Honest opinions wanted.
I decided not to use any "Four letter words"
Readers may substitute them as they wish.
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My mother has been described in many ways, "elegant", "aloof", and "aristocratic", come to mind, but the most common has been "striking". There was never any question as to who the dominant personality was in our household, even though my father was one of the first successes in the Silicon Valley, and owned his own software company, making him almost as rich in his own right as my mother.
If you heard her great-grandfathers surname, your mind would immediately think California, Money!! And she is the sole heir.
She is a bit over 6 feet tall in high heels, (which she almost always wears), with large firm breasts, flaring hips, and a remarkably small waist. She wears her blond hair short, a' la Angela Lansbury, and although she has lived in California for her whole life, she avoids the direct sun in order to maintain her beautiful pale white skin. At 50 she is still breathtakingly beautiful, and turns heads everywhere she goes. She has old-fashioned ideas about foundation garments, and has a collection, of bras, corsets, garter belts, etc. worthy, of a lingerie museum. She is seldom seen, even in private, without being properly corseted, cinched, supported, and in stockings, usually seamed.
She claims to have never even tried on pantyhose, and once told me privately, that they made women into sexless "Barbie Dolls"
One of my earliest memories of her was when I was a child of perhaps 3. I got up in the middle of the night for some reason, maybe a glass of water, or perhaps I heard a noise, and as I passed my parents bedroom I noticed that the lights were on, and the door was partially open. I peeked in, and saw my mother standing there in a black satin under bust corset, with matching bra, attached black stockings, and high-heeled black patent leather boots. My Father knelt at her feet stark naked, as she scolded him for something I didn't understand, in a tone of voice that would have been more appropriate for a child.
The most remarkable sight however was my father's erect penis, which was much larger than it had been on any occasion when I had seen it. I was of course unaware of such things as erections or their causes.
They did not notice me, and I simply returned to bed, and completely forgot the incident until many years later.
As I grew up I never actually saw mother naked, but neither was she particularly modest. In any event I did see enough or her in various states of undress to fill in any blanks. As I got older I began to enjoy watching her, until I realized that the arousal, and eventually erections were not appropriate for a teenage boy to feel for his mother. It got easier when I went to boarding school, at my father's insistence.
After private schools and, a University degree in Electrical Engineering, I found myself in New York working in research for an electronics company. I had found my home, and family situation uncomfortable, and I returned to California as seldom as possible.
I would probably still be in New York if not for a chain of events that happened in one month.
First one night at dinner my FiancΓ©e announced that she was breaking our engagement.
She said that "I can't stand having someone else in our bed any longer"
"I don't know who it is, or whether she, or he is even real, but they are always there!"
"I am pretty certain that you are not seeing another woman, and I can't imagine you being gay, but you obviously care more about who ever, or whatever it is more than me".
I honestly didn't know what she was talking about but she obviously wasn't interested in any discussion.
In retrospect I think she was right, there was someone else, I just didn't know who, or what it was We weren't living together, so tidying things up was easy, and I never saw her again.
A week later I lost my job, or rather it disappeared,
One morning I arrived at the office to find it under guard, and crawling with accountants, Police, FBI agents, and even a man from Interpol!
My job, along with my boss and most of the company's assets simply relocated to a sunny third world country, which is not yet developed enough to understand concepts like extradition treaties.
Questioning by the FBI and other agencies made job hunting temporarily pointless. For some reason being under investigation by the Feds discourages potential employers.
Three weeks later, shortly after being cleared of any wrongdoing, I received word that my father had died, and I returned to California for the funeral.
My mother was her usual regal self when she met me at the airport, and had little comment except that I would be assuming some new "responsibilities".
The funeral went about as such things do, with the obligatory speeches about what a wonderful man he had been, His substantial charitable contributions and of course there were no references to his ruthlessness, or the people he had stepped on.
Several days later mother called me in to her study, and informed me that, after a reasonable apprenticeship. I would be taking over my father's business, I must emphasis here that I was told, not asked. She further informed me that she had paid off the lease on my apartment in New York, arranged to have my belongings, and furniture moved to one of the apartments in our mansion, and expressed relief, that she was spared the necessity of getting rid of "that mercenary slut", that I had been engaged to.
I was not happy being managed in this way, but I had no other immediate prospects, and frankly found my mothers desires difficult to resist.
At this time she vaguely alluded to certain other, "personal duties" that I would be required to perform.
My "apprenticeship" began at this point, and the people at the company actually seemed relieved that my father was gone. They were very co-operative, and I found subsequently that my father had ruled with an autocratic system of high pay and blackmail.
He and my mother had files on many of the household staff and company employees, that could be used to bring about disgrace or even prison.
Therefore, even though I was much easier to deal with than my father, the fear remained, and few dared to defy me, or more importantly defy my mother.