Chapter 1: The Bare Beginning
Rachel Jones kissed her son on the forehead. "Bye Honey, see you this evening after work."
"Bye Mom, love ya." Cole shifted in his worn out wheelchair and turned his head to look out the window. He waited to catch sight of her when she walked across the dried out lawn and stood at the bus stop. This had become an important part of his daily life. He sighed again, like he had done so many times before and wished he could get out and do stuff like other guys.
While she waited for the bus, Rachel juggled her finances in her head, an every morning almost ritual. She tried to find a way to make ends meet when it became clearer that there were no "ends" in sight, only the inevitable long slide into total poverty. That damned bra she pinned together cut into her left breast.
No matter how hard she tried, each week she became a little further behind on the bills. Her son Cole needed a new wheelchair and so many other things she couldn't afford. She shook her head and waited for the bus to drop her off near the bank where she worked.
She hated the uncomfortable bus ride to work every morning from the dismal public housing projects where she lived on the west side of Salt Lake City. Those damned wetbacks never showered, she thought to her herself. She knew from long experience that most, if not all of the Hispanic fellow passengers were illegals that slipped in across the border. She sort of sympathized with their plight and resented their presence at the same time.
Their culture of machismo, males preening in front of any females present and the rest of the Hispanic cultural attitudes filled her with anger. She had listened to their cries and screams in the night when wives and girlfriends were shared with drunken compadres or beaten for real and imagined slights and offenses. She took her seat behind the driver and sat, shrouded in her personal misery.
Claude Richards, attorney at law, felt more like Claude Richards, Primitive Man The Conqueror. "Me and Arnold," he whispered to himself and grinned.
He stared down at the top of Claire's head. She was on her knees in front of him. He defined her with four words, "intense, insatiable, incredible and voracious." He thought for the thousandth time, Claire is the only woman he knew who could sink to her knees, deliver a world-class blow job and still dominate the one she is with.
It had been the same, from the first time she rewarded him with sex to this present day in his office. As a reward, she had fucked him senseless, after he agreed to help her through one, to say the least, very off the wall divorce. Claire was always the aggressor. A part of Claude loved it; Christ, he reveled in it.
He sighed as his mind came back to the present. He had a big problem and Claire was at the center of the problem. She always refused to see any but her own goals as worthy of consideration.
This woman was not the average manipulative type client who felt she could trade sex for a better deal if her lawyer were properly motivated. Where sex was concerned, Claire was more like a tigress on the hunt, the way she tracked her prey. Everything else became secondary to Claire's demanding appetites.
Claude loved it right up until Claire tried to get him to cross the line in a way that could get him sent to prison if caught. "If caught..." The thought echoed in his mind. Maybe ... No! It wasn't worth the risk. God knows he had already dipped into funds he had no right to. No more, he told himself once again. Claude brought his attention back to the pleasant present.
For the past six months, Claude began to worry about their relationship and where it was going end up. She tried to pressure him to go way far beyond what he had ever considered before in his legal career. Even though she was the teen-aged client's mother, he had to be careful in the extreme.
First, Claire wanted a sneak preview of the will her ex-brother in law and ex-sex partner had Claude draw up. It named her son Mark as the sole heir of a sizable fortune. Though not in the Kennedy or Bill Gates class, it still ran in the tens of millions.
A few times she had also hinted she wanted to "perhaps change things just a little." She hinted at forgery. Once Claire told him, "Some things should be changed, Claude. That will is a recipe for disaster. I showed you those notes between him and that queen of Fairy Land, my ex."
He sighed. On the other hand, she was without a doubt the best sex partner he had ever had. Claude believed, no, he was positive he could be satisfied in a monogamous relationship with her. He wondered if Claire could be satisfied enough to remain faithful to only one man? Another thought entered his mind and he wondered if she could remain faithful to just a few men? He smiled to himself.
The smile was short lived. Damn, if only she would stop her attempts to use sex as a lever to pry information out of him, information he had no legal right to give her. A part of him knew that, as always, she would eventually get her way. She wanted control of her son's inheritance and he, Claude, was desperate to keep his own improprieties with that same inheritance well hidden from sight. Besides, there were all those millions that might come up for grabs.
Although he had cautioned her, Claire continued in her efforts to push harder at him to break the law. It made him angry. She seemed not to realize he could lose his license to practice law. Hell, perhaps he might even go to prison if he did even half of what she demanded. Then the sad thought came that perhaps she didn't care about the consequences where he was concerned. He had to be careful though; his own ass was on the line. His own indiscretions must be kept secret at all costs.
