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The Neglected Son Ch. 01

By: Sabledrake



The Neglected Son, Ch. 1: Chet and Mindy

Mindy was as pretty as I remembered her. Prettier, even. Just looking at her made my chest tighten and my throat close up. For a second there, I thought I was going to have an asthma attack. 

She was with a group of girls from her sorority, or so I guessed. The way they all stood so chummily close together, laughing and tossing their heads and posing whenever they spotted a likely guy strolling by. None of them were ugly, but Mindy was far and away the hottest of the bunch. 

Her dark hair was pixie-cut around her impish face, framing vivid turquoise eyes so gorgeous that they looked like contacts. I knew they were natural. Aunt Paula had eyes the same color. She and Mindy had always had a sort of Snow White and the Wicked Queen relationship, even when Mindy had been a kid. 

It had been six years since I'd seen any of them, but I still didn't have any trouble recognizing Mindy. I saw her in my sleep sometimes. 

Laughing at me. 

Teasing me. 

That was Mindy, all right. She hadn't grown up much, still being on the short side, but she'd sure grown out in all the right places. Her body was walking talking dynamite, toned and trim but curved and bouncy. She was packed into a strapless white dress that glowed in the club's dim lighting. 

Seeing her was like a strange kind of emotional time travel. I felt the years being stripped away, and the changes they'd made in me being erased. All at once, I was the skinny loser again, peering at the world through thick glasses. 

No!

Everything was different now. I wasn't like that any more. 

And, weirdly, I had Dad to thank for it. He'd been the one to pressure my mother into sending me to boarding school when I was fourteen. Better that than have me underfoot over the summers and on holidays. He hadn't wanted me around when he had his new family to occupy his time.

Mom hadn't argued much. She wanted me to get a good education, and couldn't afford to send me to private school on her own. Not even with the child support Dad sent. When he'd offered to pay the tuition, and set aside a hefty chunk of cash for college, she hadn't been able to resist. 

Thinking of Mom, and looking at Mindy, made my fists clench. It wasn't right, the way things had worked out. Dad had used her, made a fool of her, and abandoned her at the earliest opportunity. And then, to make matters worse, he'd turned around and married her sister. Mindy and Renee were my half-sisters as well as my cousins, and it had been plain from the moment they'd been born which of his kids Dad favored. 

He may have held on to some hopes for me during the first few years of my life. Hopes that his son and firstborn might follow in his glory-filled footsteps. But when I turned out scrawny, weak, and clumsy, he gave up on me. 

Well, I'd proved him wrong. The boarding school, and prep school after, had given me the chance I needed to make something of myself. 

I hadn't bothered to stay in touch with the rest of the family. Not after the way they'd treated Mom. The only one I ever heard from was Dad's doddering old auntie. She gleaned family gossip like a squirrel storing nuts, and doled it out each December in a photocopied holiday letter. 

That was how I'd found out that Mindy was starting college. She'd spent a year at a pricey finishing school, then enrolled at the same university I attended. 

Mom, learning of this, had suggested I look Mindy up. She thought it would be funny to see how the rest of them reacted to the 'new me.' 

So, here I was. But I didn't feel like the new me anymore. I had a sinking certainty that when Mindy turned and saw me, she would snicker, and point, and my zipper would be down or something, and all the other girls would scream with laughter. Like at the slumber parties she'd held as a teenager. 

A sheer, living hell. 

I steeled myself. I wasn't that skinny loser any more. I'd taken up swimming, crew, and tennis. I was ten inches taller and forty muscular pounds heavier than the last time she'd seen me. I wasn't the sort of brother she should be ashamed to introduce to her friends. 

As I approached, I saw one of the girls in Mindy's group notice me. She bumped her shoulder against Mindy's, and motioned with her chin in my direction. 

Mindy turned. Her eyes glided over me. 

She smiled, perfect white teeth brilliant against her glorious bronze tan. 

I swallowed, feeling stupid and nervous, waiting for the moment when she'd cry out my hated childhood nickname. "Winnie-the-pooh," she would crow, and screech her banshee's laugh. 

Blame my parents for naming me after great-grandfather Winchester. Winchester Sherman Hollister, that was the moniker with which I'd been cursed.

But she didn't. She only smiled that playful little smile, and tilted her head and lowered her eye lashes, and it struck me like a blow from a mallet that she was giving me a come-hither look. 

She didn't recognize me!

She had no idea who I was. 

I didn't know whether I should be relieved or offended. I must have looked like the world's biggest dope, standing there, my jaw hanging open. 

Mindy took it as a compliment. She detached herself from the gaggle of sorority girls and swayed her way to where I was. 

"Well, hi," she said. 

Up close, she was even more of a knockout. Those turquoise eyes glittered amusedly up at me. I hastily dropped my gaze, but that was no good, because now I was staring at the lack of tan lines on her shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts. The white strapless dress fit her like she'd been poured into it.

"Mindy –" I said, dragging the word out of my frozen throat. 

Her smile widened. "You know my name. I'm flattered."

She touched my arm in a companionable, intimate gesture. 

Flirting. I could hardly believe it, but there it was. She was flirting with me. The voice, a sultry sort of purr. The eyes, darting slyly at me from beneath those long dusky lashes. The way she leaned toward me, affording me a spectacular view of her cleavage. 

She didn't know who I was. She thought I was a stranger, some guy trying to pick up on her in this trendy off-campus club. 

It occurred to me briefly that she did know but was playing one of her mean little games. I discarded that notion at once. There was no sense of it in her eyes, none at all. 

"Pussy got your tongue?" she asked, then hid her mouth and uttered a naughty giggle. "Cat, I mean?"

My brain had turned to tapioca. Fragments of thoughts whirled crazily in my mind. She really didn't know. She didn't recognize me, her own brother. 

And all at once, I was furious. 

I did my best to hide it, and cleared my throat. "Sorry," I said. "You just caught me off guard."

"What's your name?" she asked. 

I smelled alcohol on her breath. Technically, she wasn't old enough to drink. If I was doing the math right, she was still a year too young to buy a legal drink. But that was wine I smelled, sure enough. She and her sorority sisters must have had a private party before heading out to the club.

"Chet," I said. 

It wasn't exactly a lie. I'd dropped the 'win' from Winchester years ago. Chester was still something of a dork's name, but Chet … Chet was right for the new me. It suited my hard-won athletic build. I floundered for a second trying to come up with a last name, but she didn't ask for one.

"How'd you know me, Chet?" Mindy's eyes twinkled at me as if we shared an amusing secret, but they were also shiny, almost glassy. 

Wondering if she'd been hitting something even stronger than wine, I shrugged. "I've seen you before."

Again, not a lie.

"And you asked about me," she said in a warmly chiding tone, giving my upper arm a friendly swat. "Sneaky Chet."

"That's me," I said. "Sneaky Chet."

I would have expected her to recognize me eventually, my voice, my mannerisms, something, but she hadn't. Was I that different? Was I a totally new person? Did she even remember she had a brother in the first place? I had been an embarrassment to her, a target of mockery, and I'd been glad to be done with that part of my life. Still, it stung to be completely forgotten. 

"Are you a student?" she asked. 

"Grad student," I said, and lied an extra year onto my age when she asked me how old I was. 

For some reason, now I didn't want her to know. I wanted to see how long I could trick her, and let her be the butt of the joke when I finally 'fessed up. The look on her face when she realized she'd been flirting with her brother, with poor, pathetic Winnie-the-pooh, would be priceless. 

Her friends were watching us from a distance, leaning close together to make their comments and observations. I was astonished to perceive that they seemed to think Mindy had made a good catch. 

I mean, I knew I was better looking than I'd been as a teenager, but it was a new and unnerving experience to be regarded this way. My track record with women wasn't all that great. I'd been laid a few times, and given some valuable pointers on how to make a lady happy by my roommate's girlfriend – she used me to get back at him for some real or imagined slight, not that I'd complained – but I still hadn't gotten entirely over the anxiety of my younger years. 

Mindy suggested that we find a table, and I agreed. We got a half-circle booth in a shadowy dark corner, away from the live band. I ordered drinks, non-alcoholic margaritas because even if I was old enough to buy them, I didn't want to get busted for her drinking them. We shared a plate of nachos. She chattered and flirted some more, coming on pretty strong and heavy. Her knee kept brushing mine under the table, and she was a toucher, patting my hand, resting hers on my arm. 

It occurred to me again that maybe she did know and was trying to make a fool of me. But I didn't think that was the case. She wouldn't take it this far if she knew I was her brother. 

How far, I wondered, would she take it if she didn't know?

I felt immediately ashamed of myself. This was Mindy, my own half-sister or cousin, depending on which way you sliced it, and I wasn't supposed to be watching the way her breasts bulged over the tight top of her dress whenever she breathed in, wasn't supposed to be thinking about the whispery nylon feel of her knee against my pant leg, wasn't supposed to dwell on the way she'd asked if the pussy had gotten my tongue. 

But she didn't know, didn't care. Probably had been happy to forget she even had an older half-brother. I was the unwanted one, anyway. Aunt Paula had resented every minute I spent at the house and every dime Dad shelled out in child support. I'd been ignored by them all, except when I was being tormented by Mindy and her slumber party pals. 

Dislike rose in my throat like bile. I had wanted so much to make my father proud of his son, but he'd dropped me and Mom like a bad habit when Aunt Paula decided she wanted to take what belonged to her sister. 

I hated all of them. 

It was kind of a news flash to me as I sat in the dim corner with Mindy's knee pressed to the side of my leg. I'd known that I was resentful, and with what I thought was damn good reason. But hate? Was it that strong?

Yes, it was. 

And the more I listened to Mindy, the more intense it got. She was talking about her family now. About her parents, and her sister, and their fabulous house with its platoon of servants, its gardens, its pool and stables and acres of land. 

No mention, not even a derogatory one, of a brother. 

She had forgotten all about Winchester, or was pretending he'd never existed. I knew in my gut that they all did just that, with Dad's blessing. Winchester was the embarrassment, the one that Dad had been happy to shunt off to boarding school and out of his life. He'd had his precious daughters to love instead. Pretty Mindy, the social butterfly, and shy, talented Renee. 

I wanted to get back at him. Abandoning Mom, abandoning me, paying off the asshole who'd briefly been my stepfather – oh, that had been an ugly business, hiring a man to court and marry and then walk out on my mother, so that Dad could get out of alimony – I owed him some serious payback. 

Mindy interrupted my vengeful thoughts by sliding around in the booth and kissing me. 

Shocked, I didn't pull away. She sealed her lips to mine and thrust her tongue in my mouth, her hand cupping the back of my head to hold me firmly to her. 

My half-sister was frenching me in front of God and everyone! Not that 'everyone' could see much, with the lights so low. She pushed her upper torso against me, her breasts pressing into my arm. 

I should have stopped her. Should have broken away and gotten the hell out of there. 

But I didn't. 

Part of it was just being stunned, I guess. I couldn't believe what was happening. 

And she was hot, sexy, throwing herself at me like a total slut. 

And, well, wouldn't it serve them right? Wouldn't it serve them all right?

So, I kissed her back. I sucked on her tongue and put my arms around her, feeling the smooth, tanned skin of her back and the tight fabric of her dress.

She moaned against my lips and crawled onto my lap. She straddled me right there in the booth, her already short skirt hiked to the tops of her thighs, her knees on either side of my hips, and her bottom snuggling down into my lap. 

I got hard. How could I not? She was all over me, rubbing and wiggling, and the dirty awareness of what I was doing burned in my veins like a fire. I kept envisioning the look on her face when she realized she'd been making out with her brother. With the geek she used to sneer at, and make fun of. 

