The Lottery – Chapter 4

It took three weeks, instead of two, to complete the arrangements, and on the last Monday of March, Mom and I drove to Austin with Grant Jones. It was butt-crack of dawn early when Grant picked us up in his SUV. We stopped by a local donut shop where he and Mom got coffee and I got my Dr Pepper.

We were on the interstate before long and in between songs on the country music station, Grant said, “What are you guys going to do with your winnings?”

Mom stopped looking out the window, and glanced over at the lawyer, “One thing’s for damn sure. We’re not going back to Louisiana. God, I’m so glad Earl wasn’t the marrying kind.”

She played with the seatbelt strap across her chest before continuing, “We’re definitely going to start over. Me and Robin have been talking about it since winning. We’re going to stay in Texas. As your Mr. Willoughby has been fond of saying, no state taxes are a selling point.”

Grant looked at me through the rearview mirror, “What about you, Robin? You want to live in Texarkana?”

I shook my head, “Would you if it were me?”

“Point taken. Where then?”

Mom and I had spent a lot of time talking about it. All the big cities had lots of stuff going for them. “We’ve talked about maybe moving to Austin or San Antonio. But the first thing we’re going to do is take a vacation for a few weeks.”

Grant drummed his fingers on the wheel to the tune of the country song coming out of the speakers, “That’s the spirit. Lots of places to go.”

The visor in front of Mom was down and I could see the smile play across her face, “I want to go to the beach, Grant. You’d think growing up in Louisiana, I’d have gone. But never had the chance. Now, I think we’re going to the beach.”

Grant said, “There’s plenty of them in Texas. Galveston’s got a nice beach. Also, even though it’s out of the way, South Padre Island has probably the best beaches in Texas. Maybe even along the entire gulf coast.”

After eating my donuts, I fell asleep in the backseat, and didn’t wake until we were on the outskirts of Austin, moving along in heavy traffic. A few minutes later, we were in downtown Austin, and Grant was feeding quarters into a meter outside of an official-looking building. The other attorney, Mr. Willoughby, the one who handled the trust, met us in front of the plate-glass doors.

From there, it was a whirlwind of activity as they met with several men and women in suits who shook their hands and had Grant, as the trustee of the trust, sign most of the forms. There was one uncomfortable moment when the lottery commissioners wanted to take Mom’s photo. But Grant and Mr. Willoughby stepped in and reminded the lottery people we were claiming the check through the trust and the trust was choosing to remain anonymous.

Mom and I did let Grant take some pictures where we held the actual check. It was surreal holding a bit of paper with the figures $166,521,564 printed on the check amount field. Mom took my hand, “Oh, Pooh Bear, we’re rich. You’ll never have to worry about Earl, or money problems ever again.”

From the Lottery Commission’s offices, Mr. Willoughby took us over to a bank where we deposited the check. He explained it had a trust department that would work with Grant to invest the money in our trust. Before we left, a lady in a pantsuit with platinum blonde hair came over to us and gave mom a manila folder, “Ms. Lambert, there are debit cards with PINs and instructions to access that account online in this folder, as well as a small amount of cash for incidentals. We expect the check from the state to clear within a few days, in the meantime, there’s a line of credit tied to this account, so you can start enjoying your winnings right now. All the information you need is in the folder. If you need anything from the bank, my business card is in there too. My name’s Lois. Lois Feldman.”

Mom took the folder and handed it to me, “Thank you, Mrs. Feldman. We’ll do that.”

When we got back to Grant’s SUV, he said, “Well, there you go, Sam, Robin. Welcome to the millionaires’ club. I’ve got a court case in the morning back home. So, I’ve got to hit the road before much longer. You folks are welcome to drive back there with me. But aside from my affable company, what do you have waiting for you back there?”

Mom said, “Are you sure, Grant? You’ll be okay on the drive back alone?”

He chuckled, “Yeah. I’ve got Reba and Shania to keep me company.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d had all the country radio I’d cared for. And I had slept most of the way. “Thanks for all the help, Grant,” I said, offering him my hand. I felt all grown up as he shook it.

The lawyer leaned close, “We’ll be talking regularly, Robin. Y’all are good to do pretty much whatever you want for now. The bank put an obscene line of credit on the account for now.”

Then, as Mr. Willoughby was introducing someone to Mom, Grant gently took me by the shoulder and walked toward the back of the SUV, “Robin, your mom’s a good woman. But if I had to guess, you’re going to be the man of the house and the one to track spending. You and I will talk about it as things get set up. For now, over the next thirty days, you guys have up to a million available.”

My eyes were round as saucers, I stammered, “A m-million?”

Grant nodded, “Yeah. But don’t look at it as a contest. It’s there to be used and enjoyed, but what you don’t spend will still be there, available.”

