All sexual scenes in this fictitious story involve consenting adults. Every part is a fabrication of my stilted mind, but then, ...so are you.
Member One: How it Began
My father, Philip Asten came from a long line of wealthy Asten's, but he moved the family fortune from Banking to Technology in the 70's, and turned a few hundred million into a real fortune.
Mother died in a plane crash when I was an infant, so I was raised by nannies and maids, when I was home. Regular rich kids were driven to private schools, but I was housed at a school in the Alps, where I learned 3 languages before I was 12. I had a Masters Degree in Economics when I finally left school at 24.
*****
Miss. Coral Canyon was 20, when she married dad, and the Entertainer of the Year, according to the Adult Entertainment Industry. He was 81.
I was already running Asten Capital Investing when dad married Miss. Canyon. It came as a surprise to the Board of Directors at ACI, including me, but they had a prenuptial agreement in place, and we were told that the terms were not excessive, so we held fast with our bets, and continued to make money.
I called Jenny in Legal, and suggested that she bring the marriage documents to my penthouse apartment around 8. I wanted to see exactly how much that gold digger was going to get, and I thought that I should watch a few of her films, to get to know 'mom' a little better. I was sure that Jen would enjoy the distraction.
"Coral is such an exotic name," Jenny murmured between moans.
She had removed her own clothes during the first ten minutes of 'Canyon Adventures'.
Miss Canyon had already seduced the African Chief, but she had to satisfy the head wife if she wanted to live. These were the last of the movies on film. The rest were digitized and easily stored in the computer, but four of her movies were originally done the old way. I could get them converted, but this was much more fun.
"Your turn boss," Jenny insisted as she spread her legs and leaned into the pillows.
She had done me, while Coral Canyon did the Village Chieftain. Jenny Bouvier was not a professional, but she was a Wharton School of Finance graduate, so she had no problems satisfying my modest needs. No one would mistake me for an African Chief.
I lifted her thighs to put her where I wanted, then dove in with my tongue.
"Those are not sexy sounds!" she scolded me as I motorboated her vag.
She still looked like she liked it, as she twirled her nibs and closed her eyes. Soon I had her pushing into my mouth, wanting it harder. I stopped playing and worked my index finger over her clit while diving into her slit with my tongue, bouncing my lips on her labia. She accepted her reward with loud cries of pleasure.
My housekeeper brought us a cheese plate and chilled champagne when we were worn out and almost falling asleep. Heidi must have been watching us. She never participates, and I often wonder if she would crawl in with us if I asked. Better to keep it professional, I decided, again.
"It looks like she gets a million if she stays for 6 months, and 10 if she lasts for more than 2 years, with an additional 2 for every year thereafter. There is also a fidelity clause that takes away everything if she strays."
Jen had her reading glasses on, making her look closer to her real age, though her body would make you think she is much younger.
"Senior is in great shape for an octogenarian," Jen continued, "but I don't think she'll be able to keep herself away from her fans."
"She may not have a million dollar pussy, but 10, 12 million will not be a problem," I confirmed as the CEO, talking to our Chief Legal Council.
*****
I enjoyed many ski vacations with Dad and Coral over the next ten years. Dad could still do the bunny hills at 90, but he was happy to let me ski with his beautiful wife when she hit the more challenging slopes. She stayed as thin and fit as she had been on the silver screen, and she was always at dad's elbow, when she wasn't in his arms.
I was dating one of my fitness instructors, again, and this one was actually my age. When I found out that she wanted larger breasts, I gave them to her as a part of her bonus. She offered me her sister, while she was in Stockholm getting the surgery. Then I had to do the same for her sibling, but they would both join us in June, when we sailed the Med, it's always good to have an extra fitness coach.
Father was quiet and even closed his eyes, during our year end meeting of the board. He was 92, and seldom did anything with the company that he had built to be a giant among investment firms. The meeting was more of a highlight reel, as we confirmed among ourselves the direction of the portfolio that went into the 10 billion euros range, with more than 12 percent being owned by the Asten family trust. We broke up the meeting around 7 and I was leaving in the morning, so Coral asked me to come up to their suite for dinner.
As far as I knew Coral had been faithful for over a decade. We discussed dad's upcoming trip to a health spa, where they give you blood transfusions, and herbal supplements, literally up the wazoo. His lovely bride would be going to Paris.
I put the best investigator to work, and the photos that he came up with made me blush. Coral's earlier film works looked tame in comparison. I showed them to dad in private.
"Nice," he said as he slowly worked his way through them. "I like this one, son. Can I keep them?"
I just stared at him, wondering if his mind had slipped a notch.
"We agreed that she gets a week in Paris every year son," Dad finally conceded. "My spa week seemed like the perfect time."
We talked about putting it in the prenup, but he said it was a part of their private agreement, so I let it go.
Then dad hit a tree while skiing, and he was gone. The autopsy showed that he had a minor infarction, and in his pain and possible loss of vision, he swerved into the woods and slammed into a tree. Dead on the spot with his neck snapped. It was close enough to the resort that the town paramedics got to him before the Safety Patrol.
*****
The media loved showing pictures of the grieving widow. She looked better at 32 than she had in her first films. One of my assistants informed me that the four films in our vaults had soared in value, suggesting that they should be moved to a special facility in California.
"Jenny, could you please have Coral's inheritance money transferred before the end of day, and have our agents in France transfer the apartment in Paris to Coral Canyon."
