Misc. Erotica MILF Apartments

Outside I found Brooke standing beside my fathers’ plush limousine. She had arrived at the service late and stood near the back. I smiled at her as I approached, grateful to see a familiar and friendly face. She grinned back, a small tight smile before smoothing out her features and opening the door.

“We have an appointment with your father’s attorney, young master,” she said, her words clipped and crisp.

“What about the wake?” I asked. I found her term of address oddly formal, and yet quite intimate.

“The wake will not begin for another two hours; we have plenty of time if the young master wished to attend after the meeting. Now, if you please,” she motioned in the car.

I climbed in with a sigh. I did want to meet with the lawyer, but I was getting a little tired of others telling me what to do all the time. That was one of the beautiful things about the trail, nowhere to be except right where I was.

As we drove across town, I sat and observed Brooke. The woman had come to work for my father right out of college and stood out, head and shoulders, above every other employee from sheer competence and intelligence. She had worked for him for ten years, and over the past three, had been practically running the whole company, from all that I could see.

She sat beside me in mourning blacks, but her usually austere and conservative business attire, was of a more stylish cut. She wore a knee-length skirt that was snug and hugged her slender hips. A short, finely tailored blazer covered a tight satiny top with a deep neckline that showed off her firm round cleavage.

As we drove, she studiously avoided my eyes, and I saw the driver glancing back in the mirror, a small smile on the woman’s lips. The longer we drove, and the more I stared at Brooke, the more her cheeks grew a faint shade of pink. She looked almost guilty, and I found myself becoming suspicious.

“Do you know what the lawyers going to say?” I asked her and didn’t fail to notice how the driver became alert, obviously listening in on our conversation.

“I know… some of it,” Brooke said, still looking out the window, “Your father consulted me about… some of it.”

“So, what final test does the old man have planned for me?” I meant it as a joke, but an edge of bitterness crept into my voice, and Brooke gave a violent start, finally glancing at me with wide eyes.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked, “He’s going to lay out some elaborate test in order for me to inherit anything?”

“Your father wants only the best for you,” Brooke said, her eyes held an intensity I’d never seen in her before, and it cut off the bitter words that bubbled up in my throat. “Please just hear the lawyer out and have some faith in your father.”

“Why? Because he did such a great job of being my dad when he was alive?”

“You’re right,” she said, once again stealing the wind from my sails with her tone, “He was a shit father, I can’t argue with you about that. But he was the best strategic thinker of his generation, and he had a strategy with you as well.” She held up a hand to quiet the angry outburst that was about to pour forth from my mouth, “You’re inside it, and can’t see the whole picture, but I have faith. I’ve watched you grow up these past years and have been impressed. I think you have it inside you to be as great a man as your father, if not greater, but I truly believe that will only happen if you agree to what the lawyer lays out.”

“You won’t tell me what that is?” I asked as we pulled up outside the law firm's offices. A pretty young secretary opened the doors and held them for me as I sat in the limo.

“You’re about to find out,” she said with a small smile, “I won’t spoil it.”

I shook my head at the woman and left the limo. I was ready to say no to the whole thing, whatever it was. I was in a foul mood as they lead me up to the large conference room. There, a small phalanx of lawyers waited with a pile of papers and a mountain of muffins and bagels.

Once I sat down, a single sheet of paper was placed before me. My eyes watered and breath caught when I noticed my father's crabbed handwriting and the words at the top.

Dear Son,

It may seem as though I have failed to give you a childhood, and that is true in many ways. The honest truth is, I didn’t know how to. Instead, I had you educated by the finest instructors in the art of learning systems and finding value. You have lived a life of privilege and comfort, but I have taken care to never spoil you or feed the greed that lies in every man’s heart. I believe you suspect what I know to be accurate; this life has made you weak.

I applaud your trek alone in the woods, but this is a purely selfish pursuit, as you will come to understand.

And so, we come to my final test and task for you.

For one year, you shall exist without access to any of your wealth or privilege. You shall live, manage, and be the superintendent for one of my apartment buildings in the city. Living in the building on a minimum wage income paid to you once a month. You will also attend the university nearby and maintain at least a 3.5 avg GPA for two semesters.

During that time, Whitaker Industries shall be held in trust and managed by someone of your choosing.

If you do not agree to my terms, then you shall have the trust fund your mother set aside for you before she passed, two million, and nothing more.

It is my belief that the relationships you form during this year, shall be the bedrock of a stellar career and life. Keep an open mind.

Choose wisely.

Archibald Whitaker III-

I sat there, stunned, and read through the letter again. He wanted me to do what?

“Can he do this?” I asked, looking up at the gathered lawyers, “Is it even legal?”

“Well, as to that,” an older distinguished-looking man said, “Your father paid Bain & Associated a considerable amount of money to ensure that it would be binding in any court of law.”

“Who is Bain & Associates?” I asked.

“They are our biggest competitors within the city, and as your legal counsel, I wouldn’t advise trying to break your father's will, he was most clear about his wishes.”

“That I live in a shit-hole building as a super for a year?” I asked, my annoyance and frustration with my dad bubbling over.

“Those were his wishes, yes.” The man said again, with an apologetic shrug.

I was somewhat annoyed because this was just one final thing the old man was doing to control me, but in truth, the simple life of a student and handyman sounded rather nice. I would be in the city, surrounded by people. I didn’t know anything about fixing stuff, but how hard could it be to learn? Everything was on YouTube nowadays.

I had the lawyers lay everything out for me to review before I would sign anything, double-checking that everything was on the up and up. It looked like my father and the lawyers he’d used had thought of everything, including a monthly meet up with the executor of the trust to review major business decisions.

An hour later, I signed the final form, and the lawyers shook my hand and divested me of my credit cards and wallet. I shook hands with several of the lawyers as they called the secretary in to lead me out.

“We will see you in one years’ time!” The distinguished-looking lawyer said with a broad smile.​