Dreaming of Sin Ch. 08

"Yeah... I mean sure. I've got some time."

Fifteen minutes later and Jack had finished telling Becky about every part of the Boston trip that didn't involve the urn, or Samantha. Outside of that it was a fairly uneventful walk and Becky lead the way, asking just enough questions so that Jack knew she was paying full attention.

"You don't mind coming up right? I've got a great espresso machine," she said when they found themselves outside a towering condo building.

"Yeah... sure..." Jack's mind running a mile a minute as it tried to make sense of what was going on.

"Can I be totally honest with you?" Beck asked when they stepped into the elevator.

Jack managed a nod.

"Seeing you stand up to my mom... Your new suit... I mean... It put you in a totally different light. You seem so confident somehow now. And then you quit and it's like, if I ever want to have a chance to get to know this guy, I've got to do it right now. Does that make sense?" She asked, swaying slightly closer.

Before Jack could answer the doors opened and Becky led him two doors down to her condo.

The place was a mess. But it was a girl's mess. There were no dirty dishes or empty pizza boxes strewn about. There was no dilapidated furniture ten years past its dignified death. The place was well furnished, modern, bright, but with clothes scattered about as though getting undressed were an explosive affair.

"There's something else I need to tell you. And I mean, you getting fired, I guess it makes this easier since you can't go blabbing at work." She said, face flushing, eyes darting away to the side, her lower lip sucking into her mouth between pearl white teeth.

"I just got dumped by my third boyfriend this year. It's always the same problem and I decided I would just be upfront about it. I've kind of got a fetish and it's important to me, a deal breaker I guess..."

"Hey. It's ok," Jack started. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that big of a deal..."

"It's..." Becky stopped, her face was as red as a tomato, "it's an impregnation fetish. Like... not for real," she quickly added. "I'm on the pill... But I love to... pretend..."

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"Wow, this place is nice," Becky said as she looked out over the city scape, a five hundred dollar bottle of wine uncorked and starting to breath on the table between her and Vanessa.

"It's alright," Vanessa said with a smile she had spent months practicing to seem gentle. "One nice thing is that no matter what you get, you'll love it. But the servers are less attentive than they should be. Which does make it a good place for us to talk..." She said, lowering her voice.

"I promised you that I'd tell you what I wanted to know about Jack, and why I wanted to know it..." Vaness said in a soft whisper. There were other tables eating lunch around them, their own spoken conversations too quiet and too far to be heard, and at a whisper there was no question that Vanessa's voice would stay only at their table.

"The why... My husband before he died was a multi-multi-millionaire. I'd signed a prenup with him and his fortune was supposed to go to kin. It turns out that Jack was his closest living relative. Notice the new suit, the bounce in his step, eight zeroes tend to have that effect on men. That money should be mine, and I want it. What I want to know about Jack... everything you know. From how he likes his coffee, to what foods he likes and where he gets lunch, to what clothes he notices on women. Anything and everything you can tell me."

Becky took a sip of the wine, her face scrunching very slightly as the amber liquid tipped into her mouth. Good wine was wasted on youth.

"And that's worth all this?" she said, looking around her.

"Eight zeroes..." Vanessa said.

Becky thought about that a minute and was about to answer when they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. After having set down the plates the waiter paused, "I'm so sorry madam, would you like me to take your bag?" he asked, looking down at the same Dior bag, with a manilla envelope sticking out from its top, that she had brought into the office. "No, thank you, I'm fine like this," Vanessa said.

The waiter left. There would be no checking on how their first bites were going, the kitchen was confident that they would always go spectacularly.

"Tell you what," Becky started, a cunning in her eyes that she would need to learn to hide if she ever wanted to upper hand in actually using wit. "Question for question. This is fascinating stuff and I'm willing to help, but also want to know more."

Vanessa let out a lungful of air, blowing a lock of hair away from her face, "fine. But I go first. His favorite food."

Becky thought about that a moment, "he gets a lot of bagels but they're also pretty cheap. I'd suspect he's got pretty simple tastes on the food front. Bigger is better kind of guy. My turn... If Jack's got the money, how are you going to get it front him?"

Vanessa pretended to listen with rapt attention to Jack's bagel habits. She'd had to do this enough with her dearly departed husband when he prattled on about work that it was an easy thing to fake. "It's... complicated... But the really wealthy all set up careful trusts and offshore corporations to hold onto their money so the normal laws don't really apply to it. With my ex husband for example there was literally nothing I could do to get the money. Jack's using the same lawyers my husband did and there's a catch. The money has to sit in a family trust for a year before it can be moved. Some kind of tax rules. During that year, if Jack has a child, then the child - really the child's mother though - gets half. The trust got set up last week. My turn... What kind of clothes does he notice on women?"

Becky's mouth opened, eyes wide. It might have been the lobster bisque reduction, it was mind-blowing. But Vanessa didn't think so. Becky was putting two and two together.

"Actually," she looked down at herself, "he always seems to... notice... when I wear something like this. Showing off without showing anything. Little mini jacket squeezing it all together and up, but not something you could call slutty either. Office slutty. No offense... but you're a few years older than Jack, I mean you're very elegant, but it's going to take a while for you to get pregnant - isn't it?"

"I've got a big advantage," Vanessa smiled.

"Oh?" Becky asked, leaning forward, ready for some hot gossip.

"I hired a P.I. to get Jack's internet history. He has a very useful fetish, and with a little help from modern medicine, I think I've got the upper hand.