Mindy felt me swell in my pants, and squirmed around even more. She held my face in her hands and covered it with warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses. I held her, sliding my hands from the small of her back to her ass. 

Someone was bound to see eventually and tell us to break it up. The waiter who'd brought the margaritas and nachos, if no one else. But the band's music was pounding, strobes and light beams flashed, and the whole room was a pulsing chaos. 

We parted to gasp for air. Mindy was flushed, her eyes sparkling brighter than ever. Her chest heaved, threatening to spill over the top of her dress. She raked her fingernails down the front of my shirt, clawing at the buttons as if she wanted to rip them open right then and there. 

"Whoa," I said, breathing hard. "Mindy, wait, okay? There's something I should tell –"

"God, Chet, you are so cute," she said, and swallowed my tongue again. She was dry-humping me like there was no tomorrow.

I gave up. The urge to confess hadn't been all that strong anyway, and faded fast as she ground her crotch into my lap. I worked my hands up under her dress. I could feel nothing but flesh under her pantyhose, and the knowledge that she wasn't wearing anything else sent a sudden raging lust through me. My sister was a slut, leaping onto some guy she had only just met – from her perspective – and she deserved whatever I did to her. 

She moaned encouragement as I groped beneath her skirt. I didn't care anymore about being seen, except that I'd be annoyed beyond measure at an interruption right now. I wanted to see how far she'd go. How far she'd let me go. The farther, the worse it would be for her when the truth came out. 

Mindy raised her head from mine long enough to throw a quick glance around. Seeing what I had seen, that the lights and music and shadows preserved our corner booth privacy, she yanked down the top of her dress. Her tits sprang out, full and firm, with large rosy nipples. 

No tan lines there, either. My mind's eye saw her stretched out by the side of the pool, sunbathing topless, not caring that the servants might be spying on her from the house. Maybe even liking it, putting on a show for the help. That sounded like something Mindy would do. 

I bent my head and kissed, nibbled, lapped, and sucked. Mindy bounced on my lap, grinding her hips, fingers combing frantically through my hair. Her back arched, damn near smothering me. 

This was wrong, way out of control, and I knew it. Trouble was, most of me didn't care. Most of me was only interested in seeing how much more she'd do. I wondered if it had gone into the realm of illegality yet. Sex with a sister was a no-no in this part of the world. And even if Mindy didn't understand that was what was going on, I did. 

I twisted my head away from her breasts. "Mindy, okay, enough, we better stop."

"Nobody's looking," she said. 

"But I –"

She reached down, and hooked me by the belt. Two deft movements and she had it open, sliding through the loops. She unbuttoned, then unzipped. 

"Hey, come on," I said, alarm shooting through me even as my eager dick strained at my shorts. 

Mindy shushed me. She glanced around again, and then with a sinuousness more suited to a snake, slithered off my lap and under the table. I could only see her bare arms and the top of her head as she tugged on the sides of my pants. 

Without thinking, I rose up and she pulled. My pants and underwear slid to my knees. Freed from confinement, my dick popped up like a jack-in-the-box. She curled her hands around it. 

I jolted as if I'd been struck by lightning. It felt good, amazingly good, maybe because I knew it was such a mistake. But it didn't matter. If I got arrested for indecent exposure, even if the authorities figured out our real relationship, so what? When Mindy found out … when Dad heard …

She licked the underside with a long, slick stroke. I groaned and put my hands on her head. I didn't push her away. She wanted to? Good. Let her do it, and then live with the knowledge. Her mouth engulfed me, drew me deep. Her tongue rolled maddeningly. I almost came then and there, but held back with a monumental effort. Not yet. I didn't want it to be done that soon. 

Mindy bobbed her head up and down. While she did, she grabbed my leg and wedged my foot between her legs. She writhed against my shin like a dog in heat. 

With the table in the way, no one could see below my waist. But there weren't any tablecloths, and anybody walking by would be sure to notice Mindy's feet sticking out. Or they'd see my face. I tried to maintain a casual expression, but it was impossible with the wet suction of her mouth taking me in, sliding me free, and taking me in again. 

My hips bucked uncontrollably. Mindy must have sensed what was about to happen, because she redoubled her efforts, fondling my balls with one hand while she pumped my shaft with the other. I looked down, saw my dick sliding in and out of her pouting lips, and thought suddenly of how she used to smirk and call me a loser, and say I'd never have a girlfriend. 

I came in a huge, vindictive torrent. Though Mindy gulped gamely, the spouting jets overflowed her mouth and ran in creamy dribbles down her chin. She held me in her mouth until I had begun to soften, then sat back under the table and wiped her face with my pants. 

My limbs were twitching with reaction. My diminishing dick lolled against my leg. I had broken out in a sweat, and my throat was dry. My hands were unsteady as I rearranged my clothes. Mindy crept back onto the seat of the booth, her dress pulled over her tits again, her eyes shining as she looked at me. 

"Let's get out of here," she said.

Get out of here? I didn't know if I could walk. But as she got to her feet, and held out her hand to me, I found that I could. I dropped some money on the table and let her lead me out of the club. We passed some of her sorority friends, and she flashed them a grin and a wink. They gave her a round of thumbs-up in return. 

It made me wonder if there was some sort of bet or contest going on. Not that it mattered much. What mattered was the way her lips had felt on my dick, and what would happen next. 


The Neglected Son Ch. 01



The night was cool on my overheated skin. I mopped my brow and thought of the big house, Dad probably drinking brandy in his study, with no idea that his son had just shot a load into his daughter's willing mouth. Aunt Paula would be up in her dressing room, inspecting herself worriedly for any sign of wrinkles or sags. Renee, tall, slim, graceful Renee, might be practicing her ballet steps, auburn hair pinned up, long legs scissoring in dainty, precise motions. 

I wished I could be there when they found out. I wished I could drop it on them like a bomb, and watch the shrapnel rip through their oh-so-perfect family. Take that, Dad. See what happens when you ignore and push away one of your own. 

Mindy walked beside me, oblivious to the malicious thoughts that boiled my soul. She clung to my arm, her taut, rounded body pressed against me. 

"Let's go to your place," she said.

A spear of icy terror pierced me. My place? That was the last thing I wanted now. One look and she was bound to guess. My name was on papers and stacks of incoming mail, I had a framed photo of myself and my mother. And while I did want Mindy to know, I wasn't ready yet. Not yet. Not now. 

"Can't," I said. "It's a mess, and my roommate's there."

I didn't have a roommate at the moment, the last one having moved out after he found out about me and his girlfriend, but Mindy would have no way of spotting the lie. 

"Damn, and no 'gentlemen callers' are allowed in the sorority house after eight," Mindy said. She sighed and gave me a look smoldering with challenge. "We'll have to do it in the park, then."

Some vestige of sanity tried to rear up and stop me. After all, according to at least one President, we hadn't technically had actual sex. There was still time to back out of this with a degree of dignity. 

I shoved that impulse aside and followed Mindy through the park. Leaves whispered secretively as we went by. Her white dress was the brightest thing in the night. Everything else was deep green and black, velvet shadows that surrounded us. 

We came to a secluded place where a level patch of grass was screened from the path by a hedge, and here Mindy flung herself into my arms. She kissed me furiously, hooking her leg around my hip, and practically climbed me like a tree. 

She kicked off her shoes, shimmied out of her dress, and skinned off her pantyhose. I barely had time to gawk appreciatively at her nakedness before she was on me again, yanking at the buttons of my shirt. She seized my hand and shoved it between her legs. She was neatly groomed there, shaved to a narrow strip of trimmed dark hair, and she was sopping wet with arousal. I probed her with my fingers, letting the middle one sink deep into her clasping warmth while my thumb rolled her clit. 

"Oh!" she cried, and bit me on the shoulder, hard enough to leave a ring of white marks. "Oh, God, yes!"

Her thighs clamped shut, trapping my hand, as she tore feverishly at my pants. They fell to my feet, and the next thing I knew she was dragging me down on top of her. 

I was really going to do it. I was really going to fuck Mindy. My dick wasn't bothered in the slightest by the taboo, and the rest of me only spared it a moment's qualm. So I was going to fuck her, my half-sister and cousin. It wasn't like I'd raped her. She was a slut, throwing herself at me, and any red-blooded male in my place would do exactly the same thing. 

She had my dick in her hand and was guiding it home. I felt the slippery touch of her bare flesh and realized with a sort of dark thrill that I wasn't wearing a condom. I should have been worried about catching something – the way she acted told me that this was hardly the first time she'd done this sort of thing – but what really filled my mind was the possibility that I might knock her up. Oh, she was probably on the pill if she carried on like this, but … anything was possible, wasn't it?

Wouldn't that teach them a lesson? Bad enough that she'd fucked her own brother, but if she got pregnant … Dad would never live down that shame!

So, rather than hesitate, I plunged into her. All the way. One fast, sure thrust that embedded my dick to the root. She wailed with passion and bit my shoulder again. I rocked back, withdrawing almost all the way, and slammed it in again. And again. She hammered her fists on my back and urged me to go harder, her heels beating against my ass. 

I obliged. I pounded her into the grass, giving it to her the way she wanted it, hard and fast, almost brutal. Our bodies slapped together, and the wet sound of my dick driving in and out of her slippery heat mingled with my own grunts and Mindy's blissful cries. 

She was a noisy one, my slutty little sister, and when she came I felt it convulse her whole body in a violent clutching spasm. Even then, she didn't release me but held on, demanding that I not stop, demanding that I fuck her like I'd never fucked before. 

The harder I went, the more she liked it. I lost track of how many times she came, but she shredded my back with her nails, and one of her impassioned bites to my shoulder actually drew blood. I felt the gathering tension of my orgasm building in my balls, and went even faster until our flesh smacked in a rapid tattoo. Her tits bounced wildly, her head thrashed in the grass. 

Like before, I came in a torrent that shocked me. I felt like I'd never be done, spurting into Mindy, flooding her pussy. The idea of it was enough to trigger an even greater explosion from my loins. I was coming in her, in my sister, maybe planting a baby in her that would be hell to explain to our father. And I reveled in it. 

We collapsed apart, side by side on the ground, the breeze drying the sweat and other fluids on our skin. Mindy languidly rolled onto one elbow and kissed me. 

I almost told her right then. Almost said it to her face. "By the way, Mindy, don't you recognize me? It's Winchester, Winnie-the-pooh. What do you think of that?" I imagined her horrified shriek, her self-disgust, her revulsion. 

But I kept it to myself for now. When it happened, I wanted it to really hurt her. I stroked her hair, and told her she was absolutely wonderful. I told her I had to see her again. 

After we got dressed, we left the park. I walked her back to the club where her friends would be waiting, and gave her my number. I kissed her again, said good-bye, and headed for home. 

She called me the next day. By then, I had cleaned my apartment and hidden any evidence of my real identity. As far as she knew, I was Chet. Chet Christopher, I told her, kind of a play on words with Pooh's buddy Christopher Robin. 

I hadn't been sure if Mindy would want to see me again. The experience had had the markings of a one-night stand, a quick fling with a veritable stranger. But she said that something about me drew her to me. She said she felt as if she'd known me all of her life. 

I could have laughed. I could have puked. 

Known me all her life. 

Well, she had, hadn't she?

We started seeing each other, and nine times out of ten our dates would end up back at my place for some energetic sex. I discovered that Mindy really liked it when she knelt on the floor with her upper body braced on my couch, and I fucked her from behind. 

