24 Inches: A MFM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  Now there are gasps in the studio as well.

  "That's right folks," I say to the camera and the studio staff. "This shit is pretty big. So, Stacy was hired to fuck me on camera and get me into a situation. She was hired by none other than Lorna. Who then came up to me and tried to get me to repair my image by investing in a ponzi scheme that would have kept her criminal enterprise going on forever."

  I pause for a second to let it sink in.

  "But wait," I say with a smirk. "Let's just say that's all true, which it is. I still have the issue of being married to this woman and fucking her daughter, right?"

  I pause for a moment. I can see the amount of consternation in the boardroom. I put the laptop on mute, but people are standing up and backing away from Lorna who is sitting crumpled in a corner, defeated.

  "Well, I did some more digging there after I found Stacy Sawyer, and you'd be surprised what I found," I say and look to my left. "I'd like you meet a man I met in northern Canada. His name is Daniel Hoover, and he's the supposed late husband of Lorna Lowell."

  Now I see Lorna perk up and look at the screen. It's not bad enough that she lost her Kane Price gambit.

  Now she's going to lose everything else.

  "Daniel Hoover is the biological father of the woman I love who is carrying my child, Becca Lowell," I say. "Many years ago, he was forced to fake his own suicide to get away from his horrible wife. He's been living quietly in Northern Canada, but when I mentioned to him that his daughter needed help, he was more than willing to come to New York with me. Say hello, Daniel."

  Daniel is a lot more nervous than Stacy was. But he manages a, "Uhm, hey Becca. Hello, everyone."

  And that's it. There are too many people in the boardroom yelling and shouting and screaming according to the camera on my laptop.

  I had called the cops earlier and the last thing I see before it gets too crowded are two uniformed NYPD officers enter the boardroom.

  I only have one last thing to do now.

  "Listen, America, I'm sorry, okay?" I say to the camera. "Even if it was a trap, I should have controlled myself better. My enemies knew just how to manipulate me. But I'm not cheating on my wife with her daughter because I'm not married. And I did smell out a ponzi scheme and hopefully end the career of an international financial criminal like Ms. Lowell. But despite all that, I want you to know that I'll be trying to do better."

  And the last bit.

  "Because the final thing I have to say to the country is this. After everything I've gone through, I'd gladly do it again. Because I met the love of my life in the process. And her name is Becca Lowell," I say and give a long pause. "Thank you."

  The producer cuts the taping and I swear to God the entire studio starts clapping and cheering.

  I stand up and take a moment to bask in the adulation.

  Back in the day, I would have fucking loved it. Maybe even fucked Stacy again.

  But now, there's only one woman for me.

  And I need to get to her right now.

  Becca

  It's utterly unbelievable what's going on. Actually, unbelievable doesn't even begin to describe what is going on.

  Mom—Lorna—is sitting at the front of the conference room, her eyes on the television as it's playing Market Pulse. The anchors that took over are understandably stunned. For a full few minutes they did nothing but just replay sections from Mason's little speech that seems to have broken Wall Street.

  Trading has been light, apparently. It seems traders don't know what to do so they've been sitting on their money and not buying or selling anything with the exception of one company.

  Kane Price.

  That's right. The stock has climbed up nearly 34% since Mason started talking. It really started to climb once he left.

  He sent me a text about ten minutes ago also. Told me that he was on his way.

  People that have been trying to leave the conference room have been stopped.

  "No one comes in or out until Mason Kane gets here, folks," the detective from the NYPD says as he stands at the door with two uniformed officers.

  No one has approached Mom since Mason started talking. In fact, they've given her a wide berth.

  It's not every day that someone is accused and proven to be running a company that's conducting a ponzi scheme at the international level.

  I'm just trying to process all this information.

  I never had a clue that it was so big.

  "How did you end up working for Red Lion Aviation?" the anchor is asking Stacy Sawyer on television. She stayed back after Mason left. She said she was there to answer any questions, but just between you and me, babe, I think she's just trying to capitalize on the situation and resurrect any sort of public image that she had.

