Boyd leaned on the brushed-steel railing of the broad rear deck and stared out at the spectacular view down the canyon without really seeing it. He�d only been home on Spring Break for two days and already he was pissed off at his father and wishing he could just hop a plane back to school right now, and the hell with his vacation. His roommate would still be back with his own family in Virginia for another week, and Boyd would have the apartment all to himself. He could sulk and fume all he liked.

He sighed and turned around, elbows propped against the railing. The house clung to the edge of the cliff a ninety-minute drive inland from L.A., and his father owned everything for a couple hundred yards in both directions along the ridge, so there were no close neighbors. It was a gorgeous location, and his father had bullied the architect into designing him the ugliest house imaginable to dump in the middle of it. And he wasn�t even in residence that often, being gone on business trips more than half the time — just as he was gone now.

Boyd was nearing the end of his degree in design and he had already sent out feelers regarding graduate fellowships. His grades were excellent and he knew he had talent, so his chances were very good. Except that the Old Man expected him to get an MBA at some Ivy League preppy mill and become his dutiful understudy in the oil and mining company that had made him a very wealthy man, just short of billionaire rank.

Of course, the two them hadn�t actually discussed it — at least, not since Boyd was in Sixth Grade. It was just assumed. It simply never occurred to Boyd Tarkington Sr. that Boyd Jr. might have ideas and ambitions of his own. Tark, as everyone called him — they called him other things out of his hearing — was extremely used to having everything his own way. As far as his father was concerned, the universe obviously revolved around him. How could it be otherwise? He took it completely for granted that he would always get exactly what he wanted. But his son, while properly respectful of money, had no intention of becoming even a large-sized corporate cog.

Boyd took a deep breath and pushed off from the railing. Nearly lunch time and Mrs. Margaret, their longtime cook, didn�t like to see her meals sitting there getting cold while certain young men took their own sweet time coming to the table. He liked to keep Mrs. Margaret happy. Anyway, she was a terrific cook and he had heard rumors of coconut shrimp.

He pulled open the heavy glass-and-aluminum door — it reminded him of the staff entrance at a mega-mall — and nearly bumped into Bonnie, hurrying across the entryway in front of him. His stepmother skidded to a halt with a gasp, trying not to crash into him. Actually, she was so petite and Boyd was so tall and rugby-muscular, she probably would have caromed right off him and ricocheted across the tile.

Boyd reached out and steadied her as she caught her breath and patted her chest. "Sorry, Bonnie," he apologized. "I wasn�t paying enough attention."

She patted his arm with a smile. "No, it�s my fault. I didn�t want to be late for lunch. Mrs. Clancy always gives me those evil looks." She had never been able to call the cook by her first name. Bonnie hooked her arm through his and they proceeded to the dining room at a more leisurely pace. "If I�m with you, it won�t matter if I�m late, she won�t say anything."

Boyd looked at her sidelong and wondered if she was beginning to regret having married his father. Bonnie Langton had been a reasonably talented photographer and she had helped do a feature on Tark for one of the lifestyle magazines. She was a truly gorgeous young woman with curly, pale blonde hair, enormous green eyes, full lips, and a seriously drop-dead body. In fact, she had started out as a model before moving to the other side of the camera. Tark had quickly targeted her as his third wife — second trophy, for that matter — and she had finally succumbed to his determined campaign eighteen months earlier.

Boyd had harbored a certain amount of secret lust for her since meeting her for the first time — in a bikini by the side of his father�s pool — but he carefully suppressed such thoughts. The thing was, she was twenty-eight to his twenty. And to his father�s fifty-three. Besides, he liked Bonnie. He also felt rather sorry for her.

If he had been at home while the courtship was progressing, instead of away pursuing his studies, he thought he might have found an opportunity to take her aside and let her know exactly what she was getting herself into. Instead, he hadn�t really known what was happening until it was a done deal.

Within months, of course, Tark had begun taking his new wife for granted — as he took everything in his life for granted. And Bonnie was no longer a happy camper, that much was obvious. But she didn�t seem to be a very assertive person and Boyd could see how the situation was beginning to gnaw at her.

Things were different for him. He had only another few months before his twenty-first birthday, on which occasion he would take full control of the very sizable trust fund negotiated for him by his mother before her death from cancer when he was twelve. Yeah, Mom had understood full well what sort of person her husband was. She had threatened Tark with a very ugly, very expensive, and very public divorce action, and she had kept her own impending demise a secret until the trust documents were signed. She was making sure her only son would have the means to escape his father�s heavy thumb after she was gone. Boyd would, in fact, become a multimillionaire (junior size) in his own right, and there was absolutely nothing Tark could do about it.