I persuaded her to let me take some Polaroid snapshots. They'd be great when Dad needed some proof. I even borrowed a video camera and tripod, and shot an amateur film of Mindy doing a striptease for me, followed by a marathon session that included a few of the more unusual positions. 

Her friends thought I was great. So attentive, so charming. A couple of them tried to test my dedication to Mindy by making passes, but I always resisted. 

A few weeks later, after hearing how I didn't have any plans for the holidays, Mindy invited me to come home with her and spend Christmas with her family. 

It was, I knew, the moment I'd been waiting for. 

But that's another story. 

**



The Neglected Son Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Chet and Paula

I swear, I never meant for things to go this far. 

When Mindy had failed to recognize me, and then started flirting, I'd only intended to let her go on for a while before revealing my identity and embarrassing her. 

But I got mad. I hated her for not remembering me. I wondered just how long it would take her to figure it out, and what she'd do in the meantime. 

I kept telling myself there was time to stop before it got out of control. I kept telling myself that. Until I started telling myself instead that it would serve her – and Dad, and all of them – right. 

So I gave in. It was the hottest, slickest, wildest fuck I'd experienced, all the dirtier because I knew, even if Mindy didn't, that I was her brother. 

I should have ended it after that first night. I shouldn't have kept seeing her. But I couldn't stop. We went out again and again, and eventually she decided that I was her steady boyfriend. 

That's how I ended up in the passenger seat of her snazzy little fire-engine red sports car, speeding along the bare but snow-lined highway to Pinewood. She had invited me home to spend the holidays with her family. 

Hers, and mine as well. After the divorce, Dad had married my mom's sister. I hadn't seen any of them in almost seven years. 

Mindy drove the same way she had sex – fast and furious. Her short dark hair was mussed around her impish face, her turquoise eyes gleamed, and she had dressed for the occasion in a white silky blouse with no bra underneath and a short pleated schoolgirl skirt that rode most of the way up her thighs. Her small but perky tits jiggled with the engine's vibration. 

I sat next to her, my nerves humming like high-tension wires. 

This was it. This would be the moment of vindication. I savored the imagined reactions of Dad and Aunt Paula when Mindy introduced me. And then the look on her face when they demanded to know what she thought she was doing, dating her brother. The wounded gasp, the horrified widening of the eyes, the recoiling as she thought about everything she'd done to me and let – no, encouraged, even demanded – me do to her. 

Whatever happened after that, it would all be worth it. 

Pinewood was one of those groaning old estates that seem out of place in modern America. It had been the Hollister ancestral home for generations. Technically, I guess it should have been mine. My real name was Winchester Sherman Hollister. The only son of my father. The last of the line.

I made sure I acted awed and impressed as the sleek little car roared up the long driveway toward the house. Mindy smiled smugly, but I thought there was something off-kilter in her smile. 

"What's the matter?" I asked. 

"Promise me that no matter what, you'll remember who you are."

That threw me, gave me a nasty jolt. 

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're my boyfriend," she said in sudden viciousness. Her free hand, which had been rubbing my leg, dug in with all five fingernails. "Got it?"

"Ouch, okay, hey, I got it," I said, wincing and trying to pry her claws out of my flesh. "What are you so worried about?"

I thought I knew, but I wanted to hear her say it. 

Mindy slowed the car as it approached the covered turnaround in front of the massive main doors. "Nothing. I know that you love me. You're not going to run off with someone else the minute my back is turned." She gave my thigh an affectionate pat. 

"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "You think I'm going to go nuts over your sister or something?"

"Renee?" Her laugh was brittle and scornful. "As if!"

"Well, what, then?"

"My mother thinks it's funny to flirt with my boyfriends."

I had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Hey, Mindy," I said. "Come on. Your mom's got to be, what, in her forties? Give me some credit."

"You haven't seen her yet," she muttered darkly. Her hand had left my lap, rejoining its mate on the steering wheel. 

Oh, but I had seen her mom, and I knew exactly why she was in such a mood. 

"I hardly think she's going to flirt with me," I said. That was the truth. She'd probably have me thrown in jail, disinherited, or shot. 

Mindy didn't answer, only snarled again. 

The arrival of the red car had attracted attention. A stiffly upright man in a black suit came out and descended the steps to open Mindy's door, while two other people emerged behind him. 

Dad and Aunt Paula. Even after six years, I had no trouble recognizing them. 

My father's auburn hair had gone silver, a full head of swept-back silver that would have served him well in politics. The well-bred good looks I had yearned for as a kid were still very much in evidence. 

Aunt Paula hadn't changed a bit. She was tall and lithe in a clingy wool sweater over a long suede skirt and boots. Her hair, longer than Mindy's but the same ebony shade, was caught up in a French twist. 

Time to ruin the holiday, and hopefully their lives as well. 

"Mom, Dad, this is Chet Christopher," Mindy said, curling her arm possessively through mine and pressing her breast against me. The chill in the air had made her nipples poke up in points, clearly visible through the white silk.

I held my breath. Here it came... Armageddon at Pinewood.

"Chet, hello," my father said, stepping forward and offering a hand. "Mindy's told us all about you."

Flabbergasted, I shook his hand. My head, though, was spinning. He wasn't playing with me. His gaze was as direct and appraising as his handshake. 

He didn't know me. 

His son, his own flesh and blood, and he didn't know me. 

"It's a pleasure to be here, sir," I heard myself say. 

Aunt Paula glided over. "Although I must add," she said, her every word as smooth and cultured as a pearl on a string, "Mindy neglected to tell us just what a handsome young man you are."

Beside me, Mindy glared daggers at her mother, which Paula affected not to notice. 

She didn't know me, either. 

I mean, she hadn't bothered with me very much when I was a kid, and I knew I didn't resemble Dad in very many ways, but didn't she see her own sister in me? Didn't I ring even the faintest bell in either of their minds? 

Unbelievable. Unbe-fucking-lievable. 

"Mrs. Hollister," I said. "Mindy's told me a lot about you, too."

"Has she, now?" Paula's lips quirked as if we shared a private joke. "Nothing too shocking, I hope."

"Oh, Mother," said Mindy with exaggerated sweetness. "Of course not."

"Well," Dad said, clapping his hands heartily. "Let's get in out of the cold. Parks will bring in your bags. We've got an hour or two until dinner, and we can use that time to have a hot drink and get acquainted."

I noticed that he only barely glanced at Mindy, his eyes skittering to the erect, silk-draped peaks of her nipples and then away. He cleared his throat, his breath puffing in the frosty air. 

As Parks went around to the trunk to lift out our luggage, Paula took my other arm to escort me inside. I could feel Mindy tense. Her nails dug in again. One, two, three, four, five precise little dagger-jabs. At the same time, Paula's fingertips tickled along my inner arm as if she was playing the piano, and I sensed the spark of challenge snapping in the air between the two of them. 

We went to the front parlor, where Dad passed around hot rum toddies and promptly got into an argument with Mindy over the issue of the sleeping arrangements. He maintained that unless we were engaged, it was separate rooms. She insisted that she wasn't a child, and that he should respect her maturity. 

Parks came in as if on cue. He reported crisply that he'd placed Miss Mindy's things in her room, and mine in the Red Suite. 

Mindy bristled. I sat there not sure what to do as they argued. In one way, it was good, because now there could be no doubt in her parents' minds that I was nailing their daughter. 

Paula gave me a commiserating, conspiratorial smile. It drove Mindy crazy, and Paula ate it up. 

Dad stayed resolute on the room thing. So, after the pre-dinner drinks were consumed, I went to the Red Suite to freshen up. My windows overlooked the side yard and the detached dance studio where Renee used to spend all of her time. 

As if thinking her name had summoned her, the studio door opened and out came my other half-sister. Renee took after Aunt Paula in shape, being tall and graceful, but her coloring was Dad's. Auburn hair with gold highlights, dark eyes. Tights and legwarmers beneath a coat and galoshes. Still into ballet, then. 

I finished unpacking and changed clothes. As I was putting my suitcase in the closet, Aunt Paula tapped on the half-open door and came in. 

"Settling in all right, Chet?" she asked. "The room's to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'm sorry about that scene with Mindy. Sometimes I don't know what we're going to do with that girl. But she seems very fond of you."

"I'm glad," I said, and I was, because it would rip her to pieces all the more when she found out the truth. 

Paula drifted closer. "I can see why she is. She's got excellent taste. I like to think she learned that from me."

"Well, it's certainly where she gets her beauty," I said. "Mr. Hollister is a lucky man."

"You flatter me." Her eyes brightened. It was just what she wanted to hear, just what she hoped for. 

She was very close now, and gazing smokily up at me. I could smell her expensive, understated perfume. She had changed into a simple black velvet dress, strapless. The heart-shaped bodice was low but not trashy, and what I could see of her breasts were flawless. She disdained tanning, and her skin was a warm, unblemished peaches-and-cream. 

I thought of my mother, Paula's sister, who couldn't afford the spa treatments, top-line cosmetics, face lifts, or whatever else Paula used to keep herself so gorgeous, and spite colored my admiration. I wanted to hurt her. 

Snubbing her would do that much. She was so surely confident of herself right now that all I'd have to do would be to say one wrong thing, and she'd be crushed. But that wouldn't be nearly as much fun as getting my revenge some other way. 

"In fact," I said in a husky whisper, letting my lips almost brush her cheek, "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"More than Mindy?" she asked, matching my whisper. There was a teasing lilt in her words, but beneath it, I knew, was a very real need for affirmation. 

"She's got nothing on you," I said. Then, acting like I was coming to my senses, I stood back from her and steadied myself. "Mrs. Hollister, I'm sorry."

"Oh, Chet," she purred, and ran her finger along my lips. "You have no reason to apologize. And do call me Paula."

"Paula," I said. "Please don't tell Mindy I said that. The way she was talking in the car, I... I think she's pretty jealous of you."

"You dear young man." She kissed me, a kiss quick and light as a butterfly's wing so as not to smear her lipstick, and she went to the door with her eyes sparkling invitingly at me over her shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner."

She left, and I couldn't help wondering if Dad knew about this. He had to have seen the rivalry between his wife and his oldest daughter. He had to be aware of the way Paula flirted. It was only to be expected, some amount of flirting, in high society. I knew that much. It was an art. But flirting with Mindy's boyfriends? 

Flirting... and what else? 

As before, the question in my mind. How far would she go? Not knowing who I was, only wanting to outplay her daughter... would she stop at kissing, or did I really stand a chance of getting her into bed?

Mindy burst in half a minute after her mother had gone. Red spots of anger stood out in her cheeks. I had a moment's panic thinking they were for me. 

"Well? What did she want?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Chet Christopher. My mother. I saw her leaving your room. What did she want?"

"She just stopped by to see if I was settling in okay," I said. 

"I just bet she did!" hissed Mindy. "What else?"

"Nothing!" I protested, and had to refrain from either licking my lips or looking in the mirror for telltale lipstick marks. That careful, butterfly kiss... it shouldn't have left any. But if it did, or if Mindy caught me checking... either way, it would mean trouble. "Well, I guess I understand now what you said about her. She's a little... flirty."

"I knew it. I knew she would try something."

"Take it easy," I said. "What do you think I'm going to do? Mess around with your mother? Why would I want to? I mean, Mindy, look at you."

She had changed for dinner, too, and she did look hot. Not as classy as Paula, no way in hell, but her shiny spaghetti-strap cocktail dress was the same shade as her eyes and gave her tanned skin a golden glow. 

"You look fantastic," I told her.

