Working for Mom

Sylvia had her head down while she studied the screen. "Shows at 1:30 and 3:30," she said. "Let's do 3:30. We'll have more time to get ready, and we can go straight to dance lessons after the movie."

Vic pushed back from his empty plate. "I won't need much time to get ready," he said. "I checked out of the hotel room yesterday, so I need to call them and take my things back." Sylvia's smile dissolved when she looked up at Vic. That made him stop and ask, "What are you worried about?"

"I'm not sure," Sylvia said and watched her son while she closed her laptop. "Maybe I'm worried about what I could learn about you. You're not the boy I used to know."

Sylvia's worried look was long gone when she smiled at her son over their empty pizza plate. The man her son was becoming had swept her off her feet, first at the theater and then on the dance floor. Now, with a rum and coke in her hand and the band starting their second set, she was happy and relaxed.

"I think I get it now," she said. "Are you like this with all your dates?"

Vic shook his head. "I try to give them whatever they need, and it's usually different. It's hard because I don't really know them, and sometimes I barely care." He reached across the table and took Sylvia's hand. "It's easy with you," he said, "and I'll always care."

Maybe it was the alcohol that made Sylvia blush. The music changed and he pulled Sylvia to her feet. "Foxtrot?" he asked, but he didn't wait for her answer.

Vic found a place on the dance floor where people could watch Sylvia dance. He took his eyes off her while they glided across the floor only to see who was paying attention. He turned her to show her off, and he turned her again.

"People are watching you," Vic said with his lips close by his mother's ear, and Sylvia's silver hair flipped when she turned her head first one way then the other to catch the smiles and the lingering stares.

Sylvia's red lips curled into a smile. "You're using me to tease them," she said, and her hips took on a little extra sway.

"You're beautiful and you're graceful," Vic said, "And every one of them wants to know how it would feel to hold you." He stepped her across the floor and smiled over her head. "I could tell them, you know, that just your touch would make their hearts pound."

Vic pulled Sylvia close as he stepped her through another turn. He tipped his head to the side as if he would kiss her while everyone watched. Sylvia looked up for a moment with her lips parted just enough, and then she ducked against his chest and laughed. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?" Sylvia asked. "I can't think about anything but sex."

"It must be time to go," Vic said, and he tugged Sylvia's hand. He pulled her off the dance floor and through the tables, and he stopped just long enough to tell her, "I have something for you at the hotel."

Sylvia was a little out of breath on the elevator down, and then she quizzed Vic while he drove about what he had waiting for her. He told her only, "You'll like it." He deflected her questions and changed the subject until she gave up in frustration.

Vic pulled Sylvia through the lobby of the uptown Marriott, and pushed the seventh floor button three times while she laughed at his impatience. She squeezed against him when the door finally shut and said, "Whatever you have waiting for me, you need to give me time to get ready."

Giving his mom time worked out for Vic. She closed the bathroom door behind her, and he laid his gift out on the bed: a satin corset as silver as his mother's hair, silver garters, silver nylons, and glittering spike heels. He even had silver eyelashes and the kit to put them on.

Vic stopped Sylvia as soon as she stepped out the toilet. "Are you ever going to tell me what this is about?" she asked.

"I'll show you," Vic said, and he led her to the bedside.

"Oh, my God, Vic!" Sylvia said. She held the corset against her and turned to look in the mirror. "Do you want me to dress your clients like this?"

Vic unhooked Sylvia's jumpsuit while he answered. "No, dress them the way they want. You said you liked Jill's corset, and I said I'd get you one, so there it is. I decided to get it in silver instead of green."

Sylvia's suit was still hanging around her hips while Vic fit her into the corset. "A little too tight," she said. She watched her shape in the mirror while he cinched up the laces in the back. It lifted her nearly-bare breasts to make them full and round, and it smoothed the curve from her waist to her hips.

Vic let the laces relax a little and tied them. "You look like a sex doll," he said. He watched over his mom's shoulder, and his hands slipped up along the silver satin from her hips to her breasts. He pulled her against his chest and tugged at her nipples. "I spent all afternoon imagining what you'd look like in this."

Sylvia pushed Vic's hands away, pushed her pantsuit down and stepped out of it while she turned to face him. "Is it as good as you imagined?" she asked. She reached down to the front of her son's jeans and traced her fingers around his hard bulge. "Oh God, Vic. How long have you had this?"

