Wine glitters like liquid rubies in the crystal glasses, catching the light as Emily pours with the practiced style of a sommelier. Her smile is radiant, almost giddy, as she fills my glass for the third time this evening. The rich scent wafts up, making my head swim even before I take another sip.
"Emily," I whisper, leaning closer so Holly can't hear from her position at the stove, "I'm only nineteen. This technically isn't legal."
Emily responds by pressing her lips against mine in a quick, wine-flavored kiss that leaves me dizzy. "It's fine," she murmurs, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "No one's driving, and I think we all deserve to relax a little."
The warmth of the wine spreads through my chest, making everything feel softer around the edges. The kitchen glows with amber light, and the aroma of garlic and bacon from Holly's carbonara fills the air. It's surreal, sitting here at this table with Emily's hand on my thigh while her daughter, my former classmate, cooks dinner for us.
Holly glances over her shoulder, her eyebrows rising as Emily tops off our glasses yet again. "You might want to slow down that faucet, Mom, he might get sick," she says, wooden spoon poised mid-stir.
"Nonsense," Emily replies with a dismissive wave. The wine sloshes dangerously close to the rim of her glass. "It's a special occasion."
Holly turns fully toward us now, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Do you drink a lot, Daniel?" she asks.
"This is my first time, actually," I admit, staring down at the crimson liquid in my glass.
Emily's eyes widen as she leans toward me, her hand squeezing my thigh under the table. "Your mother never let you sneak even a little taste growing up?"
"No, nothing like that," I reply, feeling the warmth creep up my neck.
Emily's lips curve into that smile, the one that makes my insides turn to liquid. She leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "Well then," she purrs, "it's a good thing I'm your mommy now, isn't it?"
Her eyes light up with unmistakable hunger, the blue darkening as her hand slides higher on my thigh. The look on her face tells me she's ready to abandon dinner entirely for something far more appetizing.
Holly sighs loudly from the stove, the wooden spoon clattering against the pot. "Mother, please hold it together for dinner," she says, her voice dripping with exasperation. "The pasta will be ready in five minutes, and I'd prefer if you both kept your clothes on until after we eat."
I nearly choke on my wine as I shift awkwardly in my seat. Emily just laughs, the sound light and musical as she withdraws her wandering hand, though not without a final, promising squeeze.
"Sorry, sweetheart," Emily says, not sounding sorry at all. She takes another generous sip of wine, her lipstick leaving a crimson crescent on the glass. "The carbonara smells sublime."
Holly turns back to the stove, giving the pasta one final stir before removing it from the heat. The sound of her cooking fills the comfortable silence between us. Emily's fingers trace lazy patterns on my knee beneath the table, and I feel a pleasant buzz settling over me, whether from the wine or her touch, I'm not entirely sure.
A few minutes later, Holly approaches with three plates balanced expertly along her arm. "Dinner is served," she announces, setting them down with surprising grace. The pasta glistens with a silky sauce, flecks of black pepper, and bits of crispy bacon scattered throughout. The scent alone makes my mouth water.
I take my first bite and nearly groan. The creamy sauce coats my tongue, rich with cheese and the smoky flavor of bacon. It's easily the best thing I've eaten in months.
"Holly, this is incredible," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "You're really talented."
Her eyes widen slightly behind her glasses, as if my compliment caught her off guard. For a moment, the cool calculation disappears, replaced by something that looks almost like genuine pleasure.
"Thanks," she says, ducking her head slightly. "It's just carbonara. Not exactly rocket science."
Emily digs into her carbonara with enthusiasm, twirling massive forkfuls and closing her eyes with each bite. I've never seen her eat with such abandon before, she's usually so careful, so measured with everything.
"This is divine, Holly," she gushes, sauce clinging to the corner of her mouth. Her words slur slightly as she reaches for more wine. "Absolutely divine!"
She beams at Holly across the table, her eyes glassy with emotion and alcohol. "So you're finally ready to move past everything? To be mother and daughter again?"
I try to focus on eating, but the room has started spinning. My vision blurs around the edges, the wine must be hitting me harder than I thought it would. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself, fork clattering against my plate.
Holly's face remains impassive as she sets down her fork. "No, Mother. I'm not ready for that."
The coldness in her voice cuts through my wine-induced haze. I try to blink away the double vision, but now there are two Hollys sitting across from me, both wearing identical expressions of detachment.
