I dropped the heavy brass knocker on the thick oak door and listened to its dull thud reverberate in the silence of the cold, dark night. A minute later, a soft glow lit up the hallway, and I saw the silhouette of a man walk towards the door. I did not know why my heart was pounding the way it was. I wasn’t in a habit of asking my big brother for help, but after all, that’s what family is for, right?

My brother was a little surprised but pleased to see me and immediately asked me to come inside and out of the cold. He took my coat and walked me to the living room, or library, as he called it. We sat down by the fire, and he poured us both a nice glass of brandy. I quickly took a big swig of the burning liquid, hoping it would help me find the words for what I was about to ask. My brother just looked at me, holding the glass in his hands and warming the brandy. I suddenly felt ashamed of how I almost emptied the glass in one gulp. Knowing my big brother, it was probably a very old and expensive bottle.

“It’s nice, Ken ... The brandy, I mean. And the fire.” I babbled.

“Yes, it is.” He answered, swirling the golden brown fluid in the round glass. “It was a personal gift from the head of the institute in Bordeaux. It’s almost a hundred years old.”

I nearly choked. My brother wasn’t a wealthy man, preferring knowledge over possession, but what little he owned was nothing but the highest quality. I promised myself to fully enjoy the next sip and make sure he’d see it.

“Now, what is it you wanted to see me for? I mean, you’re always welcome, and I do enjoy your company, but there is something that’s troubling you, and judging from the way you’re guzzling this very fine cognac, you really need to get it off your chest.”

“I’m sorry ... but you’re right, there is something. I know you’re buried with work already, with your book, lectures, and research projects, but could you ... can you help Jeff in school? Maybe tutor him?” I asked my brother.

Instead of directly answering my question, Ken got out of his club chair and stepped towards the fireplace. He tossed another log on the fire, used the poker to precisely arrange the wood, and put the metal spark guard back in place. Without saying a single word, he strode back to his chair and sat down again. Only then did he respond to my request.

“I could do that, but Jeff really doesn’t need any tutoring. He is a very bright boy,” he said. It wasn’t exactly the answer I had been hoping for.

“I know he is, but if he doesn’t improve his scores, he’ll have to repeat this grade.”

Again, my brother was silent for a while and just watched the wood being attacked by the flames.

“That once nearly happened to me too,” he finally said.

“It did? But you had nothing but A’s.” I exclaimed, surprised by Ken’s confession.

“Not always...” he said and took a small sip from his glass. “When I was about Jeff’s age, there was a time that my grades were really poor, and I almost did not make it. I only became an honor student because of Mom’s ... er ... motivational techniques.”

I was really dumbfounded. In my memory, my older brother was nothing but a genius, the smartest boy in school. He graduated with the best scores of his class, and as a result, he received offers from several prestigious universities. How could he almost have flunked, and what had our mother done to prevent it?

My beloved mother was in a home now, with a severe case of Alzheimer’s. The last time we visited, she just sat in her chair and didn’t even recognize us. Whatever it was she did for my brother, she couldn’t help my son. I would have to do it myself.

“So what is it that mom did to turn you into the straight-A student I remember?”

My brother looked me straight in the eye, and I could see he was very serious and a little reluctant. When he finally spoke, he didn’t tell right away but asked another question in return.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

An hour later, I was back in my car, driving through snowy landscapes. I had taken the long way home and let my brother’s words replay in my mind as the trees and houses passed by. My mind was whirling, and my heart was pounding as millions of questions rolled in my head. Kenneth’s question, if I was sure I wanted to know, was echoing in my ears. Yes, I had wanted to know, but now that I knew, I could not believe it.

“You recall how mom was a bit of a ‘free spirit’, a typical child of the sixties?” my brother began his story.

“A hippie?”

“If you want to call her that, yes.”

Although Mom never talked much about the past, we both knew of her wild days before she settled down, married, and had us. Our mother had been part of a group of idealistic people who founded a community where private property was banned. Everything would be shared freely: food, clothes, housing, everything. There were all kinds of drugs, and free love was everywhere. Although she had to give up most of those ideals when she grew older, she was definitely the coolest mom in school.

“What about it?” I asked.

“Well, she reckoned there is only one thing that could motivate a teenaged boy to study.”

He paused a minute, as if he was waiting for me to give an answer. I was a total blank, however.

“Come on, don’t act so innocent,” he said, smiling mischievously.

