Working for Mom

"I've seen the charge. It isn't significant to me," Sara said. She sat forward and her eyes wandered over Vic's arms and chest, but the barista leaned past her shoulder before she explained anything, and he set their drinks on the table.

"There's hardly anyone here, so I thought I'd bring your drinks. A latte for you," the barista told Vic, "And oolong for the lady." He stood up with his eyes on Sara before he turned back to the counter.

"He just wanted a closer look at you," Vic said and watched a smile flit across Sara's lips. He stirred his coffee and went on. "If you don't have an event, then I'd take you out where men can look at you, and I'd keep them all away."

Sara inhaled the steam that rose from her tea, and Vic was sure she smiled again from behind the cup.

"The oolong was an interesting choice," Sara said, and set her cup down. "The choices people make for me can say a lot about them and about what they think of me, but I'm not sure where to go with this."

"You look to me like someone who avoids the calories in milk or cream and a ton of corn syrup, and oolong is a good afternoon tea," Vic said, and he changed the subject. "So, you want other people to make the choices so you can see what they think of you?"

Sara picked up her purse and found her phone before she answered. "That's part of it. There isn't so much meaningless flattery that way." She flipped through some screens on her phone and talked without looking up. "I make my own decisions when it's in my interest. I'm wealthier than my husband, and that wouldn't be true if I couldn't make my own decisions." She looked over her phone at Vic and then set it on the table in front of him. "You set it up."

Vic found Sylvia's app open on the screen. He made some settings and then turned the phone back to her. "Friday night at seven."

Sara studied the screen before she looked up again. "And what do I get for that?"

"I'll pick you up for dinner and an evening out," Vic said, "and all the entertainment I can legally give you. Then I'll take you home or to your car—wherever you need to go."

There was no mistaking the disappointed expression that crossed Sara's face, so Vic took her phone back. He added the upgrade that would help balance his mother's books and showed it to her again. "When you're ready, I'll take you to my place," he said, and she smiled from behind her tea cup.

Vic reached across the table and took the cup away from Sara. "Tell me," he said and set the cup in front of her, "Does your penchant for having other people make decisions for you extend to sex?"

Sara looked away to the counter where the barista was still watching her. "Do you think he's a creep?" she asked.

Vic got his sale. He didn't really need his answer. "I think he knows a good thing when he sees it," Vic said, "and if he touches you, then I'll lay him out. Now let me take you to your car."

"That's it," Sara said, and pointed Vic to a blue Maserati gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. "I picked it out myself. Do you like it?"

"Beautiful ride," Vic said then asked, "Did you pick the color, too?"

Sara laughed. "Sylvia picked the color," she said and ran a lock of her hair through her fingers. The car matched the color of the blue highlights in her dark hair.

* * *

It was the wee hours of the morning before Vic showered and slipped into his mom's bed. Sylvia rolled over, lifted the sheets around her son, and asked, "How was the concert?"

"Maybe I'll like the symphony some day," Vic said, "but not tonight."

Sylvia pulled herself close. She kissed her son's lips and said, "Mrs. James has an appointment for Friday afternoon. We're going to prep her, but she won't tell us what she wants. How do you want her done?"

"We're talking business in bed again?" Vic asked, but he wasn't surprised. He reached down to touch the soft skin between his mother's thighs, and she laid her knee over his hip. "Make her as smooth and bare as you are," he said. "I told her I'd take her out where men would look at her, and she liked that. Make her up for bar lighting and dress her so her finer points are easy to see—and easy for me to reach."

Vic was curious what his mom would do to Sara, so when he got to the spa on Friday he walked past the reception desk with just a nod to Abby and went straight to the dressing room. Abby jumped from her chair and followed. "Vic, wait!" she said, but she was too slow to stop him.

Sylvia had three dress horses along one wall, each with a different designer dress. Sara stood in the middle of the room. She was half-dressed with two girls working around her.

Sara looked up at the mirror when the door opened behind her, and she found Vic standing in the doorway with Abby right behind him. She covered her bare breasts with one arm, but the expression framed in that long black hair was as hard to understand as it ever was.

One of the girls covered Sara with a towel and the other pushed Vic out of the room. "Go! Go!" she said. "You can't see her until we're done with her!"

