18 comments/ 38276 views/ 82 favorites Dollars and Sins Ch. 01 By: Fugue123 Madolyn Caldwell knows first-hand how much it cost to raise her children - from college tuition, to her daughter's recent wedding. Still, she's about to learn the true value of a dollar ... --- Legalese: Contains adult material. Anyone under age 18 must leave now. Anyone that might be offended by sexy or sexually explicit material or strong language must leave now. The activities in this story may be unrealistic, unethical and/or illegal, and they ignore the reality of sexually transmitted diseases - this is fiction, do not try any of this at home. All characters are over age 18, proof of age on file. --- "Oh Bobby, it's good to see you!" Madolyn greeted her son at the front door. Her shoulder-length auburn hair framed her beaming smile and pretty cheekbones. The cobalt blue sweater she was wearing and the white mid-length skirt intuitively flattered her figure. She had just turned 40 two months ago, and perhaps her metabolism hadn't geared down yet like most 40-somethings, but she just naturally stayed fit with her everyday activities. "Mom, it's good to be home," Bobby grinned. At 5 foot 9, he was two inches taller than her. He'd hoped for taller still, but he had to admit that at 21, he was probably done growing. So no basketball player, he. "C'mon, give me a hug," she gestured. "I know you're all grown up, but you can still hug your mom." He relented and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "It's good to have you home," she broke the hug. "Can you stay the whole weekend?" "Yep," he picked up his bags and carried them through the door, "though I'll need to start the drive back Sunday afternoon." "Well, carry those bags back to your room and get settled in, then come on out to the kitchen. I've made some macaroni and cheese, and I'm going to fry some pork chops." She had to giggle at his excited expression. "Yeah, young men and their stomachs," she drawled with a nod. Bobby headed back to his old room and unpacked a few things, then headed out to the best meal he'd had in three months - the last time he visited home. He over-ate. "Ohgod, that was good," he moaned with a grin afterward. "Well, I'm glad to have you home. Even if it's only for the weekend." "You know what would top it off, though?" "What's that?" He reached to his back pocket and retrieved his wallet, then pulled a dollar bill out of it and held it up. "I'll give you a dollar if you go get me a cold beer." She flicked her hand. "Oh, you don't have to give me a dollar," she stood. "Now the beers are the ones left over from New Years, though." "That's not too old," he grinned. Madolyn disappeared, then came back carrying a glass and the beer, and handed them to him. "You're the best!" "Hey, hey," she snapped her fingers, "Where's that dollar? Hmm?" "You said I didn't have to give you-" "Mm-hmm, but you offered." Smiling oddly, he pulled it back out of a pocket and held it out, where she took it. They talked while he finished the beer, then he helped take the dishes to the sink, where she washed them. While she was doing that, he went into the den and flipped on the TV, then clicked through some channels. "I think there's a historical drama," she entered the room, "set in Elizabethan-" "Chick-flick," he dismissed the idea, still clicking through channels looking for an action movie of some kind. "We're going to be sentenced," she arched an eyebrow and sat on the couch, "to endure through some film only a college boy could like. Aren't we?" "If I can find something," he grinned, still clicking. "Hey, I'll tell you what, though," he set the remote on a cushion, reached into his back pocket for his wallet, and withdrew a bill. "I'll give you a dollar for a kiss." She frowned at him oddly, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, then reached for the bill. He didn't let go of it. "On the lips." She studied him a minute, tilting her head. Then she ... leaned in and kissed her son on the lips. He released the dollar to her this time. She ... took it. And slipped it into the pocket of her skirt. He went back to flipping through channels, and she considered. She shouldn't have done that. They ... didn't kiss on the lips, her and him. That would be ... weird. And this was the second dollar bill he'd offered her - why was he doing that anyway? "The, uhm, kids at college. They ... offer each other dollar bills for things?" "Nope," he said without looking away from the television, "just me." Odd, she thought. Well, he didn't need to get in the habit of trying to do that with her. She was his mother, and she wasn't going to be bribed into letting him get away with things. And certainly not with just a dollar bill! Hmm? He found an action film, and they stayed on that channel for a while, watching it. On about the third commercial break, he pulled another dollar bill out of his wallet and held it up. "I'll give you a dollar for another kiss on the lips." "Hungh-ungh," she shook her head. "We don't kiss on the lips. And what's it with you offering dollar bills for everything anyway?" He was looking back at the TV set. "Oh, nothing." "Because it's kind of insulting." "Hey," he folded the bill with his fingers and tucked it in his shirt pocket, keeping his gaze at the television, "if you don't want it, don't do it. No offense taken." "Well, *I'M* taking offense, young man. You don't just go offering dollar bills to people to do things. It's rude. And if you do that to people, it's going to make them angry. Including me." He shrugged without looking at her. "Hey, mister," she reached to take his chin and turn his head toward her. "Don't ignore me. I'm your mother. And I don't care what kind of fad behaviors kids at the university are doing, you are not going to be rude to people. Understood?" He had the decency to look embarrassed. "Yes, ma'am," he dropped his eyes. "Good," she nodded and took her hand back from his chin. Then sat back as the film came on again after the commercial break. She tried to pick up where the plot was, at least what little plot these action movies tended to have. Except ... something was nagging at her. Small at first, but it just kept drawing her attention back to it from the film. It was like those times when you know you've locked the front door after going out - you even checked to make sure it was locked - but ... you just had to go back and check it again. Her attention kept getting pulled back that something was ... wrong. That she ... needed to do something. But she ... wasn't going to do that. She was not going to kiss her son on the lips again. She had no idea why she'd done it the first time - she guessed just shock at the rudeness that he'd offered her a dollar bill for it. But she was certainly not going to do it again, for godssake! She focused her attention back on the shitty movie. The next commercial break, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. "There, okay?" she asked as she reached for his shirt pocket for her bill. But he was holding his fingers there, not letting her take it. "For the whole commercial break." "What? No." "Okay, he shrugged," and started watching the commercials with interest. No, she wasn't going to do that. The two of them did not kiss on the lips. And even though she'd had that persistent itch, the nagging urge to kiss him and get the dollar bill ... even though she'd finally leaned over and scratched the urge by pressing her lips to his, after going on earlier how they didn't do that and that she wasn't going to do it again ... well, she wasn't going to scratch that urge for the entire commercial break! He was studiously watching the commercials, and she leaned back and crossed her arms, irked. No way. What?! Kiss him on the lips for the whole commercial break?! No! She was his MOTHER! The little jerk just kept watching the TV, and got back interested in the movie when it came back on after the break. What the hell?! She was not about to kiss her son for, like, a minute during the break. It would be like ... making out or something! And- And why the hell did he want to kiss his MOTHER for a whole minute or two anyway?! It was just too disturbing to even consider doing! She couldn't even distract her mind with the movie. She was just not about to kiss her own son, on the lips, for a minute or two. It just wasn't right. Mothers and sons didn't DO that! She didn't even know why she wanted the dollar bill. Folded and tucked there in his pocket. She had lots of dollar bills, she certainly didn't need that one. Sitting there. In his shirt pocket. