An adult stories – The Perfect Beginning Ch. 27 by KimberlyGirl,KimberlyGirl This is the 27th installment of an ongoing story about Michele a and Tim. For sure, it is a disturbing relationship and is in no way intended to describe something healthy or ideal. Emotional sadism is central to it all. If this bothers you, this is not the story for you and I suggest you venture elsewhere.
What makes the story interesting to me is what takes place in the minds of the characters. Withouts words and ideas and the feelings that go with them, it’s all just mechanics and honestly, that’s not so interesting to me. Simple, pure fucking is a great thing to do. I don’t need to read about it. Perhaps when I was verrrrrrrry young, that alone would have intrigued me. Now…yawn. This is a dark, emotional journey. I hope you enjoy it.
The following preface is cut and pasted from installment II. For a more comprehensive understanding of their world, you can venture back to the first installment. Read it or skip it.
This story takes place in a very male dominant society, one which is even more patriarchal than our own. Our hero, Michele, is enchanted by the discovery of her own sexual super power. Poor, lucky Tim, on the other hand comes to realize that he falls under Michels’s spell, he does not measure up to societal expectations. These two young people are discovering and becoming as they grow together as a couple.
Psychological conflict and tension are central themes in this saga.
*
The story has been formatted to meet the publishing requirement of our host and I am hopeful the necessary kinks have been worked out.
A more complete preface can be found at the beginning of the first installment and if you did not read it, it could be helpful to do so. Here are some of the contextual parameters of the fictional world the story takes place within.
* People are legal adults at 18 years of age.
* People usually live to about 2,000 years of age.
* The cultural norm has almost all legal adults living with their family of origin until they turn 200 years old.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 are treated as and referred to as children when they choose to continue living with their parents.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 often behave much as we would expect teenagers to behave here in our world. They are kept in a state of arrested emotional development.
* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 years customarily consume “blockers” which prevent them from having sexual feelings or impulses.
* Often young people will begin to “date” around 160 yers of age and while they are expected to continue to take their blockers, some will surreptitiously stop taking them while a few will stop responding to them.
* Age and masculinity are revered in this world. Everybody looks up to their elders and few seriously question the patriarchy.
All characters in the story are over 18 years of age.
It is customary for those below the age of 200 to demonstrate their status by wearing clothing which signify to others that they are off limits. They would wear what we would think of as children’s clothing. Remember, an 18 year old and a 1,900 year old would look exactly the same age, so children’s clothes are very useful for signaling to those over 200 years to abstain from any romantic or sexual pursuit of another who was deemed of an inappropriate age.
Lastly, sex is not technically illegal for people between the ages of 18 and 200 years. It is considered profoundly taboo. Adult-children (18+) do have sex but it is kept very quiet. Some parents punish their children for engaging in this sinful pleasure and adult-children almost never tell-on one another in this regard, even those who might not like one another. Adult children live by a code and violation of said code subjects one to complete ostracization. Almost none experiment until they are well over 160 years old.
****
Though he kept his thoughts and feelings secret, Donna sensed a shift in her son. His attendance and servitude that evening was like nothing she’d enjoyed before. She did not question it, instead she chose to just enjoy growing closer with her boy.
He’s a growing boy and growing boys need a mother’s care.
She smiled contentedly.
Just like her daughter, Donna loved being teased up. And she liked it to last and last and last. There was almost a meditative quality to it all as she dove deep into the sensation of building pleasure. And it was their pleasure as love was meant to be shared between a loving mother and her son, and it built for both of them in equal measure.
There were distinctions, of course. Since she held all the power…as it should be… she never felt a need, or more accurately, needy. She was being served pleasure at a slow, leisure pace. Certainly if it did not eventually culminate in orgasm, it would be maddening, but orgasm always came for she was in control of her situation, her boy, her play toy; Donna controlled her son.