It took a few minutes to get away from the bank. Grant took me and Mom over to a rental car place where we Grant arranged a long-term rental for us. When we followed the young woman working the counter out to see the car, I let out a low whistle. I wasn’t exactly a car aficionado, but the cobalt blue Maserati Ghibli was more of a car than I’d ever seen. And it was ours for a month.

Grant gave us a couple of recommendations for hotels and left it to us to decide as he left us standing beside the Maserati as he started his nearly six-hour return trip.

Mom came over, twirling the key-fob in one hand and slid the other around my back, “What a difference a month makes, Pooh Bear. We were homeless and living in our old beat-to-hell Celica. Now, look at what we’re driving.”

I hugged her back. My eyes were even with her forehead. I really had shot up since the beginning of the seventh grade. A year before, Mom had been a full head taller than me. Now I was taller, if just by an inch. It was a good thing we won the lottery. I’d just about outgrown what little I had before we ran out on Earl. And the clothes we’d bought in Texarkana had mostly come from Walmart. Now, I expected our next stop would be Macy’s, maybe even Neiman Marcus.

I was almost right. We stopped at the Four Seasons hotel and checked in. It was a good thing, too. There was some kind of convention in town and nearly all the rooms were booked.

The rest of the afternoon, we spent shopping at Macy’s. In truth, we spent a lot more time picking outfits for Mom than for me. But after picking out a couple of pairs of pants, some shirts, and more shorts, we were heading out of the boy’s section when Mom stopped by the rack of underwear, “Oh, Pooh, we can’t forget these.”

While I had picked up some cheap, plain white underwear at Walmart with some money Grant loaned us, there were certainly nicer brands than Fruit of the Loom or Haines. I was looking at a pair of boxers when Mom said, “What about these, Pooh?”

I looked up and did a double take. Across the top of the packaging was the brand: Hanro. Bikini briefs for Men. Admittedly, the model wearing the briefs was smoking hot, for a guy. My eyes shifted from the packaging to Mom, “You think I should wear those?”

Mom put the package of underwear against my stomach, looking from me to the guy posing the underwear, “It’s your choice, Pooh, but as you get older, I don’t see why you can’t wear stuff that’s more mature.”

I looked askance at Mom, “You really think I should wear them?”

Mom’s cheeks colored more than what her mascara could account for, “You know I’m biased. I think you’re positively adorable in whatever you wear. But you’ll be thirteen in a few months and a young man. I’m biased, but I think you’d look gorgeous in these. Any young lady who disagrees should have her head examined.”

And that’s how I walked out of there with some pretty sexy underwear.

After all that shopping, it was getting late, so we ended up back at the hotel, where a bell-hop carted our bags up to our room. When he dropped the bags next to the door, I gave him a bit of cash from the envelope Lois at the bank gave us.

Then Mom groaned, “Oh, shit. There must be a mistake.”

I came over beside her. There was only one bed, a king. Then I replayed back in my mind when we checked in earlier. Mom had asked for a room. The man behind the counter told her she was lucky the hotel still had anything available. I shook my head, neither of us had even thought of asking for a room with double beds.

Mom was already on the phone to the front desk when I said, “If they don’t have another room, we can make this work.”

After a brief call, Mom hung up the phone, “The only other rooms available are just like this.”

I sat down on the end of the bed and removed my shoes and socks, “I guess I can sleep on the floor.”

Mom stood up and walked over to a short sofa, and pushed down on the material. Shaking her head, she said, “You don’t need to do that, Pooh Bear. We’ve shared beds before. We can manage for a few more nights.”

If Mom didn’t mind, I wasn’t going to fuss. The floor was pretty hard, anyway. When Mom went into the bathroom, I heard her say, “Next place has to have a whirlpool.”

I came up behind her and saw over her shoulder a walk-in shower with poured marble walls. I agreed. I missed the whirlpool tub from the Hilton in Texarkana. Mom couldn’t see my grin; we were getting spoiled. And I loved it.

While she showered, I surfed the TV, watching a few minutes of several shows, until the bathroom door opened and Mom came out. I think my jaw dropped. She was wearing an oversized bath-towel wrapped around her chest. It barely came down far enough to cover her girl parts. She blushed as she said, “I forgot a change of clothes.”

Healthy eating and no Earl to cause her stress had done Mom a world of good. Her hair seemed fuller and shinier than I’d ever seen. I couldn’t see the worry lines on her face anymore, and that made her look years younger than her twenty-seven years.

“Wow, Mom. Your hair really looks good,” I said. “I bet the next time you order a drink at a restaurant, they card you.”

Mom’s blush grew redder as she ripped open a package of pastel-colored panties and pulled out a pair. She turned away as she slid them up her legs and under the towel.

Then she found a cami-top. Still turned away, she let the towel fall to the floor as she slid the top on. When she saw me still staring, she said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have told you so you could have excused yourself if you wanted.”

