Chapter 11

Carol arrived early at the compound on purpose. It had been a while since she'd had some loving from her son. Would he, could he, take the time? She found him leaving Darla's house holding the hand of a little girl, a very pretty little girl, the new cook's daughter, Carol discovered when David introduced her to Patricia Wilson.

"She prefers Patty to Patricia, Mom," David added. "I've been showing her around the compound."

"Are you about finished with your tour?" Carol asked.

"Yes, one stop remains — my library. Patty says she's a reader."

"Good. Meet me in your master suite when you're finished."

He grinned. "Will do."

Good, she thought. He'll take the time.

Inside her son's bedroom, she removed her clothes and stood before a full-length mirror. She looked herself over with a critical eye. She hated getting old, watching previously firm flesh start to droop. Her hands hefted her heavy breasts. "That's where they used to be," she muttered. With a sigh, she let them fall and pinched both nipples, twisting them between her thumbs and index fingers. They hardened to her touch, and she felt tingles move down her spine.

Messages to her cunt.

Cunt. She liked the word, preferred it to pussy. Cunt. Gonna get my cunt fucked with a cock. Cock. She preferred cock to prick or dick. Cock. My son's beautiful cock.

The thoughts, her silent nasty words, her hands fondling her breasts, all came together and excited her. She dropped one hand and rubbed three fingers, stiffened and held together, back and forth over her vulva. Not vulva. Cunt. Over her cunt.

She felt moisture — her natural lubricant. She pushed a finger inside her cunt. It felt different. A pregnant cunt, swollen, wetter. She added another finger, and sawed them in and out while she rubbed her clit with three stiffened fingers.

Yeah, finger-fuck yourself. Get your cunt ready for your son's cock.

Gonna get my cunt fucked with a cock, my son's long, hard, thick cock. Joe's a good fuck, a wonderful fuck, but on his best day, his cock doesn't get half as hard as David's cock. Hard cock. Really hard. Rock hard. That's what I want. David's rock-hard cock.

The door opened and David walked in. He said nothing. He did start to remove his clothes. She continued finger-fucking herself. He was hard before he finished undressing.

She moved onto his bed on her hands and knees. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "Fuck me. Fuck me with your hard cock."

He moved onto the bed behind her, and she felt his hands on her hips. Reaching between her legs, she grasped his cock. Hard! So fucking hard! She guided it to her cunt.

"I'm ready," she said. "Just fuck me."

He entered her slowly, just what she wanted. She moaned with pleasure. Hard! Her stiffened fingers rushed back and forth over her hard clit.

Hard cock. Hard clit.

He didn't talk. He just fucked her. That's what she wanted. She just wanted his hard cock, not conversation, not even loving words. Plain and simple, she just wanted his hard cock plunging in and out of her cunt.

Then he spoke, but what he said didn't dampen her arousal or mood, just the opposite.

"Flint fucked Darla this morning," he said.

The mental images! The imaginary sights and sounds of her daughter getting fucked inundated her mind. Hot!

Was Flint's cock big? Small? Average? Hard? Rock-hard, like the thrusting cock pounding her cunt? Did he come hard? Did his come blast into her cunt?

Spurt! Splat!

She stifled a giggle.

"Nora says she won't fuck him until you fuck him," David said between gasps.

She said nothing.

"Will you fuck him?" David said.

"Fuck yes!" she gushed. "I'll fuck him and fuck him and fuck him."

He increased the pace. Her fingers flashed. Sexy images entered her mind like a triple-x slide show.

"Coming!" she screeched. "Come in me! Spurt your baby-making juice in me! Now!"

As usual, the sweet boy obeyed his mother.

"Was I too nasty?" Carol said softly as they left David's bedroom? Besides clothes, they both wore just-fucked expressions.

David snorted a laugh. "No such thing."

She squeezed his arm, pressing her breast against him. "Good. I felt nasty. Sometimes even mothers have a need to act a little nasty. Sometimes naughty doesn't cut it. Darla finally tripped Flint, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Any details?"

"No. For details, you'll need to speak with Darla."

"I can do that."

"Meet our cook and housekeeper first."

"I can do that, too."

"Flint and June, the cook, will be sitting in on your meeting with the architect," he said. "Flint for security oversight; June for oversight on the commercial kitchen and staff dining facility."

"Not you?"

"No. I'm not needed. I've got an appointment with a child custody lawyer."

"Regarding that boy in the hospital?"

"Yes. His name is Vincent Crawford. We call him Vince."

"Darla is taking me to the hospital to meet him after the meeting with the architect. Why a child custody lawyer?"