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his. "Give me the dollar," she told him around the kisses and reached for his pocket. But his hand wouldn't let her slip hers into his pocket to fish for the dollar bill. "If we ... mmm ... keep this up ... until the end ... of the next commercial break ... I'll give you the dollar ... mmm ..." Goddammit! But she ... kept kissing him. He started licking her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her own son! She ... let him. But she DIDN'T let his tongue into her mouth! That would just be WAAAYYY too weird! Not that kissing with your son for ten minutes wasn't weird enough itself. Gawwd, this was humiliating! She was actually ... making out with her own son! For a dollar bill! She wasn't ABOUT to admit that he ... was a pretty good kisser. Or that his lips were ... pretty soft, but firm. Shit! The next commercial break had started, but when would it end?! So that she could ... stop. Kissing her son. Letting him ... lick her lips. Softly. "There," she breathed the moment the movie came back on and reached for his pocket. "The commercial break is over." He looked at her and smiled as she pulled the dollar bill out of his pocket. "It's mine," she informed him. He turned back to the movie. She ... held it up and studied the damned bill. She'd ... kissed her own son for almost ten minutes for this. Was it worth it? She almost laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of that. A lousy one dollar bill? And she had ... done things she couldn't even talk about for it. What the hell?! She really did study it. Because something seemed ... wrong about it. Like it was green, but almost ... seemed like it might be ... red? ... blood red ... if she only looked closely enough at it. She studied it - her little piece of treasure, worth weirdly kissing with her son - for twenty minutes, until the movie ended. She looked up, and it was 11:00. "Well," Bobby stood up, yawning, "I think I'm off to bed." He looked at her. "But, I'll give you another dollar bill," he pulled one out of his pocket and held it up to her, "if we French kiss for another ten minutes." "Go ... to ... hell," she informed him slowly. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckled as he tucked the bill back into his pocket. "G'night, Mom." She watched him stroll back to his bedroom. That little bastard. And what was with him and these kisses anyway? How could he want to kiss HER? His mother? And how could he treat her like she'd just kiss him for money. For a single dollar bill. As she'd just done twice? Well, the little bastard wasn't getting tongue from her. French kissing, indeed. God, had he actually licked her lips?! His own mother's? She turned off the TV, cleaned up and turned off the lights, then headed back to bed herself. --- Bobby was awakened at 3:00 in the morning by the lips pressed to his. "Mmmph?" "You little bastard!" Madolyn hissed before she stuck her tongue into his mouth. Then started ... swapping spit with her 21 year old son ... God, that was wrong on so many levels ... She watched his alarm clock as she tongue-danced with him, sometimes in his mouth, sometimes in hers. And at 3:15, she pulled hers out. "That's it. We're done," she informed him. "Wow, Mo-" he breathed, "uh, Madolyn, you're ... a pretty good kisser." Her cheeks flushed in the dark at receiving a compliment like that. From her son. And she ignored the disrespect of using her first name - though they HAD just made out for ten minutes, so maybe that was proper protocol. Instead, she glared at him, "It's mine. I earned it. Where's my dollar bill?" "In my pants pocket," he pointed across the dimly lit room to where he'd tossed his pants over the back of his desk chair. Madolyn went to them and fished her dollar out of the pocket. Hers! She started to walk out, then glanced back over her shoulder. "Bobby, this is so wrong. And I can't believe you would treat me this way. And I am ... so disappointed ... in you." She took another step toward the door before he called to her, "But you're happy to have the dollar, aren't you." Cheeks flushing dark, she stepped out of his room. God help her, she ... was. --- Madolyn sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee. Still embarrassed that she had- well, she couldn't believe she had ... French kissed her own son for ten or fifteen minutes last night. But the idea of earning that dollar had kept itching at her until she finally relented and ... well, made out with her son. Which was just insane. What was it about earning these dollar bills that ... well, that made her stick her tongue in her son's mouth and allow his into hers. Ewww! She shuddered. It was just wrong. But it was like a compulsion or something. Her little stash was stacked in front of her. Four dollar bills. Her wages of son-kissing sin. Picking the top bill up, she studied it again. There was something wrong with it. If she looked directly at it, it was a perfectly normal green dollar bill. But if she held it off to the side and looked away, and studied it out of the corner of her vision, she swore it was printed with blood red ink. And it wasn't Washington's neat face printed in the middle. It looked like someone had written something out in cursive on it. Perhaps in blood? She looked up from the bill when Bobby came into the kitchen. He saw her studying it and smirked a little, and she set it back down on the stack. "Bobby ... we need to talk." He didn't answer, but poured himself a cup of coffee instead, then joined her at the table and gazed out the window. "Bobby, honey, what's going on?" "Hmm?" he didn't look at her, "Nuthin'." "Bobby, what's with the dollar bills? And ... offering them to me to do things?" He just took a deep breath and sighed slowly. "This is good coffee," he declared finally. "Bobby-" He pulled a dollar out of his t-shirt pocket and held it up. "I'll give you a dollar if you sit in my lap and we make out while we have our 'discussion'." "Bobby, that's exactly what I mean. Why are you doing that? Why are you offering me ... money ... to do things?" "Mmm-mm," he mumbled noncommittally, and set the bill on the table in front of him. "And why do you want to kiss me? Bobby, mothers and sons ... they don't ... they just don't kiss like that." He took another sip of coffee, just gazing out the window. "And you keep offering me a dollar, like I were some tramp that would just give out kisses for ones or something. It's very insulting. Why are you doing this?" He was enjoying the bird hopping around on the porch railing outside the window, and their muffled birdsong. "Bobby, why do you keep offering me dollars to kiss you?" And ... WHY did she want them so badly?! "Nnngg!" she let out a frustrated growl, then stood, stepped around behind him and ... sat in his lap. And ... wrapped her arms around his neck. And ... pressed her lips to his. For ... like, a minute. Then she broke the kiss and twisted to pick his dollar off the table and set it over on top of her stash. Then she twisted back around and went back to kissing. Her son. On the lips. While she sat in his lap. Ohgod, this was so wrong ... "So why ... mmm ... do you keep wanting ... mmm ... to kiss me, Bobby?" "Mmm ... isn't that obvious ... mmm ... Madolyn? ... You're ... mmm ... a beautiful woman ... mmm ... with VERY kissable lips." A son SOOO should not be saying that to his mother. "Why ... mmm ... do you keep ... mmm," his tongue entered her mouth at this point, and she ... well, she let it. She let him. Okay, she also ... sort of sighed. But she willed herself to keep focus. "But why ... mmm ... do you keep ... mmm-mm ... ohgod, baby ... mmm ... I mean- I didn't say that. I didn't just moan that to you. Forget I just said that- mmmph ... mmm ... Bobby," she broke the kiss, then relented and let him press his lips back to hers. "why do you ... keep offering me ... mmm ... dollar bills?" He chuckled and grinned. "Because I want to kiss you, silly woman." Then he did, again. "Bobby," she sputtered, breaking the kiss, then looked him directly in the eye. "Why do I WANT to? Why am I KISSING you? For a dollar?!" "Because you're a hot, sexy-" "Bobby! I am your MOTHER!" "With very kissable-" "Bobby! Stop that!" He pressed his lips back to hers. She ... let him. And after a minute, she ... couldn't help sighing a little. As they made out. Mother and son. Ohgod, what was she doing? They made out a few minutes until Bobby took another dollar bill from his pocket and held it up. She broke the kiss, and her eyes followed the damned bill. "I'll give you a dollar bill-" "Bobby, don't," she whispered as she stared at the bill. "-if you walk around the house today without your shirt. In just your bra." "No. No way," she shook her head and pulled her gaze from the bill to stare at him dead on. "Absolutely not," she informed him. "That's in no way, shape or form appropriate. And it's not going to happen." He shrugged and slipped the bill back into his pocket. She pulled her eyes from that pocket, where the bill was now waiting. "No," she reiterated, "No way." She stood up out of her son's lap, where had just spent the last 15 or 20 minutes making out. With tongue. "And I can't believe that you- Bobby, what is WRONG with you?!" She was still a little flushed from ... you know, hot and heavy kissing. With her son. But she ignored that. "What has HAPPENED to you?! You don't ... offer your mother money to KISS you! And you CERTAINLY don't offer her money to ... go around TOPLESS! You should be ashamed for even ASKING me to do that!" "I just made an offer," she shrugged, "You don't have to take me up on it." "And I. Am. Not. Going. To. But what is WRONG with you?! Why are you not ashamed for even asking me to DO that?!" He took a sip of his coffee and gazed out the window again. "Goddammit, Bobby! I'm your mother! We can't be ... kissing like that. And I am CERTAINLY not going to go TOPLESS for you. How you can even ASK me that is just-" "Hey, I'm going to head back to my room a while," he stood and stepped toward the door, carrying his coffee cup, "and read a little bit." And then he just walked off. She just ... shook her head. What the HELL was happening here?! She sat back at the table and ... fingered her stash. Five bills now instead of four. She folded them and tucked them in her pocket to get the damned things out of sight. What was going on here ...? --- Madolyn did Saturday chores around the house, and by noon, she was still determined that this stopped here. No more. Her son was not going to get her to do another thing by offering her ... a dollar. And she most certainly was not going to run around without her blouse! At noon, she headed to the kitchen to break for some