I turned towards my aunt, giving her another hug. This time she didn’t grope me; she just accepted my show of concern.
Looking at me, Mom said, “Let’s go inside; we can talk about why you’re here later.”
Walking inside the house, Aunt Vicky clung to my left arm, which was a predictable move for her. What shocked me was mom was softly holding my right hand as she led us to the living room couch. We sat on the U-shaped sectional and talked for a few hours.
I found the conversations hard to focus on; Mom and Vicky wore sweaters up top, but their bottoms were short longue shorts, letting me see the full extent of their smooth legs. Adding to the torcher was their love of sitting cross-legged, which allowed me peaks of their panties underneath the shorts when they moved just right. They were both wearing bright hot pink panties as if they had planned it out that way.
Eventually, Dad came home from the office, bringing burgers for dinner with him. We had a lovely family meal together; the conversation was lighthearted as we caught up on life. Mostly we talked about how my cousins and sister were doing while I had been off conquering the world these past six years.
There were more amusing moments at dinner, with Aunt Vicky trying to rub her foot up and down my leg while my mom used her own foot to bat Vicky’s foot away from me. I always laughed internally when they did this and wondered if Dad noticed what was happening beneath him.
After dinner, Mom, Dad, and I excused ourselves from Vicky so we could talk privately in the home office. For the first time, I sat down with my parents and disgusted their personal finances with them. As it turned out, they had not been doing well in either real estate or mortgage brokerage for a while now. The equity they had built up in their investment properties and their personal home was gone before the crash even happened.
Once we had gone over everything, I tried to sum up the situation. “Ok, so I see the picture here. I can definitely help you guys out; I have the cash. What I am going to do is buy all your houses from you for the amount you owe on them. Including this house so you don’t have to worry about having a place to sleep.”
Mom didn’t like the idea. “Oh, Carson, that’s too much. Just take the rentals; let us worry about this house.”
Dad, getting a better deal than expected, responded, “Now, wait just a second, Honey. If Carson wants to help with this house, I think we should let him. We can pay him rent.”
“There wouldn’t be any rent, Dad; I just don’t want you and Mom to worry about not having a house while this crazy market blows over.”
Mom was still very uncomfortable with the idea of me buying their house. “Roger, I really do not feel comfortable allowing Carson to buy our personal house. He is doing more than enough by bailing us out of the rentals.”
I would find out later why Mom didn’t like the idea, but I did not understand then. I told her my thoughts. “It’s fine, mom. After buying my office building, I still have $31 million in cash ready to go. I can afford the extra to buy your house.”
Mom still looked very uneasy about the situation. I tried to relax her. “Besides, I am staying in Orlando to build a real estate investment firm. Your eight rentals can be my firm’s first purchase.”
Mom didn’t seem any more ok with the idea, but she did relent and give in to our arguments. “Ok, you can buy this house too.” She said in a soft, demure voice I had rarely heard before.
Excited to be out of the financial hole, Dad said, “Great, it’s settled. Carson, let’s get the paperwork together so we can get the ball rolling in the morning.” He got up from his chair and left to go to the other room to pull some documents from his safe.
Mom walked over to where I was sitting, eyes downcast, giving off a strange vibe I had never felt from her before. She took my right hand with both of hers, then lifted her eyes to mine. “Thank you, Carson.” She said, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek, which she had not done to me in the past fifteen years or more. I didn’t know how to react as I sat there staring dumbly.
Gathering herself up, Mom left the office to go find her sister. I was confused by what happened, but I didn’t dwell on it for long as Dad returned to the room with nine stacks of papers. We spent the rest of the night organizing and filling out the paperwork so I could buy all nine houses the next day.
***
I stayed with my parents for the following week and noticed a weird pattern at breakfast time. Mom, who is typically an excellent cook, was making mistakes in her meals. Nothing major, some scrambled eggs were a little runny, or a piece of toast was burnt. All minor things, really, but she didn’t spread misfortune. Every mishandled piece went to Dad, while my breakfast always looked ready to be put on a restaurant’s menu cover.
At Saturday morning’s breakfast, while finishing off my steak strips, I announced, “I’m going to buy a house here in Orlando” Then, looking at Mom, I asked, “Would you like to be my broker?”