Mindy closed my door and shot the bolt.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Making sure you don't forget it," she said. With that, she rushed to me and smothered me with a kiss. Her tongue burrowed into my mouth, needy and probing. 

"Like I'd forget," I gasped when she gave me a chance to breathe. 

"I won't let you," she said. She slithered down my body, rubbing her tits against me the whole way, and ended up kneeling at my feet. Her hands were at my belt, then my fly, before I fully understood what she planned. 

"Uh, Mindy... aren't we going to be late for dinner?" I tried to sound casual, but she had an immediate effect on me. The surroundings added to it. Here, in the family home, with Dad and Aunt Paula right downstairs... 

She ignored my question and yanked my pants and underwear to my knees. My dick sprang out, already almost fully erect. I thought of the generations of Hollisters who'd lived in this house, imagined them spinning in their graves as my sister wrapped both hands around me and slid me between her red, wet lips. 

"God, Mindy!" I staggered on my feet. Would have fallen, if she hadn't reached around with one arm to grab my ass and hold me steady. 

Her dark head bobbed back and forth as she sucked me with slurping noises and urgent back-of-the-throat sounds of encouragement. She wasn't wasting any time, and my blood was already near a boil from the combined excitement of being in this house, having my aunt make a pass at me, and the dirty thrill of what I was getting away with. 

I seized the sides of her head and pumped my hips, watching the scene in the gilt-edged mirror over the dressing table. Seconds later, she was swallowing in quick convulsions, not spilling a drop. 

My knees let go and I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, breathing heavily. Mindy daintily wiped her lips, then licked the back of her hand while her eyes met and held mine. 

"That should remind you," she said. 

"Feel free to remind me any time you like," I panted. 

She fixed her hair, then vanished to her room to repair her makeup. I got dressed again, still feeling weak and shaky in the legs, and met her at the top of the stairs to go down for dinner. 

Now, as we entered the dining room and I saw the shimmering copper fall of Renee's hair, I was hoping fervently that she wouldn't recognize me either. I had gone from anticipating the explosion to wanting to postpone it. 

And, I have to admit, there was a slinking bastard in the back of my mind that wondered if I could add Renee to the list. How perfect it would be to get back at Dad for the way he'd ignored me and mistreated Mom. 

Renee not only didn't know me, she barely acknowledged me or any of us. She seemed lost in her own world, head tilted and eyes vague, as if listening to music only she could hear. She hardly spoke, and absented herself as soon as the meal was over.

The food was up to Pinewood's usual standards, but it could have tasted like cardboard for all I'd have noticed. My head was too busy with thoughts of what might happen later. 

That night, though, I was doomed to disappointment. 

More or less, anyway. Mindy sneaked into my room once the rest of the household was abed, and rode me like a pony until I couldn't get it up anymore if my life depended on it. She was determined, with a manic sweaty intensity, to show me that I didn't need to look at any other woman. Least of all and especially not her mother. 

Really, if I had been a genuine boyfriend, I would have wanted out. In a hurry. This was a side of Mindy I hadn't seen before, and one that I didn't much like. Any guy on the receiving end of that kind of neediness would have been well excused for running in the opposite direction. 

But, since I was here on false pretenses, I didn't do the sensible thing and dump her. I endured her persistent attentions and repeated again and again that she was the sexiest thing alive, that no man in his right mind could possibly think otherwise. 

This went on for three days, by the end of which I was sure that Mindy would have worn my poor dick down to the nub. If she wasn't impaling herself on it, she was sucking it, and if she wasn't sucking it, she was rubbing it. Twice at breakfast and once at high tea, she would have given me a hand job under the table if I hadn't been flat-out exhausted. 

On the fourth day of our stay at Pinewood, I got a reprieve. Mindy and Renee wanted to do some shopping in the city, and Dad volunteered to drive them. Paula begged off at the last minute with a headache. Mindy couldn't back out too without Paula knowing why, so after giving me a warning scowl, off she went. 

With Aunt Paula resting in her suite, I had the house pretty much to myself except for the servants. I prowled, peeking into the room that had been mine as a kid and strolling a long hall under the painted stares of generations of Hollisters. I fancied I saw dark and stormy disapproval on the faces of my ancestors. 

And I waited. 

She came down a little past one in the afternoon, when I had just finished a light lunch and was relaxing in the library. 

"Are you feeling better, Mrs. Hollister?" I asked. 

"I thought we'd agreed on Paula," she said.

"Sorry. Paula."

"And yes, I'm much improved. It gets so hectic at this time of year, you know. The parties, the shopping, the social obligations. And having Mindy home is always a trial. She can be so energetic."

"I know," I said dryly. I had the marks to prove it. She could probably see some of them on my neck, scarlet and purple hickies. 

Paula laughed. "I take it that the separate-room restriction hasn't been very effective."

I stammered and did my best to blush. 

"It's my husband's concern, of course. He seems to think that if he doesn't admit they're grown up, they'll be his little darlings forever." 

She folded herself delicately onto the couch beside me. For her supposed 'recuperation,' she had donned a simple robe of ivory-colored satin. The lack of lines marring the fabric assured me that she was bare beneath. I could smell powder and lilac fragrance. 

I shifted the book in my lap, making it look like I was trying to seem nonchalant, thereby guaranteeing that she noticed my discomfiture. She glanced down, as I pretended to look elsewhere, and I saw her sly smile as she detected the none-too-subtle swelling at my groin. 

"So, Chet," she said companionably, extending her arm along the back of the couch so that it just brushed my shoulder. "How are you enjoying your stay?"

"Very much, Paula," I said. "It's a wonderful house, and the company... well, you're all... very nice."

She slid closer. "What are you reading?"

I acted as though I was torn between hiding the book and relying on its concealment of my embarrassingly aroused state. With an abashed look, I showed her the title. 

"Confessions of a French Maid," she read. "Oh, my. Did I interrupt something?"

"I just saw it on the shelf, and..."




The Neglected Son Ch. 02



"There's no need to explain, Chet." Her breath was warm and sweetly minty. "Are you liking it?"

"It's all right."

"I think you're a very special young man. Handsome, too. You know, as awful as it sounds to criticize my own dear daughter, I can't help but wonder if she properly appreciates you."

"Now that you mention it..." I said, letting my words trail off. I turned my head, and hers was so near that our lips almost touched. 

"Young girls often lack a certain sophistication," she breathed. 

"Paula..."

She kissed me, no butterfly wing this time but a ripe and full contact that send tingles down my spine. I played at being stunned for a moment, then surrendered eagerly. 

"Oh, yes, Chet, you are a man," she said. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," I replied. "Your husband... Mindy..."

"What they don't know won't harm them." She snuggled into my arms and lifted her face to mine for more kisses. 

I suspected that she only intended to tease me with kissing and petting and flashing me peeks of her body, just enough to assure herself of her desirability. She probably didn't really mean to steal her daughter's boyfriend or cheat on her husband. Just enough to convince herself that yes, she was ardently wanted, and she would find some reason to break off. 

But I had other plans. Boldly, I slipped my hands inside her robe and caressed the equally satiny warmth of her skin. Her breasts weren't as firm as Mindy's – it would drive them both crazy if they knew I was comparison shopping – but they had a lovely shape and feel to them. 

"Chet, what are you doing?" Paula asked. 

"Like you said, what they don't know won't hurt." I opened the top of the robe and feasted my eyes on her torso. Such a creamy expanse of flesh, untouched by the sun, her nipples rosy and becoming engorged even as I watched. I bent and flicked each with my tongue. 

Paula gasped. I sensed she was about to push me away, so I closed my lips around one nipple and suckled deeply. Her back arched. 

"God, you're gorgeous," I whispered, then put my mouth back to work on her excellently-proportioned breasts. 

"Chet, dear boy, behave yourself," she murmured. "This has gone far enough."

I acted as though I didn't hear. I pulled at the sash, and the loose knot came undone. The rest of her robe fell open. She squirmed, pressing her knees together, draping her arm over the silky black triangle at their ivory juncture. 

"No, I can't," Paula said, more to herself than to me. 

"But you're so beautiful," I said. "Please, just let me touch you, kiss you, just a little. Like this. See, isn't that nice?"

I covered her lips with kisses while tenderly fondling her breasts. I felt her relax by increments, even letting her knees part slightly. Before she could regain her equilibrium, I had insinuated my fingers between her thighs and commenced a persuasive stroking.

Paula arched and started to protest. I drowned her voice with more kisses and wordless moans. 

She was moist with arousal, had probably been even before she entered the library. I thought of her in her room, dressing for this scene, primping. These games of hers clearly turned her on. She must have anticipated that this time would be no different. She'd come in, make flirtatious talk, brush up against me a few times, maybe flash me glimpses of the nudity beneath the robe, and take her victorious thrill at seeing Mindy's lover tempted by her forbidden charms.

But she wasn't ready for such an insistent, intimate response on my part. She never would have expected me to touch her like this, find the damp heat of her, explore it with gentle, skilled fingers. 

Her body quivered helplessly. Her thighs opened further, allowing me greater access, before suddenly closing again and trapping my hand. She freed her lips from mine long enough to catch her breath, and speak. 

"Chet, wait," she said. "Wait, we shouldn't, it's too much."

"I can't resist you," I said. "I've never wanted a woman more. Feel me."

I took her wrist and led her hand to the front of my pants, rubbing her palm along the stony column pent up within. I made sure she got a good measure of it. I wasn't a porno stud by any means, but I had it on credible authority that mine was a good one. 

"Ah... nice..." she groaned. "But no, stop, we mustn't."

"Only a little more," I said. "I can't help it. I want to taste you all over. Let me do that, at least."

With a tremulous shudder, she gave in. She did not protest as I moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses down her body. I knelt at the side of the couch as she reclined upon it, and buried my face in the lilac-scented duskiness of her pubic hair, inhaling her, then sampling her like a bee to a flower. 

Paula bit back a low cry as the tip of my tongue made slow circles around her tender folds of flesh. Her fingers pulled feebly at my hair once, as if making a last futile effort at stopping me, and then she was undulating her lower body, sighing my name. 

"Oh, my God, Chet, yes darling, that's so good," she said. 

I freed myself from my pants without alerting her. My ready dick rubbed against the slightly rough, slightly plush fabric of the couch as I kept pleasuring Paula with my mouth. I listened to the mounting quickness of her breathing, and judged her to be very close to orgasm. 

She wailed softly when I took my tongue away. Her eyes fluttered open to see what I was doing, just as I climbed onto the couch between her widespread legs. She couldn't miss the sight of my erection, jutting its impressive length from the wiry nest of curls at its base to its swollen red tip. A final objection tried to take form, but I don't think her heart was really in it, and her voice failed her as I sank my stiffness deep inside. 

I stayed just like that for a moment, exultant with the knowledge that my dick was buried to the hilt in my own aunt. That it was my stepmother's pussy cinching tight around my shaft. My father's wife gazing up at me in dreamy, lust-ridden astonishment. My girlfriend's mother. Any way you looked at it, this was wrong. Totally, deliciously, wickedly wrong. 

"Oh, Chet," she said. "We really shouldn't."

"Too late," I said, and began to move. 

Slowly. In and out. I found that I was already about to come, more from the idea of what I was doing than from the act itself – not that the act was anything to complain about. Paula's body was ready no matter what she might be saying, rising to meet my thrusts. I forced myself to go slow. I wanted her to come first, and to love it when she did. 

She moaned through gritted teeth and clung to me. I kept it slow, quaking from the effort of restraint, until I felt her rolling spasms begin and heard her whisper hoarsely to do it now, fuck her hard, she was coming and she wanted it hard. 