lunch. She was so disgusted with her son that she didn't even call him to join her. But he must have heard her, because he showed up while she was fixing her sandwich. "Hey, Madolyn. You're having a sandwich? I think I may just have some cold macaroni and cheese." Dollars and Sins Ch. 01 "Bobby," she sighed as she continued fixing her sandwich, "it's disrespectful to call me by my first name. Please stop doing that." There was no response, so she turned around to see him at the refrigerator, digging the bowl of macaroni and cheese leftovers from last night out. "Did you hear me?" she asked louder. "Hmm?" he pulled the bowl out and closed the refrigerator, then got himself a bowl. "I don't want you calling me by my first name," she tried a firmer hand with him, "That is disrespectful to me. You call me 'mother' or 'mom'. You got that?" A dollar bill appeared in his hand, which he held out to her. "I'll give you a dollar if you stop bitching about me calling you 'Madolyn'. AND if you call me 'Mr. Caldwell' or 'sir' for the rest of the day." She just gaped at him. "You have GOT to be kidding!" He just looked back at her. "I am NOT going to call you 'Mr. Caldwell', buddy! Who do you think you are?" The dollar he was offering her was ... still in his hand, right there ... in front of her. "Well, you don't want ME calling you by YOUR first name, so I think it's only appropriate ... you know, that you see what it feels like." "And I think I have a little snot-nosed punk for a kid these days," she snapped at him. He shrugged and left the dollar on the table as he grabbed a big spoon and a little spoon, then started filling his bowl with cold macaroni and cheese. They ate in silence a few minutes. "I'm ... sorry," she sighed five minutes later. "I ... shouldn't have called you a 'snot-nosed punk'." "Mmm," he mumbled as he chewed, "you shouldn't have." Damn, that dollar bill was still just lying there on the table. "So I'm sorry for calling you a name. I'm supposed to be the adult in this relationship. And I shouldn't ... get snippy. He continued eating his pasta. The dollar bill continued to sit there. Was it SOOO bad, really? If he called her by her first name? Madolyn knew lots of families where the kids did just that. It's just that she was old-fashioned and thought it was more appropriate if ... her children didn't do that. But in the end, it didn't REALLY matter. Not all that much, anyway. Right? She finished her sandwich and carried the plate to the sink and rinsed it, then stepped back to the table. "Okay,"she sighed, "if it makes you feel THAT much better, Bobby, you can call me 'Madolyn'." She reached for the dollar bill. But he moved his hand to it and pinched it and wouldn't let go of it. She looked at him. He just looked back. Her look hardened into a glare. "Really?" He just looked at her. With an exasperated sigh, she corrected herself. "If it makes you feel THAT much better, 'MISTER CALDWELL ', you can call me 'Madolyn'." Mr. Caldwell released the bill, and she added it to the stash in her pocket. --- Bobby was laying across his bed reading at 2:00 when a not-unexpected call came up the hall. "Bobby, can you come out here to help me a minute?" He ignored it. After a minute, a flatter, more tired voice called up again, "'Mr. Caldwell', could you come out here to help me a minute?" Bobby marked his place in his book and strolled up the hall, to be greeted by a very pretty, not-unexpected sight. Madolyn stood there, shirtless, in just her pants and a black bra. Make no mistake, the bra was practical, no lace or frivolousness to it, but there she stood ... without a shirt ... in just a bra. For her son. For a dollar. She flushed dark as he stared at her and grinned. "God, you're beautiful, Madolyn!" She just closed her eyes and nodded, and held out her hand. "I mean, you ought to run around like that all the time. You have a REALLY pretty figure, Madolyn." She kept her eyes shut as she endured this - if she refused to see this happening in her own living room, then maybe she didn't really have admit that it WAS happening. Her, standing here. In just her bra. For her own son. For a dollar. "God, I can't get over how gorgeous you are!" Yeah, yeah, just let this be over. Please, God? "I mean, what are you, Madolyn? A C-cup?" "Please, can I just have my dollar," she sighed, "'Mr. Caldwell'?" She opened her eyes, and he was holding a bill out to her. She took it. "Wait! Wait! Please! Could you ... tuck it in your bra?" "Gawwd!" she rolled her eyes. Then ... folded the bill and tucked it in the bra cup, just to shut him up. "That's great! Thank you! I knew you could do it! I'm proud of you, Madolyn!" Then he headed back to his room to continue reading. And Madolyn was so very disappointed in him. Even more in herself, for doing these things for him for money - but it was easier to dwell on being disappointed in her son. She pulled the bill back out of her bra cup, and added it to her stash as she headed back to the kitchen to think. Seven now. Seven dollar bills. --- Madolyn sat at the kitchen table, staring at her seven dollar bills. Could she? Could she bear to do this? She ... thought so. She could ... offer one of these back to Mr. Caldwell, to stop all this shit and to behave himself. She thought she could bear to part with one of her seven bills for that. And speak of the little bastard - "Madolyn," he called from his room. Sans blouse, she stood and walked back to his room. "Yes, uhm ... sir?" He shook his head and grinned when he looked up at her shirtless self. "God, you look great, Madolyn!" She nodded and endured it. "Hey, could you go get me a cold beer?" Because ... his legs must not work as well as hers. So she got to trot and bring him cold beers so he didn't have to walk up the hall. Or maybe he just wanted to gawk at her bra-clad C-cups. Which ... should SOOO not be on display for the little bastard. "Yeah, anytime now, Madolyn. Thanks." With a sigh, she turned and headed back to the kitchen. She got him his damned beer. And she pulled one of her seven dollar bills out, then folded the other six and tucked them into her bra cup. Then she walked "Mr. Caldwell's" beer back to him. She handed it to him, then stood there. Bracing herself and hurrying forward in case she had second thoughts, she held the one dollar bill out to him. "Mr. Caldwell, I will ..." she swallowed involuntarily and bludgeoned ahead, "I'll give you a dollar if you stop all this ... stuff ... you're doing and behave yourself." There! She'd done it. "Hmm?" Mr. Caldwell looked hungrily at the bill like he was seriously considering it. Like he almost couldn't resist doing it. Like she suspected she looked when he made this improper offers to her. And she'd just turned the tables on the little bastard. She'd KNOWN there was something wrong with these dollar bills! There was something about them that just made people ... DO things. To earn them. They were downright EVIL! But it didn't matter how they worked, she'd figured out how to turn them against- "Nah," he said and went back to reading. "H-hungh?" her voice cracked. "Yeah," he nodded with a tight little smile. "The bill - I don't need it. I'm good." "But ..." "Hmm?" "But I'll ... give you this dollar if you ... if you just behave yourself," she tried again. "Yeah, I got that," he nodded, then shook his head, "But naw, I'm good." "But ... but ..." It wasn't working on him ... "Tell you what, though," he reached for his wallet on the night stand and pulled out a dollar bill. "I'LL give YOU a dollar bill if you sit your bra-clad ass in my lap, Madolyn, and we make out for twenty minutes." Madolyn ... chewed her lip. That was how Madolyn came to be sitting in her son's lap, her bra-clad breasts on display for him, while her tongue wriggled around inside his mouth and her hands played around in his hair as sighs occasionally overflowed out of her mouth. At least the little bastard kept his hands off her bra cups. She'd been afraid he was going to try to get fresh with her like that. But he was being - well, not a perfect gentleman, but at least a non-gropey perverted son. Of course, she wasn't about to admit that she was ... well, getting sort of ... you know, a girl can't ... neck for that long without ... getting a little ... Aroused. Dammit, kissing WAS foreplay, okay? And so maybe she WAS just the slightest bit aroused. Okay?! It was just a physical reaction! Like getting gooseflesh when someone scratched the back of your neck, like ... Mr. Caldwell was doing to her now. And even if her nipples were a little ... perked up - well all that was completely hidden by the practical bra that she had picked out specifically because it covered even more than a bikini top would. And ... another sigh leaked out of her mouth. Dollars and Sins Ch. 02 Legalese: Contains adult material. Anyone under age 18 must leave now. Anyone that might be offended by sexy or sexually explicit material or strong language must leave now. The activities in this story may be unrealistic, unethical and/or illegal, and they ignore the reality of sexually transmitted diseases – this is fiction, do not try any of this at home. All characters are over age 18, proof of age on file. ***** Madolyn Caldwell knows first-hand how much it cost to raise her children – from college tuition, to her daughter's recent wedding. Still, she's about to learn the true value of a dollar ... Madolyn sat at the kitchen table, her eight bills in front of her. Mr. Caldwell had been true to his word and allowed her to go free after she completed the twenty minutes of necking, the ... terms of her dollar payment. She'd been ... a little dazed as she stepped