"On and off," Vic said. "Definitely on right now." He motioned to the accessories on the bed. "I don't think I could get much harder, and we still have all this to go."

Sylvia picked up the rest of the outfit—even the eyelash kit—and held it against her chest. "Don't watch," she said. She disappeared around the corner and called back, "I'll be ready in a few minutes. Just wait."

Vic had things to do. He opened the suitcase he left there that afternoon and sorted through its contents. It was his kit—lubes and toys, scents and shampoos—anything he could think of that a date might want during the night.

"You're not watching, are you?" Sylvia asked.

Vic left a vibrator and some lube beside the bed just in case, and then he dimmed the lights. "You told me not to." He dropped his blazer on the sofa, then his shirt. He stepped out of his shoes and then his pants, and he listened to Sylvia humming to herself while she got ready. "I could put some music on if you want."

"Make it just loud enough that people won't hear all the noise I'm going to make," Sylvia said, and Vic laughed. He found a little sound bar in his kit, plugged his phone into it, and let Pandora do the rest.

Sylvia stepped around the corner while Vic was still adjusting the volume. "You know how much I like Billy Joel. Now sit," she said and pushed him back until he dropped into the chair.

Vic sat up and stroked his hands up Sylvia's nylon-covered legs and touched the sensitive flesh between her thighs. "You look good enough to eat," he said.

"I bet you say that to all your sex dolls," Sylvia said, "but what about the rest of the package?" She watched Vic from under her silver eyelashes, lifted her tits in her hands, and laughed when Vic's hard-on stood up between his legs.

"I get the picture," Sylvia said. She pushed Vic back and settled down across his lap with her legs over the arm of the chair. "Is this comfortable for you?"

"Just a little to my right," Vic said, and moved Sylvia's hip to bear on his thigh. He wrapped a big arm around her shoulders, and pushed his other hand between her legs. His fingers teased his mom's soft folds, and he slipped them slowly up into her—first one finger then two.

Vic cradled Sylvia on his lap and kissed her lips and her cheeks. He felt her breath against his neck grow shallow and ragged. He inhaled her scent and worked his fingers between her thighs rhythmically, but gradually faster, as her excitement grew.

Sylvia moved to the thrills and the tension that rushed through her body. She clutched at her son''s arms, and bit his throat until he ducked against his shoulder to stop her.

Vic pushed his tongue into his mother's mouth, and that muffled her moans. She twisted in his grip, and for just a moment her clit seemed to disappear from under his fingers. Sylvia turned her head away and groaned while her orgasm washed through her body and flooded her senses. She gasped for breath to the driving beat of a Donna Summers song, and her body relaxed in Vic's arms.

"You always know how to make me feel good," Sylvia said. She found his hardened cock and stroked it with her finger tips. "Should I get you off?" she asked.

"Not right now," Vic said. He took his hand from between Sylvia's thighs and stroked the bare skin between her stockings and her corset while he looked around the room. "Right now I want you on the bed."

Vic stood with Sylvia cradled in his arms, set her on the edge of the bed, and tossed the cushion from the chair into the middle of the mattress. "Get up there," he said. He picked her legs up and turned her onto the cushion.

Sylvia seemed to know what her son wanted. She got her knees under her and pushed her butt up, and she looked back at Vic as he climbed onto the bed behind her. "Like this?" she asked.

"Knees wider," Vic said, and he spread her legs apart. He paused to look at the silver goddess he'd made of his mom, and at the way the target between her legs opened for him. He laid his hands on her satin-sheathed hips and let his hard cock rest against her asshole.

"This is going to feel really good," Vic said. He bent over Sylvia and squeezed her tits in both hands. He kissed her neck and the back of her ears until she ducked and laughed, then he slid his hands down her arms and grasped her wrists.

Sylvia grunted in surprise and pitched forward when Vic took her hands out from under her. He held her wrists against the mattress and drew his hips back so his cock slipped down between her legs. Vic pushed, and the head of his cock penetrated her. He pushed again, and she tossed her head back against his shoulder. He pushed again and his cock filled her. Vic squeezed his hips against Sylvia's soft butt, and she buried her face in the cushion.

