These were much older than the movies. She recognized them as the old style X-rated material she'd once found in her Uncle's attic. All had lurid covers and were written by anonymous. She looked at only two titles, "Mother of My Dreams and All I want for Christmas is mom."

ALL told between the books and movies there were at least three dozen items in the box and every one of them dedicated to mother son incest. Emma knew Eric well enough to know they weren't his and had been left here.

But Robin and Cliff had supposedly cleaned the house and she hadn't seen anything else lying around. The only things they seemed to leave behind were this collection of Oedipal fantasies and the damn thing around her neck.

Staring into the box, Emma again thought about Ben and Mary killed in the son's room. She wished she could see the actual report. Had they been on the bed? Were they naked? Would the autopsy show Mary had sex before she died? Did they do they run a DNA test to see who she'd had sex with?

The thoughts were farfetched, but thinking coherently and sliding into work mode made her feel much better. Emma closed the box and picking it up, placed it on the bed. Robin had said she might come by today to see how they were doing. Emma would mention the box to her and tell her to get rid of it.

The sound of banging and Eric yelling for the movers to watch out for his mother's favorite chair, reminded her she needed to stop thinking about taboo sex and murder victims and go downstairs.

She left the room and went back into her bedroom. Taking off the t- shirt, she slipped on the first bra which was black. When she slipped the shirt back on, she frowned. The black lace bra showed clearly through the flimsy shirt. What was she thinking? She needed to change her shirt.

Shaking her head caused her hair to drift in front of her face and reaching up she gathered it in her hand to pull it back. Staring at herself in the mirror she saw the shirt had ridden up to show off the still flat stomach she was proud of.

Eric was proud of her body too, he'd told her so. He'd also told her how sexy she was and how it turned him on that his friends wanted to fuck her.

Emma sucked on her lower lip at the idea some of Eric's good looking friends may have laid there in her house and jacked off to the idea of her sucking their hard young dicks and fucking them.

The pendent grew warm again, but at the moment she wasn't concerned with it. Emma reached down to grab a clip for her hair, the decided why not leave it down? After all, her son had just told her how much sexier she looked with it down.

He liked her shirt too, so why should she change it? He'd even admitted how he liked her long legs and ass in the too tight shorts.

With a smile, Emma nodded to her reflection and left the room to go downstairs.

She supposed she should be concerned the movers would stare at her, but who cared? If her son was proud of her body, shouldn't she be?

More importantly, shouldn't she look good for her boy?

“That's it, Emma," the sibilant voice cooed in her mind.

“A good mother always wants to look sexy for her son."

-Chapter Seven

“Where would you like this, ma'am?"

Emma looked down from where she stood on a chair. She'd begun hanging curtains as soon as one of the movers brought in the box in order to try and make the house look like home as soon as possible.

She stared at the box marked ‘games' “Up in the room Eric told you is the spare bedroom."

"Thanks," he gave her a big smile, which she returned.

Emma turned back to the curtain and resumed sliding the hooks through it. She was well aware her shirt was riding up, exposing her stomach and that on the chair, her ass was just about in the mover's face.

There were three of them, Ernest, who appeared to be in his sixties and owned the company, and two guys in their twenties Emma had learned were his son and nephew. Since she'd come downstairs, neither of the two young men could keep their eyes off her.

Part of the reason was she'd been putting on a deliberate show for them. She'd been moving about the living room, dining room and upstairs, anywhere they were. Once there, she continued to find excuses to bend over to not only show off her ass, but give them some good looks down her shirt.