Abby laughed and tugged on his arm to drag him away. "They're treating Mrs. James more like your bride than your client," she said. "The groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding." She stood him beside the reception desk, and then straightened his blazer and the open collar of his dress shirt.

So Vic waited until Sylvia brought Sara to him. He thought Sara might model for him, but she didn't. She fixed her eyes on Vic with hardly a movement—not even a blink—so he walked around her to see his mother's work.

Vic wasn't sure what to think at first. Sara's outfit didn't really show much, or make her easy to reach. It seemed like a light gray business suit with matching high heels, but the fabric seemed to shimmer. The skirt barely made it to the middle of Sara's thighs, and no blouse showed under the jacket. Vic stopped in front of Sara and watched her face while he unbuttoned the jacket and laid it open.

"Wow!" Vic said. Under the jacket, Sara wore a halter dress that was split to the waist in front and left her shoulders bare. Her breasts were full and free, and her nipples thrust against the thin fabric as if she were already turned on. Perhaps she was.

Vic looked past Sara to his mother and repeated, "I'm going to need a big stick to keep guys off her."

Sylvia covered her mouth with her finger tips and stifled anything she might otherwise have said about the size of her son's stick. Instead, she said, "The only clothing she's wearing that you can't see right now are a red garter belt and a matching thong."

Vic thought that to make Sara happy he might need to be someone he didn't really want to be, and the way she stood quietly and watched convinced him. He let her jacket close and wrapped his hand around her elbow. "I'm sure I'll see them when the time comes," he said, "but now we have a reservation."

The heat of the day was starting to break when Vic walked Sara through the parking lot. She stayed close by his side without saying a word until they reached Vic's Cadillac. She watched him open the door and said, "Sylvia dressed me like your slut. I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted."

"I appreciate it," Vic said. "I'm sure other guys are going to appreciate it, too." He pushed Sara's butt against the side of his car with his hand on her hip, and he opened her jacket again. Vic watched Sara's expression and told her, "I'm going to touch you."

Sara flinched when he slipped his hand under her right breast, and her eyelids fluttered. It was the biggest reaction that Vic had from her yet. He peeled off the costume tape that held her breast in the dress, and she started to shy away. Vic caught Sara's hand, twisted her arm behind her back, and pulled her close.

Vic had Sara under control. She kept her eyes on his face, caught her breath, and pushed her tit into his hand. He thought she was a little turned on before, and now he knew. He pinched her nipple and said, "You have great tits." Vic trailed his fingers across her soft skin as he drew his hand out, and he released his hold on her arm.

"Do you manhandle all of your clients?" Sara asked while Vic helped her into the car. He settled into the driver's seat while she pulled the dress back over her breast and pressed the tape back in place.

"I try to do what my clients want," Vic said. "You seemed to need that."

Vic noticed the gold band and big diamond glittering on Sara's left ring finger while he pulled onto the street. He dodged some slow traffic and made it to the freeway while they talked about things around them, then he asked. "Are you going to wear your rings tonight?"

Sara looked down at her hand and it seemed to Vic like she'd thought about it before. "Sylvia said I should keep them on in case we meet someone I know, then I could tell them you're my husband's nephew or something."

Vic pulled off the freeway in the foothills and followed a winding road to a restaurant nestled against the base of the mountain. He helped Sara out of the car, stopped her by the open door, and took her purse. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"My job," Vic said. "It's an odd job, because it's always different." He opened the purse, took her keys and her cell phone and slipped them into his jacket. "You know, my dates don't usually tell me who or what they want me to be." He let his eyes wander down the lines of Sara's throat, and when he looked up again he told her, "I have to reinvent myself every time."

"What are you going to be tonight?" Sara asked.

Vic didn't answer immediately. He opened Sara's jacket and smiled at the view. She straightened her shoulders without a word and pushed her chest out so her breasts rose. Vic pulled her jacket off and tossed it into the car. "I'm going to be your trainer," he said. "and you're going to be my show pony."

Sara took her purse, and Vic stroked his hand across her back. He guided his pony with his hand on the small of her back, through a parking lot bathed in the golden sunlight of a summer evening. She seemed to melt against his side—the date was going well.