This thought, the thought about maddening denial made her smile as she considered Tim’s state of near constant denial
As he should be! Poor, poor boy. Such a mean, controlling mommy!
Such thoughts inspired greater delight as she took in the soft rubbing, gentle tickling and whispered kisses to her pantied crotch. She sipped her wine and floated with it all. His soft whimpers and quiet moans of desire for her delighted her all the more and reenforced her understanding of their shared love. She especially loved the sight, sound and sensation of him breathing deeply from her fragrant panties. It was so profoundly perverse and erotic taking in how desperate her sexual essence made him.
This was her naughty-place, as she liked to think of it as. For her, there was something so exciting about having a boy attend to her while she wore her white cotton panties. Wearing them made her feel little-girl pure.
Nothing could make her feel naughtier than having a boy touching her, tickling her and kissing her on her white cotton crotch. Nothing made her feel more like a hot, horny, naughty little girl except if he were trying, with desperate restraint to breath in and smell her fragrant bush through those very same pure-girl panties.
On the outside, she was his mother. Yet internally, she was a little girl again.
Her only distraction was the intruding regret that she’d not fastened the chastity device on her loving boy and while she wanted to pop up and do just that, it all felt too good to part with.
Next time.
After at least an hour, a blessed hour of her son trace teasing her crotch and bottom with his lips and fingertips, she was struck by the Good Lord’s insight. She positioned her son on his back and mounted his face.
Donna had never done such a thing as it was fundamentally lewd and perverse. It was something a lady would never do! Yet God gave her permission. It went beyond that, she thought, it was God’s suggestion. She knew she was divinely inspired.
The inner conflict between right and wrong was its own thrill, which by itself could have captivated Donna’s attention.
This is wrong; but God wills it! Does She? What would Mother say? God would not have put this thought in my head if She did not will it to be.
Or maybe you are just a naughty woman?
No, She wants this for me. Thank you, Lord.
It was difficult to deny the rightness of her life since her daughter had helped her navigate a new life path for herself. Sister Ann’s insights and encouragements only served to settle her conscious and reassure her need for righteous action.
The troubling conflict of thought and emotion was one thrill. The physical sensation was another. Adding to all of it was the fact that what she was doing, she was doing to her son. And as she thought about all of it, she felt all of it. She bathed in the blessed light of the Lord as She allowed Donna to experience it all at once. One thing did not distract from the other and she swirled delightfully with the entirety of the sensation.
So intoxicated by thought and sensation was Donna that she retreated once more to her naughty-place. Once more, she was a girl and she was experiencing all of it as an innocent and pure girl. She was a girl again and experiencing an intimate touch for the very first time in her life. At once, she got to be good and naughty and the excitement she felt from being both at once electrified her whole body.
God lets me be both! Thank you, God!
Feels…sooooooo…ohhhhh my Goddess, so good!
Her son’s mouth was on her pussy while his nose was pushed deep into her ass and pressed hard into her anus.
Again, a shadow of regret that she’d not removed her panties.
Instantly she dismissed the thought as wearing plain white, cotton panties reminded her of her virginal purity. As a girl, she always wore plain white undies to church and because she wore panties just like them every Sunday when she attended church as a girl, she believed they made her more pure and that God liked it. Realizing they were still on then made her hornier.
I’m a pretty girl for God! Thank you, God, thank you!
She did what was at once wrong and what God willed when she settled all her weight on her son’s face. She just relaxed and let the entirety of her crotch mold to her son’s beautiful face. After an hour of nothing but teasing, she was now more than just scratching the itch. His face fit so perfectly to her crotch, it seemed almost form fitted and made clear to her at once why God willed this. It was clear in her mind that this is what she was meant to do and his role was primary to his reason for living.
It’s what he was made for, this and spanking! Oh, God, thank you!
He was so deep in her crotch, positioned they way he was, he could not see her.
With this knowledge, she went with the impulse to touch her own nipples. Her Continuant upbringing made the taboo of self touch all the more naughty and exciting.
