Chapter 1: Introduction
Liz stood in front of the enormous glass window, staring out at the glittering display of New York City. The towering buildings of Manhattan were dazzling in the orange glow of the setting sun. The noise and craziness of the city seemed particularly muted this evening. Leaning an elbow on the sill, she cradled a glass of French Sancerre, sipping the tangy liquid with a mild smirk.
"Mark," she called out, the crystal chiming like a bell as she placed it back on the wet bar.
No answer.
Liz grimaced, glanced at her watch. Mark was usually punctual. In fact, he was annoyingly punctual, always had been. With a sigh, she plopped down on the leather couch, checking her phone.
Minutes later, the door to the penthouse suite burst open, hitting the wall with a loud thump. "Fuck, mom!" Mark shouted, rubbing his forehead. "You didn't tell me there was a new security system."
"And you didn't tell me you were late for dinner," she countered, eyebrow arched.
"Forgive me, Mother," he winked, kicking the door closed behind him. "I got caught up in traffic."
Liz surveyed her son - her handsome, young son, who was now leaning against the wet bar, pouring himself a drink. He looked like so many young men on the Upper East Side, clean-cut except for the hint of stubble darkening his chin. The only thing that separated him from the crowds that thronged the bustling streets was the softer curve to his jaw - a curve that was hauntingly similar to her own.
Liz swallowed back a knot in her throat, remembering. Should she, or shouldn't she? The question hung heavily in the air.
Mark didn't seem to notice anything unusual about the silence, settling comfortably in the chair opposite his mother. Liz bit her lip, watching his every move as he sipped his drink. Finally, when the quiet grew thick enough to slice through, she made her decision.
Rising from the couch, Liz sauntered towards the windows, her hips swaying rhythmically.
Mark's gaze followed her with an intensity that made her heart flutter. She turned suddenly, catching him off guard, and stalked back towards him, her eyes locked on his.
"Mark," she murmured, her voice hoarse, "I want you."
A brief moment of shock flickered across his face, but it was soon replaced by a wicked grin. His throat tightened as he stood up, his eyes searching his mother's body.
Liz leaned in closer, placing a delicate hand on his chest. He felt so warm, so alive beneath her fingertips.
She could feel his heartbeat quickening through his chest, the steady booming like a drum in her ears.
"Mom, I-"
Liz pressed her index finger against his lips, halting his words. She shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with a determination that he couldn't ignore. Taking in a deep breath, she let her fingers trace a hot line downward, across his hard, muscled stomach. She didn't break eye contact, even as her hand dipped lower and lower, closer and closer to the growing bulge in his pants.