That promise of freedom on the horizon was the only thing that enabled him to keep playing his role for a little while longer. He fantasized about packing all his personal belongings ahead of time and vanishing from his father�s life straight from the lawyer�s office. Bonnie, unfortunately, had no such escape available.

The coconut shrimp and the tart coleslaw were excellent, as always, and he told Margaret Clancy so. He sipped at his beer while watching Bonnie nibble at a very small slice of cheesecake. She seemed lost in her own gray thoughts. She finally glanced up and caught him looking at her, and blushed.

"I�m sorry, Boyd, I�m terrible company today. You�re always so nice to me, and here I�m completely ignoring you."

He smiled and shrugged. "I�m not great company myself, I�m afraid. Just being here, in this house, literally a hundred miles from anywhere, puts me in a bad mood. It�s not you," he quickly added. "I always enjoy being around you, Bonnie. It�s my father and the debris he constantly leaves behind him." He saw her pained expression and shook his head at himself. "That didn�t come out the way I intended. You�re certainly not �debris�. I was referring to his relationships. I don�t think he�s ever had a successful one. Even my grandparents didn�t actually like their son very much. My aunts all detest him."

Bonnie covered her smile with her hand. "That�s a terrible thing to say!"

"It is, isn�t it? True, though." He swirled the last swallow of beer around in the glass — Mrs. Margaret didn�t allow drinking from the bottle at the table — and wondered how much more he could say without overstepping some boundary.

"Bonnie, . . . I know we have an awkward sort of relationship ourselves, just by the nature of things. I mean, you�re my stepmother — but only technically. It�s not like I grew up with you in the house---"

"---and I would have been more like your older sister anyway. Yeah. It�s all a little strange."

"But that might also make some things a bit easier. Being isolated, all alone out here — well, alone except for half a dozen servants and security guards — there�s no reason at all you can�t talk to me. As a friend. Someone you can bounce your problems off of. You know I�m not going to say a single word to my father, or anyone else, about anything you might tell me." He shrugged. "I just wanted you to know I�m completely willing to listen, if you need a sounding board."

She set her chin on a small fist and gave him a long, thoughtful, considering look. "Do you know, when you talk about him, you always say �my father�? Never �Dad�?"

He thought about it a moment. She was right. "I guess that�s because him being my father is an undeniable fact of genetics. But he�s never been a dad."

"That�s so sad."

"That�s life." He finished his beer and decided not to have another one.

"So, I can tell you anything?"

"Anything you like, or need to. And it will go no further." He watched her face as she made up her mind.

"Okay. I, um, I think your--- my husband is sleeping around on me. I can�t prove it, really, but I have a very strong feeling he�s being unfaithful."

Her unhappiness was clear in her eyes and Boyd wished he could take her in his arms and stroke her back. But he wasn�t at all surprised at what she had said.

"Bonnie, has anyone told you about Maryanne?"

"Tark�s second wife? Not really. I don�t think they were married very long, were they?"

"Eight months. Didn�t even make it to their first anniversary. See, she had been one of his secretarial team for several years and then she became his PA. More involved job, better pay. And easier access to the boss. She was a very attractive woman and my father proposed to her six months after her promotion. She didn�t exactly idolize him but it was nearly like that. Then, before very long, she stumbled on some odd things that made her think he was sleeping around, so she hired an investigator, and he brought her proof. She was devastated, Bonnie. She really cared about him. Then she found out he had also been running around on my mother, and she divorced him. So it�s just the way he is. He�s a user. Women are interchangeable and disposable to him. He�s never going to change. I�m sorry."

His young stepmother stared at him and swallowed hard. She didn�t cry but tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "Then it�s even worse than I thought," she whispered. She stood, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. "Thank you for listening, Boyd, and for being my friend. I think I need to be alone for awhile." She touched his shoulder and left the dining room.

Mrs. Margaret was busy loading the lunch dishes into the washer and laying out the makings for a batch of tollhouse cookies for the security guys, so Boyd quietly made himself a cup of herbal tea and went into the study to sit and think awhile. He was hoping he could come up with some way to ease Bonnie�s pain but he couldn�t think of anything useful. It was very depressing. He ended up putting on his heavy shoes and going for a hike through the desert that used up the rest of the afternoon.