Her higher self was actually more embarrassed that she actually cared if he saw her do this.
Her nipples had always been so sensitive and the slightest touch made them rock hard. She spied herself in the mirror riding her son’s face while cradling her perfect, little tits.
She was uncomfortable with notions of sexual vanity.
But goodness, my hard, little breasts are sexy. Yes they are. Men and women look at them all the time. It’s cause they’re so pretty.
What she saw in the mirror was breath taking and supremely sexual.
I’m a pretty girl. Look at me. Oh my!
Certainly Donna had always been very attractive. Yet her strict Continuant up bringing and her early experience with sex never allowed her to appreciate what others saw when looking at her.
It was in this moment, when she was admiring herself in the mirror while cupping her hard, upturned, little breasts and riding her son’s face that she began to view herself differently. With her lips pursed, with her approaching orgasm, it was like she saw herself for the very first time.
Donna would take this vision with her out into the world and with it, a new, elevated sense of confidence. For the first time, she allowed herself a sense of physical and sexual superiority to others…and it felt good!
The entire sensation was fantastic but their was something beyond special about having the tip of Tim’s nose pressing into her tight, pretty, little bung. It fueled her sense of being naughty and pretty at the same time and pushed her closer to climax. She wanted to feel his nose deep in her ass.
Oooooo, get in! Deep!
It seemed Donna had left her childhood so long ago and so completely, the whole experiencing was a shocking joyous reminder of what she’d left behind but what was still available to her. She was alive as a hot, sexy, spoiled little girl again.
Thank you, God!
As damp as her cotton, under-panties were, they were all the more air tight over his face.
He could not breath and this turned her on and annoyed her at once.
Donna liked having this kind of intimate control over her son’s life and she felt as though she deserved it. He was fighting for his life but still he struggled as he’d been trained to: he fought gently so as to make it more enjoyable to her.
His moaning and gentle writhing stimulated her emotionally and physically. Donna began to do up-downs on his face which was really more of a forward-backward shifting of her weight done to stimulate her entire crotch. Too, she loved occasionally clenching her butt cheeks and anus on his nose.
Her annoyance stemmed from having to periodically lift up to allow her son to catch a breath or two before dropping back down on him to drive herself to orgasm. With her annoyance, she received God’s inspiration, she was sure, when she raised her hand above her head and while leaning down, brought it down in a wide arch, slapping the length of Tim’s cock. The thin cotton of his panties was little protection and as she looked down and took in the sight of his masculinity mastered by a pair of delicate panties, she drove closer to her climax.
It did not take long and that might be what saved Tim’s life. After several very hard strikes to his hard cock, she was overcome. And she came hard. She convulsed and gushed for almost two minutes. After gushing, her orgasm continued for another two minutes.
Tim was literally drowning in Donna’s orgasm. His growing struggles only drove her to greater heights.
As the blessed sensations receded, she did gentle gyrations on his face. She was in no hurry to return to adulthood. Again she looked to the mirror to see herself in profile. She was almost out of breath as she discovered she was gently pinching her own nipples as the waves of orgasmic pleasure washed through her.
Oh, I am a pretty girl!
Donna absolutely loved her life and she counted her blessings each and every day. Every day she thanked God in her prayers for all She’d given Donna. She loved everything about her life. Everything. Yet being a girl again felt therapeutic and emotionally healing.
Eyes closed, mouth open, she breathed deeply and enjoyed lingering vibrations of her orgasms that she ground out on his face with her slow gyrations. In this transitional space, she slowly came back to adulthood. She knew that God had put her lovely daughter, Krista and Sister Ann in her life to help her find this place again. Through these special people, God spoke to Donna and led her back to childhood. God used these people to give Donna yet another blessed gift.
She knew her way back now. She now knew her inner child. This was their shared playground and she knew where to come when she felt inspired to play again as a girl. Her eyes opened as did her smile.
