I straighten my hair and take a look at myself in the mirror as I wait for David to meet me. I'm at the Cardinal Club right outside Stanford University and the place screams old money. Oak paneled walls and overstuffed leather chairs. The kind of place that they wouldn't allow women into fifty years ago, you know?

David's meeting me here because he suggested it would be the easiest. There's nowhere on campus for a stepmother to spend the night if she wants to visit her son.

Every place I seem to go to though seems to have Steven's shadow hanging over it.

Sorry, you have no idea who Steven is, do you?

Let me take a step back.

My name is Christina Worthington, and I'm the widow of Steven Worthington. The billionaire who brought natural gas as a viable energy source to America.

I say widow, because by now you realize who I'm talking about and how the newspapers discovered him. Having a heart attack in a cheap San Francisco hotel room with a male prostitute. The tabloids loved it and every day the New York Daily Journal kept coming up with headlines that made me cringe. I didn't leave the house for a week until I absolutely had to — and the only reason I absolutely had to was because of work.

Well, work, and this meeting with David.

The lawyer that drafted the paperwork sent it to me to deliver because as the widow  of Steven, apparently I have to sign somewhere that I'm comfortable with the fact that I will receive no money upon his death.

That's right. Not only did he carry out an affair with me for God knows how many years, but he married me promising me that he would always take care of me. And he left me with nothing. It all goes to David. I don't know if the will was ever changed or if I was just never in it in the first place but I do know that it's the type of thing that the old me would have never realized to check.

You might laugh, but I was in love when I first met Steven. He was brash and worldly. I was just a young woman — with no experience in men. He swept me off my feet and by the time I came back down to earth, I was already a married woman realizing the horrible marriage I had gotten myself into.

"Hey Christina," I hear the familiar voice and I look over. I can't help but smile.

Even with all the cheating and complete lack of affection from Steven, I stayed with him. At first it was to try to be a good wife. But eventually, basically maybe three years ago, because I relished seeing David as he grew older.

I'm going to tell you right now that I don't feel embarrassed or ashamed for any of my actions or my desires.

David is everything that Steven wasn’t. He's tall. Broad shouldered. Rugged face. He played football in high school and he worked out while Steven let himself go. Seeing David next to the pool, laying out in the sun bronzing himself and seeing his 8-pack abs glisten, I realized there was a darker desire that kept me from leaving Steven.

I was attracted to his stepson.

I didn't feel bad.

I still don't.

David walks over to me. He eyes the package of papers that I'm holding.

"Is that it?" he asks.

I nod my head.

He sits down at my table, takes the papers, and pulls out a pen. This is billions of dollars we're talking about but David makes it seem like nothing.

"I want you to know that despite whatever my father ever did to you and however he made you feel, you'll always be taken care of. I'll make sure of it," he says as he signs. I can't believe the signing takes as little time as it does as he hands the papers to me to sign away my agreement that I'm not contesting the will.

"Thanks, but this death and revelation about...everything...was a real kick in the pants," I say with a wan smile. "I realized something."

"What's that?" David asks as I initial and sign. Just like that I've agreed that I'm done with Steven. I no longer have any claim to his money.

"I realized that I need to be able to stand on my own two feet," I say to him with a smile. "I need to be independent. I miss being free. When I was desired by others."

David chuckles. I frown. Is he laughing at me?

I don't view him as a stepson at all when he's laughing.

God, I don't even view him as anything more than a man. Who can shoot me to paradise.

"What’s so funny?" I ask.

David looks at me.

"You were always desirable," he says looking into my eyes. "You just didn't seem to believe it."

I blush. I can't help it. This 21 year old man is telling me that I'm desirable? Would he want to fuck me? Oh, my. With his face in between my legs? Making me come?

It would be perfect revenge for the woman who was humiliated in all the newspapers around the world.

But I wouldn't want it for revenge.

"All those times by the pool," David says, drawing closer. "You wearing those bikinis."

My heart skips a beat and I can feel a pounding in my ears. I can't believe this.

So close after the death of my bastard husband.

This is almost too good to be true.

David leans over, realizing that he hasn't been slapped yet and says with bolder words.

"Seeing your ass as you walked around used to get my cock so fucking hard, Christina."

I gulp. I look up at him.

"Do you talk to all women with that mouth?" I ask him.

"No," he says with a smile. "But I'm going to lick your pussy with it."

I'm thankful that I have a room where I spent last night here. Because with trembling legs I get up and take his hand. And begin to walk to my room without another word.

This is going to be fun.

Sinful. But fun.