out of his room – okay, yes, she'd had to grab the doorframe as she almost lost her balance at his door. He'd chuckled, and she'd colored in shame that she was so dazed. From necking. With her own son. But not too dazed to blush hard in shame. She stared at her stash. So these damned things did not work on Mr. Caldwell. He could offer them to her, and she was making a fool of herself, doing things to earn them. But he was immune to that. But they WEREN'T just simple regular dollar bills! She held one to the side and gazed at it at the corner of her vision. It was red ink, she was sure of it. And it was scribbled cursive writing on it, rather than Washington's portrait. She moved it back to the center of her vision, and a typical green George looked back up at her. These dollar bills he had were just wrong. Like magically counterfeit or something. And ... she didn't use the word often, but ... evil or something. She got a regular dollar bill from her purse and held it at the edge of her vision. It was out of focus over there, but it was definitely green. With an oval in the center for George's portrait. She held one of the damned bills up to the side, and again it looked more like red cursive writing there than George's green face. And they didn't work on Mr. Caldwell, just on her. And she'd ... DO things ... to earn them. Things like traipsing around in the house in her bra in front of her son. Things like making out with her son until she was so aroused she could hardly keep her balance. Things like that. How many of these damned bills did he have? That ... that would tell her how far he might take things with her, what things he might ... make ... her do for him, until he ran out of the damned things. She could– if she could get her hands on his wallet, she could count them. Maybe even ... steal them. And render the little bastard powerless. "Hey, Bob–" she started to call, then corrected herself, "Mr. Caldwell? Could I get you to do me a favor, please, sweetie?" She gathered her stash and stuffed it back into her bra cup, and few moments later, he appeared in the doorway. He grinned and shook his head when he looked at her still in her bra. "God, you are gorgeous, Madolyn." "Thank you, darling." It was a little less demeaning to call him 'darling' or 'sweetie' than 'Mr. Caldwell' or 'sir', and he didn't seem to be protesting. "Sweetie, could you run out to the shed – here's the key – and get me a can of ant poison? I've seen a couple of the little buggers here by the sink, and I should spray for them." "Ant poison?" "Mm-hmm," she nodded sweetly. "It should be on the countertop, or under the counter down there, or somewhere – just look around until you find it." "But you–" "I'm clad in just my bra, sweetie," she gestured breastally. "I can't go out there like this. But if you could get that for me, I'll be waiting here for you when you get back, in ... just my bra. For you." She put a sweet smile on her face. Mr. Caldwell took the key, grumbling slightly, and headed out the back door. Good – she'd gotten rid of him. As soon as she saw him enter the shed, she hurried back to his room. His wallet was still on the nightstand, and she fished in it, pulling all the bills out of both compartments of it, keeping them separate. One set of bills had twenties and fives and a couple ones. The other set of bills was all ones – and there were five of these. She suspected which was which, but held them at the edge of her vision and confirmed – the twenties and fives and ones were regular currency. The five single-dollar bills had that creepy red scrawl on them when she held them to the side. Five more damned dollars, then. Including the eight she had stashed in her bra cup, that was thirteen. Probably just a coincidence, but the bad luck number thirteen might be appropriate if the dollar bills really WERE damned or something. Could she– Could she just– No. Even contemplating stealing the bills was ... repugnant. Wrong. Nauseating. As much as she wanted, needed, those bills whenever Mr. Caldwell offered her one to do something – as much as that, she felt uneasy, wrong, to take one that hadn't been offered to her, almost like she'd be ... courting doom or something equally horrible. Okay, she simply could not bring herself to steal them. So she put both sets of currency back in their correct compartment in the wallet, and returned the wallet to the nightstand. Five more damned bills. Five more deals to make with the devil. If she could keep these wrong things that her son was bartering for her to do for him – if she could keep them from escalating during the next five deals, he'd run out of power over her. And she'd be safe then. She just had to survive five more. She headed back out to the kitchen and waited for Mr. Caldwell to come back empty-handed. There wasn't any ant spray in the shed, but at least she'd gotten him out of the house long enough to count the number of additional times he could ... make her do things. Make her ... want ... to do things, she guessed. He wasn't FORCING her, just offering her a dollar to do them. And she "voluntarily" did accept the terms of the deal each time. But she didn't WANT to want those damned dollar bills. And if she didn't WANT them so bad, she wouldn't be doing all these demeaning things for him. Like necking with him – her OWN SON! – while she was shirtless. God, she was going to be glad when this was over! Her son had been irritated he'd gone in search of nothing, but Madolyn brushed it off that she must have used the ant spray up and forgotten to replace it. He looked at his watch and thought a minute, then headed back to his room. And reappeared holding up one of those damned bills. "Madolyn, I'll give you a dollar if you'll be my date tonight." "Yeah, right," she scoffed, pointing to her bra-clad breasts. "I'm not leaving the house like this." "And you don't have to. The deal was just to leave your shirt off while you were in the house here. For the date, you can wear a blouse. But I'll expect you to be braless underneath it." "Bob–?! Mr. Caldwell?! You can't be serious!" "Yeah, I am. But you don't have to take me up on the deal. You know, if you don't want the dollar." He waved the dollar slightly side to side. Goddammit! "What, uhm ... would this date ... entail?" "Oh, we'd just go out to dinner and a movie." He grinned, "Probably an action movie – sorry." "I mean," she swallowed, "how much would you expect me to, uhm ... 'put out'?" She couldn't believe she had just asked that question. To her own son. They both were going to need therapy when this was over. "Oh! No!" he shook his head, seeming to be actually surprised she'd asked that. "I'll be a perfect gentleman. You know, just some kissing at the movie. Nothing 'untoward'." He seemed sincere. But ... braless?! She hadn't gone braless since she was thirteen. Not in public, anyway. "Sweetie, I could just wear a, uhm, small bra–" "No, that part is firm. You can wear a blouse, but no bra under it." "Then ... no." "Really?" he grinned. "Yes. I– I can't accept those conditions." "'Kay," he shrugged and tucked the bill back in his shirt pocket. They looked at each other a few moments, then Mr. Caldwell turned, "Well, I'm going to go back to my room and read a bit more. Just let me know if you change your mind." "I won't." She sat at the table. And braced herself for a ... long fight against compulsion. But she was determined. Mosquito bites itch. And all you have to do is ... not scratch. But the itch never gives up. You can decide that you will not scratch – because it will only make it worse when you're done, you know that – and you can do exactly that. Not scratch. And still not scratch. And still ... not scratch. And still ... just don't ... don't scratch it. But the ... damned itch ... just keeps on, and you have to willfully decide once again, "I. Will. Not. Scratch. I will NOT." And a minute later you have to decide and resolve again. Because ... just a little scratch ... just a little one to make it slightly bearable ... would feel so much better ... but that has to be decided against too. And again. Anyway, Madolyn's resolve collapsed about 4:00. And she scratched the hell out of the damned thing. Marching back to the little bastard's room – in her bra – she stood in his doorway and declared, disgusted, "I'll be your damned date, Mr. Caldwell." He looked up from his book and grinned. "Madolyn, great! Braless and everything?" "Braless and everything." She did not end that with, "damn you" – she wouldn't damn her own son, but she was nearing the end of her patience with his perverse deals. Just four more after this. She held out her hand, and he plucked the bill from his shirt pocket and put it in her hand, then she tucked it in her bra cup. She had nine damned bills now; she just had to make it through four more and he would be out of them. She strode to her bedroom and looked through her closet. She finally settled on a pink fuzzy sweater. The little bastard might be expecting her to come out with her breasts jiggling under a blouse, but she was going to wear a sweater. It was within the terms of the deal. She wished it were a thicker sweater, but regardless, it would show less jiggle than any of her blouses. She selected a white skirt and some low heels. Also a turquoise necklace that might distract others' eyes from the jiggling of her braless breasts. God, the things she was doing, for her own son. For a dollar. Gawd. Just four more. She just had to make it through tonight – and he'd promised to be a gentleman – and then just four more damned dollar deals. She walked out after pulling everything on, and her son was waiting for her in the living room He'd ... dressed up slightly – like it was a real date or something. He was in jeans, but they were a nice pair, and he'd pulled on a dress shirt. And washed his hair and shaved, so that he was ... well, handsome. She even thought she smelled cologne. "Well, sir," she smiled at him. "Madolyn, you are just lovely." "Thank you. And you're ... quite handsome, too, Bo– I mean, sir." He nodded. "Do I, uhm, get to call you something other than 'Mr. Caldwell' tonight? Seeing as I'm your date and all?" "Ha," he chuckled, "yeah, that would sound a little strange and all. Call me 'Rob'. Instead of 'Bobby'. 