Mom nearly jumped out of her chair when she heard me ask her, “Yes! Oh, I’d love to help you find a home, sweetheart.”
Dad laughed at her excitement and asked, “Hey, son, do you need a mortgage? If you do, just let me know.” He finished with a half chuckle. I notice the side of Mom’s mouth pulled back slightly as if trying to hold off a contemptuous look at her husband’s failure to drum up business for himself.
“That’s ok, Dad; I’m going to buy in cash. I don’t think loans are a good way to go right now.” Then turning back to Mom, I asked, “Do you know any places we could visit today?”
“I know two, and they’re not far from here.” She turned to Dad, “Honey can you get the dished? Carson and I need to get changed.” Mom stood up from the table and dragged me by the arm out of the kitchen, telling me to get dressed.
I showered and dressed in black slacks, a blue sports jacket, and a white shirt. The outfit was way too hot for Orlando at any time of the year, but I was looking at multimillion-dollar homes and didn’t know if there would be a dress code.
I was alone in the living room when I came down the stairs. Mom was still getting ready; Dad had left for work, and Aunt Vicky was back in Miami packing up her house. I sat on the couch and watched Sports Center for thirty minutes.
When mom came out of her room, my heart skipped a beat. She was wearing a pink business suit. The jacket had one button holding the front together, but it still managed to hug her form, giving Mom that hourglass look. Her c-cup breasts visible poked through against her petite frame. Her pink pencil skirt stopped mid-thigh, her black high heels lifting her already toned ass. To top it off, Mom had applied her makeup to make her beautiful green eyes look bigger than usual, a perfect contrast to her black silky shoulder-length hair flowing behind her.
I’m not sure how I managed to keep a steady voice, but I did as I said, “Wow, Mom, you look stunning.”
“Oh, you’re just being nice.” She said. I was pretty sure she was blushing under the makeup.
“I am being serious. I don’t think I have ever seen you dressed like this before.”
This time Mom walked up to me, closing the distance between us; I felt her breast push into me as she raised her head to kiss me on the cheek. “I have a very important client today. I want to make sure he is happy.”
Mom took my hand in hers, allowing me to lead her to my Ferrari parked out front. I opened the passenger door for Mom, helping her into the car. She sat down in the seat, feet still on the driveway. When she lifted her legs to get into the car, it seemed to me that she had spread her knees just a little bit further than she needed to, which gave me the briefest glimpse of her lacy black panties that matched her black high heels. Smiling, I walked around to get in the driver’s seat.
“Ok, sweetie, both houses are on Lake Sheen, just exit Sand Lake Road, and I’ll guide you from there.”
“Got it,” I said, starting up the car. I enjoyed watching Mom’s body react in her seat as the engine came on.
Mom watched me the whole time I exited the neighborhood and made my way to the highway access road. “Don’t you do it.” She warned. She had spotted the glint in my eye, knowing what was about to happen next.
“Do what?” I said, trying to play innocent.
“Carson Cameron Crigler. You know exactly what I mean. Don’t you dare gun it when we hit the highway.”
“Come on, Mom, who do you take me for? Some high school kid?” I said as our car started up the on-ramp.
“I know you’re exactly like some high school kid when it comes to AAAAAAAAAA,” she screamed as I slammed my gas pedal into the floorboard. The feeling of my car accelerating from 40 to 120 in seconds always gave me an adrenaline rush matched by few other things in life. It only made it better when I had a startled woman in the passenger seat, enjoying the ride against her will.
We flew by the few cars on the highway, zipping past as if they were standing still. After a couple miles, I let up on the gas, allowing our speed to drop to a law-abiding 10 mph over the speed limit.
As I slowed down, I expected Mom’s usual flurry of slaps on my arm. Her routine for when I pulled a stunt like that. To my surprise, the hits didn’t come. I looked over in her direction and saw something in her eyes. If I had been in a nightclub and had it been a different woman, I would have recognized Mom’s look instantly; but my brain refused to process what was happening. Something was burning behind Mom’s eyes; I told myself she must be more upset than usual.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the first house. It was massive. 11,000 square feet with 6 bedrooms and 8 bathrooms. The asking price was $3,000,000, but I knew instantly I wouldn’t be buying this place. It was far too big. I had spent the past six years living in small spaces, and I loved it. There was no way I was getting this monstrosity of a house.
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