Chapter 13

Ramona found her brother at the mansion. Again he was talking to a worker, this time about the choices for a heating system for both the house and the water system. The workman was suggesting that the house, even though renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and was recommending that a boiler be installed. It would handle all the heating needs and could be slaved to the new duct work being installed. Ramona stood quietly, waiting for them to finish.

Robert turned his head and saw Ramona. He smiled and told the man to do whatever he thought would lead to the best result.

Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her hands.

"Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight." she said, by way of explanation. "She wants me to seduce you."

"Smart woman." he commented. "Perhaps you'd show me what the dress looks like now? Upstairs?" He grinned.

She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself, but didn't. There were too many people around. "Yes." she said simply.

She followed him and, when they were locked in the master bedroom, he watched silently as she stripped in front of him. Naked, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up and onto her body. Her breasts were a little smaller than Renee's, and her nipples showed in the gap of the bodice. It was as if she was wearing almost nothing.

"It doesn't fit well." she said.

"Perhaps she'll tell you where she got it, so I can have one made to fit you better." he said.

She dropped the dress in answer. She was panting.

Their lovemaking was not, in any way, shape of form, slow motion in nature. Ramona was wild for him, her emotions having been at a peak ever since seeing her children on the bed. She told him what she'd seen, and then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm. He sensed her need and waited, controlling his own urge and pounding her through two more orgasms before he asked for, and received permission to jet her full of his seed.

As they lay spent in each other's arms, she kissed the teeth marks she had left in his shoulder.

"I hurt you! I'm sorry." she said.

"It was stupendous. You must spy on the children again sometime. It made you like a tigress."

She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too astonished that some part of her reacted positively to his suggestion to say anything. Instead she got up and got dressed and then went back home, making as much noise as she could both in the garage, and in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors and talking to herself as she got some juice to drink. She unconsciously took inventory of what there was to prepare for her brother's visit that night.

Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hi Mom." she said brightly. "What are you doing home so early?"

There wasn't anything in Debbie's voice that suggested that Ramona shouldn't come home early, or that maybe her mother was trying to spy on her children, but something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and the lies that had flowed around this household like smoke from a fire. It was an unconscious decision on her part to do what she did. One might say she was actually driven to do it in a sense. For whatever reason, she turned and spoke.

"I saw you this afternoon." she said, looking at her daughter. Debbie had a healthy glow about her, almost a radiance. Ramona had heard the coarse term "well fucked" but now she was seeing it and it made all kinds of sense. Her heart fluttered as she realized she probably looked exactly the same way. She felt fabulously fucked and it had to show.

"What? When?" asked Debbie, confused. They hadn't left the house all day. When their mother had left for work the teens had succumbed to a hormonal attack and had been trying to ease that itch all day long. Though Ramona didn't know it, the time she'd seen them was actually the fourth time that day that Robby had emptied his balls into his sister's well-fucked belly.

"About an hour ago." said Ramona, taking a drink of her juice.

"Oh." said Debbie, thinking furiously. There was only one place they had been an hour ago. They had spent the first half of the morning in Robby's room, when she snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got pinned like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match. Then they had transferred to her room for the slower, more sensual lovemaking, where she called the shots.

"OH!" said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.

"I thought you told me you two hadn't gone that far." said Ramona, her voice sounding unconcerned enough that it caught Debbie's ear and made her tense up.

"We didn't." said Debbie hurriedly. "Not until yesterday. When you left for work I went to tickle him and he got excited and then I got excited and..." She looked at her mother. Debbie knew that this was a time when things could work out for the good, or things could go horribly wrong. "I thought about you." Debbie said, stopping again. "I thought about how happy you were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were... watching." Debbie took a step toward her mother. "And I knew that you wouldn't do that unless it was something really special and important. And Robby's important to me, so I made him do it to me."

"You made him?" asked Ramona, impressed that her daughter had been not only willing to tell her what happened, but pretty capable to express her state of mind at the time too. Most kids just got carried away and did things without thinking at all.

"He didn't want to at first." said Debbie. "He was afraid it would hurt me."

"And did it?" Ramona was shocked that she'd asked.

"It did at first. But Mommy, you know what it's like. I could hear it in your voice. And now I understand, because I felt it too. I never felt anything like that before."

"So you wanted to feel it again today." prompted Ramona.

"Yes." said her daughter, hanging her head. "Do you hate me now?"

Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms.

"No, baby, I don't hate you. I'm afraid for you. I worry that this will hurt you later, but I don't hate you. I love you. I told you that will never change.

The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on her mother's shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and happiness, and grief for making her mother worry. "He loves me mother, and I love him so much I can't tell you how much." she cried into her mother's hair.

Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter's back. "I know, sweetheart, I know. I understand exactly how you feel."

That was pretty much it. There were no protestations that they wouldn't do it again, and no threats about what would happen if they did. The mother/daughter relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the dust as each accepted in the other some things they might have wished were different.

"Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight." said Ramona.

Debbie pushed back. "Really? I don't hate him any more Mom."

Ramona laughed. "I can't stay mad at him either. It's terrible. He came into the bank today and asked me out on a date!"

Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know everything. Like two best friends they chattered together as Ramona started pulling things out of the fridge to make a salad and described everything that had happened, like one girl telling another how a date with an interesting boy had gone.

Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the kitchen, looking surprised.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Debbie held up a finger to her mother. "Don't tell him. I want to tell him later, OK?"

Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant Robert was coming over that night. But, as Debbie then launched into a retelling of what had happened at the bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her lover about being discovered - while they were alone. That was OK with Ramona. She'd had enough drama for the day.