Triumphant, I gave her what she wanted. I drove into her forcefully, thinking that in her extremity of orgasm she wasn't so different from Mindy. I wished they would come home early and catch us. I thought of Mindy's face, and Dad's, if they were to open the library door and be greeted by this sight, me and Paula, rocking and grinding. 

That vision pushed me over. I groaned my aunt's name as I came in her, and as the powerful climax subsided, I settled in stages to lay fully atop her with my head pillowed on her breasts. 

Paula hastily came to her senses once the aftershocks had passed, and regarded me with uneasy wonder. 

"Chet... what have we done?"

"It's all right," I told her. "No one needs to know. It can be our secret. I promise."

The clock on the mantle chimed, drawing her gaze toward it. When she saw the time, she exclaimed in alarm. We untangled ourselves, her robe twisted and damp with our mingled sweat, my shirt in a similar state. We'd left a wet mark on the couch as well, and Paula hastily mopped it up. She was even more beautiful in her anxious, disheveled condition, but I didn't tell her so.

We left the library and hurried to our respective rooms. I showered, knowing that the first thing Mindy would do upon her return would be to quiz me mercilessly about whether her mother had tried anything in her absence. She'd probably try to squeeze in a quickie before dinner, and if I proved to be unable due to my recent exertions, her worst fears would be confirmed. 

Eventually, I would have to tell her all about it. I was looking forward to that. Right before I told her my other little secret. "Mindy," I'd say, "just so you know, I did fuck your mother. But you want to hear something really interesting?"

I could hardly wait for that moment. 

But in the meantime, there was still Renee to think of. 



The Neglected Son Ch. 03



The Neglected Son, Ch. 3: Chet and Renee

My so-called girlfriend was royally pissed at me. 

She thought I'd had sex with her mother. 

The fact that I had didn't help my protestations. But I was a good actor, and sought diligently to convince Mindy of my innocence. 

That wasn't even the funniest part. The funniest part was that I was such a good actor, Mindy still had no clue that I was really her brother. Her mother was both my aunt, and my father's wife. 

Only, the rest of them had no idea. Sooner or later, the truth would come out, and when it did I was sure that it would shatter every single one of their lives. 

I was really, gleefully, looking forward to that day. 

It was their own fault. Dad's fault for divorcing my mom, cheating her out of alimony and ignoring me. Aunt Paula's fault for stealing Dad away from his first wife – I had no proof, but I knew it in my gut. Mindy's fault for the way she treated me when we were kids, making fun of me all the time, laughing at me. 

My own fault? Maybe. Probably. There had to be something seriously bent and twisted in my psyche to have brought me to this point. Anger and resentment weren't good enough excuses for this kind of revenge. 

But, boy, when I'd run into Mindy again after so many years, ready to shock her with how well I'd grown up after all, wanting to make her sorry for being mean to me … and she hadn't even recognized me … it was more than I could bear. 

So, even though I knew it was sick and wrong, I hadn't protested all that much when Mindy threw herself at me. Hell, I'd enjoyed it. Who wouldn't? She was a sexy thing, my little sis. All bounce and curve and jiggle, a pouty mouth made to wrap around something fleshy and stiff, great tits, great ass, and a seemingly inexhaustible libido. 

Renee's fault? Well … I didn't know about that. My other sister was the shy one, the strange one, preferring her own daydream world of the ballet to reality. She was the youngest, eighteen to my twenty-five, only a little kid when I was sent off to boarding school. Even now, she tended to be off in her own world most of the time. 

It didn't matter, though. I might not have hated her as much as I hated the rest of them, but Renee was going to be part of my revenge all the same. It was Dad that I really wanted to hurt. When he found out that I, his own son, the one he'd forgotten and abandoned, had fucked not only his wife but both his precious daughters …

The mind boggles. 

I suppose it would be fair to point out that they might be excused for not recognizing me. I wasn't the same person I'd been. The years and my own hard work had combined to re-make me from a skinny, clumsy dweeb into a fit, athletic guy. 

They might be excused, yeah. By someone a lot more forgiving than I was. 

At the moment, though, I had Mindy to contend with. She had returned from a shopping trip just knowing that her mother had been up to her usual tricks. Aunt Paula had a history of flirting with Mindy's boyfriends. She liked to tempt, and tease, knowing that it made Mindy absolutely rabid with fury. 

Tempt and tease, but I hadn't been about to let it stop there. Paula wasn't going to get away from me with a few kisses and 'accidental' peeks at her cleavage. No, sir. 

"What are you grinning about?" Mindy asked. Her expression was stormy. No, it was tornado warning.

I composed myself. "Nothing."

"Do you think it's funny? Huh? What if it was the other way around, Chet? Then what?"

"Mindy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"What if I had sex with your father?"

An uproarious bark of laugher burst from me. I hastily clapped my hand over my mouth, tried to turn it into a cough, but Mindy wasn't fooled. 

"My father," I said, through a string of snickers. "Sorry, Mindy. You don't … that'd be …"

She stood with her fists on her hips and her shoulders back, a pose that made her tits thrust forth defiantly. "You don't think I could seduce your father?" 

"Anything's possible." I got my mirth under control, but it wasn't easy. 

"I'll find out," she said. "I'll find out if you did fuck her or not."

"Mindy, come on," I said. "Is that how much you trust me? You think I'm such a sleaze that I'd jump in bed with your mom the minute you were out of the house? Give me some credit."

After all, at least a couple of hours had gone by, and it had been the library couch, not a bed. 

She studied me fiercely, then relented. "I'm sorry, Chet. I know you wouldn't do anything like that. It's just she makes me so crazy!"

I put an understanding arm around her, kissed her on the cheek. No worries that she'd catch her mother's scent on me; I had showered painstakingly afterwards. Mindy flung herself into my embrace and gave me a fervent kiss. When she indicated that she wanted more, I begged off, saying that it was almost time for dinner and I was starved. 

We went downstairs to the dining room. Aunt Paula looked refreshed and stunning, Dad remarking on how a day's rest must have done her a world of good. She batted her long lashes at him and replied that yes, she'd had a most pleasant afternoon. 

Renee joined us, distracted as usual. I studied her surreptitiously, not wanting to rouse Mindy's ire anew. I wondered if Renee was a virgin or not. I thought she must be. Her parents, having seen the trouble they got from being permissive with Mindy, had overcompensated to be protective of Renee.

The next couple of days were busy with parties and other holiday activities. Too busy to get up to any new mischief. A few smoldering looks did pass between Paula and myself, and Mindy pounced on every one like a cat, but I continued to deny her accusations.

I knew some of the people who came and went during the gala affairs, but wouldn't have expected them to know me. Even when I'd lived at Pinewood, mixing with Dad's country club friends and business acquaintances hadn't been my thing. I was dutifully paraded around and introduced as Mindy's boyfriend, and called upon to embroider a respectable background when interrogated. 

On the morning after one of those long cocktail-and-buffet events, Mindy tried to talk me into going ice skating with her and some of her old chums. Dad and Paula would be spending the day visiting with the Vandermeres, and most of the household staff had been given the day off. 

"I'm not much of a skater," I said. "But don't let that stop you. Go ahead, and have a good time."

"I don't want to leave you here on your own," she said, pouting cutely, "and I don't want to be the only one there without a date."

"From the way those guys were crowding around you at the party, I bet they'd be glad to have me out of the way for a while. Besides, I could use a quiet day of relaxing with a book." I looked around to be sure we were unobserved, and pulled her close. As I nibbled her ear, I added, "That way, I'll be all rested up for tonight."

Mindy wriggled against me, twisting so that her back was to me. I licked her earlobe and kissed the sensitive hollow behind her jaw. "Still …"

"I'll be fine. Really."

"I guess with my mother being out of the house –"

"Mindy, jeez," I said. "Maybe you should lock a chastity belt on me and have done with it! Do you see me getting all stressed out about you spending the day with all those guys? Huh?"

"Okay, okay," she said. "You're right. I shouldn't be such a paranoid bitch. You take it easy, and I'll keep you up all night." She snuggled her round little ass into my groin. 

"I'm holding you to that," I said. "So, better make sure you don't get all tired out."

She kissed me again and went up to get dressed for the icy outing. An hour or so later, Pinewood was still and silent but for the low drone of a television in the butler's room. The rest of the family had gone, and I'd seen Renee in her coat and galoshes trudging through the snow to her dance studio. 

That, then, was my objective. I bundled up and left the house, my breath forming a frosty plume around my head. The air was brisk and bitingly cold, but it did nothing to diminish my excitement. Part of me was plenty warm, and looking forward to something even warmer. 

I roamed the grounds for a while in case any of the servants had happened to be watching, and came around to the studio on a meandering course. I could hear the faint strains of classical music from within. 

My plan was simple enough. I'd go in, watch Renee practice for a while, and turn on the charm. Play to her sense of romance, hoping that she'd be so caught up in the spirit of the ballet that she would let herself be carried away. A momentary rush inspired by the pure emotion of the music and the dance. 

In the small entryway, I shed my outerwear. The music was louder and I could identity one of the pieces from Swan Lake. I proceeded to the studio itself, a long windowless room with mirrors the length of one wall, a polished hardwood floor, and a ballet bar set along the glass. 

Renee was there, but to my jaw-dropping shock, Renee was not alone. 

The young man with her had a lot of curly black hair and the build of a dancer. His skintight leotard exposed every ripple of muscle. His back was to me, his arms around my sister. They were locked in a deep kiss, eyes shut, oblivious to anything else. 

Renee leaned against the bar, one hand gripping it for balance while her other strayed restlessly through the man's masses of hair. She was poised on one toe, which was clad in a ballet slipper with ribbons wrapping her calf. Her other leg was bent gracefully around the man's hip. 

She wore pale tights and a seafoam green leotard that matched the color of her slippers. A scarf of the same color secured her auburn hair in a bun, drawing it up and away from the sleek white column of her neck. 

I was riveted by the smooth flex of Renee's thigh as she moved her lower body languidly against her partner. Only when their kiss broke did I have the presence of mind to duck out of sight, and peek through the doorway. 

So, my sister wasn't as shy as I'd thought. At least, not around her dance instructor. I guessed that's who he was, anyway. Or some guy she'd met at a recital. Either way, I had the strong and sure feeling that nobody else in the family knew about this. 

The black-haired man seemed to be imploring Renee, though I couldn't hear his words over the music. She fended him off for a while as he begged her with kisses, but at last he overcame her resolve and she leaned back so that her shoulder blades pressed the mirrored glass. 

Her head turned to the side, her eyes closed again, and she did not move as her lover gingerly, almost reverently, peeled the straps of her leotard down her arms. He rolled the garment lower until he had exposed her breasts, and I had to bite the heel of my hand to keep from making some audible noise of appreciation. They were small but flawless, cream tipped in buds of palest pink. 

Renee's lover admired them for a moment, then bent his head to worship them with his mouth. I couldn't tear my gaze from her face. A blush as pink as her nipples rose to delicately tint her cheeks. Her lips parted in a soft gasp. She was exquisite. 

They went on in this fashion for some time, plenty long enough for me to develop a raging hardon. But when the man sought to pull the leotard lower, Renee's lovely dark eyes opened and she stopped him. 

He went to his knees and clutched her thighs and begged her with adoring, pleading looks. She shook her head. He kissed her hands, lavishing attention on the palms and the tender insides of the wrists. She shook her head again, and when he released her hands, she drew her leotard back into place. 