  "Well, I was approached by representatives of Ms. Lowell one evening," Stacy says slowly. "It turns out I had gone out with a few girlfriends for drinks after work one night and I was talking to some guy. I don't even remember who. But the next thing I knew was that whatever I had drunk had put me to sleep and when I woke up I was naked on a bed with three men having sex with me. They were filming it."

  "And so it was blackmail?" the anchor asks her. She nods, tears coming down her face.

  "I think now that I was set up," she says and the anchorman nods sympathetically as she continues. "They offered me a lot of money if I cooperated. And if I didn't they threatened to destroy my career. There was only one thing left to do."

  I don't know what to believe at this point, but I have to say that it does sound in line with what I've seen this woman who once claimed to be my mother do.

  That leaves one question remaining that I need answers to.

  I start walking the length of the room toward Mom.

  Unlike before, where no one could recognize me, this time everyone is watching me as I walk forward. People that are standing around talking in hushed voices part for me as I walk up to her.

  Mom looks up at me.

  She's been crying.

  Her whole body seems defeated.

  But there's still no love in those eyes. No remorse. Rather a regret at having been caught.

  "Did you know he was still alive?" I ask her, my eyes searching her face.

  She looks at me for a moment and then shakes her head. "He must have wanted to get away from me bad enough that he literally killed himself. Only he didn't."

  "Didn't you ever view the body?" I ask.

  "I never even attended the funeral," she says, almost with a distracted air.

  "The way Daniel put it to me, she wanted him dead so badly that when someone told her he was, she believed it because she wanted to," a voice says behind me and I turn around.

  It's Mason.

  All the last four days of waiting and the last harrowing hour of emotional ups and downs comes crashing down and all I can do is wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.

  His arms hold me tightly for what seems like forever.

  That's fine by me. After everything we've been through I never want him to let me go.

  But eventually he does. And he looks at me.

  "Your father is at one of my hotels close by to here," Mason says, looking me in the eyes. "You can go see him whenever you like but he's asked if you wanted to take it slow, he's okay."

  I nod. Instead of rushing over to go see him, it makes sense to discuss the whole thing with Mason first.

  "He knew you were alive and had kept tabs on you but he never wanted to cause you any harm by coming back into your life and upsetting Lorna," he says, looking over at her. "Even though she said she never wanted you, at the time she made sure to make it clear that if he ever left her, she would keep you."

  "She only must have done that to come out on top," I say slowly, as it dawns on me how incredibly fucked up my life really was. "To hurt him. The final insult."

  Mason nods his head. "That's been her MO throughout her life. Don't just take, but completely destroy," he says to me. But t
his time, his eyes stay on Mom. "Isn't that right, Lorna?"

  She looks at Mason with blank and vacant eyes. She's not used to losing so completely.

  "I hope you're happy, Mason," she says. "You had to scorch the earth in order to beat me. I'll be surprised if there is even a Kane Price left six months from now."

  Mason lets go of my shoulders and steps away from me.

  "You've been trying to get your grubby little paws on this company ever since you caused your father's death," he says to her. "And that stops today."

  "And you're the one who will stop me, Mason?" Mom asks, with the hint of a smile. "You're forgetting why I'm even here in the first place. I hold more stock in this company than anyone else except for you. There's nothing you can do about that."

  "Stock that immediately loses voting rights and is liquidated in the event that you attempt to prevail against the interests of the corporation," Mason says as if he's been holding that one in for a while. "Or, if you go to jail."

  That's when the two uniformed officers arrive.

  "In this case, Lorna, both charges go very well against you," Mason concludes. "And that paper ownership certificate you have in Kane Price might as well be used for toiled paper in prison, since they don't provide you with any when you run out."

  Mason nods to the detective who nods to the uniformed officers and they approach Mom.