It was a warm night and Boyd fell asleep with only a sheet over him. He wasn�t a night owl, much preferring to watch the sun rise. He always did his best work before breakfast. Tonight, exhausted by the hike (as he had intended), he had hit the sack earlier even than usual. And while he usually slept in his boxer shorts, he had left them off tonight.

He knew that if it got chilly, a small part of his brain would rouse itself sufficiently to pull up the covers without waking all the rest of him. After an hour or so, though, that always-on-duty watchdog in his cortex began nudging him. "Someone�s here," it insisted.

With an effort, he opened one eye. There was indeed a figure sitting on the rattan chair a few feet away. With the aid of the moonlight filtering in, he could make out the nimbus of blonde curls. Bonnie. She seemed to be watching him.

He pushed himself up on one elbow and scratched an itch on his ear. "What�s the matter?" he said. He glanced sideways at the clock on the side table. A few minutes short of eleven.

The dim figure sighed. "I couldn�t sleep, not after what we were talking about at lunch. I�ve been going through the stages of grief all day, one after the other — disbelief, denial, anger, all that. I finally ended up at revenge. As in, I want some. I�m tired of being taken for granted. There�s not much I can do about your--- about Tark, I guess. Not yet. But I can damn sure get even." She got up and moved to sit on the side of his bed. She wore a very short kimono-style wrap and her long, slender, pale legs glowed in the moonlight.

"The thing is, see, . . . I can�t just go out and find a lover. I just can�t. That�s not me. And then I got to thinking. . . ." She sat up straighter and adjusted the collar of her robe. "Boyd, do you think I�m attractive?"

He stared for a moment. "Bonnie, in my opinion, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen who isn�t in the movies."

She laughed, a clear tinkling sound. "Thank you, sir. So, then, you wouldn�t object if I came in there with you?"

The only response he could think of was "Uh. Um." But she was already standing and undoing the tie of her kimono. She pushed the silky material back off her shoulders and pivoted to drop it on the chair behind her. She wore nothing underneath.

Boyd knew his jaw was dangling in an embarrassing way but it was a natural reaction. Bonnie was a small girl — woman — but she was all in proportion, and in very good shape, too. Her breasts were full and round, topped by stiff little pink nipples. Her ass didn�t jiggle, it flexed. And the small triangle of neatly trimmed pubic hair was the same shade as her head. She didn�t seem to mind that he was staring so moronically, either. With such perfect looks, he figured she must be used to it.

She pulled back the corner of the sheet, uncovering him to the waist, and smiled as she slipped in next to him. "Very nice," she purred, turning on her side and snuggling up to him. He put his arm around her almost automatically. She ran an open palm lightly across his chest, making the muscles ripple. "Nice and smooth. Good. I prefer that to a hairy jungle on a guy."

The hand drifted down across his stomach and eased beneath the sheet. After a moment, she raised her eyebrows. "You�re sleeping naked. That�s very sexy." When her fingertip traced the length of his stirring cock, he flinched. "Oh, my. Look what I found," she whispered in his ear. He moaned as her grip surrounded his erection.

Things were happening so fast, he wasn�t quite sure what was happening. Then his mental search engine finally came up with the results for "What to do when a beautiful, naked woman unexpectedly gets into bed with you," and his head cleared. He pulled his stepmother (technically) closer and his lips found hers. He�d had plenty of practice with girls — no guy with his kind of money ever lacked for female companionship — but Bonnie�s kisses were . . . elegant, he decided, rather than the boisterousness of a college girl. Kissing her made his ears heat up.

When they came up for air — literally, because he had to take several gulps before he could breathe properly — she stared at him nose-to-nose for a moment. "I sort of wondered, this afternoon, what this might be like, kissing you. I decided it would be nice, but it�s even better than that." Her hand was moving slowly up and down his cock, which was as rigid as it had ever been in his life. Then she gave him another smoky smile and disappeared down under the covers.

He felt her small hands stroking his penis and then her warm tongue painted a stripe up its length from balls to tip. He shivered and closed his eyes. Her mouth closed over the head and her tongue went round and round. He felt a touch of panic that he might come too quickly, the sensation was so overpowering.

After a few minutes, he took her arm and urged her back up to the pillow. She licked her lips. "You taste lovely."

"It�s my turn," he said, shoving the rumpled sheet out of the way. He nibbled at her throat and she tilted her head back with a sigh. He kissed his way down to her breasts, then caught her nipple between his incisors, and she gasped. He sucked half her small breast into his mouth as she made fists in his hair. But there was still more of her to explore.

