Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 01

"In any case, you may seem like a potential target to criminal syndicates," she continued. "We should be careful, regardless of the circumstances of Elizabeth's death."

I nodded, considering that was the only thing I felt competent to do. "You say you worked for her, what? Nine years? That means you must've started very young."

"Yes, sir. My mother was one of her... Uhm... Maids... I suppose... I lived in the Scotland house's servant quarters. Miss Wharry heard that I like to shoot and drive, and she wanted a female bodyguard. So, she paid for me to get my training and my business degree."

"You have a business degree," I admired. "Did you study here in London?"

Alicia seemed to wrestle with her following words as she ignored my question. "I wonder, sir, if it's not impertinent to ask... But... Are you uncomfortable with me being a woman?"

I laughed the question away, "God no! If anything, I much prefer it over the prospect of a seven-foot-tall bruiser that's all punch and no brain."

I saw Alicia smile at me for the first time — with me — and it warmed my heart. Again, I felt a kinship with her. It was like I knew this person or someone like her... Yes. She reminded me of someone, but I wasn't quite sure who.

We kept talking about the ins and outs of what my day-to-day would be. A staff would arrive soon to handle business matters. Slowly, I was going to learn everything I needed to know, and my shadow seemed to be the best teacher I could wish for.

• • •

I spent the rest of the day exploring the house. In truth, it wasn't as massive as I first imagined, but going from room to room took a couple of hours as I took my time in each. I aimed to search for personal heirlooms — I was looking for things that told me more about the woman who bequeathed me her fortune.

The Maybach was in an underground garage that could only be accessed by the car elevator or a staircase. That's where I started. Finding Isabelle polishing the car's bonnet, I asked her to join my tour.

"What can you tell me about Liz Wharry?"

My driver seemed to search for words but had none. "Not much to tell."

"No family?"

"No one alive. She was born late... Her parents were in their early fifties before she was in her teens, and there were no siblings."

I understood. My sisters were born seven years after me for a good reason... The gap at least allowed my mother to reach the legal drinking age before having a second pregnancy. Because of that, I always imagined I'd only have kids much later in life. Maybe that was Liz Wharry's plan too, but she waited too long.

Isabelle pushed back on this theory. "She may have wanted to adopt you, but it was a fleeting feeling. She never went through with it because she remembered that she didn't actually want children."

"I wonder how she would've explained it to the world... That she suddenly had me as her son?"

"It could be one of the reasons she got cold feet," Isabelle suggested. "I'm sure she had some sort of plan, but the state would never have allowed her to adopt legally. God knows a social worker would've taken one look at her and deemed her unfit to be a parent."

"Well, a social worker would have taken one look at my mother and probably have done the same," I mused, unsure what kind of man my father was and whether he made a good parent. "You didn't like working for Elizabeth? What about Alicia? Did she enjoy it?"

"I hardly worked for her. Same with Alicia... We focused on special assignments."

A little perplexed, I asked Isabelle to clarify what 'special assignments' meant, but she didn't want to go into it. "Just because you're the heir doesn't mean you get to know the old boss's secrets. Sorry, sir."

The assertion was easy enough to accept. Even the dead are entitled to their privacy.

We'd passed through most of the lower floor and were on our way up. The kitchen and dining room were pretty but unremarkable. Of the most interest to me was the lack of personal items. There was no sense of history in the old townhouse.

"I never knew my father worked for Wharry," I said. "That must've been in Canada, right? I mean... I knew he was older than my mother, but I didn't think he was a working man when I was conceived."

"Wharry had homes in London, Scotland, Singapore, Toronto, Melbourne, and Mykonos. That means you now have homes in all those places, boss."

"No one needs six houses."

Isabelle shrugged as if conceding the point. "So, your father was older than your mother."

"Yeah..." I replied.

"Old enough to... Never mind, sir," Isabelle excused. I knew what she was thinking, and I thought the same thing for the first time.

Was my dad a creep?

We reached a billiards room set up for snooker, shuffleboard and Pac-man. The last thing I expected to see was an old arcade cabinet, but apparently it was one of Wharry's guilty pleasures. That and air-conditioners in every room...

