Chapter 1

1999, Redwood Grove, California

I’m Jacob Richford. I’d turned fourteen only two days earlier. It was the best day of my life to date, and the day I advanced from child to adolescent. Annalise picked me up from the County Home for Boys the day after I got in a LOT of trouble. I hadn’t met her before, but she was friends with my Mom and Dad.

She told me she had a few days off because she was between movies, and would take care of me until my mother got home the next day. Annalise really looked like a movie star. She was GORGEOUS and much taller than my Mom, at 5 foot 9 or 175cm. I was proud I could convert from metric to standard and back in my head.

She had hazel eyes, mostly brown but with little specks of green and blue, instead of ice blue like my family’s. My family all has fine blonde hair, but her shiny dark mane nearly reached her slender waist. Her makeup was very pretty and her boobs were huge, twice the size of my Mom’s! One time I heard Dad mention something about them being “F’s”. I didn’t think they failed at all, they were AWESOME!

We went to my parent’s guest house since the mansion needed major repairs after my escapade on my birthday. After dinner we sat in the hot tub. Seeing her in a bikini nearly made my eyes pop out! She was almost triple my age, but I’d never seen such a sexy woman in person before, and only a few on TV. I thought one of the girls on Baywatch might be hotter, but only one of them. When she stepped into the hot tub, I saw a few dark hairs at the edge of her bikini bottoms, and wondered how much hair there was. I also wondered what was under the hair.

I usually hated smoking. It smelled terrible, and I knew it was bad for people. When Annalise pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit up after we climbed from the tub, several parts of me were jealous of the cigarette. Her plump lips covered in purple lipstick, the dimples in her cheeks that moved as she puffed, she was ... just OOOH!

I quickly grabbed a towel to hide my erection. Part of her bikini top slipped a little, and I saw the deep purple of her lipstick and long fingernails matched the color of her areolas. I only saw the outer edge, less than a centimeter, but that was enough to get my hormones flowing.

I wondered why she didn’t smell like stinky smoke all the time, until I saw her pop a mint in her mouth and use some perfume when she finished her cigarette. Instead of gross, she usually smelled nice.

She asked me why I had gotten in trouble, and I told her about how angry I was that Mom and Dad were never home. She said she understood. When she was away from home, she missed her daughter Emerald a lot too. We went in the house and changed. When I got back to the living room, she offered me a hug. I happily clung to her a minute, with my chin touching one of her wonderful breasts.

I leaned on her as we sat on the couch and fell asleep during the movie. When I woke, I discovered she had laid down with me on top of her. My face was in her warm, soft cleavage. At first the feeling was comforting and reassuring, like my Mom hugging me, but my reaction soon changed. The combined scents of her perfume and body wasn’t like my Mom at all, it was quite erotic.

She moved a little in her sleep, and my groin rested on her knee. I looked up and saw those purple lips, and noticed the pressure on my crotch. As I felt a comfortable, warm breast on my cheek, I saw another only inches from my eye!

Half-asleep, I instinctively rocked my hips, squeezing my penis against her kneecap through our pants. She woke up and smiled. Instead of being angry or making fun of me, she was flirty and kind. “You’re cute. I like younger men, but not that young. Go to bed, little Romeo.” As I got up, she kissed me on the cheek.

I hadn’t been so happy in months and felt even better as I masturbated in the privacy of my bed. For the first time, I was rewarded with an orgasm, and paid the price by replacing my dirty sheets the next day. For years, Annalise was the unattainable sex goddess I imagined as I beat my meat. Thoughts of her beauty and sexuality had ended my childhood, and I was overjoyed.

In the morning she nuked some frozen waffles for us. When we finished, she said, “You have some syrup on your chin.” I dabbed myself with a napkin, but she licked a finger and said, “Over here.” She wiped it up with her finger, then stuck the finger in her mouth. I was hardening rapidly, but she asked, “Would you like to help me pack?”

I practically waddled, trying to make my dick go down, as I followed her to her room. Seeing her butt in her tight jeans as I followed her up the stairs didn’t help. She told me, “I’ll get the pants and tops in my big suitcase. You put the rest in the small one.”

“Okay.” I didn’t think it was possible, but I got even more erect as I saw ‘the rest’ was an assortment of lacy bras and panties! I couldn’t stop myself. I had to fix my extreme arousal. “Pee! Gotta pee!” I sprinted to the bathroom and came in half a minute as I jerked off over the toilet.

Years earlier, San Jose, California

I wasn’t a bad boy, I was just unsupervised and unlucky. I was only seven years old. Ice skating on TV looked fun, and I wanted to try it. I tried to make my own ice rink by covering the bathroom floor with all the ice in the house. There wasn’t enough, so I gave up and went outside. It wasn’t my fault the housekeeper slipped and broke her arm. I had no idea it would be dangerous.

A year later it wasn’t my fault they had to waste lots of water and hours of work, draining and cleaning the pond. I was only eight, and thought having an orange pond might be pretty. I didn’t know that house paint would only color the rocks at the bottom, and not the water. Nobody had told me it was terrible for fish either. I felt really bad about the fish.

