***Author's note: It should, of course, go without saying, that anyone involved in any sexual activity is above the age of eighteen.***
1
Vincent was, without doubt, the
best
thing that had ever happened in Vanessa's life. But it took her the best part of twenty years to figure that out.
Before she experienced that
epiphany
, she had viewed him as something of an inconvenience. A
chore
, even. Yes, she supposed she
loved
him, he was her son after all, but it had never been a particularly intense or overwhelming bond. He had always been a good boy, obedient and well behaved, but he was also a complication, an occasional irritation, a
burden
. Something that had to be dealt with, rather than adored.
What on earth did she have in common with a young boy, anyway? Was she supposed to play catch with him in the back yard? Take him to a football game? Go fishing? Hardly. It got no easier, even as he got older. His interests and obsessions may have changed; her ambivalence did not. She had never really known how to relate or interact with her son. He was a
mystery
to her. Motherhood as a whole was a mystery. In so many ways, they were just two people living
separate
lives, who just happened to be in close proximity to one another. That's the way it was. That's the way it had always been.
It's not as if she had ever actually
wanted
to be a mother. Even as a child, she had shown no interest in playing with dolls, or acting out the mundane routines of domestic life. There were to be no make believe tea parties or playing house for this young girl. Babies just didn't interest her. They were not on her agenda.
And then, when she was eighteen, she got pregnant. Babies may not have interested her all that much but, increasingly, the way you
made
them certainly did.
She had actually been a fairly innocent teenager. Sure, she'd fooled around a little, doing some of the things teenagers did. Heavy petting, a little dry humping maybe. But she wasn't a particularly
wild child
. She didn't have a
reputation
for being
that
kind
of
girl
. But people began to notice her. She had become a quite stunning young woman. Puberty hit relatively late, but when it did, it hit pretty damn hard. It didn't exactly happen overnight, but when it did happen, it happened fast. And, as you might imagine, when a dramatic transformation like this takes place, people
noticed
. Older boys, older girls. Men. Women. Like moths to a flame, her rare beauty attracted attention. All
kinds
of attention. The
wrong
kind of attention.
One of those people doing the noticing was Charlie Lowen. He was 42 years old. He also happened to be her best friend's father.
Vanessa and
Emily
Lowen had met on the first day of term at the very expensive private school their respective parents had sent them to. Both of them had been dressed up in the prim and proper uniforms the school demanded all its pupils wear. Both of them seemed so small and so overawed by their new surroundings. They happened to be standing next to each other in the main school hall, and one girl had caught the other's eye. They had shared a shy, nervous smile. They had been pretty much inseparable ever since. Emily was an angelic little blonde, with huge blue eyes and a sweet disposition. The two girls spent endless hours in each other's company; so much time in fact, most people treated them as if they were sisters, rather than just best friends.
Charlie Lowen had
always
liked Vanessa. She was funny and bright and his daughter adored her. But she was a kid, so he didn't focus all that much attention on her. But then, by the time she was eighteen, he realised she certainly wasn't a kid anymore. At first, this fact sort of
amused
him. But over time it
aroused
him. Those prim and proper school uniforms looked a lot different on a nubile young woman, than they did on a little girl. And the sight of Vanessa walking round his house on one of his daughter's sleepovers, wearing nothing but a short little nightie and white cotton panties, triggered a whole new reaction now that she had physically matured.
And if Charlie had taken a not entirely innocent interest in his daughter's best friend; his daughter's best friend had long had a not entirely innocent interest in
him
. To put it simply, Vanessa was deeply, madly in love with Charlie Lowen. She had a massive crush on him; one that had evolved during her adolescence. When she was younger, it had been an almost sweet, adorable fixation. But as her body changed, and her sexuality blossomed, that fixation became a far more carnal and adult affair.
She did nothing about it, though. He was her best friend's dad, after all. She didn't see that much of him anyway. Mr Lowen was a busy man, always working, and Vanessa only caught the occasional glimpse of this rather stern, sexy figure in her life.
And she was becoming increasingly
busy
herself. Although she had been relatively late to the game, once Vanessa discovered sex, she dived in head first. Her previously innocent reputation was quickly discarded and she began notching up quite a series of conquests. She saw no shame or ignominy in promiscuity. Sex was an endlessly interesting, novel and exciting mystery. There was so much scope for variety and pleasure. There were so many people to sleep with. Vanessa genuinely didn't understand why
everyone
wasn't just fucking everyone else.
Her partners were numerous, mostly the boys and girls at school, although she did fuck one or two of her teachers. Any thoughts of Charlie Lowen were mostly forgotten, however. By then, she had totally discounted any idea of a sexual encounter with him. He was still her number one, go to masturbatory fantasy, but he was always just beyond her reach. He was unattainable, almost mythic. Fucking him was about as likely as fucking the president of the United States. At least that's what she thought.
But then came the night of Emily's eighteenth birthday party, and the idea turned out not to be so far fetched after all.
Vanessa was a couple of months older than Emily, so she had already reached that important milestone. The Prudhommes had celebrated her coming of age in a relatively low-key sort of way. They went out for a meal at a very classy Italian restaurant. All the Lowens were invited and everyone remarked how grown up and beautiful the two girls had looked. Both of them had made the effort to look as mature and sophisticated as possible. Charlie had spent most of the evening staring across the table at Vanessa. Every so often, she would catch him looking at her, and she would smile back at him. He was
hard
. She was
wet
.
Emily Lowen was never low-key. She was a vivacious firecracker, always the centre of attention; so her birthday celebrations were a considerably more grand affair. Her parents laid on a ginormous party and all her friends and family were in attendance. There was expensive catering, a professional band, and plenty of booze. Who cares about the legal age of drinking when you're rich?
All of Emily and Vanessa's friends were gorgeous young things, so the house was teeming with guys and gals, dressed up to the nines. Emily herself was very much the star of the show. She looked like a supermodel, tall and slim, with legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles and miles. She was wearing a slinky, metallic silver dress that went all the way down to the floor, with long slits that went all the way up to the top of her thighs.
If Emily was glamour and elegance, Vanessa was pure sexual charisma. She was a couple of inches shorter than her best friend, which was ironic bearing in mind she had always been the
taller