'Bobby' is your son; 'Rob' is your hot date." Madolyn almost rolled her eyes, but didn't. "Thank you, 'Rob'." They stepped out the front door, and Rob locked it, then took her hand, and they walked to the car holding hands. Madolyn was conscious of every step, of how her breasts jiggled and rippled under her sweater. Gawd, what was she doing here? He opened her door and helped her into the car, then walked around and got in himself. "So I hear you have quite the handsome son, Madolyn" Rob made conversation as he drove. "Yes, he's pretty handsome. It seems that he's grown up to be a real pain in the ass, though." He looked at her – she didn't usually curse. "Really? A pain in the ass? How so?" "He has no respect for his mother. And it seems he just wants to demean her." "I see," he nodded, and they drove for a couple minutes in silence. Eventually, Madolyn stopped glaring at him and looked out the car window. "So I hear you have this collection of special dollar bills," she chatted back finally. He looked at her, not sure whether to grin or frown. "What do you mean?" "Well, they're these dollar bills that make people jump through hoops to get them. They make people do horrible, demeaning things. Rumor is that they're Satanic or something." "Hungh. Satanic? Really?" Madolyn nodded. "That's the rumor." Rob drove silently a couple minutes then. "So how's your boyfriend? Rob? I hear he really likes you, that he'd do almost anything for you. Even ... be a pain in the ass to his own mother." Madolyn looked over at him, but he was watching the road. Normally, she corrected either of her children when they cursed, but – this wasn't the time. A couple minutes later, Rob pulled into the parking lot of Chez George. He parked, came around to get her door for her, then held hands with her and they walked to the entrance. "Reservation under Caldwell," he told the hostess when they entered, and she looked up their table and walked them to it. Madolyn didn't know whether to be complimented that he'd made reservations at such a nice place for them, or to be horrified that he'd been so confident that she'd fail and sell herself for a dollar that there'd been no risk to make dinner reservations. And still, she could have nearly died as her breasts jiggled beneath her sweater during the long walk to their table. It probably wasn't as obvious to all the other patrons as to her – no one was staring at her – but she just felt naked walking without a bra in public. She was even blushing slightly when Rob helped her with her chair at the table. "This is ... a pretty expensive place," she commented after a minute. "Like I said, rumor is that Rob guy really likes you." She nodded silently. The waiter brought menus, and Rob ordered for them and selected a wine, which was delivered a few minutes later. "So tell me about yourself, Madolyn. I know you have a daughter and a son, so you've been married before?" She looked at him. And raised an eyebrow. "I'm divorced. We all make mistakes, and he wasn't the person I thought he was. So, we finally parted ways." She spread her napkin in her lap. "The children certainly were no mistake, I just wish I could have picked a better father for them." "Like you say, we're all allowed mistakes. And from what I've seen of your children, they're no worse off for the one bad choice. They seem like good natured kids, and it's obvious they both love you very much." "Maybe too much," Madolyn looked pointedly at him. Rob sighed. "So what are you hopes and dreams? What do you want to do with life?" "Well, I'd hoped to raise two fine children. And I'd thought I was doing pretty well on that. But recent events ..." she felt herself glaring at him but continued, "Well, I have an awfully long way still to go on that, it seems." Rob took a sip from his wine and set the glass down. "Do you just want to have a miserable time tonight, Madolyn?" She pursed her lips and stared at the table. "Because I can accommodate that if you really want. You know I can." They sat there without talk for a couple minutes. Finally Rob took another sip of wine and smiled. "I have a sister – her name is Julianne. You'd like her. When we were kids, she would sometimes get sullen and pout too. I always found that the best thing to do when she got like that was to just go ahead and have a good time with wherever we were, and she'd either work out of it or not. Most of the time she felt better if she did, but it was her choice." "I am not pout–" The waiter came with their meals then, and Madolyn cut herself off. Rob smiled and joked with the waiter, then began cutting up his steak after he left. "I am not pouting," she whispered loudly at him. "That's right," he said after a minute, "because my date wouldn't be sullen." Her eyes flicked to him. And she swallowed. He wasn't going to ... take the dollar bill back? That wasn't what he was talking about, was it? They ate another couple minutes in silence. "I'm, uhm," she gave a soft laugh finally, "sorry. I don't mean to be bitchy, Rob. I'm just ... I don't know what's in my head." He just continued eating. "This is ... really good lobster. How's your steak?" "The food's good," he nodded without looking up and cut another piece. "And the wine is ... just fabulous. Sweetie." He looked up at her, and she put on a sweet smile. Then he looked back down at his plate. "So I was talking with a girlfriend from work, and she was talking about how cheap men are these days," she continued on cheerily. "She thought it was a nice touch for a guy to buy a lady a nice dinner on a date, like lobster," she held her fork up with a bite of lobster speared on it and waited for him to look up at her to give him a nice smile. He didn't smile back, but she continued on anyway. Because she'd already demeaned herself, sitting here sans bra. On a date. With her son. For a lousy dollar. She sure as hell wasn't going to have him take that lousy dollar back because she hadn't acted the part of a date! "Ha," she chuckled musically, "she was even telling me how she can gauge the personality of her date by the color of tie he wore. A red tie wants to dominate her, so she cuts the date short; a black tie is bound up in convention and doesn't expect much; and purple tie guys think they're royalty but are usually pretty good lovers. According to her." She was relieved he was maintaining eye contact and following what she was saying. She'd already bitched enough earlier for him to take the dollar back for her being a bad date; she just needed a little time and a chance to turn it around, though, and she could keep the dollar. "Hmm," he smiled – yes! he smiled! – and cocked his head, "I'm not wearing a tie." "Well ... I guess that means you're not bound by social conventions, maybe?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I can live with that. I saw a similar article, but about women's bras. A red bra is passionate; pink is romantic; and white is innocent but open to suggestion. What color bra do you have on, Madolyn?" "I'm, uhm," she couldn't help her eyes from flicking down to the table, embarrassed, but she brought them back up and sighed, "I'm not wearing a bra, Rob." "So you'd be what? Carefree? A free spirit?" She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, trying to think how to respond in this situation. "I'm, uhm, wearing white silk panties, though." Crap – why did she include mention that they were silk? They shouldn't be talking about her panties. Did dates normally talk about their panty colors? She didn't know – she hadn't been on a date since the divorce. "Ah," he nodded, "so innocent but wanting to be corrupted just a little bit." She swallowed. How DO you respond when your son suggests you want to be dirtied a little? While you're on a date with him? Without bra? She was saved from having to respond by the waiter showing up then and asking if they were done. Rob told him they were and that he was ready for the check. Madolyn reached across the table and wrapped her hand over his while they waited for the bill, "Thank you, Rob. For a good dinner. I had a good time." He turned her hand over to grasp her fingers in his and squeeze lightly. She did not ... thrill slightly at the look he gave her. It was something else. Something non-romantic, non-sexual. Because this was her son. And ... enough said. Dollars and Sins Ch. 02 After paying the bill with a credit card, he walked her out to the restrooms, where she peed before the movie. White silk panties – note that did NOT mean she was open to being slightly corrupted! Still, she thought she had saved the date and wouldn't have to return the damned dollar. Which was good. She didn't want to have to give it back, she wasn't sure she could bear it. She headed back out of the restroom, and they walked hand-in-hand to the car. He got her door for her again, then drove them to the theater. He led her to the back of the theater, and they took seats in the corner. As he sat by her, he draped his arm over her shoulder. Okay ... she was going to have to do