Upon dismounting her son’s face, she was struck by a spike of terror as she took in Tim’s unresponsive form and thought she might have killed him. Immediately she was relieved to know he’d only passed out.
She made a mental note to take greater care in the future as while she was more than comfortable using her sex to smother him into unconscious, she would protect Tim as any mother would her own son.
She had to admit there was a certain thrill in the notion, however, in killing her son with her sex. There was something powerfully feminine and deeply erotic about the thought. They’d replay this one many times and this very thought would propel her to many, many more orgasms. It was not really a homicidal desire, yet she relished power and the power of life or death was the ultimate power.
Smugly she thought:
And I might now have one to share with my daughter.
While she’d want to share something of this value with Michele, she knew speaking of such things might be a challenge too far. Still, she was learning a certain thrill in sharing thoughts one was not even supposed to have.
But God willed it! Of course I can!
****
While Becky was home, Michele and Devon spent ten days in Bora-Bora. Though her life was very well managed, it moved at an incredible pace and her work load, her thought-load, mind always running at what seemed like maximum capacity, was getting to her. She did not realize it until they left it all behind. The long flight alone was a heavenly escape.
Michele was grateful that she had such a strong sex drive because while at home, sex was her one refuge. She loved that she could escape it all with Becky’s gorgeous face between her legs.
The couple spent their time sunning, snorkeling, biking and luxuriating in tropical paradise. Of course they had lots of sex; they were young and each had needs. On their last evening, they were enjoying their dinner in the open air restaurant when Devon went to his knees. Michele was confused as it was known to her solely as an act of intimate submission which held profound significance to her. It made no sense at all. She was actually put off by it.
Devon’s not submissive!
And she did not want him to be submissive.
Devon thought the look of confusion on her face to be adorable. He presented the open ring box “Michele, I’ve never met anyone like you and I’m sure I never will. You amaze me. Will you take my hand? Will you marry me?”
Her jaw nearly came unhinged. It likely was the first time in her adult life that she might not have looked totally dignified. The diamond was huge!
“Yes! Oh my god, yes!”
After dinner, the two went back to their bungalow and made love in their particular way.
As he slept away, Michele savored the taste of his cum and enjoyed the after glow of her own orgasm. She knew she was in matrimonial bliss as it was aptly referred to. Yet just before sleep came, she had a troubling thought.
What about Tim?
Michele had a well disciplined mind and shut that uncomfortable thought aside and closed her mind to the world.
They returned home and got back to their lives.
****
It was a beautiful, late summer afternoon and the weather was perfect for a party.
The expansive, accordion, glass doors were open and the tide of well dressed women casually flowed in and out, between Michele’s house and her four acre yard and garden. All The Ladies were present and a few other of Michele’s childhood friends like Tanya and Missy. Tim was elated that Michele was home and though large parties were not an everyday affair, life was always better with Michele in it and was always better with Her home.
Krista was upset.
That’s the girl! That’s the fucking girl?
She was upset with Michele and just as upset with herself. She was being absolutely irrational. She knew Michele had intentionally kept her from Krista and she resented it. She knew it was not fair.
As soon as she saw the vision of utterly, lady-like, down right dainty, submissive beauty, she was so affected, she almost had to sit down. She was shaken with instant jealousy.
To call her a beauty was insufficient. She was so much more exquisite than beautiful. Beautiful suddenly struck Krista as a cheap and completely over used word to describe what might have previously been attractive but was now still way too attached to the ordinary.
She was so long and lean, but athletic… and the way she’s dressed! She was in a short, baby blue, little girl dress with heeled sandals and laced ankle socks. Krista could not imagine a more exceptional vision of human perfection coupled with the projection of sexual submission.
On several occasions, Michele had dismissively referred to her as “…just some girl…” who she slept with and who took care of her domestic needs.
Bitch!
