"Are you committed?"

"Are you committed to this business?" Mrs. Fellers demanded. "Are you going to stick with it when things get rough... and they will get rough. Are you invested in your business vision? Or maybe you see this as a way to get laid a lot and you'll move on when the thrill wears off."

So much for his hope that Mrs. Fellers was going to demand that he fuck her brains out.

His first reaction was to proclaim how fully invested he really was but that was the kneejerk response and she'd recognize it as exactly that. Rather than proclaim his commitment, he needed to demonstrate it.

"Ma-am," he said, "Cathy," she told him.

Really. He hadn't known that was her name. She was just Mrs. Fellers to him. He realized just in time that she hadn't introduced himself and he was pretending he hadn't met her before since she didn't recognize him in a suit and tie rather than his normal jeans and t-shirt. Good thing he hadn't blurted out her name and blown the story. The way he figured it, the longer he could go before she realized she was dealing with the despoiler of her daughter, the better for him. Because he wasn't the only one committed. The longer they talked, the more committed Mrs. Fellers was going to become.

"Cathy," he corrected, "let me tell you where I'm coming from. My father abandoned my mother and my sister a few weeks ago. My mother works hard but she doesn't make enough to pay the rent, let alone pay for living expenses for my sister and myself. Which means that it's up to me, the man of the house now that my father has left, to pitch in. So, when you ask if I'm committed, let me tell you, it isn't about getting laid. It's about making sure that my mother and sister don't end up homeless. It's about making sure that they don't have to consider prostitution to pay the rent. It's about manning up."

That was sexist talk but he didn't figure that Mrs. Fellers would mind. And besides, while he wouldn't have used exactly the same language if he were describing his situation to one of his peers, the ideas were the same.

Mrs. Fellers reached out a single finger and slid it down the arm of his suit jacket. "I do admire a man who is passionate about what he's doing. There's something... sensual... about that kind of powerful energy."

Oh, yeah. It sounded like the message was getting through.

A couple of women wandered in... both wearing dresses cut high in the thigh and low in the cleavage and Matt had to remind himself that he was on a mission. Picking up another girl wouldn't keep him out of jail.

"It's getting a little crowded in here," he said. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere more... private."

"That," Mrs. Fellers said, "sounds like a great idea."

Except she had a husband at home, Matt didn't have a license and he wasn't sure driving with Mrs. Fellers wouldn't be even more dangerous than going to jail. He wasn't sure how much she'd had to drink but it was a lot.

She fumbled for her phone and punched keys for a minute. "Okay, there's an Omni Hotel across the street. We can continue... talking... there."

Was now the time to let her know that he was banging her daughter? Would she feel betrayed if he went through with what seemed to be happening without letting her know or would he blow everything if he just blurted it out? God, he wished he could talk to Karen or Tanya right now to get their insights... but he was on his own.