The Family Business

tagIncest/TabooThe Family Business

A short story.
Megan stood at the mirror in the bathroom she shared with her two college roommates applying her makeup. Applying her makeup had become a challenge of late when she was preparing to go out on a date. She would have to stop frequently to control her breathing so her hands would quit shaking. This was something new for her, she had never experienced such anxiety before.
Of course, she had never gone on dates like these before, at least not until a month ago. Up until recently her dates were with other college students her own age and came after the ritual of flirting and courting in which young people normally engage.
The dates Megan went on now were arranged by her agency and were invariably with older men, successful men who could afford to pay for the companionship of beautiful young women like herself.
Sometimes these dates involved being wined and dined in LA's finest restaurants, trips to the theatre, nightclubs, or exclusive parties, on the arms of her well healed dates. And sometimes these dates only involved discretely showing up at an expensive hotel suite in one of the city's most exclusive hotels.
That was the kind of date she was preparing for tonight. The hotel was small and secluded, located on the edge of an enclave of expensive Beverly Hills mansions. She had not been there before, nor had she ever been on a date where they sent a limousine to ferry her to the hotel.
Another first for Megan was that this was an all-night date. Up to now, the dozen dates she had been on since becoming an escort, never lasted more than a few hours. Even when the dates involved going out to dinner or a social engagement before ending up at a hotel to consummate the evening, they never were more than four or five hours. They were never all-night.
Megan's scheduler had congratulated her on the booking. The other girls might go a year or more before they got an expensive all-night date. This date would pay for the back rent she owed her roommates.
But the thought of an all-night date filled Megan with trepidation. What would her date expect of her for such an expensive engagement? What might she have to do?
On the dozen dates she had been on since joining her agency a month ago, only eight of them had involved sex and they were vanilla affairs. The sex had been from the missionary position in all but two, which were performed doggy style. The men had all been kind, if not gentle. She had not been asked to do anything she had not already done in her personal life.
She had been lucky in that regard so far. But she knew that she would eventually have to engage in anal sex, sex with another woman and a ménage à trois involving a mixture of both men and women. The agency had warned her about that and demanded that she agree to engage in these activities if they were going to accept her into their stable of young women.
Megan suspected her booker was being kind and breaking her in slowly with easy dates so far. But the woman that interviewed her told her what would be expected of her eventually.
When her mother started to have money problems after becoming ill, she had confided her woes to an older girlfriend from college who was a doctoral candidate. She had candidly told Megan that she had similar financial problems but solved them by working part time as an escort.
Although her mother was nearly recovered now and planned to go back to work the following week, she wanted to reduce her mother's burden in having to underwrite her expensive education. She wanted to pull her own weight. And to Megan this seemed like an ironic means of doing so.
The money and hours were good and the work allowed her to continue her studies and left enough free time to study as well. Her attractive friend had given Megan one of the company's cards and left it up to her to make her own decision without giving her a sales pitch.
It had taken Megan a couple weeks to even consider taking this drastic step, but when she started to fall behind on her share of the rent since the money from her mother had dried up temporarily, and purchasing books for the new quarter was looming on the horizon, she finally relented and decided to contact the agency.
Resolved to move ahead, Megan sat down at her laptop in a secluded alcove of the university's quiet library and pulled up the agency's website. It was an eye opener. There were listings and photos for three dozen attractive young women such as herself. The young women's bios listed their age and other vital statistics and featured explicit photos of them.
Having to be photographed in the nude gave her momentary pause, but once she thought about it, taking such explicitly sexual nude photos was the least embarrassing aspect of what she was about to do. Although she was still troubled by the idea of having these photos on the internet where anyone could see.
Knowing that her options were limited, she deciding to move ahead. Megan had clicked on the job opportunities hyperlink and was soon interviewed, photographed, and listed on the website as an available escort.