Emily's smile falters, her eyelids drooping suddenly. "But... the dinner... you said..." Her words trail off as her head dips forward.
"Emily?" I manage to slur out, my tongue feeling three sizes too large.
Emily doesn't respond. Her eyes flutter closed as her head slumps forward onto her folded arms. The wine glass tips over, spilling crimson across the white tablecloth like blood.
"Holly?" I croak, struggling to focus as the room tilts sideways. My limbs feel impossibly heavy, like they're filled with cement. "What's happening to Emily?"
Holly moves around the table with calm, deliberate steps. "She's fine, Dan. She just fell asleep. The wine hit her pretty hard."
Something's wrong. My thoughts swim through molasses, disconnected and sluggish. I try to stand, but my legs buckle, sending me crashing back into the chair.
"Emily," I slur, reaching for her slumped form. My hand falls short, flopping uselessly on the table. "We need to... help..."
"Shh," Holly soothes, suddenly beside me. Her hand strokes my hair with gentle, familiar touches. "Everything's okay."
She slides onto my lap, her weight settling against me. The gesture is so intimate, so unexpected, that my foggy brain struggles to make sense of it.
"Holly?" I mumble, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
Her face hovers inches from mine, but something's different. Her features shift and blur, transforming before my eyes.
"No, silly," she whispers, cupping my face between her palms. "Don't you recognize me? It's me, Emily."
I stare at her, confusion washing over me in waves. The woman on my lap has Holly's brown hair, Holly's wire-rimmed glasses, but speaks in Emily's voice, uses Emily's mannerisms.
"But your hair," I manage, my tongue thick and uncooperative. "It's brown. And you have glasses."
She laughs, Emily's laugh, musical and light, as she stands, taking my hands and pulling me to my feet. The room spins violently, but she steadies me, guiding me toward the living room.
"Come sit with me on the couch," she says, her arm around my waist supporting most of my weight. "You're not feeling well."
I collapse onto the cushions, my head lolling back as she settles beside me. The ceiling swirls in mesmerizing patterns above me.
"What's happening?" I ask, my voice sounding distant and unfamiliar to my own ears.
She leans close, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers in that motherly tone that always makes me melt. "Nothing to worry about, Danny. I've got you."
Her fingers trace my jawline, just like Emily does. Her touch feels like home, like safety.
"I wouldn't lie to you, Danny, would I?" she murmurs, pressing her body against mine.
Despite the fog enveloping my brain, something deep inside me recognizes the truth in those words. Emily never lies to me. Emily keeps me safe. Emily loves me.
"Of course not, Emily," I whisper.
Her fingers move to my belt, tugging at the buckle. The metal clinks as she works it open, and a drowsy smile spreads across my face.
"Wait," I mumble, my tongue feeling thick and uncooperative. "We can't... Holly's somewhere around..."
"Holly won't mind," Emily purrs, sliding my zipper down with a sound that seems impossibly loud in the quiet room. Her fingers hook into my waistband, tugging my pants down my thighs.
Cool air hits my exposed skin, and despite my foggy state, my cock responds immediately, hardening under her gaze. Something about her expression shifts, surprise, maybe confusion, but my vision blurred at the edges, making it hard to be sure.
She wraps her fingers around my length, studying it with an intensity that makes heat pool in my stomach despite my disoriented state.
"This is all you're working with?" she asks, her tone curious rather than cruel.
The question pierces through my haze. "You... you said it was good," I manage, hurt creeping into my voice. "You always said it was perfect as is."
Something flickers across her face, recognition or realization, before her expression softens. "Of course it is," she says quickly, stroking me with more confidence now. "It's absolutely perfect, Danny. Just the right size for me."
Her touch feels different somehow, but I can't place why. My head rolls back against the couch as pleasure mingles with the wine. The ceiling spins above me, and I close my eyes to make the vertigo stop.
"That's it," she whispers, her voice an anchor in my swimming consciousness. "Let Mommy take care of you."
I moan softly as her grip tightens, her thumb circling the sensitive head. The rhythm is unfamiliar but still feels amazing through the pleasant numbness spreading through my limbs.
"Look at me, Danny," she commands, and I force my heavy eyelids open.
For a disorienting moment, I see Emily's loving eyes behind Holly's wire-rimmed glasses, white hair blending with brown, features shifting and merging until I can't tell where one woman ends and the other begins.