Krista recognized the girl as a former student at the under-school she interned at. They’d never met and Krista saw to it that they didn’t. She found it difficult to look at the girl as she was certain that her desire would fall out, embarrassingly before her as though she’d wet herself.
Making her way about campus, she’d always scan the crowd to find her. On a few occasions, while on campus, she thought the girl was checking her out. She dismissed such thoughts as they were inappropriate and on several levels and in spite of her shame, she couldn’t let herself hope for such a thing.
And Michele is sleeping with her!
Not just sleeping with her, Krista knew full well that this vision was Michele’s house-girl. To Michele, she was as disposable as Tim. This was not right.
This girl deserves better than that!
After calming down and collecting herself, she made for Michele. The girl was just far enough away from Michele for Krista to lay into her friend. Fusing humor, warmth and anger, “You bitch!”
Becky had wanted to meet Krista for so long and when she saw her approaching Michele…
Michele appraised her friend with a smile. Just then, the long legged sex angel appeared at Michele’s side. Though towering over Michele, she gracefully, (and Krista assumed just then that she did everything gracefully,) slipped her hand into Michele’s. She regarded Krista with the biggest smile. For Krista, it was like staring at the sun. She was suddenly disarmed.
“Krista, darling, I’d like you to meet Becky.” Becky broke from Michele’s hand and curtsied.
It was the most delicate, dainty and utterly graceful thing Krista had ever seen. She roused herself to hold out her hand to shake the girl’s. Becky placed her fingers in Krista’s the way a lady would place her hand in a man’s who intended to kiss it. Krista almost did kiss it but restrained herself.
Michele’s warm hand came down over both of theirs, maintaining Krista’s hold on Becky. Smiling slyly at her friend, she said, “Why don’t you two spend some time together. I think you will be close.”
Michele loved how she turned her friend upside down with a gesture of love and generosity. Krista looked delighted and radiant. The two women walked off to do just as Michele suggested and did so continuing to hold hands.
Michele had been up in the air about Becky. She considered keeping her up to and possibly into her marriage with Devon. She thought she’d enjoy a house-girl. He’d already agreed to let her keep Becky.
Yet she was unsure and wondered if having Becky would keep her from fully investing in her relationship with her husband. She’d also considered giving her to her mother. Yet she knew Becky and Krista would be a perfect fit.
Becky would be a better fit for Krista than for herself. She could never give Becky the kind of loving relationship she deserved.
Additionally, Michele was not gay. Krista, on the other hand, had a much more developed taste for the ladies. She knew her friend was bi and loved to be with submissive men too, but she was far more likely to enjoy a long term relationship with a woman, a woman like Becky.
*
In the unfurled shade of a massive oak, Michele addressed her gathered friends. Tim watched and listened from a distance. Every once in a while, he saw Michele objectively and was always in awe. She was still so young yet she conducted herself with such cultivated sophistication and grace. He looked on in total adoration as she surveyed her assembled friends with warmth and obvious gratitude.
“I will be brief, I promise,” she said with a smile as bright as all the stars in the galaxy. “I’m so glad you all were able to come. I have so much gratitude in my life and all of it is due in some way, directly or otherwise, because of my relationships with you amazing women. All of you are just…I don’t have the words…
“For once!” said Felicity to the laughter of the group.
In the spirit of good humor, “If I have too much to say, it’s because of you women, not the least of which is you, Felicity.” More laughter.
“I love you, all of you. I asked you here today to announce my engagement to Devon. We will be wed here at the house, in the spring, on May first. I expect you all to be here so clear the calendar!” she said with exuberance.”
The women clapped but Tim did not hear any of it, as he fainted dead away.
*
He awoke in Donna’s bed and then went back to sleep. There he laid for the remainder of the party.
And for Michele, it wasn’t fun.
For years, Michele had sent Tim spinning out of control and it was always such a pleasure, so invigorating and arousing. Not this time.
