I walked casually up to workstation whilst manipulating my iphone.“What I want for you is to transfer five thousand pounds to this account number,” I tossed my phone on her desk.Bethany’s mouth turned down.“I knew it would be about the money,” she sighed.“Oh come on mother; you enjoyed our little soiree in the coffeehouse as much as I did,” I reached out and squeezed a buttock.Mother snatched my hand away.“What you made me do was disgusting!” she hissed.“Just transfer the money and daddy won’t need to know about you and uncle Roger,” I chuckled.Bethany bought up the webpage for her private bank account on the screen and transferred the funds. As soon as I saw her execute the transfer I snatched up my phone and used my banking app to transfer the money immediately into another account. I didn’t want my mother to know where I kept my money.“So is that it now Nathan? Have you finished blackmailing your mother?” she said scornfully.I ignored her; my attention was taken by a package on her. Instead, he'd made me remain completely passive while he touched me. I didn't "do" anything. I'd loved it, and I didn't know what to think about it.Mom had always raised me and my sister Vickie to be strong independent women. She'd caught the edges of the feminist movement in the 70's and probably would have gone into politics herself if not for us. She'd been torn between her ideals and her strong sense that she needed to stay home to raise us. Her compromise was to teach her daughters her ideals and urge us to live the life she'd been too afraid to.That had worked for Vickie. She was in Washington as a lobbyist these days, deliriously happy with her 80 hour work weeks and her tiny Dupont Circle apartment. I'd rebelled. I found boys just too much fun to not hang around with, and when I did, they seemed just as lost and confused as the girls. The one compromise I'd made for mom was that I never let a boy get the upper hand. There was no date until I wanted a date, no kiss until I.
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