He remembered that flat stomach from having seen her in a bikini. Her pussy, though, was new territory and he shifted around as she parted her long legs for him. Her labia were narrow and her clit was clearly visible, poking out from its hiding place. And when he spread her open with his fingers and dragged his tongue up the length of her, she jammed her hands behind the pillow. Her hips writhed and she moaned louder than he had.

There was a lot of moisture and he lapped it up like a cat with a bowl of cream. He pushed his tongue as far up inside her as he could and pressed a thumb against her ridged asshole. She pushed back, which he took as an invitation and began working a fingertip through her sphincter. That caused her to breathe even faster. She was nearly panting, which he found highly erotic.

But his erection was becoming almost painful and after a few minutes he crawled back up beside her. Before he could think what to say, Bonnie had grasped his cock again and given it a little squeeze. "All right, young man, I think it�s time to take this to its natural conclusion, don�t you?" And she maneuvered him on top of her, using his erection as a handle.

Boyd hung back. It had just dawned on him that he had no condoms handy. He hadn�t expected to need any at home. Bonnie regarded him with a slightly puzzled expression.

He cleared his throat. "I don�t have any---"

There was that musical laugh again. "You needn�t worry. I�m on about six different kinds of contraception. I wasn�t planning on giving you a half-sibling!" She reached up and touched his cheek. "Also, I promise I�m absolutely clean. I always make Tark use a condom because I�m not really sure about him, not if he�s out there playing musical beds. And I�m going to make the opposite assumption about his son." Her voice went down an octave. "Now, come here and fuck me — hard."

He didn�t hesitate. His penis was so engorged, it was just this side of painful. He knelt between her thighs as she pulled her knees back and apart. He inhaled the heady aroma drifting up from her cunt. He swabbed the head of his cock up and down a couple times to get it wet and to prepare the way, then pressed slowly forward, watching it disappear into her. She made a faint growling sound deep in her throat and pushed her head back against the pillow.

Boyd had made love and/or had sex with eight or ten girls by this point in his life, but he was the conscientious sort and this was the first time his naked penis had ever been in direct flesh-to-flesh contact with the interior of a female cunt. He doubted it really could make a difference in terms of physical sensation — but psychologically, it certainly did. Bonnie was tight, too, despite being eight years his senior, and the warm, moist friction was exquisite.

He began thrusting in and out of her slowly — feeling his way, so to speak — and Bonnie was responding with an equal and opposite motion. She obviously wanted as much of him as possible plumbing her as deeply as possible. It was quickly evident that he wasn�t going to cause her pain and he began speeding up his strokes.

The girl was talking to him under her breath, too: "Oh — God — oh — Boyd — harder — oh — fuck — me — you�re — so good — fuck me. . . ." The jerky litany heightened the erotic thrill for him. He had always found it arousing when a sex partner told him explicitly what she wanted and talked about what they were doing while they were doing it.

He pushed her knees even farther back and let part of his weight rest atop her body, cradling her head in his hands and wrapping her curls around his fingers. "I love the feel of your hot cunt squeezing my cock," he whispered, his lips touching her ear. "You�re such an amazingly beautiful, sexy woman, Bonnie." She gasped and wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his back.

"Oh, God, make me come! Make--- oh, uh, . . . oh, Boyd, goddamn. . . ." She clung to him tightly and he could feel the jerks and spasms as she rocketed through her orgasm. That knowledge set him off, too, and he knew he was filling her cunt with semen. Although the fact that it was loose in there, not caught in the tip of an artificial membrane, seemed a little bizarre.

They held tightly to each other for a minute more, then loosened their mutual grip at the same moment. Bonnie was still panting and gulping, trying to recover her breath. She looked into his eyes with a warm, glowing smile. "Boyd, you are so good for me. You have no idea." She caught her lower lip with her teeth in a small smirk. "Heavy, though. . . ."

Carefully, he rolled off her and propped himself on his elbow so he could look into her eyes. She reached up and stroked his cheek and he kissed the palm of her hand. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "in the ordinary course of things, this could never have happened if I hadn�t married your father. Even if we had met otherwise, at a party or for business or something, we would assume — everyone would assume — that the eight years between us would have been an insurmountable obstacle. Especially when it�s the girl who�s so much older. They�d call it cradle-robbing."

He nodded slowly. "I�m sure you�re right. And if you were still working behind a camera and I were still about to come into serious money, they�d have another name for it, too." They looked at each other for a long, measuring moment. Then she sighed and snuggled up to his chest and he surrounded her with his arms and stroked her back, as he had wished he could do earlier. He glanced again at the clock. Barely midnight, and everything had changed.