Her first reaction was as though reacting to a tragedy and was upset herself. Several of the ladies carried him inside as Donna directed them to put him in her room. Although appropriate, Michele felt a spike of resentment that her mother would direct them so.
Of course he was alright and with the small staff of medical professionals in their company, one of which was a brain surgeon, Michele was able to mix back into the party and enjoy herself. Yet behind the smiles, she was ill at ease.
For all those years, the women in her life were very clear about to whom Tim belonged and respected her by showing clear deference in regard to all questions about him. Earlier, her mother did not defer to her, she took charge and had him put in her bed.
She did not like that one bit. Yet it made sense to do so.
Doesn’t it?
She’d not thought too much about Tim since her engagement. The truth was that she did not think too much about Tim since she started her new life at the university. He was out of site and safe in her mother’s care. She’d intentionally left him behind so that she could experiment, sow her seeds and learn what else was out in the wide world for her.
She’d met Devon and now she was to be wed to an amazing man.
Coming home forced her to consider her boy, but she did not want to. She simply could not imagine a scenario in which she was able to keep him. Devon was tolerant of an alternative lifestyle, and would even allow her to keep Becky. They’d discussed it at length. Yet that was where his tolerance ended.
He’d not permit her a man on the side. She did not blame him as she’d not accept him sleeping with other women after marriage unless they chose to do so together. She was such a self-realized woman, but in this way, she stopped thinking about what exactly her motives and goals where. Michele fixated instead on Devon, their pending marriage and how lucky she was to be marrying him.
She stopped thinking clearly about what she was doing with Tim. She was pretty sure she was going to give Tim to her mother, whom she knew would want to “raise” Tim as she saw fit. And as an aside, she thought she might even give her Becky so that mom could adopt them both. Some part of her felt a moral obligation to keep the children together as a family. She’d always hated stories about families breaking up and especially stories about separated siblings.
Donna loved Tim, and Michele was quite sure that she’d want to maintain her Mother/son relationship indefinitely. Yet she was not ready to speak with Donna about this fuzzy plan of hers. She figured she would speak with her mother at some point after the wedding.
And too, she did consider giving Tim to a friend. Her mother might be ready to move on. Tilda and Felicity and Millicent immediately came to mind, though she also considered Brenda. Tilda, Felicity and Millicent were magnificently, wealth and suitable women to whom she’d feel good about gifting Tim.
Then again, she might donate him to the church. She knew sister Ann could put him to good use, cloistered away with the nuns. She’d always subscribed to the importance of charitable donations.
****
Later in the evening, Becky slid up to Michele’s side. They’d not seen one another since Becky went off with Krista. “Do you like her?”
“Yes.”
Smiling, “A little, or a lot?”
Shyly, “A lot.”
“I could keep you, you know. Devon and I have discussed it and I’d be happy to do so. But I wonder what would be best for you. Do you think you’d like to give it a try…with Krista, I mean? If it doesn’t work, you can come back. You will always be my good, little girl.”
Becky’s face went red. “Yes, I want to try it…but not because I’m not happy.”
“I know Becky. You deserve someone who can give you more of themselves than I can. I’m going to be with Devon now. I think you are just what Krista needs.”
“Really?” The thought, being needed, made Becky horny.
“I do.”
“Ms. Michele, what about Tim?”
Michele’s smile turned down, “I’m working on that, little girl.”
*
Later in the evening, Michele went to check in on Tim to make sure he was recovering. As she stood at the threshold to her mother’s room, observing her sleeping boy, she was approached by Millicent.
Millicent was physically stunning. She was a vision of patrician beauty and naturally projected a confidence and certitude born from her genuine feelings of superiority. Millicent was born into elite wealth and was far more than a gorgeous scion and aristocratic socialite. Like all the Ladies, she was exceptionally intelligent and successful. She founded and ran an internet clothing line, selling women’s cloths of her own design. Krista liked to say that wealthy people had deep pockets and that Millicent had deeper pockets.