“S ... Sex?” I stammered.

He nodded at me as if I was one of his students who had just answered correctly.

“Mom took you to a hooker if you passed?” I asked, surprised.

“Not quite,” he said, pausing again. “Here, let me refill your glass.”

I knew I needed it and nodded as I sat down and mentally braced myself for what was about to come. Kenneth filled my glass and his own, put the stopper back on the bottle, and sat down too.

“So one night, Mom came to my room and said she needed to talk. She sat down on my bed, and that’s when she told me about this A-B-C reward plan...”

It was an unusual plan to say the least, radical and dangerous. But I knew I had to do something, even if it was insane. There was no doubt about it; what Mom had done had proved to be very effective, and if I wanted Jeff to pass this year, I had to at least consider it.

I had a really hard time deciding what to do. If I did nothing, Jeff would fail for sure, but every time I was about to decide to go through with the plan, a little voice inside me kept reminding me it was more likely it would scar my son for life than improve his grade. On the other hand, it obviously hadn’t traumatized Ken; he wouldn’t have brought it up if it had.

Oh, what should I do?

Snow began to fall again, and as I carefully steered my car through an immaculate white world, I once more ran all the other options in my head. I came to the conclusion that there was really no feasible alternative. I was short on money already, and barring bribing the teachers or hiring a full-time and very expensive tutor, I had tried absolutely everything a mother could think of. Everything but this.

Before I could go through with the plan, I also had to ask myself if I was able to do it. Could I use sex to motivate Jeff? Could I seduce my own son and do all those things to him? I had to be honest.

It was hard to admit, but more than once I had felt a decidedly inappropriate attraction to Jeff. I knew he was my son, but he’s also a very handsome young man. Looking at him, I recognized the things that made me fall for his father all those years ago. Giving in to that would not be too hard now that I had a legitimate reason.

Yes, I was going to do it.

Maybe.

A few weeks later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting. I had had plenty of time to make my decision, balancing the pros and cons and changing my mind almost every day. In front of me was Jeff’s latest report card, and there wasn’t a single good mark in it, except for PE. There was no way he’d pass with these grades, but even now, I was still very indecisive. There was no time to crawl back, as I could hear Jeff walk down the stairs.

As he walked into the kitchen, I finally decided to go through with the plan.

“Sit down, son,” I said, trying to sound stern, but not so much that it would frighten him.

I could see his eyes go from me to the report card, to me again, then to the vacant chair and the kitchen door before he sat down without saying anything. He knew what this was about and knew better than to protest.

“I’ve tried helping you, I’ve tried coaching you, even punishing you. You’ve switched schools and you’ve been to summer school. I know you’re smarter than this, and you and I are going to prove that.”

Jeff shook his shoulders and nodded indifferently.

“There is something I want to try, one last thing. Are you interested?”

I unbuttoned the top buttons of my blouse. Jeff’s eyes immediately shot down and feasted on the cleavage I was showing. Oh yes, he was interested alright.

“On your next report card...” I started, and then paused to take a deep breath. “If you get a C, you’ll get to ‘See’ me naked.”

His eyes opened wide.

“If you get a B, I will give you a Blowjob.”

His jaw fell open.

“And if you get an A, we will go All the way.”

He looked as if he could not believe his ears, and it took quite a few moments for him to take in my proposition. I couldn’t see what was happening under the table, but I bet there was a huge lump growing in his pants. Then I saw a twinkle in his eye, and a sheepish grin formed on his lips.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I was just wondering ... What do I get for an F?” he said, while he held up a recent geography test.

It was a relief Jeff was able to crack a joke at a time like this; my proposition had not freaked him out too much. However, it was not time for a reward yet.

“An F means ... you can go Fuck yourself.” I chuckled while I buttoned up my blouse again, leaving one undone as a reminder of what could be his.

Jeff knew I was serious and knew better than to push his joke any further.

I patted his knee and said, “Now, why don’t you get upstairs and get started with your homework, and I’ll make us a nice dinner.”

Throughout dinner and all evening, I kept teasing him, jutting out my breast and wetting my lips. As he got up after the meal, I could see he had a hard time trying to hide the swelling that had formed in his pants. It must have driven him mad, knowing I was there for him, ready and willing, just one good grade away. Finally, the frustration got the best of him, and he disappeared into his room. Hopefully, to study, but probably just to beat his meat.