As he felt her draw him deep into her throat all worries went away, replaced with the anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh god, Claire, I'm ... I'm..." He got no further. He exploded and anticipated the second of his usual three-part sexcapade with the most wanton woman he had ever known.
That was yesterday.
Today's adventure began after she illegally read her ex-brother-in-law's will. Claire Hunter, his longtime friend and often time lover told Claude, "I refuse to permit Mark to inherit a nudist colony. You know what goes on in those places, the drugs, the diseases and the depravity." Her normally sharp features had become sharper, almost hatchet like. At times like this, Claude saw her ruthless nature and it scared him.
He tried to reason with her, "Claire dear, I have no idea what goes on in nudist colonies for the simple reason I never visited one before. Therefore I shall defer to your evidently more vast experiences than my own in such matters."
It was ten in the morning, and he felt the need for a drink, a big one.
"Don't be a smart ass, Claude." She frowned and continued, "I mean it, I shall not permit my son to inherit a ... a..."
"A naturist resort; a clothing optional retreat up in the mountains where people go to commune with Mother Nature," he suggested in a quasi-helpful manner.
"Damn it Claude, it's a place where people go to take their clothes off and screw indiscriminately."
She was angry and became angrier. She was frustrated and wanted someone to take her anger out on. The attorney was close at hand and the nudist resort was her excuse.
Claude laughed, "Claire dear, it is very helpful if one undresses before he or she has indiscriminate sex in a nudist resort, or any other type of resort for that matter.
"In fact, I suggest we lock the door and you work out a few of your frustrations on me." He rose, stepped around his desk, and held his arms open to her.
Claire calmed down, gave him a rueful smile and told him, "You are the best mood leveler I ever had. You are not at all like that ... that weak, disgusting queer toad I was forced to marry."
"Get undressed," he said as he stuck his head out the door and told his secretary, "Please hold all calls. We shall be in conference for a half hour." His secretary smiled and winked at her boss. She had hinted to Claire her own interest a few times and was ignored.
Claude closed his office door and forgot to lock it when he saw the naked and trim body of his part time lover waiting for him. "God, you get more beautiful every time I see you," he murmured as he undressed.
"Hurry up or I'll start without you," she threatened and laughed. She dropped to her knees in front of Claude and took his limp penis in her mouth after he stepped out of his trousers and underwear.
As soon as Claire had brought him to full hardness she pulled her mouth away. She looked up and said, "I love the sense of power I get when I make you hard like this. I love the feeling when your soft cock becomes hard in my mouth."
"We better hurry a little, your son is due here in about an hour."
"He can wait while we take care of a few more important matters," she told him. She stood and led him over to the couch and said, "Take me." The couch was usually the second part of their three-part sex play. This time it became the third.
For the ten years after she divorced the man officially known as Mark's father, sex on Claude's couch had become a regular thing. They celebrated a huge divorce settlement with wild sex on this very same couch. From the first time through the present they enjoyed sex on it at least once a week. Today they went into overtime.
From the couch, they gravitated back to the carpeted floor and she settled back on her knees for part three of their three-part ritual. While she worried Claude with her mouth, he stroked her hair. I think I am actually in love her, he thought to himself. She was not at all like the others who came through his office. She was a strong willed person who refused to back down from anyone, ever. Strong women were Claude's weakness.
Mark walked into the lawyer's office and nodded to the secretary. "You better wait a moment, Mister Richards is in there with your..." She got no further.
"Mom!" Mark yelled when he opened the door and saw his mother on her knees in front of Claude Richardson Attorney At Law. Both were naked.
"Close that door!" Claire ordered her son. She came to her feet, turned to face him and glared at his intrusion.
He looked at his naked, and still attractive by any standards, mother for just a moment before he backed out and closed the door. Another part of his anatomy also noticed her. "Damn!" he exclaimed. "What in hell is going on here?"
"Unless that was a rhetorical question your education has suffered woefully in some areas," Wanda, Claude's secretary told him.
She looked at the bulge in the front of his white tennis shorts and said, "Part of you recognized what is going on."
"I don't need a smart assed remark from you right now," Mark told her.
She regretted her flippant remark. "I'm sorry Mark. I shouldn't have said that. If it makes you feel any better, they have been lovers for years."