I quickly got a reputation as a ‘problem child’, and nobody wanted to be around me. My father was away on business most of the time. Parents who lived nearby wouldn’t let their kids play with me, and even my mother frequently flew across the world with my father, leaving me alone with the cook and new housekeeper for weeks at a time. After the fish incident, they obviously wouldn’t let me get a cat or dog.

I was lonely and hurt, so I acted out. I reached my first breaking point the year I was ten, on Easter. Instead of going on an Easter egg hunt, or getting a basket of candy and spending time with my parents, they were out of town again! When I asked about it, the cook handed me a bag of chocolate chips.

I ripped the bag open and threw chocolate chips all over the house, then broke dozens of cups and dishes by pulling the tablecloth off the dining room table. I sat in a corner of the dining room crying a long time. The cook and housekeeper didn’t know what to do about me. Every day I demanded that they make my parents come home, then made a big mess or broke something in my loneliness and anger.

They had tried to call my parents many times but couldn’t reach them for a week. My mother decided I should have a nanny, mostly to keep me from wrecking things. Gretta, the old lady Mom hired, couldn’t keep up with me. She insisted I stay near her all the time so she could watch me. I never got to do anything fun, and I missed my Mom and Dad. Gretta smoked stinky cigarettes and smelled awful, plus she was crabby and ugly. Despite my loneliness, I didn’t want to go near her, even for a hug.

My parents were away for Christmas when I was 11. They sent me some gifts I didn’t want, boring old books and a model of an old-fashioned car to build. The rare times Dad was home, he spent most of his time in the library or working on old cars. He didn’t want to play with me at all, not even baseball or basketball. I missed him SO MUCH!

I was glad we moved out of the city, and into a much bigger house in the country, in a little town called Redwood Grove. There were a lot of trees behind our house. Mom worried about me getting lost, so I was forbidden from going in ‘the woods’. I told her there were houses all around it, so I’d only need to walk in one direction for five minutes to get out, but she wouldn’t compromise.

I reached my second breaking point when they didn’t show up for my 14th birthday. They even forgot to send me a gift! I grabbed a bottle of wine and sat in my bedroom, crying and getting drunk. I was terribly lonely, hurt, and angry. I missed them so much, especially my Dad. I hadn’t seen him in half a year! I knew he kept spare car keys in his top desk drawer. I decided I’d show him!

Caen, France, several hours later

My wife Barbara and I were staying in the Presidential Suite at a nice hotel. We had gone to sleep only an hour earlier, after a wonderful evening. We had visited a winery, ate dinner at a world-class restaurant, then saw an entertaining show at a theatre. After a romantic time in the hot tub under the stars, we had a great lovemaking session in bed. It was excellent, until the phone woke us.

I sleepily said, “Hello?”

A gravely man’s voice asked, “Is this Henry Richford?”

“Yes, who are you?”

“Police sergeant Al Thomas. Your son Jacob was involved in a car crash.”

“Is he hurt? What happened?”

“Nobody was injured, and no one else’s property was involved. The whole thing happened on your estate. Due to certain circumstances, we need to take your son into custody, until an adult can sign for his release. And your nanny, cook, and housekeeper all say they quit.”

“WHY! What did he do?”

“Well, sir, like I said, nobody was injured, and the only property involved belongs to your family. Jacob was above twice the legal blood alcohol limit, even if he was an adult. He was also speeding, driving recklessly, and without a license. The crash caused more than a million dollars in damage. Oh, and assuming you didn’t give a 14-year-old permission to drive, grand theft auto.”

I shouted into the phone, “WHAT? WHAT EXACTLY DID HE DO?”

“There’s no posted speed limit on your estate, of course, but even on major highways the limit is 70 miles per hour. From the tire marks and angle of final impact, the accident investigator says your Bently was going over 100. He drove the car through the French doors at the front of your home, up the grand staircase, through the library, then out through the North wall and into the pool. If he didn’t land in the pool, it might have been much worse.”

“My rare books! My Matisse! My Renoir!”

“Uh, sir, I think those are paintings? There’s a mostly purple and yellow one with a bunch of circles still on the wall. Nearly everything else is in the pool now. There are a few books on the lawn, but it’s been raining a while...”

“AAAHHHH! NOOOO!”

“Are you okay, sir?”

“I ... I ... need a minute. Tell my wife Barbara, please.” I suppressed my feelings of loss and rage briefly and handed her the phone.

I jumped out of bed and tried taking a deep breath to calm myself. A thousand deep breaths wouldn’t have done it. I hurt my toes kicking a chair across the room, then ran into the bathroom. I closed the door, turned the shower and fan on for noise, and screamed into a towel. “NOOOO! I’m going to KILL the little prick! AAAAH! AAARRGGH!”

The purple and yellow circle painting had been done by my son. Most kindergartners could do better, but I put it up to avoid hurting his feelings. THAT was the one that survived?