"She thought it's silly that London homes don't have AC," Isabelle explained. "Ya' know, global warming and such?"

"It is silly, but couldn't she have installed more elegant units?"

"She didn't care about elegance."

"Imagine being worth billions and not investing in interior design..."

Money and taste don't necessarily go hand-in-hand, but forgoing aesthetics altogether? It was almost insane — as if Wharry was so consumed in her own reality that she stopped caring.

I didn't want money to change me, but I wondered if I had any chance of not becoming like her: Isolated and eccentric. It was a risk that would undoubtedly decrease if I surrounded myself with family, but they were far away.

As we continued our tour, Isabelle began showing me some of the more expensive features of the house. Specific rugs, paintings and architectural elements seemed stuck together chaotically. I half paid attention, but my mind had drifted to my sisters and I started talking about them.

"Sounds like they're lucky to have you," Isabelle smiled.

I disagreed, "They're unlucky not to have a dad or a mother who can take care of them. I try my best, but I doubt I'm a good substitute."

With a pat on the back, my driver started laying out suggestions for how my new fortune could benefit my family. It was a bright and optimistic conversation that took us to the end of our tour. Once we reached the bedroom suite, Isabelle excused herself, and I had the rest of the day to myself.

08 • The Bosom of Abraham

Nothing became any more straightforward. It was like my days were dreams, strung together to make a nightmare. Nothing seemed real and nothing seemed knowable.

Tash never came back and ignored my calls. I considered ringing her mom, mainly because I needed someone to help me navigate all the changes. But, I knew my cousin would hate me for it, so I didn't...

Agonising behind the antique desk in the study, I couldn't figure life out. I kept playing with Sian's pen, never actually writing with it. The thing was a reminder of that crazy night and how I wished life could be as carefree as those few hours at the club and in the hotel. Back then, I thought a threesome with my cousin was the thing that changed the world forever. Now, I had the money to handle.

A small team from my old firm had been sent to explain the nature of my inheritance. Meanwhile, I couldn't afford simple airline tickets for my sisters.

I was theoretically rich and practically broke.

Mr Lévesque was a named partner at my firm, and he led my session with the legal team. Unlike the other partners, he spent a lot of time with his juniors. That didn't mean he liked me. In fact, I always suspected he resented the fact that I spoke better French than him.

As we were talking about the estate, I asked a rather obvious question. "What about my old job? I should probably hand in my notice..."

Lévesque cackled. "We assumed you wouldn't be staying on."

"What will I do with myself? No job, no real purpose..."

"You can start a foundation," my old boss offered. "You could also take on Liz Wharry's job at Pellinore."

"Me? Never! That would be absolute insanity. A 25-year-old lawyer as chairperson of a multi-billion dollar company?"

Mr Lévesque reminded me that stranger things had happened, but I insisted that I wanted to sell my stake in all of Liz Wharry's businesses. It was the simplest solution to my new life's potential complications.

"It's the man thing," I mused, assuming the role of a billionaire businessman. "I don't fit the image of her legacy. I think having one mega-corporation that's distinctly feminine is good for the world. Changing that isn't in anybody's interest."

A redhead from the firm's London office chipped in. "I don't think anyone will ever think about that, sir. Profits before principles and all that."

My old boss agreed and the team made their apologies as they had to rush to other meetings. I was happy for the familiarity of some old faces, even though my former peers and even superiors now called me 'sir.'

As for my personal life? I had a lot to think about.

I would sit for an hour at a time, alone in the study, as I wondered what to do next. My mother was still in the dark, but it didn't give me sleepless nights. She'd left me in the dark for 25-years... I could return the favour for a few days as I planned my next moves. I dreaded the conversation with her, unable to see a good outcome, no matter how I played it out in my head.

Still, the biggest problem in London seemed to be the back and forth between my cousin and me. Whenever I thought about it, I felt my head go blank.

At our last meeting, she seemed happy and free of doubt. She walked away with a smile on her face, and I thought we'd made a decision. Now, she'd disappeared — leaving me on read as she dealt with whatever must've been eating her. Her behaviour could be precisely what you'd expect with everything being so strange. Yet, the silence was an unnecessary stab at an already confused heart.