While still only partially dressed, Claire opened the door to the outer office and demanded, "Mark, what do you mean by barging in on us like that?" She continued to get dressed and presentable
For the first time in his life he did not back down from his mother. "What do you mean giving my attorney a blow job during the time I was supposed to be here to discuss my inheritance from Uncle Mike. Or did your conference with Mister Richards go into overtime?"
"Don't you talk to me like that, I am your mother." Claire only knew how to attack when confronted by another person.
"Don't rub my nose in it. I'm damned well aware you're my mother and it pains me I have no way to change it, no way at all." She flinched at the naked anger she saw on his face and heard in his voice.
He turned his attention to the lawyer, "Can you handle things and turn over my uncle's estate to me without undue influence from your sex partner, or do I find someone else?"
Claude Richards became worried as he visualized an appearance in front of the ethics committee of the state bar association. "I can represent you in this matter, Mark," he answered the young man.
"Mother, leave us alone."
"I will not, you are my son."
"I am your eighteen year old son," Mark corrected her. "Today is my eighteenth birthday. In this instance at least, I am an adult in the eyes of the law. The man I officially knew as my father, the fat old fag, sent me a birthday card. He told me Uncle Mike was my father. I got that card today. However, I already knew he was not my biological father. Mike informed me exactly three years ago on my fifteenth birthday. He also warned me to keep it quiet till today.
"The man I thought was dear old Dad further told me this was what your divorce was all about. Then he said Mike had made all of the child support payments. Dear old fag Dad said he kept up the charade because he saw no sense in punishing me for your sins. Wait out in the reception area or go home."
He turned back to the lawyer. "Okay what next?"
Claude tried to compose himself, "Clair, please leave and shut the door. In fact, Mike stipulated in his will that Mark was to be the sole decision maker where his, Mike's, estate was concerned."
Claude was polite but firm. "Remember, Mark is now of age. He does not want you here. You must leave." He hoped against hope she wouldn't pick this moment to throw a tantrum.
Claire left them and felt frightened, lost and powerless. She realized she was almost all alone in the world. "Oh Mark, you are going to mess things up, I know you will," she moaned to herself and walked away from Claude's law office.
The attorney became all business the instant the door closed behind Clair. He shoved a sheaf of papers across the desk toward Mark and told him, "Place your initials at the bottom of each page right next to the red 'x'. Sign your name on the last page, on the line above your printed name."
He handed Mark four small signature cards. "Place your signature on these and you will soon have access to one portion of the cash in your uncle's bank accounts. I already took the liberty to order new personalized checks printed up with your picture and name on them." He handed Mark a small folder of checks.
Next, he shoved another legal document across the desk. "Sign the bottoms of each set of papers. They have to be registered yet. Then you will have the Whispering Willows Resort deeded over to you."
Claude paused, then added, "I must warn you the manager of Willows is not pleased to have a teenager as a boss."
"Tough." Mark stared at the attorney and continued. "If the dude doesn't like it he can take a hike."
Claude smiled, "Actually the manager is a dude-ette, or perhaps a
dude-ess or a dudesessa. She has worked there for twenty years and was Mike Hunter's strong right hand in many things."
Mark stood straight. "No one, especially a damned woman, will ever push me around again, not if I can help it. If she has problems, she can take a hike. I'll close it down before I let anyone ever get in my face and order me around, never again."
"Why haven't you ever shown this steel before?" Claude asked out of curiosity. The young man who stood in front of him was not the same sullen youth he had known for ten years.
"The simple answer to your question is that I waited for my time to come. Because I was not eighteen, I had to put up with my mother. Mike taught me to endure what I couldn't change. 'Endure and wait," were his catchwords. I endured and waited for the day to arrive when I could be my own boss. Today is that day."
The lawyer said in an almost but not quite joking voice, "Look out world, here comes Mark Hunter, master of his universe. He is on the prowl." He gave Mark a thin folio with copies of all the papers the young man had signed.
"Mark, about your parentage..." Claude got no further.
"Mike told me all of the sordid details. He and mom screwed for a couple of years when she was in her early teens, or at least Mom was. Mike was many years older. Mom's dad was Grandpa Hunter's chauffeur."
"Anyway, Mike and Mom had a fight because Mike liked variety and he took off for Alaska and other parts unknown. Grandpa Hunter learned my mother was pregnant and knew Mike was the father. His gay oldest son who had no interest or talent for business or women was drafted to marry Mom and officially give the old man's only grandson the Hunter name."