Defeated, her lover rose to his feet in a motion so agile I almost expected he'd leap, or arabesque. As he shifted position, I saw – far better than I had any interest in seeing – that I wasn't the only one who could have battered walls down with an erection. 

I thought of how he had been standing so near her, one of her long legs around him. He'd been rubbing that against her. Rubbing it against her with only those couple of scraps of cloth between them. The lucky bastard. 

The music ended and I froze. I couldn't risk making a single sound. The acoustics in here would alert them instantly to my spying presence. But, by the same token, I could now hear them. 

"Oh, Renee, Renee," the guy moaned. "I love you. I want you so much that it aches."

I bet it did, having most of his blood flow dammed up in his crotch. 

"I love you, too, Gregor," Renee said, stroking his face. "But we can't. Not yet."

"When?" he asked in agony. "When can we be together?"

My sister looked pensive and troubled. "My parents …"

"I don't care what they think!"

"If they knew about us, they'd send you away. Or send me away, to school or something. They'd say that I could do better than the butler's son."

I reeled, studying Gregor for any resemblance to the stodgy Parks. Not her dance instructor, then. Not her partner. One of the servants. 

Dad and Paula wouldn't approve. They'd have a fit.

"This isn't the nineteenth century," said Gregor. "They can't tell you who to go out with, who you can and can't love."

Renee planted a light, sweet kiss on his lips. "Please. Let's not talk about this now. We'll think of something, I promise."

"But can't we even …" He finished his sentence with a longing look that was impossible to misinterpret. 

"After what happened last time?" It was the first time I'd seen Renee look all the way in the world, all the way awake and alive. Here, for a change. "That was too close, Gregor."

"It was a false alarm," he said. "We'd be more careful."

Aha … so they had done it. Pretty Renee wasn't a virgin after all. 

His entreaties were to no avail. Reminded by the scare, Renee was all the more firm in denying his efforts. Gregor was persistent but not stupid, and could see the writing on the wall when it was in large enough letters. They shared a farewell kiss and then he went out via a side door, and Renee began gathering her belongings. 

She was in the process of switching ballet slippers for galoshes when I stepped into the studio. Her head came up and around, alert as a deer. I smiled. She only stared at me apprehensively. 

"Hi, Renee," I said. "I thought I might find you out here. Nice studio."

Her mind had to be racing behind her veiled eyes. Wondering how long I'd been there, what I'd seen, what I'd heard. She slowly got up, barefoot, her hair loose from the bun to fall around her in a coppery curtain. 

"Hi, Chet," she said, her voice not quite steady. 

I let my smile turn into a knowing grin. "Gregor, huh?"

Dismay twisted her features. "You saw us?"

"I'll say." I dropped my gaze to her breasts and widened my grin. 

Her cheeks flamed. "How long were you watching?" she demanded. 

"Long enough."

"Oh, God." She covered her face. 

"You and Gregor. The butler's son." I clucked my tongue – tsk! "Mindy told me your parents have some pretty old-fashioned ideas about who their girls should date."

Her hands fell away and her large, dark, luminous eyes met mine. "Please don't tell anyone. You're right. They wouldn't understand. They'd say that he's not good enough for me, and wouldn't care how I feel."

"They'd probably fire him, too," I said, shrugging. "And his father, and any other relatives he's got working here. That's my guess, anyway. Your family seems like the vindictive type."

"That's why they can't know. Promise me you won't say anything. Not even to Mindy."

"You want me to lie to my girlfriend?"

"No, just … just don't say anything."

I was a heel to be enjoying this, but what the hell. Seeing her so despairing and pitiful gave me a real rush of power. 

"Well, I wouldn't want anyone to get in trouble," I said. "Tell you what. We'll make a deal."

"Anything," she said. 

"Show me your breasts."

She flinched like I'd slapped her. "What?"

"Let me see them. Touch them, maybe kiss them a little. Like Gregor did."

"You're insane!" Renee was paper-white and actually swayed on her feet as if she was liable to faint. 

"Okay, suit yourself." I raised a sardonic eyebrow at her. "I bet your father will be really interested to hear about the pregnancy scare."

"You'd blackmail me?"

I paused and appeared to mull this over. "Um … yeah. Yeah, I think so. Blackmail, Renee. That's what this is. If you won't do what I want, I'll go straight to your parents and spill the beans. Your Gregor will end up delivering pizzas."

"No!"

"Well, then?"

Renee's chin trembled, but she slid the top of her leotard down to her waist. Again, she did this with her head turned away and her eyes closed. I savored the sight of her, standing there so vulnerable. When I moved closer, she tensed, fists curled at her sides. I could see a rapid pulse beating in her throat. 

I raised my hand and let it hover half an inch above her skin. Then, slowly, I settled it onto her breast. She twitched and whimpered but did not try to get away. 

"Very pretty," I said. 

Her mouth turned down in a hateful grimace. I petted her soft white breasts as if I held a pair of captive doves. The timid pink nipples stiffened under my fingers. I bent down and exhaled a warm, moist breath across them. They hardened into rosy points, which I circled with my tongue. 

"No more, please," whispered Renee. "Isn't that enough?"

By way of answer, I sucked on one nipple and rolled the other gently between thumb and forefinger. Then switched, keeping everything fair and equal. 

"Chet, please, stop it."

"Mmm, you taste so good," I said, raising my head. 

"There, you've done what you wanted."

"True. But you know what, Renee? It isn't enough. I want to see the rest of you. Shimmy on out of that leotard and those tights."

"No!" She blanched in alarm. 

"No? Okay." I frowned thoughtfully. "Let me see. 'Mr. Hollister, you are not going to believe what I saw today in the studio …'"

"You bastard," she said brokenly. "You promised."

"Give me something more to sweeten the pot."

"You can't do this."

"Watch me."

Sobbing, Renee hastily stripped off the rest of her garments. I surveyed her with great delight. Tall and lean, a taut belly, amazing legs, a neat bush of copper-colored pubic hair.

"Beautiful," I said. "You are really beautiful, Renee."

"Don’t make me do this."

"Life's full of choices. Not to be all philosophical, but it is. You could walk out of here right now. That's your choice."

"And you'd tell my parents about me and Gregor."

"That's my choice."

"What do you want from me, you rotten son of a bitch?" It came out nearly a shriek, but the infuriated effect was somewhat ruined when she immediately began to cry. 

"Oh, Renee," I said. "Shh. It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you." 

I tried to take her in my arms. She wrenched away. I seized her and held on. 

In a sudden spate of fear and rage, she swept her strong leg under mine and we crashed to the hardwood floor. Our breath was jolted out of us by the fall, and for a moment we lay there, entangled and stunned. 

I was half atop her, and my dick was jabbing her in the thigh. She thrashed to get out from under me, very conscious of what was poking at her, very conscious of what it meant. And, cad that I was, her struggles only turned me on more. 

"I'll tell," I said. "Unless you let me."

She went perfectly still. "I hate you," she spat. 

"I don't blame you. But I swear I'll be gentle. You might even like it."

"Never!"

"I bet you got all hot and bothered when Gregor was kissing you. Rubbing up against you. I saw the way your leg was around his ass. Holding him nice and snug with that big hard dick pushing against your pussy."




The Neglected Son Ch. 03



She put her hands over her ears. Her body stayed perfectly still, and an aura of defeat surrounded her. She was giving up. Trying to distance herself from whatever might happen.

I rose to my hands and knees, watching her. Renee stayed as she was, eyes shut, body rigid. She didn't try to escape even when the unmistakable sound of my zipper resonated in the studio. I got out of my clothes quickly and stretched out beside my lovely sister. 

"Have you let him go down on you?" I asked in a low, confidential tone. 

Renee didn't answer. She seemed to be trying to shut herself off by sheer force of will. I grinned. A challenge. She didn't think I could get her to react. We'd see about that. 

"I bet you didn't," I said, arranging her wooden, unresponsive legs so that they were knees-raised, wide apart. Tremors like tiny galvanic shocks coursed steadily through her body. "I bet that you were making out and things just went too far. I bet he had his dick in you before either of you really knew what was going on, and I bet he came almost at once."

She still didn't answer. I caressed the insides of her thighs, then ran my thumbs lightly along the edges of her labia. Renee shuddered. I did it again, eliciting another shudder, then parted her folds like the petals of a rare and fragile flower. 

"You must love him a lot to be letting me do this," I said. 

I quit talking then, having something far more interesting to do with my tongue. I darted it in quick fluttering tastes, purposefully going all around the nestled little nub of her clitoris without touching it. 

Renee tried to act the mannequin, but for the helpless continual shuddering. But she gave herself away with the clear flow of her body's musky oils, and the mewling kitten-cry she couldn't quite silence in time. 

"That's more like it," I said, and slid two fingers into her pussy. At the same instant, I covered her clit with the flat of my tongue and applied a waxing-and-waning pressure. 

"Mmph!" was her muffled reply. Her hips jumped helplessly. Her inner sheath was tight damp velvet clasping around my fingers. 

The woodenness melted from her body as I continued my delicious labors. Soon I had her pliant and, if not entirely cooperative, at least accepting when I withdrew my fingers and made ready to replace them with my dick. 

"Look at me, Renee," I urged as I nudged her clit with my cockhead. "Open your eyes and look at me."

She did, those enormous dark brown eyes fixed on my face. I saw passion, unwilling perhaps but undeniable. And then there was something else. I saw her see me, perhaps really see me for the first time. 

"Winchester?"

Renee said my name, my real name, with shock and incredulity. 

I gave one good firm thrust, and was embedded inside her before she could prevent it. Her cry was a tormented blend of ardor and horror as she comprehended what was happening to her. That I was her brother, and that what I was doing felt good. It was exquisite to watch her wrestle with these two diametrically opposed concepts, almost as exquisite as it felt to be fucking her in sure, steady strokes. 

"No, oh, no, it can't be," Renee gasped. "Winchester, no, you have to stop."

"Way too late for that even if you really wanted me to," I said. "Congratulations, Renee. Someone finally recognized me."

"But … but Mindy … ooh, oh, no, you can't do this." 

"Mindy doesn't know. Nobody does except you. And I can do this. I am doing this. And you love it."

"No, nooo!"

But she was coming even as she cried out her denial. She began shaking again, in earnest, her thighs clasping my hips. I maintained my pace, wringing every last sweet convulsion from her as she moaned and babbled incoherently. I paused then, having averted my orgasm by monumental willpower, and looked down into Renee's flushed, perspiring face. 

"You see, Renee," I said, "I may have blackmailed you, but now we both have secrets we don't want the family to know. You keep quiet about who I really am, and I'll keep quiet about you and Gregor. Deal?"

She peered up at me, dazed. "Winchester …"

"And we can't have them finding out about this, can we?" I eased my still-hard dick out of her until only the tip was in, then slid it slowly back. 

"Ooh –" and she turned crimson with shame. "Why are you doing this?"

"Payback."

"But we can't have sex, Winchester. We can't. I'm your sister!"

"I've got news for you, Renee. We already are. And I'm not done yet. I want to do you up against the mirrors, with you holding onto the bar, the way you and your sweetheart were when I saw you."

"It's wrong!"

"I know."

I withdrew from her, saw her glance flick to that part of me so stiff and glistening with her juices, and reached to help her to her feet. I wondered if she might lash out at me, or run for it, but she only staggered on weak knees to an upright posture. 

"Don't," she said. "Please don't."

"Unless you want the whole world to know everything that's gone on in this room," I said, "you'll be quiet and cooperate."

Her back was to the mirrors, her bottom against the bar. She gripped it with both hands and regarded me fearfully as I advanced on her with my dick leading the way. 

