Some kind of mothering instinct combined with a fear of abandonment had made her quite clingy when Mom first suffered her stroke. That same instinct had kicked in once we returned from the hospital with Mom's body remaining behind in the hospital morgue. Despite all the turmoil of the previous 24 hours, from me finding her cunt full of cum to my beating of Rebecca and all the hate and distrust that followed after, SHE had come to my bedroom and cried herself to sleep holding me in her arms. I'd cried too, and we'd isolated ourselves from the others for the rest of the week.But then last Friday Sam asked if I was cancelling my usual "get-together". Very few outsiders knew what had happened. Shit, very few outsiders knew my Mom had even BEEN in the house all that time, and those at least partially in the dark included Mary, Judene, Jessica, and Audrey. My "girlfriends" had known that the middle-aged vegetable in the third-floor bedroom was Cameron's mom, but the four of them didn't. The lateness of the hour and the cleared tables suggested that the dinner part of the festivities was over and more than likely so was all the speechifying and the dispensing of bonuses. Now it was more of a cocktail party. The tables had been moved back to create a dance floor and a five-piece band was setting up. My attention was centered on the reason I had come to the affair. I watched as she moved through the crowd talking to the people and looking for all the world like she was the hostess.I sensed him before he spoke, "She sure is something, isn't she."I turned and saw a short, ruddy-faced man standing to my left and slightly behind me. He stuck out his hand, "Jack Branscomb. I work out of the Omaha office."I took his hand and introduced myself and said, "You know her?" Not near as well as I would like. I came close once, but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, right?"I was intrigued by his statement, "You came close? How was that?" You new to the company? You.
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