When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the kids over for pizza to let Ramona be alone with the rich man so she could seduce him, she giggled, enjoying the same irony that Ramona had.

Robby had been grinning for some time. "So, you want us to do that Mom?" he asked. "Go over to Renee's I mean?"

Ramona felt a rush of tenderness. Her children were going to let her have her happiness. But she shook her head. "No, that would be too out of character for me. We're going to have to make it look like I'm playing hard to get." She realized, as soon as she said it, that it sounded like she was going to let people think there WAS something between her and Robert Nettleton. That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells went off. What she and Robert had must remain a secret. All would be lost if anyone besides her children found out.

The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning the already-clean house, like they had before the last disaster that had been a visit for dinner by Robert Nettleton. This time they would know who he was, and what that meant to their mother. This time it would go much better.

Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time, and he had both a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses in his hands. It was Debbie who answered the door, based on her mother's frantic shout that she was at a critical point in the gravy making and couldn't leave the stove.

While there is no scientific proof to back this up, the author is quite convinced there's a gene in females of the species that is there just to make sure that, when a woman sees flowers in a man's hand, her sex drive kicks in. Debbie had never received flowers from a man, but she had that gene, and it kicked in. It kicked in even though Debbie's conscious mind knew quite clearly that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her. That gene just isn't sophisticated enough to tell who flowers are for.

It's true. If you don't believe it, just deliver a vase of flowers to a woman in an office somewhere who works with other women around her. You don't even have to know the woman. In fact, it's better, for the sake of the experiment, if you DON'T know the woman. Just deliver her flowers with a card that says "An anonymous admirer" and act like a normal delivery guy. Then watch the OTHER women in the office. They'll light up, and smile and make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and the smell of wet pussy will waft on the air.

If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched his niece, you'd see their pupils dilate as that gene tells the pleasure center of the brain to release a squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream.

And that's for flowers they know aren't even for them!

Of course, by the time they get home to their men... not bringing flowers home to put on the table... that dopamine will have diluted to pretty near nothing as other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice hard cock in that wet pussy. The replacement emotions, unfortunately, generally result in statements like: "Janice got flowers at work today. Nobody ever sends ME flowers at work! You haven't slept on the couch for a while. Maybe it's worn out. Maybe we need a new one. Why don't YOU sleep on the couch for a few nights just so we know for sure."

Of course it's possible that that is another function of the 'flower gene' and that if the urge to mate is not satisfied within a reasonable time after the flowers are introduced into a woman's life... whether they're for her or not, the gene then brings about these other reactions.

At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by being a foreigner in hostile places for years, DID notice Debbie's pupils dilate. And he saw in those young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her.

His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.

"I have here wine for your beautiful mother." he said. He winked and said "Perhaps she will lower her guard tonight if she drinks too much?"

Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.

"And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make up for ruining her playhouse and bringing so much turmoil to her life."

Debbie's 'flower gene' told her brain to go ahead and give another squirt of dopamine. She took the roses and smelled them.

"I don't think you need the wine to get Mom's guard down." she said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to give you a little."

His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was for created an instant flock of butterflies in Debbie's stomach. Her recent arrival at full womanhood still had her hormones at high levels, and attention from a man, even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those hormones into little storms in her body. She felt her nipples crinkle and blushed.

Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house, and, because he was family, on into the kitchen, instead of the living room. It was a little thing in her mind, but it registered with him in a big way. He wanted his niece and nephew to like him. In one sense he NEEDED his niece and nephew to like him if his plan was going to work out like he wanted it to.

"Look Mommy!" Debbie squealed as she went to her mother. "Uncle Bob..." she faltered and turned to Robert. "Is it OK if I call you Uncle Bob?"

He smiled again and nodded. "I prefer it."

Debbie turned back to her mother. "Uncle Bob brought me flowers!"

Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and saw the roses in her hands. Ramona had the gene too, of course, and she knew immediately who had brought them. She too assumed they were for her, but her reaction to her daughter's statement wasn't one of disappointment. She was thrilled for Debbie, and was quite able to use her own shot of dopamine to channel her pleasure to happiness at her little girl's pleasure.

"How sweet" she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her daughter. "And roses too! You better watch out for him Deb."'

Her mother's unknowing reference to her uncle's teasing remark wasn't lost on Debbie and she blushed again. She'd never really thought about what it might be like for a man other than her brother to pay attention to her. It was true that boys at school liked to look at her, but they were just a distraction to Debbie, and not material for serious consideration. They couldn't stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn't stack up to her uncle.

Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own. "He brought wine too. He says it's to make you let your guard down." She smiled sweetly at her uncle.

"Curses!" quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long moustaches. "My plan is foiled again!"

Debbie teased her mother next. "I told him he didn't need the wine." she said. "Then he said maybe you'd let me have some."

Ramona laughed. "You REALLY need to watch him then. I had hoped I'd be woman enough to satisfy him." she wiped her hands on a towel and went to Robert, clasping him in her arms and kissing him soundly. "Perhaps I'll have to try harder." she said when the kiss was over.

Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into Ramona's mound. "I could not help myself." he said, as if it were nothing of consequence. "She looks very much like you did when you were her age."

Ramona laughed again. "You're a silver tongued liar. I was a skinny plain girl when I was Debbie's age, and nothing any boy looked at."

"You looked like she looks to me." said Robert, kissing her gently. "And you were as desirable to me as she is to any man who sees her now."

That flower gene I mentioned earlier? There's another one too. It's a gene that takes compliments and transforms them into more dopamine. Debbie was beginning to like her uncle very much.