Vic shifted his grip on Sylvia's wrists and held them both in one hand. He tucked her hair back and whispered with his lips just brushing her ear. "I should get handcuffs," he said, "They'd make this easier." He pushed his arm under Sylvia and held her against him with his hand between her breasts. He pushed his hips against her butt again, and he heard her catch her breath.

Sylvia was helpless under her son—or at least she seemed that way. He held her tight and thrust his hard shaft up into her. He worked slowly at first, but the sensations from his mom's warm body in his arms and around the sensitive head of his cock blanked his mind, and her voice urged him on. "Oh baby, fuck me!" she said, and he did.

Sylvia's toes curled in her spike-heeled shoes. Her fingers curled too, and her hands twisted in Vic's grip. He held her tight and listened to the excited noises she made while he pumped her. She was on the verge of giving Vic her orgasm.

Vic slapped against Sylvia's butt with each hard thrust, and Sylvia clenched her teeth. Her breath stopped while the spasm's gripped her body and tightened around her son's plunging cock. She screamed into the mattress, and she collapsed on the cushion beneath her.

An old U2 song rocked from Vic's phone. Sylvia turned her head to look at Vic and asked, "Is the music loud enough? That had to be pretty noisy."

"I don't care. Let people listen," Vic said. He kept his cock moving slowly inside her and his lips brushed her ear. "I like it when you do that. I like it when you come for me."

"Did you come, too?" Sylvia asked. He shook his head, and she pulled her wrists from his grip. She pushed him back so his cock slipped out of her, turned on the cushion, and wrapped her legs around him. "Come for me," she said, and pulled his still-hard cock to her.

Sylvia watched her son from under those long silver eyelashes while she nestled his cock into her. He held her tit with one hand, and her hip with the other, and she caught her breath when he filled her. He muffled the unintelligible sounds she made with his mouth over her red lips and his tongue in her mouth, and he held her against him while he fucked her.

Vic couldn't last long, and Sylvia didn't need him to. Her fingers clutched at his back, and she lifted her knees to his shoulders. He broke their kiss and ducked his head against her neck. He held their bodies together and stopped with his aching shaft pulsing inside her.

Vic squeezed his eyes tight shut. His hot cream gushed through his shaft and erupted in Sylvia's body. He slammed into her until he was empty, but she said, "Oh Vic, don't stop now!" He repeated his violent thrusts twice more before he felt Sylvia's orgasm ripple through her body.

They were both breathless when Vic collapsed beside Sylvia. He held her and kissed her face and her shoulders until she laughed and pushed him away.

Sylvia climbed off the bed and fumbled with the speaker for a second before she shut it off, and the room went quiet. "Not a good time for Madonna," she said. She pulled the chair cushion off the bed and climbed over Vic to straddle his hips. "If you're that good with your dates, then it might explain why you're so popular."

"I try to be good," Vic said, "but there's no way it can be like that. I don't know them like I know you, and I don't love them like I love you."

That made Sylvia smile. She leaned forward, kissed Vic's lips, and sat back again. She rubbed her wrists and said, "Maybe you should get cuffs for your kit. If that's what your client wants then you could control her with the cuffs and still have two hands free to get her off."

Vic tucked two fingers under the corset between his mom's tits. He pulled her toward him, rolled her onto the mattress and slowly pulled the zipper down until he could lay it open. He pulled her bare skin against his. "If that's what they want," he said.

* * *

Vic's phone was on the bench beside him when it chimed to tell him he had a message. He lowered the weights he'd been pressing and sat up to look.

"Can you come to the spa?" Sylvia's message asked. "I have someone here you should meet." Vic knew what that meant. His mom thought he might have a new client.

"I'm at the gym," he answered. "I'll get there as soon as I can." Vic racked his weights and got Ed's attention. "We're still on for the ballgame tonight, right?"

Vic got a thumbs up from Ed, and headed for the shower. He was freshly scented when he got to the spa, and his tee shirt stretched to cover his pumped arms and chest.

Abby—the receptionist—saw Vic coming and picked up the phone before he reached the front desk. "Sylvia, Vic's here," she said, "and he's packing heat."

Vic could hear his mother laugh at the other end of the line. "Then enjoy the walk back here," she said. "We're in Makeup."