  "Lorna Lowell," the larger of the NYPD uniformed officers says as he takes out a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest for attempted conspiracy to commit fraud, money laundering, gross and egregious violations of the USA Patriot Act, and for violating multiple instances of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act."

  "You have the right to remain silent," another officer says as he starts reading her Miranda rights.

  As the officer begins to read the woman I know as in various stages as Mom, or Lorna Lowell, I turn back to Mason.

  He looks at me.

  I can't help it. I don't care if everyone in this room is either watching us or pretending to wait till the cops are done so they can surreptitiously watch us.

  No. I don't care about any of that anymore.

  And neither does Mason.

  His mouth comes down lower, toward mine.

  I close my eyes as his eyelids droop and before I know it, his lips are on mine. I feel the pressure of his body against me as he pulls me closer.

  I can feel his cock twitch. That's how guys usually describe that, right? Well, it's twitching against me, growing larger and larger.

  I feel Mason's tongue part my lips and slowly begin to massage my own.

  After several long seconds, we break away. We're both panting.

  "I only have one wish left," he says, grinning at me as he says so.

  Don't roll your eyes, but I know that wish that he has.

  I have it too.

  I want him to take me somewhere and fuck my brains out.

  But I don't say anything. Everything has been resolved to an extent and there is nothing left to say.

  So instead, I do.

  I take his hand and I press it against my crotch. I position his hand so his fingers are right over the fabric of my skirt covering my pussy lips.

  "You have a wish, babe, just keep rubbing it right there," I tell him, giving him a mischievous smile. "If you rub long enough, your wish might come true."

  Mason smiles at my attempts to be a brat.

  He wastes no time, grabbing me by the arms.

  "Come on," he says to me. "Lets get out of here."

  The path is cleared now that the cops have dragged Mom away and Mason leads me out of the conference room as well.

  I have no idea where we're going. But I follow.

  And I can't help but comment, "Yes, Daddy."

  Becca

  Happiness. Joy. Ecstasy.

  I feel all that and then some more as I step inside the limo with Mason, ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime with the most perfect man by my side. Remember when I found out that he was to be my stepfather? When everything seemed so hopeless? Well, it worked out. All of it. Even though my mother tried hard to crush us, we pulled through. I should be devastated because of my mother, and in a sense, I am, but you can’t choose family. What you can choose, though, is where to place your love. And I know exactly where I’ve placed mine.

  I rest my hand on top of Mason’s and, looking into his eyes, I realize that I can’t wait for us to get back home. I need him now, and when I say now, I mean right now. I slide myself over the seat, closing the gap between us, and place my hand right on his crotch. In two heartbeats, I feel his cock hardening under my fingers, straining against the fabric of his pants. Smiling, I curl my fingers around his thick shape and press hard on it.

  “Someone’s very eager…” he says, placing one hand on my knee and sliding it up until it meets the hem of my dress. I shiver softly at his touch, the sting of desire striking me at point blank.

  “You can’t imagine how much,” I tell him, squeezing his cock more harshly than I probably should. I just can’t help myself.

  “Lucky for you, baby girl…” he whispers at me, a wicked grin dawning on his lips, “I’m just like you; I can’t wait.” With that, he slides his hand under my dress and only stops when he has his fingers pressed tight against my pussy. I grow wet in a fraction of a second, my thong dampening immediately. Biting on my lower lip, I let an expression of desire take over my face and lean into him, crushing my mouth against his.

  Forcing his tongue past my lips, he pushes it inside of my mouth and runs it in soft gentle circles around my own. We start slow and tenderly, but our kiss quickly degenerates into wildness; we start to kiss as if we are possessed and, really, we are. We are possessed by lust and love; and above all, we are possessed by happiness.

  As we kiss, Mason presses his hand harder against my pussy and, with a quick flick of his fingers, he pushes my thong to the side. I pant as I feel his index finger brushing against my pussy lips and, when he presses it over my clit, I go completely mad and nibble at his bottom lip, pulling it back with my teeth.