the usual kissing that goes on with a date at the theater. She could do that. She already had earlier – hell, she had done it with tongue. In the middle of the night when she couldn't fight the urge anymore. With her son. Her tongue in his mouth, his tongue in hers ... God help her. The lights dimmed for the previews, and he started lightly playing in the back of her hair with his fingers, moving them in little motions on her scalp. The movie started, and she was ready when he leaned over a couple minutes later to press his lips to hers. She did, just ... kissing a few minutes lips to lips. It was actually her tongue that drifted into his mouth first a few minutes later. She might have curdled in shame that she was the one that turned the kissing French, except it was probably one of that damned dollar deals somewhere along the line that pushed her into doing that. Anyway, it didn't matter, they were flowing their tongues over each other. He licked her lips, then she licked his. He'd ... you know, better call this a worthy date. Because she wasn't giving back the dollar. He moved his kisses back along her neckline to her earlobe. God, that thrilled her. She knew it was her son doing this to her, but it was just the way she was built – she loved to have her ears gently played with. Then he started lightly scratching his fingernails on the back of her neck, and she just ... melted. She was glad she'd worn the sweater – a thinner blouse, and her nipples would reveal just how excited she was right now. He moved his mouth back to hers, and his hand cupped the back of her neck and head, and she heard a little squeak somewhere nearby. Then realized it had leaked out of her throat. He moved back toward her ear, playing with it with his lips and tongue, and she stopped caring about the squeak. Oh Gaawwwd, her son was a good kisser! He made his way, kissing down her neck to where it met the shoulder, pulled her neckline slightly to lightly nip the muscle there, and a shiver rippled through her, dousing her shoulders with gooseflesh as it went. She pulled her shoulder away from him and replaced it with her lips on his, kissing him back fervently. "I love ... mmm ... you, Rob," she breathed as her tongue moved into and around his mouth, then retreated back into her own to wait for his to follow. It did. She lost track of time until he finally pulled his lips back from hers. "I'll give you a dollar," he breathed, and her eyes dazedly opened to see his hand holding up a dollar bill, "if you'll let me play with your breasts some tonight." Ah, fuck it. She almost would have let him even without the dollar at this point. She snatched it and shoved it in her pocket, then returned her lips to his. "I love you, Rob ... mmmmph mmm," she breathed. His hand moved so slowly up her stomach and ribs that she almost grabbed and pulled it to her tit and placed it there herself. But she waited. He was the man, and she waited for his own good time. When it finally spread over her breast ... and squeezed it ... her breath came out in a tremble, "Ohgov vavy." She moved her mouth to tongue his neckline, "Ohgod baby, ohgod, I love you," she moaned quietly as he pawed her breast. By the time he credits rolled and the lights came up, she had no muscles remaining. She was just a puddle in her seat. And lips and tongue. And exquisite sensations. This perfect contentment, making out and being petted, might be from her son ... but it was goooood. He pulled back from her as people began to get up, and she just laid there. Gathering her mind where it had been dissolved and scattered, like a little glitter explosion, onto the seats all around their make-out session. Was it SO bad to make out with your son, she wondered as she mentally gathered pieces of her mind back off the floor around them. And to let him feel a little boob every now and then? Were they REALLY hurting anyone when they did that? And even if they were, did it really matter? She collected a few more pieces of mind off the back of the seat in front of her. "Are you ready?" he whispered finally. "We gotta see," she sighed, still distracted with great peace. "I'm feeling kinda boneless here. We need to see if I can stand." He helped her up, like a gentleman, from where he'd made her puddle herself in excitement. And her legs held. She was mildly proud of that feat. He took her hand in his, and they headed slowly out of the theater and to the car. He opened the door to help her in the car, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and stole a few more kisses, with a little tongue, before sitting in her seat. Gawwd, this WAS nice. She hadn't been out on a date since the divorce. And she'd NEVER been out on a date like this. Maybe she oughtta be paying HIM a dollar to go out with her. She giggled to herself. Did she HAVE that many dollars? To pay him for every night for the rest of her life? Rob got in the car on his side, pulled out of the parking lot, and started driving them home. She just ... gazed at him. With contented eyes. Lazily, she reached her hand over and traced the rim of his ear with two fingers. "I love you," she sighed when he looked a question at her. God, he wouldn't'a had to pay her a dollar to feel up her boobs tonight. She'd'a just let him by that point. But she wasn't going to enlighten him on THAT. The little bastard did NOT need to know that he could just melt her into a puddle by kissing her ears and neck like that. She was going to hate herself in the morning. She knew that. But hard-ass Madolyn could beat her with a lash tomorrow. Right now, God-I'm-in-heaven Madolyn was wanted to loll around and absorb this wonderful feeling. When Rob finally pulled back in her driveway, she laid her hand over his. Then thought better and moved it to lay on his chest. Then – oh what the fuck – she wrapped it around the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers that thank him for the best night of her life. "I had," she breathed when that kiss finally dissolved, "a MOST wonderful night, darling. Thank you, Rob." With a smile, he kissed her back with a briefer kiss that she just sighed the whole way through, "Thank YOU, Madolyn." They walked into the house. And she almost hoped that he might– well, he put her to bed alone instead. Which was for the best. Since he was ... her son and all. But that didn't keep it from being his face that she saw while she touched the very wet place between her legs much of the night. Dollars and Sins Ch. 03 Legalese: Contains adult material. Anyone under age 18 must leave now. Anyone that might be offended by sexy or sexually explicit material or strong language must leave now. The activities in this story may be unrealistic, unethical and/or illegal, and they ignore the reality of sexually transmitted diseases – this is fiction, do not try any of this at home. All characters are over age 18, proof of age on file. ***** Madolyn Caldwell knows first-hand how much it cost to raise her children – from college tuition, to her daughter's recent wedding. Still, she's about to learn the true value of a dollar ... Madolyn hardened up again overnight. Jesus Christ! What had she been thinking?! Her own son?! She'd just gone to putty in his hands! It must be something to do with those damned dollar bills! Some other spell he'd cast to make her act like some giddy schoolgirl on her first date! I love you?! Had she actually repeated that over and over to him? To the little bastard that was paying her a buck apiece to do demeaning things for him?! How could she have just–?! Tight-ass-Madolyn was indeed flailing the hell out of her. And she embraced it. She deserved to be flailed! He was her own SON for godssake! And he kept making her humiliate herself for him! And she had just EMBRACED him last night! Both literally and figuratively! How COULD she?! But there was a point to it, she defended herself against tight-ass-Madolyn's lash. She'd gotten two more of the damned dollars. She was up to ten now. And he only had three more left, and then he'd be out of advantages over her. Still, the lash beat her shoulders again, her OWN SON?! A few minutes later, Rob wandered out into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table with her. "I had a wonderful time last night, Madolyn," he sighed with a smile. Her eyes moved to him, and there was a moment like a little bunny had waved welcome greeting to a squad of mercenary grizzlies. That hadn't eaten in three weeks. And were rabid. Even Rob thought the bunny might should bolt from the room. As fast as he could go. A little faster even. Instead he dropped his eyes to his coffee cup and stayed very still. Like the grizzlies might not notice him if he made no further noise. "'What?'" Madolyn lowered her voice in mock imitation of her son, "'Didn't you have a good time?' Do you THINK I might have a good time, Rob?! On a date, with my own SON?! Where we kept KISSING each other?! ON THE LIPS?! WITH TONGUE?! Do you THINK that's a good idea?! In any way, shape or form?! Hmm?!" Possums and rabbits will sometimes stay utterly still, the stillness of death, so that a scary predator might move on to better prey. Rob did this as well. It didn't work. "And you PUT YOUR HAND ... ON MY BREAST?! Rob, WHAT THE HELL?! Do you THINK it's a good idea to PAW YOUR MOTHER?!" Foolishly, Rob twitched. A possum could have told him better. "You, uhm," he said very very quietly without raising his eyes, "seemed happy last night?" "You PAID me! With those DAMNED DOLLARS! To be your date and to KISS you. And to ... LET you PAW MY BOOB!" "I didn't MAKE you. You CHOSE to do that for a dollar. If you don't want the dollars, give them