Somewhere in the early, early morning, still well short of sunrise, Boyd climbed just far enough out of sleep to be aware that he had been experiencing a very arousing dream. Only, as he quickly discovered, it wasn�t a dream at all. Bonnie, head pillowed on his stomach, was slowly, methodically masturbating him. He reach down to stroke her hair and she smiled up at him.

"I thought this might get your attention." She squeezed the midpoint of the stiffening shaft and pulled, as if trying to lift him by the handle. It didn�t hurt, but the muscle tension she created set off little flash bulbs behind his eyes. A wave of pure lust swept over him and he hooked her under the arm and dragged her back up to where he could kiss her.

She came laughing and fastened her mouth to his enthusiastically. A minute or so later, they separated, panting. She grinned. "Are you ready for another round, then?"

He replied by sliding his hand down to her crotch and easing a finger up inside her. Her eyelids drooped for a moment and she sighed. Then she cleared her throat.

"Boyd, there�s something I want you to do this time. This is, um, . . . kind of a secret. It�s not something I�ve ever even told, um, Tark about. But I�m going to tell you." She stroked his chest and seemed a little embarrassed. Her stepson (technically) prepared to listen.

"See, I can be kind of . . . weird around the edges, I guess. Maybe it�s because I�m, well, I guess I�m beautiful, people always say that. And also maybe because I�m so petite. I think that�s a large part of what Tark sees in me as a wife — someone just waiting to be dominated, you know?"

Boyd thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. That�s how that bastard�s mind works, too. He just loves to order people around. Especially when they�re not in a position to refuse. But you�re not actually like that, Bonnie."

"No, I�m not like that. Except, . . . there�s a small part of me that is. There�s a piece of my brain that wants me to be dominated. Not punished, or hurt, nothing like that. But sort of forced to do, um, sexual things." She sighed and inched a tiny bit closer.

"This is hard to explain. If Tark wanted to, like, tie me to the bed and rape me or something, I would never agree to it. I don�t trust him. There�s no telling what he might do. Besides, it would be all about him. A power thing." She looked deep into Boyd�s eyes. "But it�s different with you, I can tell. If you sort of forced me to do things, it would be because that�s what I wanted. See?"

"So, . . . you want me to — what? Pretend-rape you?" He shook his head. "Bonnie, I don�t think I would want to do that. It just wouldn�t feel right."

She smiled at him. "And that�s exactly why I could trust you to do it, Boyd. Most guys would jump at the chance, you know. But not you. At least, not with me. But I want you to do it. I guess I sort of need it. And there are so few people I can trust." She looked at him a long moment. "Please?"

Boyd�s conscience threw up its hands and surrendered. "What exactly does this, um, play-acting involve?"

"Nothing exotic, really." She got a coy look. "I�m assuming you would like to have sex with me again?"

He noted that she didn�t say "make love." "Bonnie, I would like to screw you continually for the next several days."

"Then I want you to do it from behind this time. You�re a big, strong guy, Boyd. Put all your weight on me. Don�t let me move. I want to be at your mercy." And while she was saying this, she was separating herself from him and lying face-down in the middle of the bed.

He thought he knew what she had in mind. Immobility. The feeling of helplessness. If part of her psyche interpreted that as rape, well, that wasn�t his intention so her interpretation wasn�t his fault. And what she apparently was asking wasn�t as extreme as he had feared — no whipping or anything. He would never have been able to do that. Bonnie must have a pretty conservative notion of what constituted "exotic" sex.

He rolled over on top of her, then got up his knees. "Raise your ass up." She slid her knees forward and curved her spine, pushing her bottom invitingly into the air. He spread her pussy open from behind, took a deep breath, and thrust far into her at one stroke.

Bonnie jerked and gasped and her pulse speeded up as Boyd pushed again, burying himself completely within her. Her arms were extended and he covered her fists with his big hands. She tried to shift position and found herself completely pinned. She couldn�t move a muscle. She could barely even breathe, his body was so heavy. He was like a grand piano on her back. His groin was pressed close against her ass, his cock buried deep within her. Then he began to move inside her, withdrawing a small amount, then thrusting forward hard. And Bonnie felt completely helpless, deliciously, excitingly so. She knew it was a game, that she could tell him to stop, and he would, but she pushed that out of her mind.

Boyd was a pile driver, ramming himself into her at every stroke. It knocked the wind out of her, made her emit a series of breathy little grunts. He had to admit, too, that holding Bonnie down like this while he fucked her was arousing. If it had been for real — if she had been struggling and sobbing — it would be different, but it was obvious that she was enjoying the fantasy. He could go along with that.