"So beautiful," I slur, reaching up to touch her face. My fingers brush against her cheek, and she catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.
"You're so easy to please," she murmurs against my skin. "So trusting. That's cute."
The world tilts and blurs as she reaches over to the bookshelf, placing her phone among the books.
"What're you doing?" I mumble, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
She turns back to me with a smile that seems to stretch and contract in my vision. "Just filming memories, baby."
"We haven't done that yet." Heat rises to my cheeks as the implication of my own words hits me. "I mean... before."
Her laugh fills the room, light and musical. "No?" Emily cradles my face between her palms, her touch both familiar and somehow new. "We're making all kinds of firsts tonight."
When her lips meet mine, I respond instinctively, but everything feels off-kilter. I go slow, exploring this kiss that should be familiar but isn't quite right. Her mouth tastes different, not worse. Just... not the same.
"Can we try roleplaying something unusual tonight?" she whispers against my lips, her fingers tangling in my hair.
The room spins pleasantly around us as I nod. "Anything, baby." The word slurs slightly, but I mean it. I'd do anything for Emily.
She pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, her expression both playful and hungry. "Can you call me Holly?"
I blink, trying to process her request through the pleasant haze enveloping my brain. "Your daughter's name?"
Her smile widens, and for a second, I see something calculating flash behind her eyes before it's gone, replaced by Emily's familiar warmth. "Kinky, right?"
I blush harder, my alcohol-soaked brain struggling to keep up. This is weird, isn't it? But Emily looks so hopeful, so excited by the idea.
"Yeah, but if that makes you happy, sure... Holly."
The name feels strange on my tongue, forbidden and exciting all at once. She rewards me with another kiss, deeper this time, more insistent. Her hands roam across my chest, unbuttoning my shirt with nimble fingers that don't quite move the way Emily's usually do.
"Holly," I repeat, my tongue feeling clumsy and oversized in my mouth. She smiles at me.
She stands suddenly, her fingers working at her own clothes. The buttons of her blouse come undone one by one, revealing smooth skin beneath. When she reaches behind to unclasp her bra, it falls away quickly, almost urgently.
Her breasts spill free, and through my hazy vision, I notice they're smaller than I remember, but still perfect, perky, and topped with rosy nipples that harden in the cool air.
"Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice honey-sweet in my ears.
"God, yes," I slur, leaning forward. My head feels impossibly heavy as I move to take one of those perfect nipples into my mouth.
"No," she says, placing a hand on my chest and gently pushing me back. Discomfort briefly flashes across her face.
She climbs onto the couch, straddling me awkwardly. Her hand disappears between her legs, and I watch, mesmerized, as she begins touching herself. There's something mechanical about her movements, almost clinical. She's not getting lost in pleasure the way Emily usually does, it's more like she's following instructions from a manual.
"Hold on," she whispers, her breath hitching.
"Okay," I mumble, trying to focus on her face. The room won't stop spinning.
She stops touching herself, leaning forward until her lips brush my ear. "Could we try one more thing?" Her voice trembles slightly.
"Sure," I manage, willing to do anything she asks. This is Emily, after all. My Emily.
"Can you force me?" The words come out in a rush.
My foggy brain struggles to catch up. "What?"
She pulls back to look into my eyes, and for a second, I see something uncertain in her gaze. "I want you to make me submit." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I want you to roleplay raping me."
"That's... that's a lot, isn't it?" I stammer, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.
"No, baby," she rushes to reassure me. "I really want it." Her eyes search mine desperately. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you? My clients do it with me all the time."
Jealousy stabs through my drunken haze, sharp enough to momentarily clear my thoughts. Her clients do this with her? The idea of other men playing out this fantasy with Emily makes my stomach twist.
"Okay," I mumble, "'ll do it."
She shifts on my lap, adjusting her position with an eagerness that feels off somehow. "Really sell it, alright? It's okay if you hurt me a little."
The thought of causing her pain, even in pretend, shatters something inside me. My vision blurs. A hot tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it.
She freezes, her expression shifting from anticipation to confusion. "Hey, baby," she whispers, brushing the tear away with her thumb. Her touch is gentle, almost maternal. "Are you crying at the thought of hurting me?"
I look up at her, trying to focus on her face through my swimming vision. "I'm sorry, Emily," I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "I mean... Holly."
Her eyes widen slightly, confusion flickering across her features. "What?"
