My Mom, the High End Escort Ch. 03

She was half begging, and what she said made a lot of sense to me, I was wavering, when she said,

"Think about it. Don't you want to report at college together with your young beautiful mom? We'd look so cute together, and people would think we are boyfriend and girlfriend. Your classmates, your roommates are gonna be so jealous."

This really pulled on my heartstring, but also made me alert. I recognized that she recently learned how much I was captivated by her feminine allure, and she was not above using it to achieve her purposed. I was about to bend and let her win, but I couldn't allow that. With much vile, I retorted,

"If I just want a young beautiful mother to go with me to college, I'll ask Katie. Her rates are lower, and she's much less likely to embarrass me by sleeping with my roommates."

That hit her hard, and she started crying. Seeing these teary green eyes glistening, my feelings took over my determination, and I ran over and held her in my arms, my hand caressing the back of her head.

She let herself cry freely in my arms, but only for what seemed like half a second, before she lightly rubbed her eyes, adjusted her hair, and pushed me away, not hard but determined. Seemed like she was more afraid of showing her vulnerability in front of me, her son, than anything else.

"If that's what you choose, so be it." Her face was smeared with tears, and her voice a bit croaked and broken, but she was bent to fight on.

"If that's all, I'd like to be excused, as I have a game to kill." I said, half proud, but half disgusted at myself for being so harsh,

"Goodnight, Renee." I turned back and started walking towards the door.

"Joey!" Mom called out, "There's one more thing. It's from your father!"

That got my attention, and I turned back to her, eager to see what she had in her sleeves.

"He wanted me to give this to you when you turn 18. I was going to give it to you at your birthday --" She held out a beautifully wrapped thin gift box.

"But let me guess, you forgot because you were busy running to fuck the provost?" I suggested, taking the gift in my hand.

"Oh my god Joey!" She broke down completely, crying without restraint, "What have I done? What did I do to deserve you? Why do you have to be so --"

"Cruel?" I suggested, "Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

*** ***

I got upstairs and carefully unpacked the gift wrap. It was a book with an elaborate red hard cover. I opened the cover page, and a note fell out,

If you are seeing this note, it's likely that I am not there to personally hand you the book. But do not despair, for my love, and your mother's love, will always be with you.

The world is a harsh and cruel place, and one ought to know how to defend himself, if he hopes to survive. But while you learn the art of self-protection, do not forget that the ultimate goal is to use your power, be it great or little, for the good.

Love,

Dad

My eyes turned teary. I marveled at the thoughtfulness of his message, as well as the love it still conveyed across all the time-space. I opened the first page. It was a classic edition of The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli, published in London, 1919. Its page margins were full of notes written in beautiful cursive, left by its previous several owners.

I opened one page randomly, and it read,

"I conclude therefore that, fortune being changeful and mankind steadfast in their ways, so long as the two are in agreement men are successful, but unsuccessful when they fall out. For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coolly. She is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity to command her."

I was both intrigued and shocked by this utterly amoral, pragmatic, yet spirited quote that echoed from Renaissance Italy, when my phone rang. It was a text from Katie.

"How did it go?"

"I stood my ground. She left, but I feel bad."

"It's normal to feel bad when you have just started in self-defense, because it's hard for you to gauge the proper force of your moves. But with time, it'll get better. You'll be able to defend yourself better without hurting the other person as much. And don't worry for your mom. She'll recover. She's the toughest woman I know. I'm more worried about you. Will you be OK?"

"I'll be ok."

"Promise?"

"Promise." I texted back, with a heart emoji.

"Good. I'm so proud of you. And one more thing -- before you head out for college next week, would it please you to book another session with me?"

"I'd love to, but your rates are too high and I'm a bit short on funds." I told the truth.

"How about this? I'll give you 20% off because you are an established client, another 50% off because you're an incoming college student, and buy-one-hour-get-one-free, because you're a handsome stud. Deal?" I could sense the playfulness in her tone. She was basically making it free for me.

"I appreciate the consideration, but we have just done a therapy session, and I still have my homework. It wouldn't be enough time before next week for me to make enough progress to warrant another session." I kept teasing.

"Good point, son. So, no therapy this time. How about just some good old sex, then?" Katie suggested.

*** ***

To be continued