Heads swiveled as the hostess led them to their table, and people watched Vic help Sara into her seat. She was uncomfortable at first. She watched people at the tables around them then leaned to Vic so no-one else would hear. "Your pony is getting nervous. What must people think of me?"

"They think I have the best ride in the show," Vic said. He ordered Sara's wine, and he ordered her dinner. He hung on every word she said until she laid her knife and fork across her plate, and her dark hair framed a relaxed smile.

"You don't look nervous now," Vic said, and motioned to the server for the check. "You look fabulous."

"I told you the other day," Sara said. "Flattery is just a lie until you prove it's true."

Vic thought as he signed the check about the proof that Sara needed, and his cock stirred in his pants.

The sun was down when they left the restaurant, and the lamps over the parking lot were starting to light the still-dusky night. Sara wrapped her hands around Vic's arm and pulled herself close while they walked. "I had a good time in your little pony show," she said. "You made me feel special, I guess."

Vic stopped by the car and opened the door, but kept Sara from climbing in. He looked around at the few people coming and going and said, "Inside, when I said you looked fabulous? That wasn't just flattery." He caught her hand and pushed it to the front of his slacks.

Sara first jerked her hand back, but then looked up at Vic. "I see," she said, and reached down again to trace his hard-on with her finger tips.

Vic swept Sara's long hair behind her shoulders, and wrapped it in one hand. He used his grip to tip her head back and pull her body against his. "I've watched that sexy smile of yours, and your beautiful body, for what? Two hours? I need you to relieve me before we leave."

"What? Here?" Sara asked and looked around. She put her hands on Vic's chest and tried to push away, but she couldn't break Vic's hold. He bent over her to kiss her lips, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth to stifle her complaints. At first, Sara's body was stiff, and she tried to avoid his tongue. Vic insisted, and Sara softened. Her tongue met his, and her breath on his cheek grew shallow and ragged.

Vic kept his hold on Sara's hair and caught her hand on his chest. He held her in a wrist lock with his thumb in the palm of her hand and his fingers on the back of her wrist. He broke their kiss and drew back to watch Sara's expression. She winced when he bent her hand back, and she knelt in front of him.

"My pretty pony," Vic said. He released Sara from his wrist lock but kept his hand on her head. "I'm sure you know what to do."

Sara opened Vic's fly and drew his cock out of his boxers. She stroked his hard shaft with her finger tips and told him, "You're bigger than I'm used to."

"I've heard that before," Vic said, and he pushed his cock between Sara's lips.

Sara was good, and Vic had to let go of her head to keep from gagging her. That only made her better. She held his hip in one hand and his butt cheek in the other, and Vic moaned when she took his cock to the back of her mouth.

Couples crossing the parking lot sometimes turned their heads, but what they saw was a young man standing by a Cadillac. Sara was hidden by the open door. She drew back and pumped his shaft with her hand. "Are you about ready?" she asked, and Vic nodded his answer.

"I don't want to come in your hair," he said, "or on that thousand-dollar dress, so keep me in your mouth," He pushed his cock back over Sara's tongue and it took her only a few more seconds. Vic groaned at the sky, and she gasped and swallowed while he emptied himself down her throat.

Sara was laughing and coughing when Vic pulled her to her feet and pushed her back against the open door. He had a tit in each hand, and his lips under her ear, and he told her, "You're good. You're hot."

"You might make a believer out of me," Sara said. "Now I need something to wash my mouth out."

Vic helped Sara into the car then found a water bottle in the console. He opened it for her before he pulled out of the parking lot, and she was still nursing it when he parked at a bar not far from his room in the uptown Marriott.

"We're a little early. The band is just starting." Vic said, and turned in his seat. "This is an alt Country bar. They have a great dance floor and the crowd is mostly under thirty." His eyes searched down Sara's body and when he looked up he said, "All those guys are gonna like what they see.

"Give me your hoof," he said. Sara laughed and offered her right hand. Vic shook his head. "You're other hoof," he said, and Sara held her left hand up with her fingers spread wide.

"In the restaurant," Vic said, "wearing your rings might tell anyone who knew you that we weren't hiding anything. In the bar, people are going to imagine what they want."