"You said to call you Holly." My words slur together, the room still spinning around us. "For the roleplay."
"No, I mean..." She pauses, her hand still cradling my face. "Thinking of hurting me makes you sad?"
The question cuts through my foggy brain. "Of course it does." The answer comes automatically, honest and raw. "I don't ever want to hurt you."
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. Her thumb traces my bottom lip with a gentleness that feels both familiar and new. For a long moment, she just studies my face, like she's seeing something she never expected to find.
"Say you love me," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
"I love you," I respond without hesitation.
She shakes her head slightly, her fingers trembling against my skin. "No, say it with my name."
I blink slowly, trying to focus. "I love you, Em…"
"Wrong name," she interrupts, her voice catching.
I reach up, cupping her face. Her skin is soft, warm under my touch. I stare into those blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, searching for the truth.
"I love you, Holly," I whisper.
Her eyes darken instantly, a hunger flashing across her face that wasn't there before, raw and unfiltered desire replacing her calculated performance. Her lips part slightly, a small gasp escaping her.
"Oh..." she breathes, her voice trembling. "So this is what it feels like. I see."
"What?" I ask, confusion cutting through the fog.
She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she pulls me toward her, crushing her mouth against mine in a kiss that's nothing like the hesitant ones before. This is hungry, desperate, almost violent in its intensity. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me in place as she devours me.
When she finally breaks away, we're both gasping for air. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with desire.
"Keep telling me you love me," she demands, her voice husky and raw. "Say it again."
"I love you, Holly," I repeat, the name feeling more natural on my tongue this time.
"You love me," she whispers, more to herself than to me. "Not her. Me."
Her words echo in my brain, bouncing around like a pinball as the room continues to spin. Something about this feels wrong, but the wine in my system makes it impossible to focus. All I know is that the Emily on my lap looks at me with such desperate need that it awakens something primal inside me.
"Fuck me, Daniel," she breathes against my mouth, her hands sliding down my chest. "Take me right now."
I nod, unable to form coherent words as she positions herself over me. Her eyes never leave mine as she guides my cock to her entrance. She's slick, but when she begins to sink down, I feel resistance I don't remember being there before. She winces slightly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"Are you okay?" I manage to slur out, my hands finding her hips to steady her.
She nods quickly, determination flashing across her features as she pushes down further. The tightness is incredible, almost painful in its intensity. I groan as she envelops me completely, her inner walls gripping me like a vice.
"Fuck," she gasps, her eyes widening behind those wire-rimmed glasses. "I guess it was enough after all."
I don't understand what she means, but coherent thought is beyond me now. All I can focus on is the exquisite feeling of being inside Emily. My hips begin to move instinctively, thrusting upward as she rocks against me.
She feels different, tighter, even. Her breasts bounce with each movement. When I reach up to cup one, she gasps, arching into my touch like she's never felt anything so wonderful.
"Oh god," she whimpers, her head falling back as she rides me with increasing urgency.
Her words dissolve into incoherent moans as she finds her rhythm, her body trembling each time I hit a particular spot deep inside her. I grab her hips harder, guiding her movements as I thrust upward with all the coordination I can muster in my intoxicated state.
"Look at me, Danny," she gasps, her voice taking on that maternal quality that makes my spine tingle. "Put me on my back and choke me."
"What?" I manage, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth.
She slides off me in one fluid motion, lying back on the couch and pulling me on top of her. Her fingers guide my hands to her throat, positioning them with surprising precision.
"Like this," she whispers, her blue eyes locked on mine behind those wire-rimmed glasses. "Choke me while you fuck me."
I hesitate, my hands trembling against her delicate skin. My fingers rest on her neck, but I can't bring myself to apply pressure.
Her expression softens, something like wonder flickering across her features.
"This is good enough," she whispers, her hand covering mine where it rests on her throat. "Just keep your hands there. Close your eyes, pretend to be mad, and pound hard into me."
I nod, positioning myself between her thighs again. Her warmth welcomes me as I slide back inside, the tightness still surprising me. I close my eyes as instructed, trying to summon anger that simply isn't there. All I feel is love, overwhelming and complete.
My hips begin to move, driving into her with increasing force. My hands remain on her throat, not squeezing but present, a symbol of control I don't really want.
