Mother of Necessity Ch. 01

"What kind of money are we talking about?"

"Eight thousand dollars for one session."

Melinda sputtered. "Christ. Who is this guy?"

"That's confidential."

"Yeah, I'm just, I... wow. That's a lot of money. That's life-changing money. Can't you just get that kind of stuff on the Internet for free?"

"This is the kind of guy who doesn't want what anyone can get. He wants what literally no one else has."

"Oh. I see." She looked out the window at the fading sunlight. "Exactly what kind of photos are we talking about?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with. The level of... involvement is entirely up to you."

"But... erotic photos. So you mean nudity."

"Yes."

"Do you mean sex?"

Cliff only shrugged.

"Did you say anything about me to this person? Does he know who I am?"

"Absolutely not. And it would stay that way. He doesn't want to meet the subjects."

There was another long pause while she gazed out the window. "And you say these photos would stay private?"

"He's very discreet. That's part of the turn-on for him, is the secret nature of it. The anonymity. Your privacy would be guaranteed."

"How? I don't think there would be a legal contract for that sort of thing."

"I can vouch for his reputation."

She gave him a skeptical look. "No offense, That's still a hell of a risk, Cliff."

"Yeah, well... that's why he pays so much money."

She bit down on one painted fingernail. "And you thought, because of the game I play, and because of what I told you about my boys, that I'd be interested in something like this?"

Oh shit, he thought. Was she offended? Had he made a terrible misjudgment? He braced himself for a round of sincere apologies. "I thought I'd ask. If you're not interested, we can let it go right here and never mention it again."

She laughed softly. "You know some perverted people, Cliff."

"Yeah, including you. I hope you're not offended."

"I'm not. I'm saying no, Cliff. Thank you for thinking of me, but I like my fantasy as fantasy. I couldn't actually do anything like that. Not on film."

Not on film? Cliff thought. But he didn't say that aloud. "No problem. I understand."

"I'm not offended, though."

He felt his whole body relax. "Good."

She looked wistfully out at the blue-green horizon. "Eight thousand dollars," she said softly.

# # #

Dylan emerged from the chaos of his bedroom on a Tuesday afternoon, bleary with the heat. Thumbs aching from a seventy-minute online shooter tournament, he padded to the kitchen for a snack, dressed in boxers and a loose tee shirt. He opened the fridge, fished a slice of cold Pizza Hut pizza from the box, and grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from the twelve-pack. He held the can against his forehead for a moment to dispel the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun.

A soft sniffle made him turn his head. His mother sat at the kitchen table, a stack of papers piled in front of her. She wore a soft gray v-neck tee and a pair of cutoffs. She wiped at one cheek quickly.

"Mom? What's up?"

She pushed the papers together into a pile. "Nothing, sweetie, just money crap. I'm tired. The damn neighbor was running his lawnmower at five-thirty. Who does that?"

He approached slowly, feeling helpless and concerned. "Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help?"

She laughed an odd-sounding laugh and reached out to him. "Thank you, sweetie, but no."

He stepped into her hug, putting an arm around her shoulders. Her head pressed against his stomach. The position made him feel oddly powerful, and he felt a flutter in the depths of his stomach.

"Did you win your game?" she asked.

"Yeah, we crushed 'em."

"You're such a good boy."

"Mom, are we in trouble?"

She withdrew from the hug slowly, drawing her hand across his back. He enjoyed the touch and felt a momentary surge of guilt for it.

"We owe the bank a lot of money, sweetheart. That's all."

"Justin says we're going to lose the house."

"Your brother says a lot of things." She glanced at the slice of pizza in his hand. "Get a paper plate, Dylan."

"I'll keep trying to find a job," Dylan said, plucking a plate from the shrink-wrapped stack on the counter. He sat down next to her. "Something I can take the bus to, something within walking distance."

His mother sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. "I don't think that's going to help, sweetheart. Not at this point. But thank you."

Dylan sat in awkward silence, trying to find some words that would take the look of despair from her face. Hesitantly, he reached a hand across the table. She took it and squeezed gently. At this angle, he could see the pale inner curves of her breasts as she leaned over the table. He took a look, then looked away quickly. She was his mother, she was in pain, and he was checking her out. That was wrong on so many levels. But at the same time, it was hard to help it.

"Honey," his mother said at last. "I want to ask you something. And it's going to be awkward."

"Okay," he said, cracking open the soda.

"About a week ago, I took a shower and there were no towels in the bathroom. I had to run to my bedroom naked. I thought I saw you in the hallway. Did you?"

Dylan winced. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry." Her thumb caressed the back of his hand. "Did you look at me?"

He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, wondering if he was about to get yelled at, or at least lectured at length. "Yes."

She swallowed, holding eye contact with him. "Did you enjoy looking at me?"

He tried to speak, but only opened and closed his mouth hesitantly. "I-"

"It's okay if you did. I don't mind. You won't be in trouble."

Dylan sat frozen for a long minute, still not entirely sure if this was a test. Then he nodded slowly. "I did."

She bit her lip, looking down at the stack of bills again. Her hand stroked his fingers lightly. "So we have an opportunity, Dylan. An opportunity that could change everything for us. But it... might be difficult, and it involves you. I want you to think carefully before you answer, okay."

He scowled in confusion, but when she closed both her hands over his, touching them softly, he found himself eagerly awaiting her next words. "Okay."

"You know Cliff? Well, he knows someone. An anonymous someone. And he collects photos of people. Family members." She cleared her throat. "Erotic photos."

Dylan's eyes widened.

"...and Cliff says we could make a lot of money if we were to agree to let him take some photos of us... together."

He looked at her, as if waiting for a final word.

"Naked," she finished.

"Are you serious?" Dylan asked.

"He's serious. I didn't give him an answer. Not yet."

The thought terrified him. He still wasn't sure this wasn't some sort of trick, or test, or joke. He had only gotten the merest glance of her in the hallway, a split-second glimpse of bare flesh. The thought of seeing her naked, of being naked completely in front of her, made his whole body feel weak. "Do you want to do it?"

"The money could make a big difference to us. It would pay off what we owe on the house, and we could do a few nice things for ourselves besides. But I don't want to pressure you into anything, Dylan. You know I love you a lot, and I wouldn't ever want to make things-"

"I'd do it."

She stared at him, her eyes widening slowly. "Really?"

"Sure." Dylan shrugged, trying to act casual, even though his heart was already pounding. "So we would just be naked together? Is that all?"

"Cliff said it was up to us... how much we do."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, sweetie. If you're sure you want to go through with this, we can just... we can just start there."

"Okay." He took a swig of soda, his mouth dry. Smiling, his mother reached for it and took a drink after him. "What do we do now?"

"If you're sure, I'll call Cliff and we'll arrange something."

He nodded, his heart hammering. "Are... we going to tell Justin?"

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, her lips lingering there for longer than usual. "Let's not tell your brother just yet."