"Oh, God," she whispered.

"Put your leg around me like you did with Gregor."

She hesitated, tears spilling in glittery diamond trails over her cheeks to spangle her breasts. Then, once more shutting her eyes and turning away, she did as I ordered. When her dancer's leg rose, I stepped close, and positioned myself at the entrance to her slick and slippery channel. 

"Now use your leg to pull me to you," I said hoarsely. I knew that this time I wasn't going to be able to last long. "Into you."

Weeping silently, Renee did. Her leg curled around my ass and drew me in. I stifled a groan and grabbed the bar on either side of her. I used it to rock myself back and forth, pumping vigorously. 

To my surprise, Renee suddenly brought her other leg up and around too, locking it around my waist. I plunged into her with abandon, so intently pursuing my own delayed orgasm that I might have missed hers if she hadn't cried out. 

"Oh, oh, yes, I'm coming again!" Renee exclaimed. 

I didn't speak, probably couldn't have even if I'd tried. My climax shook me head to toe, and despite Mindy's frequent ministrations at depleting my balls of their contents, I loosed what felt like quarts of it into Renee, like I'd been deprived for a year. 

If not for my iron grip on the ballet bar, I would have collapsed in a heap. As it was, I had to lean heavily into Renee, sucking in great rasping inhalations of breath. She stayed as she was, legs locked around me, but turned her head to face me. 

"That was …" She stopped, and shook her head, and looked at me with heartbreaking appeal. "You won't tell. You promised."

"If you don't." The words tottered out as I gradually felt the room stop spinning. "A deal's a deal."

She lowered her legs as we parted. The mirror's glass bore the sweaty imprint of her back. I went over to my clothes and began to put them on. 

"Shouldn't we … talk about this?" asked Renee plaintively. 

"It's probably better if we don't," I said. "You'd want an explanation, and I don't have one. Except that I hate Dad, and I've spent the past six years of my life wishing I could get back at you all. Now's my chance."

"But what did I do?"

My smile was crooked. "Nothing. It's nothing personal, Renee. It's just because you're my sister."

I left her pondering that statement and returned to the main house. Mindy might be back from her skating soon, Dad and Paula from their party. I wanted to be cleaned up before any of then arrived. 

I'd thought that my revenge would be complete once I'd fucked all three of them, my father's wife and both his daughters. All I had to do was let the truth be found out and watch the shockwaves shake the family to pieces. 

But, as I crossed the snowy yard to Pinewood, an idea occurred to me. A way to utterly and abjectly destroy my father. 

I was glad that the holidays were still a long way from being over. 

**



The Neglected Son Ch. 04



The Neglected Son Ch. 04: Mindy/Dad

"So," Mindy said, her voice as stony as her silence of moments before had been. "You had sex with my mother. You lied to me."

I had just finished relating to her a somewhat edited version of the events that had taken place in Pinewood's library some days ago. Edited to make it seem that her mother had come on to me so hot and heavy that I, being a red-blooded male, could not possibly hope to resist. 

At this point, however, any semblance of truth and I parted company completely. Yes, that was how it had started, but Paula had gotten much more than she bargained for. I'd opened up that satiny robe of hers and persisted in my lascivious attentions until she hardly knew what hit her. The image of her sprawled on the library couch, moaning in pleasure as I knelt between her legs, would stay with me for the rest of my life. 

"There's more," I said. 

Mindy flinched, and braced herself, as if she expected me to confess to having done her sister, too.

Which I had, some days ago in Renee's ballet studio. I'd caught her in a compromising situation with the butler's son, and blackmailed her into going along with my depraved desires. I'd been waiting ever since for Renee, who had recognized me an instant before I penetrated her helpless body, to tell. I had been hoping she would, in a rather sick and demented way. It was the moment I was waiting for, the moment in which the rest of them found out who I was. 

But Renee had kept the revelation to herself. She had barely ventured from her room at all, not even for today's festive Christmas dinner. Pleading migraine or some other ailment, she'd taken her meals in her room. I had only seen her once, and her face had drained of all color in the fleeting instant our eyes met. 

She had been phenomenal, too. Spying on Renee in her studio, blackmailing her into it by threatening to expose her love affair with the butler's son, and then fucking her right there on the floor and then up against the mirror, had been incredible. 

The best part, for me at least, was that by the time I was inside her and thrusting away, she knew who I was and what was happening to her. She knew that it was her own elder half-brother doing these sensationally wicked things. The horror she must have felt hadn't been able to counteract her body's instinctive response, and she had been wracked at least twice by galvanic orgasms. 

Just thinking about it started getting me hard, but I pushed the memories away and concentrated on Mindy. I wasn't ready yet to let her know about Renee. I had something else in mind for my so-called girlfriend. I knew why she'd come to my room so grave and serious. I knew what she wanted to talk to me about. But I'd derailed her neatly by spilling the beans about myself and her mother. 

"I asked her, after," I said, enjoying the way Mindy's lip curled, "how she could do this. Not only to her husband, but to you, her own daughter. She told me that I shouldn't make such a big deal out of it. She said it was hardly the first time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Mindy, biting each word off short as if she could barely trust herself even to speak. 

"That she's done this sort of thing before. Had lovers. Some of them were other guys you'd been seeing. She … she laughed about it."

"No," whispered Mindy. "No, that cunt! I hate her!"

"I don't think she can help it," I said. "She's so jealous of you that she can't stand it. She had been for years. It … well, never mind."

"What? Tell me, Chet!"

"I really shouldn't. That part, I don't think she intended to tell me. And I'm sure she never meant for me to tell anyone else."

"You'll tell me," Mindy said, "or I'll rip those cheating balls right off you."

I cringed and covered myself. "Hey! All right, just calm down, would you?"

"Calm down?" She uttered a scary banshee's laugh. "My mother cheats on my dad, with my boyfriends, and you want me to be calm? When I just found out that I'm –"

She halted, flicking her gaze warily to me, but I acted like I hadn't noticed her slip. As I said, I already knew. I'd seen the empty box in the trashcan of her bathroom. We'd been going out for about two months by that time, plenty long enough. And I'd taken some steps to sort of help things along.

"He's not your dad." I blurted it, like I had been trying to hold it back but couldn't. 

A long pause, weighty and intense, filled the room. Mindy was still as a statue, except for her eyes. They got wider and wider, the pupils dilating, until I thought that they might become black holes to swallow up her entire face. 

"Not my dad?" she finally echoed. 

I put on a wretched expression. "Mindy, I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you. But, well, that's all part of her problem. She sees the way he looks at you – hell, even I saw the way he looks at you – and she worries that you might steal him away from her."

"That can't be true." She looked like I'd slapped her.

"I don't think she meant to tell me. It just slipped out. I was shocked, Mindy. I told her that you had a right to know. It's not fair that they should keep something like that from you. But she begged me not to tell. She's afraid that if you ever found out, you might try to get back at her."

"Oh, God, that's so like her!" Mindy curled her fists and slammed them down on the mattress. We were sitting on the edge of my bed in the Red Suite, which was all heavy scarlet draperies and glossy wood furniture, like something out of a Gothic novel. "She's always been jealous of me, at least ever since I turned twelve and started getting tits! And she hates getting older. I know she does. The money she spends on spas and facials … it’s like she thinks that the second she shows a wrinkle or a grey hair, he'll throw her out."

"She said something about him being married before," I said cagily, knowing that something similar had happened all those years ago. When my mother was the esteemed Mrs. Hollister of Pinewood. Except that Dad hadn't even waited for her to get grey hair or wrinkles before trading her on a younger model. The younger model in question being her own sister, my Aunt Paula. 

"I can't believe this. I just can't. If Dad's not my father, who is?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "She wouldn't say."

"And she thinks … she thinks that I'd … oh!" Mindy sprang up and stalked the room, fists rapidly clenching and unclenching. She was only wearing a sky-blue babydoll nightie with matching panties, and whenever she passed between me and the lamps, I could see every curve of her silhouette. 

"Well, I can see her point," I said. "Didn't you notice how he checked you out when we got here? You were wearing that silky white top, with no bra, remember? And the little skirt. Sort of a slutty schoolgirl ensemble, and he couldn't stop looking."

"That's gross, Chet. He wouldn't. He couldn't!"

"It sure looked that way to me. I mean, think about it, here he is, knowing you're not his daughter, seeing you all the time … and face it, Mindy, you're hot. He'd have to be blind, gay, or dead not to appreciate it."

She pressed her forehead to the window. Beyond, a snowy expanse blanketed the grounds and glittered white under the moon. Moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, the spirit of the season and all that. This was, I was certain, the last happy holiday that Pinewood was going to see for a long, long time. 

"Your mom knows it, too," I went on. "So she seduces your boyfriends, and tells herself that if she can do that, it proves she's the sexier one."

"She is not!" Mindy rounded on me furiously. "Just because she tricked some of you idiots into bed doesn't mean anything! I could beat her any day of the week and you know it. I bet I could have him, if I wanted."

"Now, wait a minute," I said.

"Don't you dare get righteous on me, Chet Christopher. You're not very innocent in this either!"

Oh, and she only knew the half of it. I downcast my eyes humbly, but inside I was grinning like a fiend. Hook, line, and sinker. She believed every word I said. This just got better and better. 

Mindy flung herself into a chair. I could see straight up the skirt of her nightie to the frilly panties underneath. I sat where I was, on the edge of the bed, a pillow on my lap to cover my erection. I was playing a dangerous game, one that could land me in jail if it didn't get me killed, but it was a thrill like none other. 

A cunning, crafty look replaced Mindy's grimace of distress. I saw it as clearly as if I could read her mind. I knew exactly, in that instant, what she planned to do. 

She wasn't going to tell me her news after all. Not yet. Not when it would be such a brilliant way of getting back at her mother, provided that the rest of the pieces fell into place. 

Which, though she had no way of knowing, some of them already had. 

Mindy was too careless about her medications. That was going to prove her ultimate downfall. She didn't just keep prescription and over-the-counter items in her purse, oh no. There was a little box at the bottom that had once held mints, but had been recycled into use as a Whitman's sampler of recreational chemicals. 

And when it came to her birth-control pills, she was lax. Particularly around mid-cycle, when she was at her most fertile and hence her horniest. If she happened to slide open the container and see that day's pill missing, she simply assumed that she'd already taken it, and never dreamed that someone – like me – might have popped it out and flushed it down the toilet. 

That was one factor. The pills in the mint box were another. Some could be crushed and dissolved in any strong-tasting liquid. Like, say, Scotch, for instance. And if some hapless individual were to consume the laced liquor … 

"I'd better go," Mindy said in sudden decisiveness.

"What? But here we are, alone …" I let my voice trail off, and winked at her. 

She gave me a scathing look. "After you fucked my mother?"

"I'm really sorry about that, I told you," I said. "You've got to forgive me."

"I need to think. About you, her, all of this, everything. You should, too. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about this some more. Right now, I need to be by myself." 

Mindy left in a swirl of sky-blue nightie. I stayed where I was until I heard her bedroom door open and shut, then quickly arranged my bed to look like I was asleep in it, turned off the lights, and crept out. 

I made my way downstairs, through the dark rooms that still smelled of cinnamon-scented candles, evergreen, and roast turkey. Aunt Paula had retired early, Renee had barely been seen, and the patriarch of the house, my father, had gone directly from dinner to his study. 

The study with the wood paneling, and the peephole that connected to a narrow hall that led from the servants' quarters to the kitchen. It was amazing how well I remembered the layout, even after all these years. 