As she shifted back in her seat Vanessa's arm grazed her glass of wine, knocking it over and sending a wave of the crimson liquid spilling onto her plate and lap. She inhaled sharply, "damn it," she used her linen napkin to dab at her dress even as she stood up. Walking quickly for the bathroom. Her bag left on the floor beside her chair.

Five minutes later she was back. Becky was gone, as was the manilla envelope from inside her purse. A smile bloomed on her face, Jack wouldn't be putting her into storage now. Not when he realized what she could truly do for him.

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The small bottle of prescription fertility pills rattled in her hands as she tried to read the label. They had been tucked into the same envelope as the thirty page report on Jack's internet history. At first Becky hadn't believed it, not really, when she'd said "impregnation fetish" aloud to him she thought she would die of shame, and he would laugh in her face. But he hadn't, his eyes had gone wide with surprise, and then she'd seen a hunger there. The report wasn't a joke, it wasn't a forgery, it was the key to Jack.

'Take one a day,' the bottle instructed, she worked off its childproof top and poured four of the small pink pills onto her palm, downing them with a dry swallow.

After seeing that look in Jack's eyes it was just a matter of trying not to make it painfully obvious, she knew exactly what videos he'd been watching. A few minutes of talking, planning really, even setting up a safe word, and she'd excused herself to the bed room to "get ready".

She couldn't believe she was really going to do this. She'd known, assumed, deduced that all guys were perverts. Of course, Jack had always wanted to have sex with her - if he could have. She was a beautiful woman, and he was a guy. But she couldn't believe she was going through with this.

She checked her hair, checked her jacket, checked her skirt, and took a long, deep, steadying breath, closing her eyes. Then she hiked her skirt up from mid-thigh to her waist, revealing a bare shaved vagina, and went to the side of her bed and a small bottle of lube that she squeezed into her hand and then slowly worked into her dry vagina. A few Kleenex cleaned her hands and she pulled her skirt back down to mid-thigh, the lube cool inside her and on her lips but quickly warming.

One final breath, and she put a smile on her face and walked into the living room.

Four inch heels clicked on the wooden floor of her condo announcing her arrival. Her skirt, black, skin tight, and below her ass cheeks by only a few inches was one she'd never worn to the office but the perv smiling at her from the couch had probably imagined a million times. Her top, and bra, were gone, but she kept on the tiny jacket, it squeezed her breasts together, and covered the nipples, but only just.

"It was so hot seeing you stand up to my mom," she said, a sly smile on her lips as she walked over to him, accentuating the sway of her hips as she did.

Jack stood up from the couch, putting his hands on her exposed midriff one on her back, the other on her smooth, toned, belly. "It's ok Becky..." Jack said, his hot breath washing over her face.

"No... I loved seeing you like that. I love the idea of you knocking her back like that, then going home and fucking her daughter. Just..." she looked down, away from his eyes, "don't cum inside me, ok?"

He moved his hand up her belly and cupped her breast through the fabric of the jacket, her nipple hardening as he fondled her.

"No promises," he said, and she reached down, unfastening his pants, reaching in and wrapping her hand around his hard, hot, penis.

"I want you so fucking much, just... I can't do that," she said in a tender, weak voice. His hands on her back and breast turned her, unsteady in her high heels, to the arm of the couch, and she sat, opening her legs, her skirt stretching and sliding up on its own exposing herself to him.

"You know I'm religious, I can't have an abortion if you get me pregnant, and I'm really, really, really fertile. Today's a really dangerous day of the month," she said even as she angled him for her pussy, jerking him off as he stepped forward and setting the head of his dick against her lube-slick hole.

"Oh fuck, you're so fucking big. My pussy wants you so bad." She couldn't believe she was doing this. She couldn't believe she was just along and acting out his sick fantasy about her. But it couldn't possibly take long to get what she wanted from him, and once she had it, a few hours of degradation was nothing compared to a lifetime of wealth. She looked into his eyes, he was such a fool to think this was real, he was so stupid, so easy to manipulate.

He pushed into her and his eyes closed as the length of his dick easily slipped in until the lips of her pussy were kissing the very root of his cock.

"Oh fuck... I like that... knocking you up."

She groaned, "that's so fucking hot... But you can't. Please... but oh, fuck you feel how wet it makes me?"

She took Jack's hands, pulling them both onto her breasts, her little jacket held together only by the thread of one button as he pumped into her, bouncing her tits even as he fondled them roughly.

"Oh, fuck. Please, don't use my cunt for what it was made for. Don't turn me into a stupid, pregnant, cum dump!"

"I'm so fucking close," Jack groaned the words out.

"Cum on my face... in my mouth... I'll lick it off the floor like a dog if you want. Please, please... oh, fuck my pussy wants it so bad. My cunt wants you to cum in me Jack. Don't listen to my stupid cunt!"

"Fuck!"

She felt it. Thick, hot, pulsing into her. She just imagined that it was filling up her bank account and let out a long, satisfied, sigh.

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Jack had barely gotten to his car when his phone buzzed with a text. "Just send me your ideas for next time, and we'll set it up. You were amazing! Becky XXX"

Because of a suit? Because he'd stood up to Becky's mom and quit? A bit of confidence and suddenly the entire world acted differently around him. Jack let out a trembling breath and turned the key in his car's ignition. The radio flashed to life, and he was very happy to hear that there would be no traffic on his way home, rush hour well over.

"That was a hell of a day," he said to himself

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