Megan had selected Anna Fonteyn as her professional persona, her stage name. It was a combination of the first name and the last name of her favorite prima ballerinas from the past. Her new scheduler Sissy had told her it was a good choice, since it conjured images of sleek ballerinas and Megan's body delivered on that promise.
Dance was Megan's college major and her body was ideal for a ballerina. Megan was five foot six and a slim 110 pounds. The website listed her at 35-23-34. Her C cup breasts looked bountiful on her small frame. Without makeup, she looked almost waifish, if not for her breasts. Even with makeup she was still a fresh-faced innocent looking beauty.
Although she was a twenty-one-year-old college junior, her photographs deceptively showed someone who looked much younger. She looked more like an immature fifteen or sixteen-year-old high school girl, innocent in the ways of the world. Her sad and innocent doe like eyes only enhanced the impression that she was an ingénue.
Her long wavy light brown hair hung down and almost covered her pert breasts in her feature photo on the website. She was in a classic Marilyn Monroe pose and she had a come hither look in her eye as she peeked out from behind her cascading hair as she looked up into the camera lens shyly.
Other photos were less artistic. In fact, they were downright gynecological, exploring her vagina and ass in intricate detail as well as her pert breasts. The closeups of her breasts revealed quarter size light pink areolas and small pencil eraser sized nipples. Her small nipples and areolas only added to her youthful mystique.
Her interviewers and scheduler had told her that her schoolgirl appearance would attract many male admirers who found young women like her less threatening that some of the more exotic beauties who also appeared on the website. And they were right. The calls from her scheduler started coming in almost immediately.
But even after a dozen dates and having been intimate with eight of them, Megan still got all wound up before going out on each date. She always worried that her next date would push her to do things that she would not ordinarily do in her own life. As a result, she was a nervous wreck before each date.
So now, once again, she stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to get her hands to quit shaking long enough to apply her eyeliner and other makeup, as she prepared for her all-nighter.
After much rationalization and deep breathing, Megan finally finished her makeup and returned to her portion of the bedroom where her clothes for the evening were already arrayed at the foot of her bed.
This too, was a departure from her previous dates. This was the first time one of her clients was so specific about what he wanted her to wear and not wear. So specific, in fact, that he had arranged for her to pickup the specific dress and shoes he wanted her to wear at an expensive Rodeo Drive boutique in advance.
They were paid for, of course, so she was only to happy to add them to her wardrobe, since she was told she could keep them. Megan suspected the skimpy dress and the shoes cost more than her escort fee at the expensive boutique and once she saw the shop and the dress, she was sure of it.
In addition to the dress and shoes, there was also a small box waiting for her. After opening it, she wished she had not as she flushed with embarrassment in front of the two young women at the counter. It was a belly chain and the shiny gold plate that was attached said 'Daddy's Little Whore' in script lettering.
They were all such dirty old men, Megan thought to herself. They all got off on the fantasy they were fucking a schoolgirl, or worse, their own daughters, instead of the twenty-one-year-old college student who was four quarters from graduation.
Turning to look in the mirror atop the dresser, Megan took inventory of herself one last time before the limousine was scheduled to arrive. She double checked her makeup, touched up the rouge on her lips, nipples, and outer labia, just as the client had requested and brushed out her long wavy brown hair one last time.
Megan put the dress on and checked herself out in the mirror one last time. She had to admit it, she looked hot! The skimpy black dress tied behind her neck in a bow and the narrow bands of sheer fabric that connected to the lower portion of the dress barely covered her tiny nipples, much less her round breasts.
The neckline of the dress plunged to her navel in the front and the back showed just a hint of the cleft in her ass. The bottom of the dress allowed her rouged labia to peek out when she moved as the silky material of the short dress swayed. It was the LBD to top all LBDs, she thought to herself.
Megan's cell phone rang and she looked down at it. The chauffer was waiting at the front door to the apartment building.
—–
The ride to the hotel was short, taking only fifteen minutes in the late-night traffic. She had been whisked directly from her apartment in Westwood near the university, straight up Veteran and across Sunset to Beverly Hills.