Millicent spoke in hushed tones about the success of the gathering and Michele knew that was not baseless flattery as her friend knew what a party was supposed to look like and had little time or patience for insincerity. After sharing her pleasure at Michele’s coming nuptials, she looked at Michele squarely and in a casual tone that almost hid her friend’s appetite, “I’d like to make you an offer.”
Michele raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I am and have always been, fond of Tim.” This was a significant admission as Millicent wore her wealth and let everybody know she could not possibly want for anything, let alone what belonged to another. I’d like to purchase something of yours, my lovely friend. I’m offering you one million dollars for your boy. I want to own him, own him outright, free and clear.”
She smiled and she was the most gorgeous predator. “He will have a good home with me and I’ll keep him safe. I’m growing tired of the parties, Michele. I want someone I can come home to and whom I can keep close to me.”
And Millicent was very clear on one thing, “Though I am honestly hopeful that strong feelings develop between us, a real emotional bond, I do want love, after all, he will be my slave. It will be formal and he will know his place. And that does not mean I can’t love him. For me, it might be the only way I could love a man.”
Millicent cared not at all for some game that came with pretend titles like Mistress and slave. She thought that tawdry, insincere and boring. She wanted to own another human being, one who was suitable for ownership. She thought slavery of the antebellum south to be barbarous and inhumane as it was based on race and victimization.
This was different, Tim entered into slavery of his own volition, was already very well trained and seemed to eagerly embrace his bonds. She’d keep him close, use him and nurture her feelings for the boy.
Millicent believed herself more than worthy of owning another human being. She embraced her sense of entitlement and believed her obvious superiority more than justified her feelings. If ever there was one worthy of owning another person as a real slave, Millicent sincerely believed it was her.
Michele was shocked by the offer. She’d actually considered giving Tim to her friend as she thought they’d be good for one another. The offer of a million dollars was astounding. There was something too, somewhat exciting and even erotic about the business transaction and she felt a rush throughout her body.
But am I really a slave trader now?
A part of her wanted to be, though not for the money. Michele was exceptionally wealthy and had no need of cash. She found the raw power implicit in the exchange to be intoxicating.
Is Tim really my slave?
She fully embraced her ownership of him and had almost from the beginning, and she treated him like a slave, yet she loved Tim and always had. Though she’d long thought him her property, this proposition took her notion right to the edge of her ideal.
Could she just sell him like this to one who might not truly value him and love him as she did? The answer was yes.
Tim truly is my property, but he is still a person and he deserves love.
Michele took Millicent’s hand. “Millicent, he’s not for sale. This is complicated and I have a lot to think about going forward, but he’s not for sale.”
“For me, money is not the issue, Michele. The million was just an arbitrary starting point and I mean no disrespect. Name your price.”
Michele’s eyes went wide with the implication. And she was tempted if for no other reason than to test the market and find out how much her boy was worth.
What would she pay? Two million? Five? More?
Michele was worth hundreds of millions and did not need it.
But still…!
Michele had no choice but to laugh a quiet, dignified laugh. Looking deep in to Millicent’s eyes and though smiling, said with warm sincerity, “Honey, I’m not sure as to what I’ll be doing with him. I’ve been giving it some thought and have considered giving him to another. If I choose to give him to you, he will be a gift. As chance would have it, I’d already considered giving him to you or one of your lovely sisters. But know he might be going to another, perhaps my mother. She’s more than fond of the boy. And don’t be a bitch about it. I love you.”
Millicent smiled and said nothing. She was sure he’d be hers in time.
“But if I do give him to you…if, I give him to you, you can pay me $100, right in front of him.” If one could consider “pocket change” in the form of paper money, then $100 was less than parking meter money to these ladies.
The women laughed.
Tim listened to the whole conversation and wanted to keep his eyes closed forever. He was falling away into nothing.