back." "No way, mister! I earned them, I'm keeping them." "Then QUIT BITCHING about it! If you CHOSE to do stuff for them, quit complaining!" At this point, the little bunny would cover his eyes with his paw and slink away. Standing up to the bears like this, poor Rob was simply doomed ... "You shouldn't be ASKING me to do things like that!" "I DIDN'T ask you to do SOME of it! YOU were the one that went," he shifted to falsetto, "Oh, I WUUV you Rob! I WUUV you SOOOO much!" he dropped out of falsetto, "So I KINDA got the idea you were enjoying it!" They glared at each other a few seconds. Rob thought he'd gotten an advantage and pushed it. Foolish boy. "And at the end of the night, you pull me to you for another kiss and tell me what a WONDERFUL time you had! WHAT?! Were you just LYING to me?! Why?! You HAD no reason to lie to me at that point! You DID enjoy it!" "I was still drunk on making out!" she growled, surly. "I ... wasn't thinking straight, dammit!" "You ENJOYED it! You haven't– It's natural! It's natural for people to love each other! Including physically! But you haven't been out on a date since Dad was such a shit to you! You haven't– let– yourself TRUST men! And ... you shouldn't HURT like that! Okay?! It's not right! If anyone else mistreated you like that – made it so you could never love and relax and be natural with someone ever again – if it were anyone else, I would KILL them! For mistreating you like that, I would kill them. "But ... I can't. It's you. You're doing it. To yourself. And I just ... want to ... help it ... make it better. I ..." Rob stopped, shocked, like he'd just ripped off all his clothes in a tantrum and stood there naked and honest. Trying to be defiant despite being nekkid. Madolyn was still just glaring at him, eyes furious. He walked out, out of the kitchen, back to his room. He wasn't going to stand there, metaphorically stripped naked while she was still decked out in battle armor. Goddammit– he just– he wanted to– Hell, he didn't even know anymore. He grabbed his novel and buried himself in it for a while. By 10:00, he wandered back out to the kitchen. He'd pulled on his metaphorical armor this time too – he wasn't going to get caught unarmored again after a night of honesty – and he was ready to meet battle with battle. Which was good, because he could see Madolyn still had dark clouds over her head. "Hi," he opened the match with the first move, the traditional saluting of your opponent. She looked at him, eyes hung there a moment in contempt, then she looked back out the window. Her form of scornful salute, he guessed. The match was on. "I'll give you a dollar–" he flicked the bill out of his pocket and held it up. "Don't you DARE," she hissed warning. "–if you–" "Don't you FUCKING DARE, Robert!" Profanity – she'd drawn the lethal weapons. Madolyn rarely cursed, and when she did, it meant she intended a decisive victory over the one she was facing. She meant to cut him down. Rob continued with the weapon he'd started with. "–run around naked for a couple hours here for me." That was HIS telling blow. She wouldn't go down immediately, she'd fight it, maybe for hours. But he'd snatched victory. He might be beaten bloody before she went down, but he'd won this point – she just wouldn't acknowledge it until she dropped. "You ... SONOFABITCH!" Rob wisely refrained from pointing out that she'd just insulted herself. "You think I'd ACTUALLY ... just ... walk around here naked for you?!" Rob had struck with his weapon – the deal he'd offered – now he kept his silence. "You don't think any better of me than THAT?! You WANT me to walk around here naked for you?!" "I just ... want ... to help you ... to get–" "Leave!" He looked at her, and she pointed to the front door. "Get your things and leave. Don't ever come back. You don't respect me. And I– I have only contempt for you now, Robert." They stared at each other for several seconds. And several more. Then Rob turned and walked back to his room. He came back out with his things a couple minutes later. She sat at the table, staring out the window, not even looking at him. "I love you," he sighed as he stood at the front door before opening it. "I only ... wanted to ... help things." "No," she declared from the table without looking his way. "You were selfish. There's nothing here but your selfish ... and lurid ...wants. Nothing but you dirtying everything around you." He turned the door handle, then stopped. "Then why did ... you feel so good last night. Like it was natural. Like you were arighting yourself after ... staying hunched over for so many years?" "Just leave, Robert. Just leave." He did. It was a miserable hour and a half drive back to college for Robert. He knew part of it was ... he wanted these things with Madolyn. Yeah, part of it was selfishness. But was that all of it? Was she right? Or ... was he partially right too? He metaphorically dissected himself, laying each piece out for examination during the 90 minute drive, and when he finally reached his dorm, all his insides, all his guts, were still laying all over, there on the dashboard and the seat beside him, examined – examined over and over ... and over ... and over some more, as a matter of fact – but still unresolved. He stuffed as many pieces back inside his belly as he could – anytime you unpack a tightly packed bag, there are always a couple pieces that won't fit back in, and he left those metaphorically laying on her floor mat of the car – and he took his bag back inside. Sunday night he was numb and moped. His dormmate wouldn't be back until Wednesday, so he kept the room in silence the whole night. Monday, he walked his regular route on campus, watching the classes pass by as he sat through them. He couldn't tell you much about what had been covered in any of them. He ate alone. Sat in his room alone. Finished one novel. Started another. Went to sleep. Tuesday he wandered through classes and watched them go by again. Headed toward the dining hall with his meal card. Got a call on his cell phone. "Rob?" It was Madolyn. "Yeah?" "I'll ... do it. Come home, and I'll do it. For the dollar." As he'd known, he'd won that match on Sunday. He ... couldn't not. But he wasn't happy about it. He'd known that she wouldn't realize it immediately, that she'd continue to fight. And she'd carved some pretty deep injuries into him. At the moment he just ... wanted to lick his wounds. He pressed the button to disconnect. He continued on to the dining hall and got his dinner. She called again, and he set his cell on vibrate and left it in his pocket while he ate. Afterward, he just went for a walk around campus. His pocket vibrated a lot. When he got back to the dorm, he set the phone on his desk. He'd go ahead and talk to her the next time she called. He didn't have to wait long. "Yeah?" he answered. "Rob, don't hang up." "I'm not," he sighed. "I'm– I'm sorry. For how I acted on Sunday. I– I said some awful things. I'm ... sorry." He shrugged, even though she couldn't see that. "I don't know. Maybe you were right." "I wasn't," she assured him immediately, "I wasn't, baby. I was ... I was a spiteful bitch. I was mad at myself. And ... I took it out on you. And I am ... so sorry." He just shut his eyes, then took a deep breath and sighed. "Please, sweetie, I am sooo sorry. Please don't ... please don't make me pay forever. I'm trying to apologize here. I ... want to make it up to you. For me ... being such a bitch. Please? Forgive me?" "I forgive you, Mom," he sighed. "I just ... I still just don't–" "Don't. Please don't. Don't go any further with that. Please, I want to make it up to you, I want to make things right. I was ... so mean, and so vicious ... and so wrong, very wrong ... let me ... let me make it right. Please? "I WANT to now. Pleease. I WANT to strut around naked in front of you. Please, darling, I want soooo bad to ... just ... let you look at everything. That would ..." her voice had taken on a pleading, whiny tone, but now it dropped to a whisper, "Sweetie, it would make me ... sooo 'wet' ... to strut around naked in front of you." He could hear the burning shame on the other end of the line, the humiliation to talk like that, filthy, to talk like that to her own son, to ... gamble that it might interest him. So that he might ... let her strip down naked in front of him. Encouraged – he hadn't disconnected, and he hadn't sputtered in revulsion – she continued, "Yeah, it would make me all ... warm, and ... buttery ... to peel off my clothes for you. And under my blouse, I might have a ... lacy bra, and I might need you to sort of ...help me get out of it. And my transparent silk and lace panties would be ... sooooo wet by–" "Mom." She shut up. "Not tonight, okay? Just ... not tonight." "Maybe ... tomorrow night? You'll come home? And let me ... get all sexy for you?" "Maybe. Not tonight." He disconnected. He flipped open his novel and began moving his eyes over the words on the page. And when he was at the bottom of the page, he went back to the top and ran his eyes over the same words again. And again. His mind was too full of things to take in any more from reading. He just wanted her to be more free with her sexuality. Just because she was a mother didn't mean she was under a sentence of sexual abstinence for the rest of her life. And she was going to go too far at times. Just like he pushed her too far at times, to try to find a happy center in the middle. So, when he got over this spell, this funk, then tonight would probably be a good thing. Progress. Tonight, though, he was just still bleeding from Sunday's wounds. He crawled in bed and curled up, crossing his