Abby was a short, soft-bodied woman who started working for Sylvia when Vic was just into his teens. Now she delighted at the feel of his bicep when she wrapped her hand around it. Vic knew exactly where he needed to go, but he let her pull herself close and guide him through the door. As always, the air in the spa was suffused with the mingled scents of their products, and the artists bustled around their clients.

Sylvia looked up at Vic's reflection in a mirror as Abby left him there. A woman perched on a high, swiveling chair in front of his mother, but Vic couldn't see her until Sylvia stepped aside and turned the chair around.

A good makeup job always made it hard for Vic to guess a woman's age, but he guessed that she was older than her look suggested.

"This is Vic," Sylvia said. She motioned toward her son and smiled. "This is Mrs. James—Sara James. We've been talking about you."

Mrs. James was wrapped in one of the masseuse's towels. She met Vic with a steady gaze from beneath bangs cut just at her eyebrows. Her straight, black hair fell on white shoulders, and it shimmered with blue highlights.

"Should I call you Sara?" Vic asked.

Sara scanned Vic's body before she said anything. "If you like," and her wine-red lips curled just perceptibly. There was no more change in her expression. She fixed her stare on Vic without blinking, and to him she seemed strangely vulnerable.

Vic gave her what he thought she might want. He stepped closer with a smile meant to suggest that she looked good, and he might be interested in her.

"I don't think Sara's made her mind up," Sylvia said, "but she might want someone to keep her busy while her husband's traveling. I thought I'd introduce you."

Vic made sure Sara was still watching when he let his eyes wander down her body. She straightened her back and crossed her legs. "When are you available?" she asked.

"Not before Friday," Vic said, "but we don't have to schedule anything now. Why don't I take you to coffee when you're done here, and we can talk about it."

"I have time, and we're done here," Sara said, "but I need to get dressed." She held the towel above her breasts and slipped off the stool.

Sylvia caught Sara's arm, but then leaned to Vic and said. "Wait here." She seemed worried when she came back. "I spent some time on the books this morning. You had a slow week last week—I don't think we broke even."

"We don't have to break even every week to make a profit, do we?" Vic asked. "I had five dates the week before and three of those were upgrades. It seems like that should more than offset a slow week. If it's a problem, then maybe you should take a bigger cut, because I'm like swimming in money."

"Keep dog paddling," Sylvia said. "We don't have to be profitable every week, but I'd be more comfortable if we were."

"Maybe Mrs. James will help," Vic said and glanced to where she disappeared. "You gave her a great look, but I'm pretty sure it's younger than her age. What do you know about her? I had a hard time reading her."

"She spends a lot of money here," Sylvia said, "and she doesn't make very many of her own decisions. She told me she wanted to look good to younger men, and she let me go. I had to guess at what would make her happy, and that was frustrating."

Sylvia stepped up to Vic and stroked his pumped chest. "She is older than her look. I think she's about my age, and the way you looked at her might have made her day."

"I thought it would be good if she saw me notice," Vic said, and then stopped when Sylvia's phone chimed. He heard Abby say that Sara was at the front desk, and then he went on. "She seems kinda meek, and that's odd for someone who might hire an escort."

"Unless she's looking for a bodyguard. Now go," Sylvia said and pushed her son toward the door.

Sara balanced on high heels beside the reception desk with her purse in hand and waited for Vic to take her to coffee. He tucked his hand around her elbow and guided her out the door. "The shop at the corner is good and it's close," he said, and he looked doubtfully at her shoes. "I'll drive."

Sara needed help to get in and out of Vic's Cadillac then inside the shop she didn't even glance at the menu behind the counter. When Vic asked what she wanted, she waved her hand and said, "Pick something."

Vic studied Sara for a clue. She wore narrow-waisted pants that hugged her well-shaped butt. Her sweater hid her torso and that gave him nothing to go on, but her arms were thin and firm. When Vic turned back to the counter he said, "Get her an oolong, plain. I'll have a mocha latte."

They had a choice of tables, so Vic took Sara to sit by the window. He watched her across the table and asked, "Why do you need an escort? What's the event?"

"No event," Sara said. Her expression was inscrutable—she didn't smile or frown, and no twinkle in her eye escaped from below those dark bangs. "And you can tell me why I need an escort."

Vic was sure Sara was interested in his service, but only because she wouldn't be seated across from him if she weren't. "Because I'm good company," he said. "I'm expensive company, but I'm good company."