Ever since Mom had caught me peaking in on her, she had become slightly more open about our bodies and had even started referring to me as a young man when talking with other people. Still, save for that first time, this was the only time since when I saw her bare back.

“Um, It’s okay, Mom. I didn’t see anything. I’m going to get a shower too.”

With that, I closed the bathroom door behind me and stripped. The waterfall showerhead was nice, almost creating a rain-like effect. Even as my dick grew hard as I washed it, I wasn’t so desperate for a cum as I had been that first night in the Hilton. I’d enjoyed the jacuzzi tub a lot, and had beat-off almost every night.

Before wrapping my fingers around my bean-pole, I inspected myself again. Still no hair. At least I didn’t have to worry about school for a bit, which meant no boys to make fun of my bald pubic area in gym class.

As I stroke my thin erection, I thought about several girls in my grade back in Louisiana. But even as I stroked myself, I couldn’t keep my focus on either of them. My mind wandered until it settled on a lean, smooth woman’s back. There was something tantalizing familiar and incredibly erotic about the vision filling my mind. After a moment, as my fingers slipped up and down my shaft, the tingling grew and I leaned back against the tile as I picked up my pace.

The first sign I was close was when my little marble-sized balls constricted. That was followed by my shaft getting even harder. Then my dick spasmed in my fingers and a shot of my watery, clear, immature cum splattered against the shower’s glass door.

Another little dribble dripped onto the bottom of the shower, where water whisked it away. I was breathing heavily as I wiped the bit of cum from the glass and sent it following after the second bit of my cum.

I was reaching for a clean towel when I realized the back I’d been fantasizing about was my mom’s. “Oh, shit,” I muttered. How in the hell could I have done that?”

As I toweled off my hair, I continued muttering, “It’s not a big deal. I bet lots of guys do the same. And it’s not like Mom isn’t super pretty.”

By the time I wrapped the towel around my waist, I had rationalized my fantasy, swore it wouldn’t happen again, and then opened the door. Like Mom earlier, I too had forgotten a change of clothes.

Mom was on the left side of the bed, under the plush white covers. Before, when we lived with Earl, at night, she’d wear an oversized T-shirt and maybe a pair of baggy shorts. Now, all I could see was the white cami-top. It was about as far from a loose-fitting T-shirt as she could get. Seeing Mom’s perky boobs clearly defined under her cami, my vow to not think of her again was like dust on the wind.

I tore my eyes away from her chest when I realized I was mentally undressing my mom. I went over to the bags of my new clothes and as I rummaged for something to put on, Mom said, “Try on one of those cute little briefs, Pooh Bear.”

About that time, I wish I’d listened to my earlier instincts and bought some boxers too. Unfortunately, aside from my old plain white underwear were the new low-cut colored briefs in the Hanro package. I ripped the package open and took a navy-blue pair. When I tried to put them on under the shower towel wrapped around my waist, I stumbled as my foot got caught on the hem of the towel. I would have fallen if I hadn’t put my hand out and steadied myself against the wall.

The easiest way was the most embarrassing, especially considering Mom was watching. I grumbled, “Don’t look, okay.”

Then, without really waiting, and keeping my back turned toward the bed, I let the towel fall to the floor and quickly stepped into the snug-fitting skimpy underwear. Unlike my old white ones, this pair of underwear was snug and my junk was a bulge within the dark material.

Mom piped up, “Oh, you look really cute in those, Pooh Bear.”

I groaned, “Mom, why’d l let you talk me into these? I feel naked in them.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Mom repeated, “Turn around and let’s see. From the back they seem modest enough.”

I was lucky I had shot my load just a few minutes before. When I turned around, the part of me hardest to control remained calm. Still, how could Mom help but see my stuff was on display through the snug fabric?

Mom patted the bed, “I don’t know why you think you look bad in those, Pooh. They make you look more mature.”

I crawled under the covers and kept to my side of the bed. After a bit of time, Mom turned off the TV, “What do we want to do tomorrow? We can pretty much do anything we want.”

I put my hands behind my head. This truly was the start of a brand-new life for us. “We should get new cell phones. The one you’ve got is one Earl gave you. Maybe after that, we can find a good restaurant.”

Mom leaned over and gave me a playful punch, “McDonalds is it?”

Funny, before we won the lottery, a trip to Micky Ds would have been a real treat. But after a few weeks hanging out at Grant’s law office and getting a glimpse of the wider world, cheap fast food didn’t sound very appealing.

I mock-rubbed the spot where her fist hit my arm. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at her. But it just didn’t feel like the mature thing to do. “I bet there are loads of restaurants. Let’s try something different.”

I fluffed my pillows and sank down under the covers. The bed was even more comfortable than the one at the Hilton. And a million times better than the lumpy little twin bed in Earl’s trailer. Mom leaned farther over and gave me a hug and a quick peck on my cheek, “I love you, Pooh Bear. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

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