I felt I deserved better. I was angry at her for not having the guts to talk it out — enraged at her cowardice. For a moment, it seemed that we were trusting each other with everything, then she vanished! Part of me wanted to send Alicia and Isabelle to bring her to me. That seemed too entitled, bratty, and bullying... I also wouldn't send anyone to do something so awkward — using my guardians as henchmen.

So, I did my best to put thoughts about my cousin to one side. My sisters phoned twice, and I tried to 'plan' my future as best I could. In reality, my life was in limbo, at the edge of hell. I wasn't rich, but I wasn't poor. Soon, I'd have everything, but for a moment, it seemed like I had nothing.

All my resources were loans from the Estate until the admin was concluded.

My family were far away, and my future had been tied to fate. I was feeling less like a man — more like a mindless blob that wandered aimlessly. To top it all off, I felt like such a fucking fool each time I caught myself complaining.

I would soon be richer than I could've ever imagined. What right did I have to complain about anything ever again?

When I wasn't feeling like a fool, I felt like a fraud. You become a little obsessed with your body language in the corporate world. I never bought into it, really, but now I caught the cues I made involuntarily. My arms always seemed to be folded, with my posture suffering as a result.

I desperately needed a hobby, but all I could do was pace around... Until I found Liz Wharry's old hi-fi.

That night, Sidney Bechet kept me company. The man defined the soundtrack of New Orleans with rough blues sounds that expressed emotions beyond words. He was the first great jazz saxophonist and, in my opinion, damn under-appreciated.

As 'petite fleur' bellowed from the sound system, I swayed near the window and watched the London night. The streets were empty and cold, with cars passing only now and then.

Suddenly, the room filled with a stunning scent and there was an arm wrapped around my waist. "Hey," she spoke, her lips touching my ear as she greeted me.

"How did you get in here?" I smiled, turning to meet the woman behind the words.

Natasha's lips were painted red, but the blush on her cheeks was natural. We kissed each other gently on the mouth and held hands as the soprano saxophone cried in the background. Another kiss was soon to follow, and then a third. God knew I could kiss her all night, but a man has to stop sometime, even if it's just to drink in the sight of the woman he loves.

My cousin parted from me with our fingers still entwined. "Sorry, I've been scarce."

"At least you're back," I said. "Here to stay?"

Natasha's eyes lit up with the energy I knew and loved. She pulled herself a little closer until we were dancing. The song had changed: A faster tune, a bit more swing and a little less sway. We were bubbling with giggles as we cut a swathe through the room.

As I spun her around and pulled her against me, my cousin got real close and whispered, "I brought my pyjamas this time."

I was ecstatic and with that ecstasy came a deep tongue-kiss — full French in the capital of England. It was the kind of kiss that seemed just right and the kind of kiss that didn't stop. The sensual feeling made us warm and had us scrambling to relieve the heat. My fingers felt for the edge of Natasha's blouse and gently started guiding it off her body. She was quick to slap my hand away.

"Dear cousin, this music certainly calls for a bit of a show. Don't rush... I'm yours forever."

Tash stepped back, swaying her hips in time with the music as she slowly lifted the hem of her top. With the pace of our bedroom soundtrack picking up, she was sure to be a little naughty — a little daring. She was doing her best impression of a show-girl with red lips in a pout and a body that knew how to tease.

As her top slowly came off, I got the slightest hint of skin before a touch more. She was waiting for me: Teasing me until I got the signal and took a seat on the bed.

Satisfied that I was in position, Tash quickly got rid of the top. Her muscles were tensed and toned; twisting perfectly as her torso kept pace with the music and her bra dropped. She approached me — sultry and self-assured — her fingers walking up my chest before holding my chin for a kiss. As our tongues touched, she pulled back with a grin.

"Down, boy... Be patient with me tonight, and I'll make it worth your while."

I nodded along, more than willing to see where the night took us as Tash straddled my lap. Arching back, her nipples cried for attention of the tender and loving kind. I put my lips where they just had to go and she crooned along with the saxophone as I gently kissed and sucked the sweet little things. With one hand against her stomach, I could feel how I made her feel, and that was good, so I kissed her a little harder and she crooned a little louder.