"Vince's caseworker at CPS said a brief from a lawyer to the Juvenile Court judge would be helpful. We're trying to cover all the bases."

"Makes sense," Carol said. "With my visit to the hospital, you'll need to close out the trading day."

"I can do that," he said.

David's day got away from him. Because he was driving himself, he drove around and around the parking structure next to his law firm's offices before he found a parking spot, which ate up some time. After meeting with the child custody lawyer, which went on longer than he expected, he dropped by Gloria's office to fill her in on the new household account and budget. She was out to lunch, so he missed her. Worse, he'd planned to use her computer to close out the trading day. If he hurried, he had just enough time to drive home before the markets closed, so he pushed his Chevy Corvette Roadster over the speed limit. The boys in blue pulled him over and gave him a speeding ticket, and they took their sweet time doing it, mostly admiring the collectible vehicle he was driving. His investments would roll over to the next trading day, which could be very expensive. Expensive but not disastrous, he pondered.

When he roared through the gates to the compound, Rima Qassem was waiting for him. June fixed him a sandwich, which he ate while Rima grilled him. Two hours later when Rima left, she looked as discouraged as he felt. She had located some tapes that came with text, so he could now read along with the spoken words. The text used the International Phonetic Alphabet for the Arabic words. Because it was Friday, she instructed him to study IPA over the weekend and listen to the new tapes.

"Twice," she admonished just before she drove away.

When finally alone, he phased out and checked Tuesday's Wall Street Journal and returned to his body grinning. He'd need to tweak his holdings Monday morning, but not closing out the trading day would end up more profitable than if he'd closed out the day. Dumb luck, he thought.

After calling Gloria to make sure she'd be in, David tracked down June, and the two of them were walking out the door to meet with his accountant when Flint stomped up to them.

"Where are you going, boss?" Flint said.

David told him.

"Didn't you tell me just this morning that June's husband represented a clear and present danger?" Flint said, looking like he was ready to cloud up and rain all over David.

"Yes."

"That being the case, why are you planning to drive outside the walls of the compound with June without protection?"

David remained silent for a moment. Finally he said, "I just fucked up, huh?"

June laughed, which made Flint smile.

"We'll take the Rolls. You drive, Flint," David said.

"Got a speeding ticket this afternoon," David said as Flint drove the Rolls through the gates.

Flint glared at him, and then burst out laughing. "Serves you right. You hired me to protect you, your family, and staff. Let me do my job, David. June, I wanted to strangle you when I found out you went shopping by yourself this afternoon. Please, don't do that again."

"I hear you, Flint. I'll let you know well in advance when I need to shop."

"Good. Conflicts will happen. Another driver/bodyguard will be available tomorrow morning, and although you're under the most serious threat, June, by association, David and Darla are also in danger. If we coordinate going out and about, two drivers should be enough. The man or woman manning the security station will cover the compound when both driver/bodyguards are outside the walls."

"You'll need to lay the law down for Darla," David said.

Flint gave him a dirty look, which made David laugh.

"I'm not doing it," David said.

"Where is she, by the way?" Flint said, completely exasperated.

"She and my mother are at the hospital visiting Vince," David said.

"Without protection," Flint grumped.

"Yep," David said. "Will my mother have a driver tomorrow?"

"No, I'm covering the compound first. It's threatened. The ranch isn't. I'll work on personnel for the ranch next week."

Barbara Hemming dialed her client's private phone number. She'd taken the assignment, and she'd just completed it, but she'd do no other work for the client, not with what she'd uncovered about the rat creep.

Barbara Hemming was a private investigator that specialized in skip-tracing and finding missing persons. The assignment: locate Mrs. June Wilson and her daughter, Patricia. She'd found them. After her client had beaten his wife, the woman had taken her daughter and run to a shelter for battered women and children. A man named David Stanley hired the wife to be his cook. It didn't take much effort to determine David Stanley's address.

"Gordon Wilson, here," a voice said.

"Mr. Wilson, it's Barbara Hemming. I found your wife. She's working at a private residence as a cook." She gave him David Stanley's address and phone number. "I'll send you my final bill in the mail. I'll expect prompt payment. Don't call me again." She ended the call.

How far did client confidentiality go? She glanced at her notepad. Fuck it. That rat creep's wife needs to know.

She rose to her feet and walked out of the office. A half-block away at a convenience store, she stopped at a pay phone, plinked in some coins, and dialed the cell phone number the shelter manager had given her. She'd used subterfuge, lied through her teeth, and because she was a woman, the manager had cooperated.