"Dear old dad of record went back to his boyfriends and Mom sought out new boyfriends of her own, a lot of them. In the meantime, I was raised by mostly indifferent nannies and the world went on its merry way without my participation."
"After what I saw today, I am very glad Mom never kissed me on the lips, ever." Claude blushed at the reminder.
He mumbled in a low voice, "Ah yes, however your mother and I go back a long ways."
"Yeah, I figure you two have been sex pals since the divorce, right?"
"Well, a little before. But it started during that time," Claude mumbled.
Mark picked up the folder and walked out. He looked at Wanda and announced in a dramatic voice, "Today I am a man." He walked around to her side of her desk, bent over and planted a kiss on her mouth. His tongue slipped between her lips and he licked her tongue.
"Oh my god! You certainly are a man," she exclaimed as he stood back up. "If only I was twenty years younger and thirty pounds lighter." She grinned and added, "I just learned I may be bisexual. How about that?"
This kid had potential, she decided, a lot of potential. She decided he also had a lot of talent already. Mark winked at her and left a thirty-eight year old woman with moist inner thighs and a bemused look on her face.
Mark smiled to himself as he walked toward the elevator. With each step he took, more of the heavy weight on his shoulders evaporated. He felt the years he spent while he did the will of his mother come to an end. To Mark it seemed as if an actual load had been taken from his shoulders
After Mike came into his life, he had a strong male figure he could pattern himself after. "Uncle" Mike could do no wrong in Mark's eyes.
Then, the day of truth arrived. On his fifteenth birthday Mark asked, "Mike, are you really my father? I hope I just guessed right."
Mike Hunter looked at his secret son and said, "Yes." The floodgates opened, tears rolled down his cheeks and he nodded his head, unable to speak.
"Damn, that makes me glad," Mark told him. His own eyes were wet with tears of joy. The lump in his throat prevented him from speaking for a while. Father and son stared at each other...
Mark's eyes were damp as he left the law building and ran the whole distance to the bank. "Yes!" he screamed as he ran, not jogged but ran full bore. People stared and Mark ignored their looks.
At the end of his two and a half mile near sprint he stopped at the entrance to the bank and gasped for air. He walked in cool-down circles outside the bank until his breathing slowed back down. Then when his respiration was almost normal he entered the bank.
Less than a minute after he entered, the bank was the beginnings of another female caused problem for him. Mark took the signature cards to an assistant branch manager and tried to hand them to her. She gestured toward a corner of her desktop with the hand not holding the phone to her ear.
"I'll wait," he told her. He sat in the visitor's chair next to her desk and waited.
"Wait a moment," she said into the phone.
"Would you please go somewhere else?" She frowned at him.
"Instead of talking to your boyfriend, take care of this and I will be glad to go somewhere else." He tried to hand her the signature cards one more time.
She pressed a button under the edge of her desk and a bank guard came up.
"Please remove him," she said as she nodded toward Mark.
"I'll call my lawyer," he threatened.
"Sure kid, you call anybody you want. You just do it outside," the guard told Mark as he hustled him away from the woman's desk.
The moment he was outside on the sidewalk, Mark unclipped his cell phone and called Claude Richards. In a few sentences, he explained what happened.
"Don't go anywhere," the lawyer ordered. "I'll be right there."
Next, Mark called the bank and gave the woman who answered the account numbers of the two temporary accounts set up to hold a part of his inheritance. "Please give the paper with the totals of those accounts to the assistant manager sitting at her desk talking to her boyfriend."
"Shall I tell her why I am to show her this paper?"
"Yes. Tell her she just threw the holder of record of those accounts out of your bank and he is a very pissed-off person. My lawyer is on his way here there right now."
Nothing happened until Claude Richards arrived. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Mark pointed through the window at Rachel. "That damned woman had me thrown out when I tried to give her the signature cards to transfer part of the funds into my existing personal checking account." He pointed through the glass doors in the direction of the assistant manager's desk.
"Come on Mark," Claude ordered.
Mark followed him inside and was stopped by the guard. "Hold on there kid." He reached toward Mark.
"I am Claude Richards, this young man's attorney. He has legitimate business here. Lead us to the manager's office. We wish to speak to Mister Osterman." He handed the guard a business card.
"Oh shit," the guard muttered under his breath. "That damned kid does have a lawyer." In that instant he saw his own job might be on the line. He led Mark and Claude to Harold Osterman's office. The guard wondered if he would still have a job this time tomorrow.