It didn�t take long this time before he felt the climax building to its crescendo. He speeded up on the last few strokes and Bonnie moaned and clutched at the sheet beneath her. They reached their orgasms almost simultaneously for the second time, which Boyd thought was amazing. It was certainly very satisfying. He lay there on top of her for another moment, then propped himself up on his elbows. He let his cock remain inside her for as long as it could, though. He loved the feeling of her cunt holding him like that.

Finally, he rolled off and Bonnie spooned back against him. They dozed off again and Boyd missed his sunrise. His stepmother (technically) slipped out of bed a little while later, returning to her own room to shower and dress for the day.

They met agqin at the breakfast table, sharing a not entirely secret look that gave Mrs. Margaret pause. Something, the cook decided, was up. She doted on Boyd and disapproved strongly of the continual shenanigans of his father, her employer. Especially the way he treated his son, as if he were just another drone on salary. She had wished for some time that something would happen to teach that man a lesson — but he was her employer, and she mostly liked her job, so she had kept those thoughts to herself. She had no particular opinion where Wife No. 3 was concerned, but she was sympathetic to the poor girl�s situation. And it felt, somehow, like things were about to change.

Sitting out on the deck afterwards, enjoying the relatively cool morning breeze, Bonnie said, "I think I�ve decided. I�m going to have to file for divorce, as a matter of self-respect."

Boyd nodded. "I think that�s the right decision. Maybe the only decision. He doesn�t deserve you — or anyone."

She sighed. "It�s going to be hard, though. He had me sign a pre-nup, naturally. Given our relative finances, it seemed perfectly reasonable. I didn�t expect all of this to happen. Anyway, I would be leaving with only the suitcase I arrived with. California is no-fault, so I can�t sue him for adultery and squeeze out a settlement or anything. I gave up my career, too, and it�ll be difficult, being out entirely on my own again and getting back into that," she added glumly.

Boyd had an idea about that, though. "I have an idea about that. You know I�ll be twenty-one very soon. And you know what happens then, money-wise. My father doesn�t believe it will change any of the plans he�s made for me, but he�s wrong. It changes everything." He grinned at the thought of Boyd Sr.�s reaction. "Of immediate concern to you, though, is the fact that I will be changing my residence."

Bonnie blinked. "I thought you had a townhouse."

"Well, I do. And a roommate. But it�s leased. And my roommate has a cousin who will be delighted to step into my place, so that�s okay. But here�s the thing." She smiled at his enthusiasm. "I�ve found a nice not-huge place in the Hollywood Hills. Not unlike this, actually, with a view over the city. Three bedrooms, big kitchen with an eating area, a deck — everything I need. And at a good price. In fact, . . . I�ve already bought it — or, at least, I have an option until after my birthday." He gave his stepmother a hopeful smile. "You could move in there with me. There�s lots of room."

She seemed startled. "Move in . . . with you? Like, um. . . ."

"Like whatever you want it to be like, Bonnie. We can be friends, roommates, part-time lovers. Or we can just be ex-stepmother and ex-stepson. Whatever."

"Boyd — I couldn�t just move in and not contribute. That wouldn�t be right. It would feel like, like, leeching, or something."

"Well, the mortgage payments will be the same whether I�m alone or not. You can spend your time oiling up your cameras and re-kick-starting your career. Then, if it makes you feel better, you can buy groceries, or do the vacuuming, or whatever. There won�t be any servants, you know. Just me. Or us."

She gave him another of those long, considering looks. "Your father. . . ."

"My father is going to absolutely hate it, yeah. That�s a bonus." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "The word�s going to get around, you know. I know it will because I intend to help it. How Boyd Tarkington, Sr. lost his third wife because of his philandering, and how she �sought shelter�---" (he made quote marks in the air) "---with his own son. People are going to laugh at him, Bonnie. People whose opinions matter in his business." He squeezed the hand again. "You were up-front last night, that having sex with me was a matter of revenge."

"Oh, Boyd, it�s not just---� Her look of dismay made him laugh.

"It�s okay. Really, it is. Because I think maybe it�s a little more than that now, right?�

She nodded. "Yes, it�s definitely more than revenge now.�

"Okay, well, I would like you to come and live with me, Bonnie. No strings attached. I would like that very much. And the effect on my father is gravy. He won�t be taking either of us for granted ever again.�

Copyright 2015 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.