My face contorts into what I hope is a fearsome scowl, but it feels ridiculous, like a child playing monster. Her body beneath mine feels so right, so perfect. The hands on her throat, the angry expression, none of it feels like me, but I want to please her so badly.
"I love you," I whisper as I finally reopen my eyes.
Her eyes fly open next, locking onto mine with startling intensity. Those blue orbs behind wire-rimmed glasses widen, and something inside me shatters. The pressure builds at the base of my spine without warning, unstoppable and overwhelming.
"Holly!" I cry out as I explode inside her, remembering her request to use that name even as my vision goes white at the edges. My hips jerk forward uncontrollably, emptying everything I have into her welcoming heat.
When I open my eyes, she's transformed beneath me. Her face is flushed, her brown hair fanning out across the couch cushions. Her back arches sharply, her inner walls clenching around me in rhythmic pulses as she follows me over the edge. She looks... transcendent. Beautiful in a way I've never seen before, lost in her own pleasure.
"Daniel," she gasps, her voice higher than Emily's, younger somehow. "Oh god, Daniel!"
Time slips around me like water, moments blurring together as I collapse on top of her. My head feels impossibly heavy, my thoughts swimming through syrup. The ceiling above us seems to pulse and breathe. I'm vaguely aware of her body beneath mine, still trembling with aftershocks.
"That was..." she whispers, her voice trailing off as her fingers find their way to my hair.
I nuzzle against her chest, seeking the familiar comfort of Emily's warmth. Her heartbeat thunders against my ear, rapid and strong. Something feels different, the softness beneath my cheek, the scent of her skin, but all I know is that I feel safe here, loved here.
Her fingers stroke through my hair with gentle, hesitant motions. Not quite the practiced maternal touch I'm used to, but soothing nonetheless. I let my eyes drift closed, surrendering to the pleasant weight pulling me toward unconsciousness.
"That was amazing," she coos above me, her voice filled with wonder. Through my half-closed eyes, I can see her staring down at me, her pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the blue behind her glasses.
"Thanks," I mumble, the word slurring as it leaves my lips. "Love you, Emily."
Her body tenses slightly beneath me, but I'm already drifting away, unable to hold onto consciousness any longer. Nothing matters except the warmth enveloping me, pulling me down into blissful darkness.
As sleep claims me, I hear her whisper something that doesn't quite penetrate the fog of my mind. Her fingers continue their gentle exploration of my hair, tentative and curious, like someone touching something precious for the first time.
The darkness deepens, and I surrender completely, falling into dreamless sleep with a smile on my lips, content in the knowledge that Emily is here, that I am loved, that I am home.
*****
[Holly's POV]
The weight of my phone feels strange in my trembling hands. After staging a scene in my mother's room to make it look like she and Daniel fucked I retreat to my bedroom, locking the door behind me before collapsing onto my bed. My heart won't stop racing, thundering against my ribcage like it's trying to escape. I can still feel Daniel's touch lingering on my skin, the ghost of his lips against mine, the fullness of him inside me.
"Fuck," I whisper, pressing my palm against my chest.
I tap the screen and open the video app, watching the footage I just captured in the living room. There I am on my back, Daniel on top of me, his hands resting on my throat, his face twisted in that adorably unconvincing attempt at looking aggressive.
"I love you," his voice echoes from the speaker.
I pause the video, staring at his face frozen on my screen. Those eyes, even closed, were so earnest, so gentle. Nothing like what I'd planned.
"I can't believe he fucked up my plans that bad," I mutter, flopping back against my pillows.
The scheme had been so perfect in my head. Drug them both with pills I crushed into the food, stage a fake rape scene with Daniel as the aggressor, film the whole thing, then show Mother the evidence of her precious boyfriend's "true nature." She would be devastated, heartbroken, and I would finally have my revenge for all those years of humiliation.
But Daniel... stupid, sweet Daniel with his puppy dog eyes and his refusal to hurt me even in pretend. The way he even shed a tear at the thought of causing me pain. The way he whispered that he loved me, not as part of some game, but like he meant it.
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. My body still aches pleasantly, a new sensation I wasn't prepared for. This wasn't supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be mechanical, a means to an end.
I scroll back through the video on my phone, watching the key moments unfold with a mixture of disbelief and unexpected satisfaction. This was supposed to be my ultimate weapon against my mother, irrefutable evidence of her boyfriend's betrayal.
"Well, it's not all bad, I guess. I can still use this to blackmail him."