  Taking one hand to my hair, he yanks on it and, at the same time, slides his finger all the way inside of my pussy. I press my legs together, trapping his hand in place, and he pushes his finger even deeper inside of me, his fingertip rubbing against my G-spot. As he touches me there, the gentle flames of pleasure and desire start raging and raging, turning my mind into a furnace.

  “I’m going to fuck you right here,” he says, hunger in his voice, “I can’t wait. I really can’t, baby girl.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” I say, my voice quivering as he rubs his fingertip against my G-spot. Flicking his wrist, he starts to move his finger in and out of my pussy, always pushing it all the way in until it’s touching that sweet hidden spot in my body.

  Anxiety rushing through my veins, I start to stroke him over his pants and then, not satisfied with it, I unbuckle his belt with trembling fingers. Tugging on his pants, I force the zipper to go down and, moving fast, I slide my hand under his boxer briefs and grab his thick mast. My skin prickles as I feel his warmness, his shaft pulsing against my fingers, and I start to move my hand up and down at a furious pace.

  Throwing my head back against the headrest, I grit my teeth and hiss furiously, my pussy clenching around his fingers. He feels me on the verge, and so he presses his fingertips tighter against my G-spot; just like that, I come undone. I have to clench my teeth in order not to scream, all the muscles in my body twitching as if I’ve just been shocked.

  “Fuck!” I moan in a low tone, opening my eyes and looking at him with anticipation and pleasure flickering in my eyes.

  “That’s the right word,” he grins, sliding his fingers out of me. “And we’re just getting started, baby girl,” he continues, taking his fingers to my mouth and brushing them over my lips. Without even knowing what I’m doing, I part my lips and allow him to slide his fingers inside of my mouth and, as he pulls them back, I suck the
m dry. My own flavor and scent hits me at once, coating my tongue and making my head spin.

  Moving like a wild animal, I lean into him and, pulling his boxer briefs down, I grab his cock and point it straight at my mouth. I place my lips against his glans, lapping at it with my tongue, and then just push my mouth down until I feel my lips touching the skin around the base of his cock.

  I hold my position there until my lungs are screaming for air, and only then do I move back. As my lips are around his glans again, I start to bob my head up and down his cock, sucking him as fiercely as is humanly possible. I’m not sucking or blowing him; what I’m doing is devouring him. He likes to say that my pussy is delicious, but let me tell you this: if there’s anything delicious in this world, it’s his cock. Swear to God, I could suck on it for hours and hours.

  I suck on him hard and, if he didn’t grab me by the hair and forced me to stop, I would just keep going until he came in my mouth. As it is, he pushes my head back, but I simply can’t control myself. If I can’t have him in my mouth, then I need him in my pussy.

  Moving with cat-like movements I climb on top of him, spreading my legs and straddling him. Before he can even react, I grab at his cock and angle it upward; with my other hand, I flick my thong to the side and push his glans against my wetness. He holds me by the hips as I try to ease myself down; then, grinning, he only allows me to rub my pussy with the tip of his cock. He’s torturing me, and loving every single second of it.

  “Please,” I moan, repeating the word over and over again until he finally surrenders to me. Easing up the pressure on my hips, he allows me to go down and, just like that, I impale myself on his cock, his shaft sliding easily inside of my pussy. I guess that after so many times fucking him, my own insides are growing accustomed to how it feels to have a massive cock inside of me.

  I start to sway my hips like a mad woman, placing my arms over his shoulders as I ride him. He places his hands on my ass, hiking my dress up to my waist. As I keep on rocking my hips, he pushes the string of thong that covers my ass to the side, and starts to brush one fingertip along my crack. I go even faster, riding as if tomorrow would never come, and he presses down on my asshole. I tremble and shiver, my skin prickling as I feel his touch, and a deep moan climbs up my throat.