A Pleasant Mistake

A Pleasant
Mistake

By

Allison Heather

Smashwords
Edition

Copyright 2011
Allison Heather

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes




This eBook is original and
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be
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might have published in part or full elsewhere under author’s old
pen names and the copyright extends to all those versions. Thank
you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication and
Warning

This book like my other
books written and to be written are a silent homage to all those
who have dared and would dare break taboos. I am struggling to do
so myself...probably one day I would accomplish that and join the
ranks of brave and wonderful. Until then, for me pen [keyboard] and
imagination are two very strong tools.

The book contains strong
adult theme and should be read by those who are open-minded and
like challenging imaginations. Best Wishes and thanks for picking
up [rather downloading] this book.

Happy Reading.

Allison Heather.

Feedback and suggestions
are very welcome

Email:
ALLIONHEATHER

A Pleasant
Mistake
.

Prologue

As I sit here pregnant and content, in our
bustling huge kitchen, I look at the faces of my family members.
All are smiling making a relaxed but vocal start to the day. I
smiled at the familiar sight with happiness that is not easily
explicable. I cannot help but think about that fateful day six
years ago. The day that changed my life and veered it from the path
it might have carried on to a new path it eventually did. I shudder
to think what life would have I had and how much happiness I would
have missed, if not for a pleasant mistake.

**************************

Chapter 1

Breakfast time in our house is full of
confusing activity. Family members pop in and out. My mother and
maid cook a huge amount of breakfast. Close employees of family
firm drop in like family members. All 'invaders' either sit down
and eat on the table or simply pick and graze as conversations fly
across various. Quite often it is very difficult to follow who is
contributing to which discussion. I wonder, how anyone can trace
who has responded to whom. My head moves like an umpire of a tennis
match ultimately I sigh and give up.

My father and grandfather have created a
retail chain empire with production lines that is worth two billion
dollars. We are not Bill Gates. But we are comfortable. In fact, we
are more than comfortable. My family created and implemented a
novel concept of employee-employer partnership and that enabled the
company to rocket into stratosphere. We, of course, have the widest
product lines and back our products with exceptional warranties. My
father sat on the table with king sized breakfast hearing his key
helpers.

The fateful day I have mentioned, I sat
through the tumult and noticed how easily my mum and dad shared
intimacy even in a crowded kitchen. Whenever my mother passed close
to my father she would put her hand on his shoulder or stroke his
hair. If my mother's hands were full or even when not, my father
would simply touch her thigh or back or bottom. These are not
sexual at all. These are almost platonic contacts but for the fact
that my parents exude suppressed sexuality all the time. I am not
sure if it is my heightened sensitivity towards two people I love
most. There are half-baked scientific papers that suggest that
couples who love each other very much and have lived together long
enough start to look alike. My parents could pass of as
siblings.

Don't get me wrong I loved my brother and
grandpa as much but my father and mother could make me do anything.
I was just not obedient I was simply a voluntary putty in my
parents’ hands. Daddy got up to leave and looked at me beaming his
captivating heart stopping smile. My heart skipped a beat. My dad
seemed to reach the ceiling. Our house has exceptionally high
ceiling. We have to. All men in my family are very tall. Shortest
person in my family, in fact called 'Shorty' until I grew up and
the tag was transferred to me, was my uncle, my mother's brother,
who is six feet and four inches tall. My dad pulled himself to his
six feet and eight inches of height and I got up as I drove to work
with dad. I had finished my MBA and was an intern in our family
business. I had rejected many fancy campus interview-led
offers.

My father took my mother in his arms as if
they were all alone, and kissed her. It was a very husbandly kiss
but to me it smoldered with restrained passion. My mother is a bit
taller (an inch to be precise) than me but no one ever thought of
calling her Shorty. Even at five feet eight inches her calm
motherly presence makes her as tall as her men in the family. My
mother never raises her voice in public. No one has ever heard her
shout or scream.

Dad kissed my mother twice, and whispered,
"Get some rest, sweetie" (‘last night must have finished late' I
thought).

I tried to keep up with my father. I had
loved my father with passion as long as I could remember, I still
do. He was the man I compared everyone against, until I settled
down with the man of my destiny. My parents were my yardsticks all
humans worth thinking about. My father took his favourite SUV (no
sissy sports car for my father). I looked at my dad stealthily for
the zillionth time. Jamieson Mathew David Cuthbert or James as my
mum and grandpa called him is an extremely handsome man. This is
not just because I am his daughter.

