Making a King : Claimed by the Prince

The entire night was ruined. We should have enjoyed a nice romantic evening, instead we spent the night working, on our day off. I had the perfect Valentine’s date all planned out, only to have it ruined when half the staff came down with a sudden mysterious illness. When I arrived for my dinner, things didn’t go as planned— but then they never do.

Katelyn Smith worked at Wine & Roses long enough they made her night manager. I spent so much time hanging around and helping that I was put on payroll the day I turned fourteen.

My thirty-something mother looked like a twenty-something call-girl as she walked towards me in a size 4 silk dress. A salon perfect braid of raven black hair swung across her bare back with each step. Her 32C-cup breasts were on display as red satin hugged her curves from nipple to thigh. Cheap nylon ran the length of her shapely legs to a pair of four-inch heels click clacking on the hardwood floor. She was 5-foot 6-inches tall without the heels, with perfect makeup and a smile on her candy red lips. She even smelled like sex, with a bottle of “Very Sexy” by Victoria’s Secret tucked into a black leather handbag swinging at her side.

It must have been midnight, which meant I was officially eighteen. Her arm wrapped around my neck and pulled me into the last dance of the night. It’s been our ritual since my 5th birthday.

Our dance lasted a few seconds longer than the music and ended with a kiss.

Rose petals littered the floor as my hands slid over her nylon clad hips and took a cheek in each palm. Her butt was just soft enough to grab hold and silky smooth. I pulled her close, grinding my thick hardon into her. She welcomed my tongue as it slid past her parted lips. She tasted of sweet wine and chocolate covered cherries. We performed with equal passion; our tongues doing a tango as our bodies stood still between two velvet clothed tables.

“Shame on you.” Her blue eyes burned with arousal.

“You look so hot tonight, I couldn’t resist.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry our birthday date got ruined.”

I always thought it was nice that I was born the day after Mom’s birthday. It made that dance at midnight all the more special. I’ve often wondered how our lives would have turned out if we hadn’t been born on Valentine’s. All those birthdays spent working and then our special dance at the end of the night.

“Next year we’re going out of town, I’m thinking Hawaii.”

She certainly deserved a vacation. Things had gotten better since I started helping with bills. We even had a bit in the bank now. I wasn’t sure on Hawaii, but I wanted to take her somewhere nice.

Mom laughed. “You’re paying, right?”

She spun around abruptly, clicking her heels on the hardwood. “I gotta pee.”

I watched her hips swish and sway with every step as she headed towards the ladies room.

“I’ll meet you in the car.” I said, loud enough for her to hear.

*

The red Toyota was six years old and much better than that clunky old Cadillac we had before. Mom was in the passenger seat, head tipped back as she drank straight from the bottle. She isn’t a big drinker, usually a glass or two at the end of the night. The two bottles of Laurent-Perrier were supposed to be shared over a nice long, romantic dinner that never happened. Not that I’m complaining; Mom could drink all she wanted.

I climbed behind the wheel and reached for the ignition.

“Home?” I asked.

She swallowed and gave me a smile. “Take me home and put me to bed.”

That was exactly what I had planned.

I started the car. “Have a cigarette? I ran out.”

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