The clerk at the desk of the small hotel had escorted her to the client's cottage at the back of the small property. He walked her through a lavishly landscaped garden that occupied a central courtyard, surrounded by a dozen small cottages. Her client's cottage was in the middle of the back row and was larger than the others. The clerk left her at the door and returned to the office. She rang the doorbell.
"Come in. I'll join you in a minute," said the crackling voice over the intercom next to the door. The intercom was obviously as old as the 1920s era cottages, but not as well maintained. The voice had been barely audible.
Megan entered the cottage and walked to the back of what looked like a great room with stucco walls and a roughhewn beamed ceiling high overhead. There was a fire burning in the beehive fireplace and soft jazz playing. She could see a small efficiency kitchen to her left and a dining area. To her right was a hallway and doors, which she assumed were the bedrooms.
She began walking toward the couch to take a seat. She knew from experience now, that most of her clients liked to cozy up next to her and fondle her breasts and finger her pussy for a while before they got down to serious business in the bedroom.
"Thank you for coming," said a gracious voice that was directly behind her as she turned quickly to face the man who had just startled her. "I've been looking forward to this so much. I'm happy that you are here now."
He was less than five feet away from her now, and in her personal space, making her uncomfortable. But there was another reason for her discomfort as well. She thought she recognized the voice, but she was not sure yet.
He was in a terrycloth bathrobe and he had a towel to his face patting it dry. He had obviously just bathed. His black hair was streaked with gray and was perfectly combed, so she assumed he had not showered. He smelled of frankincense. Yes, he had been bathing in bath salts, she decided.
"I have waited so long to finally be with you Megan," said the man from behind the towel as he continued to dry his face.
Megan tensed up. How did he know my real name? And that voice, it is so familiar. Megan was feeling extremely uncomfortable about the situation she now found herself in. Who was this man who knew her name? And why had he been looking forward to being with her 'for so long' as he put it?
"I knew you would eventually follow your mother into her profession," said the man as he tossed the towel on a nearby chair. "I knew I would eventually have you, just like I've had your mother for all these years."
Megan became wide eyed and her mouth was agape as she recognized the man. She had seen him only once before, but the circumstances were etched in her memory. He had come to her mother's apartment and she had listened to him make love to her mother with her ear to the bedroom door.
It was the only time that she had ever been home when her mother entertained her clients, and then only because the man arrived before she could leave.
She could still hear her mother's moan of ecstasy as this man made love to her for nearly two hours. She could still hear her mother begging him to fuck her harder, to penetrate her deeper and she could remember the frenzied sounds they made when they orgasmed as the bed creaked beneath them.
The memories of that night came flooding back. When she heard him dressing, she scurried back to her own bedroom and closed the door. She was too embarrassed to face him after what she had just heard.
She came out from her bedroom when she heard the door shut behind him and waited at her mother's door. She had so many questions. But her mother never came out. And the following morning she did not come out either. She called to Megan through the bedroom door and said she was not feeling well, and that Megan should fix her own breakfast and get off to high school.
When Megan got home from school that evening her mother was waiting for her and had a somber look on her face. For the rest of the evening her mother explained exactly what she did for a living and patiently answered all of Megan's questions, regardless of how embarrassing they were. She also explained to Megan that the man was her oldest and best client.
She explained that he was extremely wealthy, paid her well for her time and that unlike her other clients, they had formed an attachment for one another that went beyond the sex. She also told Megan to avoid the man and never allow herself to be alone in a room with him, as she was now. This seemed odd to Megan at the time, considering the other secret she shared about her lover.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," said the man, interrupting her reverie as he cupped and squeezed her breasts beneath her flimsy dress. "Do I look like a ghost to you Megan? I can assure you, I am very much alive. As you will soon see."
Megan lurched backward, almost falling onto the sofa. She did not know what to say, what to do. She instinctively covered her breasts with her hands as she looked up at the tall man, who towered over her.