Vic watched Sara's reactions and said, "I don't think anyone's going to believe that you're my wife, so with both rings on, you look like you're stepping out." He slipped the wedding band off her finger. "This way you might be my fiancée. Maybe you look young enough for that." Sara laughed. That was a stretch, but it was a stretch she liked. He slipped the big diamond off her finger. "This way you could be my girlfriend."

Sara smiled from under her dark bangs. "You'll be my girlfriend," Vic said and pocketed her rings. He helped his trick pony out of the car and led her into the bar where the crowd was still thin and tables were easy to find.

Sara was three martinis into her evening when Vic told her, "I'm going to show you off." He pulled her to the dance floor, and she resisted for only a moment. She found the rhythm with her feet and then her hips. Her breasts swayed under the thin fabric of her dress, and people stopped talking to watch.

When the music paused, Sara said, "That was fun." She expected to sit down again, but the band started a slow waltz, and Vic surprised her by pulling her close. He kept his eyes on her smile and swirled her across the dance floor.

Vic inhaled Sara's perfumed scent as they danced, and he realized for the first time how familiar it was. It was Sylvia's scent. "Did Sylvia choose your perfume?" he asked, and Sara nodded her answer. Vic suddenly found his cock involuntarily stiffening. It was a Pavlovian reaction to the perfume he'd known for years, now mixed with the scent of Sara's slightly sweaty excitement.

The rolling rhythm of the waltz changed back to a rock beat, and Vic led Sara off the dance floor. He stopped at the bar to get her another martini and when they stood by their table she was still moving with the rhythm of the music.

Vic pushed the martini into Sara's hands. She took it and said, "I don't think I can sit down right now."

"Ponies don't sit," Vic said, "Stay there and let people look. I'll sit down, so I don't block anyone's view."

Vic settled into the chair and looked around at the people watching Sara. He touched the inside of her knee to draw her closer, and then let his hand linger there. The sheer nylon over Sara's skin was smooth and warm, and the way she moved invited Vic to explore. He slipped his hand up along her leg, under her short skirt, and over the top of her stockings to touch bare skin at the top of her thigh.

Sara's little dance paused for just a moment when she realized what Vic was doing. She smiled at him, and went on, pretending not to notice his hand between her legs.

Vic found the curve at the bottom of Sara's butt and slipped his hand around to the damp warmth between her legs. He slipped two fingers under her thong and squeezed her butt cheek between those fingers and the heel of his hand.

Sara squirmed and stepped her feet apart, and Vic slipped his hand out of her skirt. He pulled her onto his lap and whispered so only she could here. "You're wet," Vic said, and Sara watched him sniff his fingers. "We'll go when you're done with that martini."

The martini didn't keep them long. Vic knotted his fingers with Sara's and pulled her through the parking lot while she said, "That was a lot of firsts, and firsts-in-a-long-time for this little pony. I don't go to bars, I don't dance. I've never put myself on display so men could gawk at me. I've never had the confidence to do that, but you gave it to me. I've never let a man feel me up like that in public—not even my husband—but I wanted you to do it."

They stopped by Vic's car and Sara turned back with her nose close under Vic's chin. "Where are we going?"

"To the corral," Vic said and motioned to the Marriott. "It's time for me to earn that upgrade." He heard Sara catch her breath, and he pushed her back to watch her under the gray parking-lot light. "How long has it been since you had sex?"

Sara looked away to sort her thoughts out of the alcohol haze. When she looked back she said, "I haven't had sex with anyone but myself in about seven years. Sex with my husband wasn't very good for a few years before that. We lost interest in each other, and our relationship became just a living arrangement."

"Get in," Vic said. "We'll get you caught up." He took Sara through the door at the side of the hotel, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other while they rode to the seventh floor on what had to be the world's slowest elevator. He held her elbow and inserted his card into the lock, and moments later the door closed behind them with a solid click.

Sara pushed away from Vic and said, "I have to pee." Vic stopped her from closing the door to the toilet, and she didn't have time to argue. She dropped her thong to her knees, pulled her skirt up around her waist, and glared at him while she sat down on the throne.