arms over his belly. Wednesday, the metaphorical gashes were maybe starting to stitch themselves together some. He didn't feel like he had to walk so gingerly to keep his abdomen from tearing open and dumping his guts and liver ... and heart ... out on the sidewalk. He even retained some of what was covered in classes. His dormmate, Andrew, got back Wednesday afternoon, and they headed over to the dining hall together, and Andrew related his vacation to Rob while they ate. Wednesday night, the television was on, filling the dormroom with noise. He got a cell call at 7:00 in the evening. "Yeah?" "Rob? Are you ... maybe going to ..." "Not tonight, Madolyn." He disconnected and set it on vibrate. He heard it vibrate a couple more times through the evening, then he went to bed. Thursday, he was definitely feeling better. He only hit the alarm's snooze once, instead of wallowing through six rounds of snooze and missing his first class. He stayed focused in class, and even answered a couple questions when the professor prompted. Andrew was going to have dinner with his girlfriend, so Rob figured he'd just eat at the dining hall alone again, and headed to the dorm to read for a couple hours before grabbing a bite. He rolled his eyes when there was a knock at the door – Andy'd forgotten something. His wallet, maybe, or his camera with pictures from his vacation? He opened the door, and ... there was Madolyn. "Uhh ..." "Hi darling," she looked at him hopefully, then ... opened the long coat she was wearing. To reveal that ... she was indeed ... entirely nude underneath. "Ohgod, I've missed you!" she gushed, keeping the coat open and her goods on display. "Shut– shut that!" Rob broke out of his stunned moment and pulled her coat closed. Then pulled her inside the dormroom. "What if– what if Andy'd been in here?!" "Then he'd have gotten quite an eyeful!" she grinned. Then she sprang toward him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his and her tongue into his mouth. "Ohgod! Mmmmph! Mmmm! I love you, Rob! I have ... mmmm ... Ohgod! You're a good kisser! ... I have ... mmm ... missed you ... SOOOO ... mmmm ... much!" Then she stepped back from him and held her coat open. "Please, baby, I just want to be bare butt naked in front of you! Please! Just ... look at me naked! For YOU! Your, uhm ... your own hot little naked BITCH!" He could tell her eyes were studying him, to see if he liked her talking that way to him. And ... it was so unusual to hear her use profanity, and ... so unusual to hear her talk about sexual things, and ... so unusual to hear her demean herself as a "hot little bitch" that ... well ... Her eyes lit up at the effect she could see she was having on him. He broke out of the spell and hurried to the window to pull the long drapes – they were on the first floor! "I am ready to do it, darling," she was still holding her coat open, "Give me that dollar, and I am ready to strut my 'hot slutty ass' around naked for you!" "Mom–" "Nope, nope, that's 'Madolyn' to you, Rob. Sir. And get me that dollar we agreed on, and I will strip out of this coat and pose around right here, naked for you!" What was– how could– Andrew would be back in a couple hours. What was he going to do with ... this hot woman?! "You see, darling? I have auburn hair above AND below," she moved her hips side to side, then ran her fingers through "below". "Ohgod," she giggled holding them up and rubbing them together, "It's a little DAMP down there!" Rob whimpered. She touched her index finger to her cheek and looked up to the side in her playful "good gosh!" expression. "I wonder how THAT might have happened! It couldn't have anything to do with me being here with my hot date Rob, and strutting my hot slutty ass around all naked and everything for him, could it? And, apparently," she dropped her voice to a shared-secret whisper, "I'm juicy for him too!" His whimper this time morphed into action. He headed for his desk. He needed to get her out of here, home, where they could handle this less awkwardly. "My dollar, darling?" He looked back over his shoulder at her. "Hungh?" "My dollar? I'm ... naked here for you." She gave a weak smile, "To the puss. I'll keep on ... nekkid and slutty for you ... for my dollar? Please?" Rob numbly groped for his wallet on the desk, unable to take his eyes off ... said quite delightful nakedness. His hand found the wallet, and he pulled out one of the special bills. "God, YES, darling!" she gushed and stepped forward. "I will be naked ALL NIGHT for you if you want!" He held a bill up and she snatched it and stuck it in her coat pocket. Then she shrugged her coat off her shoulders and asked him, husky and throaty, "Where will you ... have me, Rob? I mean, all naked and ... everything?" "Yeah," he fumbled another of the special bills out of the wallet, "see this place here is a problem." He held up the bill. "I'll give you a dollar if we pull your coat back on, head home, and pick up there exactly where we're leaving off here." He wiggled the bill, and Madolyn's eyes followed its motion until he stopped and her eyes came up to his. "Unng-hunng," she whimpered with a little nod. He stepped back toward the door and bent over to pick up her coat, then stood and marveled. "Wow, high heels and everything. You really ARE so hot, woman." "Thank you, uhm, darling," she smiled. He helped her back into her long coat, then handed her the dollar, which she snatched with a, "Thank you, sweetie!" She buttoned and tied off her coat while he fetched his wallet and things, then left a note for Andrew that he'd gone home for a long weekend. "Are you good? With keeping the coat on until we get to the car? And then on the drive home?" "I'll be angelic, darling. Until we get home, then I'm stripping these uncomfortable clothes off and laying around naked for you. Like we agreed, for the dollar." He nodded, and she took his hand in hers and followed him outside. "Whose car, sweetie?" she asked. "Oh, uhm, hey, would you mind driving? I may ... nap a little in the car on the drive." Actually, he needed to think and plan a little bit – she'd caught him by surprise showing up here. "Of course, darling." She led him by the hand to where she'd parked, pulled the keys out of her coat pocket, then started driving them home. The radio was playing low while Madolyn drove them home. Naked as a whore under her long coat. Rob was in the passenger seat beside her, his head leaned on the window, dozing. She finally had her dollar! This had been the longest and most miserable four days in her life! She'd spent Sunday being stubborn and willful, pissed at him. And ... partially pissed at herself too – the harsh words they'd fired at each other Sunday morning weren't entirely untrue, and she could admit that part of the reason she was SOO pissed that morning was ... her own behavior the night before. Dollars and Sins Ch. 03 She'd spent Monday naively thinking that maybe ... if she could tough it out long enough, she might get over the crest and not feel soooo wrong at not taking his deal. Fool. By Tuesday morning, her entire mind was revolving about the lost opportunity. She'd failed, she'd screwed up horribly, and now she would never get that dollar. That ... dollar. By Tuesday evening, she'd been calling him. And he'd ... given her hope. That he might come home, and she might be able to still make good on the deal. But Wednesday went, and he'd never called. By evening, she couldn't stand it anymore and called him. And when he'd brushed her off, she'd call again. And again and again, humiliating herself even in her own eyes. That she was ... that desperate. But ... she was. She needed to not let the dollar deal fall through. So she'd driven up to his college today, ready to do whatever it took to get that dollar. And now ... she had it! And another one too! Just for putting her coat back on and delaying her nakedness until they got home. God, if he'd told her to strut around naked in front of his dormmate, she thought she might have, so desperate she'd been. And, the final glorious cherry on top of it all ... drum roll ... she now possessed twelve of the thirteen damned dollars. And if that's all that he had – and she prayed that it was – he was on the verge of the end of his power over her. He wouldn't have any weird hold over her any more! She'd have done some bad things through all this: like making out with her own son; with tongue; and letting him feel up her boobs; and gushing how much she loved him in her daze of sexual excitement; and now posing and strutting around nude for him; and talking filthy for him. But– well, they'd deal with those things when they got there. She was soon to be free! Free of whatever he'd done here to get her to ... loosen up. But she didn't really WANT to be loose. She liked tight – sure, he'd call it tight-assed, but still. She got into less trouble being tight-assed. It was safer that way. She looked over at him dozing. He ... was a good looking boy. And he'd certainly been commanding. Whatever she might disagree with what he was doing to her personality, she had to admit, he set his goals and then pursued them with purpose. He'd ... make a woman a good strong man one day. Just not her. After that thirteenth bill, she was back to off-limits. Thank God. The moment she pulled into her driveway, she felt it – the powerful feelings. She was home now, she was supposed to be naked for him, like they'd agreed in the deal. Or else he might take the dollar away if she didn't complete her part. "Darling," she breathed, "we're home now, Rob." "Hmm?" he stirred and blinked. "We're home now, sweetie. Let's go get me naked, hmm?"