"We can't do this," whimpered Megan pleadingly. "It's just wrong. It's so wrong. You and my mother…you're lovers. No, I can't, I can't do this. Please no. Please, I beg you."
"Nonsense," said the man as he stepped in close and put one hand around Megan's neck and drew her close, letting his lips touch her ear and his other hand reach under her flimsy dress and knead her soft bare ass.
"Your mother and I have a business arrangement," said the man as he licked Megan's neck and ear. "Mutually pleasurable though it may be. Just as you and I have a business arrangement now!"
"Oh, please no! You know we can't!" begged Megan.
"Don't be silly. You're a whore now and you've been paid handsomely for your services," said the man, his voice turning cold. "You've already sold your ass to a dozen men. And now your ass is mine, and the rest of your delectable young body as well."
"We can't! We can't!" wailed Megan as she struggled to break free.
"And why not?" growled the man as he grabbed Megan again. This time pulling the bow on the back of her dress and letting it fall to the floor, leaving her naked. His fingers were inside her wet pussy in no time as she continued to struggle against the more powerful man.
"You know why!" screamed Megan, as she tried to pull his hand away from her wet pussy. "My mother told me everything. Everything!"
"That's beside the point, isn't it?" said the man, unfazed by her display of emotion. "Your mother is a whore, and you are a whore. That's all that matters. You've been paid, just as your mother has always been paid."
Megan was sobbing uncontrollably now and the man pulled her into his body and stroked her back, suddenly becoming tender.
"You're a whore and I'm a client, that's all," said the man softly as he whispered into her ear. "I pay you money and you do exactly what I want when I want. Nothing could be simpler."
He was stroking her back and bottom with one hand, occasionally kneading her breast as his other hand relentlessly worked at her pussy. He was making progress, he thought to himself. She had spread her legs a bit more and she was gently thrusting forward to meet his invading fingers. Her head was on his shoulder now and her arms were wrapped around him.
"Are you done fighting me now Megan," he whispered softly. "You know it is going to happen. So, surrender. You know you want it too. You've wanted what your mother had, ever since that first night when you listened through the door."
"How did you…" Megan started to say.
"We could hear you panting and moaning at the door," said the man. "How many times did you cum that night, as you listened?"
"A lot," gasped Megan, unable to lie, as her body finally surrendered.
"But you're…" Megan again tried to speak.
"I'm your paying client," said the man cutting her off and thrusting his tongue in her mouth in a long, wet kiss. Megan had her arms were tight around his neck now and she kissed him back. Megan's hips were rocking furiously as her body responded to his invading fingers.
"You had just had your birthday, turned eighteen," said the man as he continued massaging Megan's clit. "I remember. Your mother told me that night. So that makes you twenty-one now. Isn't that right?"
Megan nodded her head yes as it rested against his shoulder, unable to speak.
"She said I couldn't have you. Did you hear that through the door? But as you can see, I get what I want," said the man as he lifted Megan's tiny body into his arms.
She was panting furiously now, signaling her approaching orgasm as he swept her up. She nuzzled her head against his hairy shoulder, unable to fight off her own desires any longer, as he carried her to the bedroom.
He placed her on the bed with her firm young ass at the bottom edge of the bed and grabbed her ankles, lifting them above her body and her ass off the bed below. He sank to his knees with his head between her slender legs as she shifted his grip to just behind her knees. He bent her knees back to her chest, just above her breasts, forcing her ass in the air. In no time, his tongue was deep inside her pussy, probing it, tasting it.
Megan's arms were behind her head, grabbing at the comforter beneath her and thrusting her ass frantically toward the invading tongue as her hips rocked up and down against the tongue that had found her turgid and sensitive clit.
She whimpered, moaned, and then finally screamed out as the overwhelming pleasure of her orgasm consumed her. She thrashed against his tongue as his lips surrounded her clit, sucking every once of pleasure from her convulsing body.

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