it's the greatest idea I've ever heard." He said, quietly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Let's make a baby, Mom. You and me. Let's make our baby."

Vanessa scrambled up and kissed him. She whooped with joy and kissed him again. Her face was lit up like an arc light, pure elation radiating from her smile.

"I love you, my beautiful baby boy. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom."

Vanessa was still on the pill, so conception was unlikely that afternoon. It didn't stop them trying though. Nothing would stop them. That day. Or any day yet to come.

Well, at least that's what they believed.

This would be as good a time as any to bring the tale of Vanessa and Vincent to an end. Two people who had bucked convention, defied the norms of society and had decided to follow the creed of a pop group from Liverpool and a wise young whore from Kentucky, who had told them, all you need is love.

If we left them now, we would not know if their decision to have a child would bear fruit. Perhaps they would be unable to conceive? Perhaps their baby would be adversely affected in some way by Vanessa's age, or their uncomfortably close DNA? Or maybe everything would go swimmingly? Maybe they'd have a litter of healthy, happy children, and they would live out their lives in comfort and blissful joy?

If we left them now, we would not know if the cold, hard reality of their relationship would catch up with them one day. What if someone found out? What if the authorities got involved? What if one day a police officer turned up at their door and told them that serious allegations had been made against them?

If we left them now, we would not know if their love might die out of its own accord. Both of them still felt the occasional pangs of unease about what they were doing. Incest is frowned upon by almost every society on earth for a reason. Vincent was twenty years old, and he spent almost all his time with someone twice his age. He had essentially abandoned his friends and college mates. His grades were slipping a little, even though he played hooky far less often than his mother. Maintaining a relationship like theirs might prove to be difficult. And that's putting it mildly. What if eventually Vincent met someone else? What if he no longer found his mother attractive as she aged? What if he left, and she became a bitter, reclusive old woman?

If we left them now, we wouldn't know the answers to any of these questions. They would be a mystery. So, instead, let us turn our attentions to another date, a few more months down the line. Vanessa was not yet pregnant. They had been trying. Holy fuck, they had been trying. They had been at it morning, noon and night, but so far without success. She had long since abandoned any form of contraception and Vincent had always fucked her bareback, so both of them felt it was only a matter of time. Vanessa had been to see her doctor, and he had reassured her she was in fine fettle, and conceiving a baby shouldn't be too difficult. The doctor was unaware of one rather important fact, of course; who the potential father was. neither Vincent or Vanessa thought it prudent to share that particular nugget of information.

She had charts and graphs, telling her when she was ovulating and when the best chance of success might be; but, as Vincent pointed out, since they were doing it practically all day, every day, those charts and graphs seemed pretty redundant.

Vanessa had indeed taken a sabbatical from work. She was the boss and the major shareholder, so getting permission wasn't exactly a tough job. She was now thinking about the future. If she and Vincent were successful, and the pitter patter of tiny feet would enter their world, she'd take at least a couple of years off. She intended to be a full time mom, this time around. She was going to be there for Vincent's offspring the way she never had been for him. And who knows? If they were to be blessed with one child, might they eventually try for another? Not that she intended to just give up her career altogether. She wasn't going to stay at home forever and just bake cookies. Oh no.

One idea that popped into her mind one day, was connected to her son. He wanted to pursue acting as a career. He seemed pretty serious about it (although Vincent was always adorably serious about almost everything he did), and as far as she could tell, he had some talent. He also had the looks. She attended every performance these days, always sitting in the front row; and the buzz he got from being on stage led to some off-the-charts sex when they got home. He was always a beast in bed, but post-theatrical sex was absolutely mind-blowing.

So, if he was going to be an actor, who would be his manager? Who would offer the tough-as-nails, take-no-prisoners, representation he deserved?

I could do that, she thought to herself. I mean, how hard could it be? She was used to difficult negotiations. She was used to getting her own way. Why couldn't she be his manager? It was an intriguing idea, there was no doubt about that. But, for this moment in time, she would have to shelve it. She was too busy in the present, to think about the future. Mostly because, right here, right now, her son was fucking her in the kitchen.

She was bent over one of the counters. Her skinny jeans were rolled down her thighs. She hadn't been wearing any underwear. Vincent always preferred it if she didn't wear panties - the idea of it just turned him on - and Vanessa always did whatever he preferred.

She'd seen the look in his eye, as soon as he entered the room. The get-over-here-and-fuck-me-bitch look, she called it. She'd was leaning against the counter, reading the paper; and she would readily concede she probably looked pretty damn hot in her spray-on jeans and her low-cut top.

Within thirty seconds, his cock was out of his pants and inside her cunt. He was pounding away with his usual ferocious gusto. He'd grabbed hold of her hair, using two handfuls of her glorious red curls like reins. Her back was arched, as he pulled her body up towards him. All the while, he was slamming his dick in and out of her gash.

"Fuck me harder!" She screamed. "Fuck my cunt, you dirty little bastard!"

"I'm going to cum inside you, you fucking whore!" He bellowed in return. "I'm going to cum inside you and make you pregnant. I'm going to put a baby in my mother's belly."

Whether that promise would have come to pass, at least at that particular point in time, we will never know, because it was at that exact moment that the front doorbell rang.

They ignored it at first, their lovemaking continued apace; but whoever it was, wouldn't go away. Both mother and son were a tad concerned that their persistent visitor might take a wander round the side of the side of the house and catch them in the act. So, eventually Vincent withdrew and zipped up his fly. There were no staff on duty today, hence their spontaneous kitchen-fuck, so he went to answer the door. Vanessa remained where she was, flat out, ass exposed, trying to get her breath back.

Vincent was still a little flushed when he reached the front door, but most people would assume he had simply been indulging in some light exercise. Which, was kind of true, in a way. But most people would never guess in a million years the exact nature of that exercise.

He opened the door and stood in front of him was a tall, beautiful woman. She had long, platinum blonde hair, and the most amazing figure he had ever seen. Apart from his mother's, of course. She had legs up to her armpits, and an ample bust. She was wearing a tight, semi-transparent blouse and an almost indecently short skirt. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

She gave him a dazzling smile and held out her hand.

"Hello," She said, her white teeth were as perfect as the rest of her. "You must be Vincent?"

"Yes, that's right. Do I know you?"

"Well, not really, but your mother and I used to be friends. My name is..."

"Holy fuck!" Exclaimed Vanessa, suddenly, as she saw who was stood at the door.

For the first time in more than twenty years, she was face to face with Emily. Emily Lowen. Vanessa's schoolfriend. The daughter of her former lover. And, of course, Vincent's half-sister.

"Hello Vanessa," She said. "Long time, no see."

This was, to put it mildly, an unexpected development. The baby-making might have to wait for an hour or two...

To be continued...

***Ah yes, the sting in the tail. As usual, I had originally intended this to be an entirely self-contained affair, but fairly early on the idea of reintroducing Emily at the end came to me. I've got a hankering to tell a bit of her side of the story. How did she react when she discovered her father was sleeping with her best friend? What happened when she found out he had a taste for teenage girls? Just what was the nature of her friendship with Vanessa? Just how close were they? And how does Vincent get involved in all this? Those are some of the questions I will try to answer in Boardroom Bitch: Chapter Two. But, a warning, the sequel is some way off yet. But stay tuned.***