"That's the stuff," Natasha praised in her rosey accent. She was rolling her neck as I made love to her breasts; tangling with my hair as she breathed into the pleasure. She arched further back to accommodate me as I kissed lower and lower. Pulling herself closer to me, we were both upright again but this time she threw her weight forward and we fell onto our backs.

It was my turn to strip, and she expertly helped, going from the top button to the last as she undid my shirt. With each undoing, she left a kiss and let her lips drag to the next target until that target became my belt buckle.

Natasha's eyes were set on mine as she unlaced my belt; her sultry pout turning to a pure smile as she got closer to revealing my cock. The next few seconds were slow as she teased the reveal, gently wriggling the edges of my trousers until the hard shaft sprung free.

With a lollipop-lick, Natasha ran her tongue along my cock and swirled over the tip. She did it again and again, making me drip with anticipation. But she had plans other than a simple blowjob on her mind. With one hand gently gripping me, she straightened herself over my body and I took my cue.

My cousin wore tight leggings. So tight that my fingers struggled to get between the fabric and her skin. Slowly, we freed her body and she lined her hips up with mine. Now, her wet pussy was so close that I could feel its warmth and imagine all the pleasures to come. As she slowly set herself down, I felt her take me deeper and deeper while our bodies turned.

We were on our sides and tied together. My cock hit her at an angle she didn't expect, but we both loved; her smooth thigh over mine and pert ass in my hands. With our cheeks pressed against each other, it was all sweet and gentle and my hips moved that same way.

"It feels so good holding you again," I said.

"Then hold me tighter."

Pulling her closer, Tash's breasts compressed against my chest and I recognised the beat of her heart. I was pushing deeper into my cousin's tight pussy — a tightness enhanced by our position — and she was yielding to me. She rolled onto her back as my cock remained firm in place and soon we were face-to-face and captured in each other's gaze. I propped myself up on my arms, giving me the room I needed as I started making love to her, feeling the embrace of her sex as I pumped into it.

I felt my cousin's legs move and hook into mine. We locked together with my length sinking deep into her pussy and our tongues meeting. There was no room to move except that kiss and the tiny movements of our hips as they rolled towards a climax. The feeling was made more intense as I tried to get back on my elbows and bend my knees with the strain building in my muscles as both our bodies became warm with exertion.

Natasha's eyes lit up with mine as we realised that I'd hit the right spot. With her fingernails sinking into my shoulders, I found the space to start making long and firm thrusts in and out of her pussy. "Yes..." she exhaled, letting her hands release me as she surrendered her whole body.

The beginnings of a shudder sent a signal to my brain as the sound of contact between us got louder. It was the sound of pace and fire and love. Then, it became the sound of lust as the saxophones in the background were overpowered by groans and moans and all the other instruments of sex. I was yearning for a happy ending and so was Natasha; her fingers having found her way to her clit and helping her soaking pussy reach its apex with frantic movements.

There could be nothing more beautiful than reaching climax with someone you love and that climax was about to come. It hit our souls before it hit our bodies — it filled the room before it filled our minds. The electricity was explosive and the chemistry that followed matched all expectations as I felt my cousin's body buckle. Her pussy tightened and my cock experienced a millisecond of numbness before what felt like an eternity's pleasure.

I buried myself deep between the welcoming folds of Natasha's vagina while the feelings of an eruption transcended my body into hers. The feeling of my cum sent a signal to her brain that made her eyes go wide and her throat cry in delight. It was a signal that made her lips curl and teeth shine and legs wrap ever tighter around me as she locked me into a full-body hug.

The explosion of warmth made me push deeper until there wasn't an inch left between us. I held her body and I let the orgasm roll and roll with hers as we both drifted back to Earth.

In the end, it took a shocking — stunning — kiss to jolt us back to life. Then we parted, only to pull each other closer again as magnetism refused to let us seperate.

"What made you come back?" I asked, tugging on her lips with mine as she kissed me back.

Taking her time, my cousin let the kiss run its course for a full minute before turning onto her side and beaming me a sweet smile. "The music made me do it."