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Part Two

Mason Storm pulled up in front of his parents Manhatten mansion. It was their thirtieth wedding anniversary and he was expected to make an apperance. He parked his Harley in the garage space they had for him. He just knew that his mother would have a fit if he showed up still dressed in his work clothes from the construction site. He was able to slip unnoticed over to the guest house, which he had moved into when he was eighteen, and then bought from them with what was suppose to have been his college fund. He then showered before heading over to the party. He may be only twenty-five now, but he had determined to make it on his own ever since he was eighteen.

Being the oldest, and wildest, of three boys born to Garrett and Lisa Storm, he was expected to set an example for the younger two. Instead, he had been in and out of every private school in New York. It wasn't until military school did he finally get some disipline. But, after turning eighteen, he went back to his "wild and wicked ways". This had been the reason why he was so determined to make it on his own, even though he still techinally lived on their property.

After showering, Mason dressed in a black Levi's and a black muscle shirt. He top this off his his black biker boots. He thought twice about pulling his long sandy blonde hair up into a bandana, but decided on a ponytail instead that reached down past his shoulders. This really seemed to make his blue eyes sparkle and enhanced the shape of his rugid facial features. The muscle shirt definately defined his well muscled chest and arms. He knew that his mom would have a fit with him dressed like this, but by God, he was gonna dress the way he wanted too. He was twenty-five, after all, and could do as he damn well pleased. Everyone in Manhatten that knew the Storm's knew how he was, why should he dress differently for this.

After saying "hello" to his parents, and watching his mother roll her eyes, Mason made his way through the crowd, chatting with the guests as he did. Across the room, one guest in particular caught his attention. He had seen the older woman on a few occassions. If the woman was who he thought she was, she was the recently divorced Tracy Bradford. He knew that she had to be at least forty, but damn was she hot!! Her brown hair barely hung down to the top of her shoulders. The navy blue business suit with matching skirt she wore told him that, like him, she was use to beinging in control. The outfit graciously showed off her shapely figure. "Damn it," he thought, "I'll be hard before I even get to talk to her." Grabbing a glass of wine from the waiter as he walked by, Mason headed over to Tracy.

"Mrs. Bradford," Mason said.

"Yes," Tracy answered, a confused look on her face.

"I'm Mason Storm," he said, his hand held out to shake hers. At nearly six foot, he towered over her.

"Oh, yes, Mason," she said, "I remember you know. I hardly ever see you around. I thought that you had moved away."

"No," Mason said smiling at the older, and nearly a half foot shorter, woman, "I just stay busy working. When I'm not working, I usually try to find something to keep me out of trouble."

Mason knew that even if Tracy had seen him around Manhatten, she wouldn't have given him the time of day because of his clothing and line of work. It would have been "beneath" her to be seen with, much less talking too, someone that looked like him. After the shock of Mason's appreance wore off, Tracy took to Mason and for the rest of the evening, stayed at his side. When dinner was announced, Mason made sure that she was next to him. Naturally, everyone stared at the two of them, but no one said a word, at least not to their faces. As midnight rolled around, Mason asked Tracy if she'd like to have a night cap back at the guest house with him.

"I'd love to have a night cap with you, Mason," Tracy said smiling, "but why don't we have it back at my place. That way, no one knows I'm at your place. You know..., less talk that way."