My mother's husband and my immediate
ancestor, is unbelievably handsome. His broad face with perfect
manly nose and jaw was designed for a matinee idol. His massive
frame was enormous. He hardly looked forty-four he was, at that
time. His muscles did have a comfortable padding of fat and a sexy
bulge on his abdominal muscles, but his strength exuded from each
pore of his body. His large hands could make many men unsure of
themselves, as they shook hands. Many of his business deals were
won on handshake. Once any man found his, what he had thought a big
manly hand, in my dad's huge real man's hand he was on
back-foot.

I should tell you now that rest of my family
comprises of my mother Heather Elizabeth Cuthbert, Beth for my dad
and Lizzy for my grandpa. Jake Nathan Cuthbert was my kid brother.
Full two years younger than me. I love my 'little' brother to bits.
He is a genius and was fast tracked to Harvard. He was doing PhD in
software programming of market analysis. Jake already had ten
patents to his name and was getting royalties that made him
independent both economically and professionally. Like me he would
join and progress family business and was waiting to come back
home. Jake was apple of our mother's eye. She loved both of us
equally but we were on two sides of the 'justice-balance' and she
kept the mark in dead middle.

Oh, by the way Jake is as tall as my dad but
his body was then covered with swimmer like muscles, now he is
bulkier and heading towards our father’s built. His handsome face
is beautiful at the same time. Grandpa Edward Jonathan Mathew
Cuthbert is a giant. He is broader than dad. He is padded all over
and his muscles are nicely tucked under the layer of fat. He has a
decent paunch that bulged above his trademark blue jeans. I thought
his paunch made him look even more handsome. He carried his
sixty-eight years lightly. Now grandpa carries his seventy-four
years equally lightly.

Last but the least is the eldest daughter,
Caroline Heather Jane Cuthbert, yours truly - Caro for the family
and Janey to my close friends. I did my MBA from Harvard one of the
youngest alumni of the faculty. I had publications that I was proud
of and my professors were quietly envious. I have three patents of
employee-engagement models widely recognised as ideal way to
improve work environment. I was a minor celebrity for two years
while I gave talks on TV and various channels, invited by big
companies to advice, because I was still twenty and young. I turned
twenty-two two months ago. I am probably cute, probably handsome. I
am definitely not the exquisite beauty glossy magazines write
about. I am for sure not 'stick' of a girl.

Like my mother I am 'big boned'. At the time
of the account I was full and almost plump not obese or grossly
overweight. My large breasts were supported on my 38-inch chest
giving me an awkward bra size of 38DD or 40D. I hardly worried
about the bras. I used sports bra all the time. I had rounded waist
of 30 and hips that filled the tape on 38/39, quite often close to
40. I was fit in fact super fit. I was borderline BBW according to
magazines and clothing flyers. I was according to my grandpa 'all
woman'. I agreed. My mother had given me my frame and dark blond
hair. My mum was quite like me but couple of inches bigger
everywhere. Her 40E breasts enhanced her handsome face. Her rounded
waist of 32-34 with bottom of 42 filled the dresses sexily. Her
hair was wavier and she wore them shoulder length. I wore mine to
my neck. Jake and I thought our mother was ravishingly beautiful.
My dad and grandpa (my uncle and cousin too) agreed. She was a year
behind my dad in years at forty-three. My mother never suggested
that I needed to be anything else I was and that was good enough
for me.

I was busy from the moment I stepped into my
office. I admired my father even more since I saw him at work. He
was a natural leader. He could delegate with silky ease. He was
unflappable. He would cancel delay a meeting and would visit a sick
employee or visit a senior employees wife in delivery suite. Dad
was quintessentially a man first than an employer and lastly a
business tycoon. I loved my dad, I might have told you that, just
making sure.

I had become broody for the last two years I
had returned home. Mother and dad both felt I was quieter than my
usual self. Mum and I were close. I could talk with her openly and
about anything. I could use slang and obscene language, only with
her and only in our private mother-daughter moments. Mum and I
shared all our lives incidents as if the other was keeping a diary.
She had started threatening to take me away somewhere far if I did
not 'confess' what was eating me.

To add to her woes for the last month dad
started to do a 'Caro'. He was quieter than before and would avoid
contributing in conversations he could ignite with his wit and
humour. Mum would sigh and shake her head.