I had that narrow space to myself, the servants having been given the rest of today and all of tomorrow off to celebrate their own Christmas a day delayed. I put my eye up to the peephole. 

A fire glowed warm from the hearth, its light dancing on the spines of books and the glazed eyes of hunting trophies bagged by Hollisters in generations past. I could see my father exactly as I'd left him. He was slouched in a leather wingback chair, smiling vacantly into the leaping flames. 

On the spindly round table beside him were a square-cut bottle of good Scotch, a small silver ice bucket with tongs, and a stout tumbler half-filled with amber liquid. 

The other tumbler, mine, I had rinsed and set aside at the wet bar in the corner when I left after our man-to-man talk earlier that evening. 

My drink, needless to say, had not been doctored. 

With the house so otherwise quiet, I could hear the crackling fire and the snap of boiling sap in the wood. When Dad lifted his glass, I heard the crystalline rattle of ice cubes. 

We had spent a pleasant hour there, he and I. When the ladies had gone their separate ways, Mindy claiming she wanted a nice long bath and the others to their own pursuits, he had invited me to join him in the study for a nightcap. 

It was the moment I'd been waiting for. I had of course accepted, and offered to pour.

As I looked in on him now and waited to see if my plan came to pass, I thought back on our conversation. It had begun with trivialities about college and sports, but as Dad continued to put away the Scotch with the same gusto and capacity I remembered from when I was a kid, his attention began to wander, his mood to improve to a sort of daffy good fellowship.

And then, he had asked me about Mindy. 

"She seems happy with you," he'd observed. "I'm glad. My daughter is a very special girl. It would take a special young man to be worthy of her."

"Well, sir," I'd said, "I like to think I'm someone special."

"It's hard to believe she's all grown up," he mused, sipping at his third drugged Scotch. "I still think of them as my little girls, you know."

"Mindy speaks very highly of you, sir," I said. I laughed, self-deprecatingly. "In fact, sometimes I wonder if I can measure up. You're her idol."

"Oh, I hardly think that," chortled our father. 

"Honestly, sir." Seeing that his eyes had gone slightly glassy, I risked it. "She's always going on about how great you are. Handsome, too. If I didn't know better, I'd think she had a heck of a crush on you."

"What makes you say that?"

"I … I shouldn't," I said. "It's private, and a little embarrassing. Not the sort of thing I should be saying to her father."

"Now, Chet," he said, leaning over and clapping me on the arm. "We're all friends here. You can tell me anything you like."

"Well, sir," I said, "sometimes, she likes to … no, I can't."

He fixed me with as stern a look as he could manage. "What?"

"She likes to pretend I'm you," I said. "When we're, you know, together."

His eyebrows went up at that, and he pondered it for several seconds while I sweated and wondered if I'd blown it. Then he snorted, guffawed, drained the rest of his drink, and poured another. 

"Pretends you're me? How so?"

"It's silly. She calls me 'daddy,' and wants me to spank her. Stuff like that. I mean, it's fun and all, turning her over my knee, but it's still a little weird."

Scotch gurgled from the bottle into the glass, overflowing it to make a puddle before Dad realized what was happening. "You … you spank her?"

"It really turns her on."

"Does it?"

"She told me once that she used to wish you'd do it. She said that she even misbehaved on purpose, hoping for a spanking. It's the whole Oedipus thing, I guess, except I think they call it something different when it's a girl."

He blinked several times. I could see him turning this over and around in his head, grappling with it in his befuddled way. "I say. That's … odd."

"Oh, come on, sir," I said. "Can you blame her? Good-looking, sophisticated older man like you? I bet there's lots of girls her age who'd go for you. But please don't tell her what I said. She'd be mad at me."

"Of course not," he said. "Your secret's safe with me, Chip."

"Chet."

"Right." He smiled and raised his glass to me, sloshing more over the side. 

I finished mine. "Thanks for the drink, sir. I should really be going."

"What, you've only had one. And here we were getting along so well." His smile turned into a rake's leer. "Stay, have another, tell me more of Mindy's deep dark secrets."

"I couldn't do that." But I winked. "Maybe another night."

He'd grumbled a little, but a few more swigs of Scotch mollified him enough for me to excuse myself and depart the study. Leaving him to it, I had gone up to my room and had the aforementioned conversation with Mindy. 

Now, waiting in the dark passageway, I detected stealthy motion and craned my eye to see the study door easing open. There stood Mindy. She was puffy around the eyes, as if she'd had a quick but serious cry, but as she stepped softly into the room, her jaw was set in the determined look I had come to know and dread. This time, the sight of it filled me with a vicious glee. 

She had changed from the baby-doll nightie into the short pleated skirt and silky white blouse she'd been wearing the day we had arrived. The day, cold and brisk, that I'd noticed Dad taking a furtive peek at the way her hard nipples pricked at the cloth. 

"Hi, Daddy," she said, with such an edge that I was sure even in his current state, he was bound to detect something amiss. 

Instead, he looked around, saw her, and beamed broadly. "Mindy-bear!"

I had to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. Mindy-bear, indeed!

"Come in, come in, and keep your old dad company," he said. His voice was slurred, but there was energy, almost mania, lurking behind the appearances of drunkenness. 

Mindy crossed the room, walking with a bouncy strut that flipped the hem of her skirt up her thighs and made her breasts bobble unrestrained within her blouse. She reached his chair, paused for a moment as if steeling her nerve, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. When she did, her neckline gaped. I got a good view even from the peephole, and Dad had the full 3-D experience. 

After planting the smooch on his cheek, she sat down on the ottoman between the two chairs. Her skirt rode up as she did, and Dad's gaze traced the bare line of her legs. 

They talked for a while about nothing in particular. Mindy was seething with a witch's brew of emotions, and her questions seemed designed to probe for confirmation of what I'd told her upstairs. Dad, meanwhile, couldn't disguise the new contemplation with which he was surveying her. I'm sure that as far as Mindy was concerned, that was proof in itself right there. 

"So," Dad said. "Tell me about school. Have you been a good student, Mindy, or a naughty girl?"

"Naughty? Me?" She curved her lips in a smile that couldn't be anything but naughty. "Not as much as some people, maybe."

"Well, I do hope you're behaving yourself. Otherwise …"

"Otherwise, what?"

Dad finished his latest drink and smacked his lips. "Otherwise, I might have to give you a spanking."

Mindy regarded him with a hint of scorn, but more than a hint of piqued interest. "Oh, is that what you'd do?"

"It's my parental duty, isn't it, to discipline my girl."

"Parental duty," she muttered. 

"What's that?"

"Nothing. So, is that what you think? You think I need a spanking?" 

"I imagine you might," he said. "You're a little minx, just like your mother."

"I am not just like her!" snapped Mindy. 

"Temper, temper," Dad chided. "Or I may have to turn you over my knee."

"What, like this?" She slid from the ottoman and bent herself over his lap, with her bottom poking saucily into the air. "Have I been such a bad girl, then, Daddy?"

He froze for an instant, and I had time to worry that maybe the drugs weren't as strong as I'd anticipated. That he would come to his senses. 

But as he looked down at his lapful of Mindy, her skirt now up so high that it was quite obviously apparent that she wore no panties, his eyes lit up with a sort of foggy delight. He pushed the hem higher, fully exposing her smoothly taut ass, and smacked his palm against it in a sharp report. 

Mindy squeaked in surprise. Encouraged by this, Dad paddled her with a will. Her bottom reddened under the stinging slaps and she continued squeaking and wiggling in protest.

I watched, amazed but pleased. I couldn't believe this was taking place before my very eyes. That I had engineered such a scene, my father vigorously spanking Mindy, while she writhed and squealed. His face grew red, beads of perspiration along his hairline, either from exertion or passion or both. Mindy, too, was getting a kinky charge out of it. I saw it in her eyes, the heated look with which I was so familiar. 




The Neglected Son Ch. 04



The little slut … I could hardly keep quiet. I wanted to laugh, to cheer, to give myself a pat on the back. It had worked. I'd convinced her, totally convinced her, and she was dead-set on getting revenge. She really believed that Dad wasn't her father. While he, clouded as he was, really believed that she wanted him and that it was okay to give her what she wanted. 

She escaped to the ottoman again, and that was when I saw how he had been physically affected. Mindy must have felt it, that rising stiffness under her as she lay and squirmed on his lap. She saw it, too, taking a lingering, speculative look. 

Yet she held back. She couldn't quite bring herself to take the next step. Oh, she was aroused, sure, I could see that from here. She was probably all hot and slippery between the thighs, and in the firelight, her nipples cast pointy little shadows against her pale blouse. Her hair was mussed, her clothes disheveled, and what an appealing picture she presented. 

Dad abruptly leaned forward and kissed her. He caught her so by surprise that her mouth opened opportunely for him to thrust in his tongue. When she would have recoiled, he cupped his hand around the back of her head and held her to him. He lost his seat on the chair and thumped to his knees on the rug, still lip-locked and tongue-probing with Mindy. 

She finally tore free, gasping and flushed. Trying to rise, her arm struck the round table and teetered it on its spindly legs. Dad's tumbler fell to the floor, spilling its freight of half-melted ice and a few droplets of Scotch. The heavy glass did not break, but rolled toward the hearth. There, it might have shattered against the bricks, and Mindy's automatic response was to scurry after it on hands and knees. 

In so doing, she turned her rear to Dad. He pounced as she reached for the wayward glass, grasping her hips from behind and drawing them snug up against the protuberant front of his trousers. He rubbed against her, his confined erection back and forth over the spank-reddened cheeks of her ass, and groaned throatily. 

"Dad!" Mindy cried. I saw the astonishment in her eyes. She perhaps hadn't expected this, not really, had perhaps come downstairs with only the vaguest idea of how it would go. 

"Mindy!" Dad returned, more in rapture than in shock. 

He circled one arm around her waist so that she couldn't get away – and she was trying, but Mindy was short and Dad was tall, still strong and athletic for his age. His other hand tore feverishly at the front of his pants, unsnapping, unzipping, and clumsily but quickly working them down. 

I, of all the stupid times for it, felt a pang of worry. What if it turned out that he was better than me? What if he had a bigger one, and applied it with the skill of decades' worth of experience? It wasn't that I was jealous or anything. It wasn't that I felt possessive of Mindy. Far from it! Hadn't I arranged this whole thing? Hadn't I tricked her into being here with her own father, tricked him into going along with it? So what if he did have a bigger one, or used it better? So what? 

Seconds later, my fears were allayed. He had an okay one, not spectacular, no Dillinger or anything like that. I beheld the very organ of my own conception, and Mindy's and Renee's, as my father freed it from his clothing and laid it along the rosy-pink crack of Mindy's ass. 

She babbled at him to stop, perhaps having changed her mind or at least decided that this was all happening too fast. But Dad seemed to have no more intention of that than I had when Renee had beseeched the same of me. He bumped his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in the furrow of her bottom, while he groped underneath her to get a feel of her pussy. 

Her body lurched when he made contact. A startled sound – ooh! – burst from her, and I imagined she was reacting to Dad's fingers sinking into her slick tightness. She clawed at the carpet, the abandoned tumbler still some inches away.

"Oh, Mindy, yes, there's Daddy's naughty little girl," he said.

Having observed long enough while ignoring the throbbing length in my own pants, I took matters into my own hands. As blackly exciting as it had been to do all the wrong and sinful things I'd done, with my sisters and my aunt, it was somehow all the more evil and enticing to watch as my father held his precious daughter immobile, groping her and preparing to fuck her. 

"Daddy, please," gasped Mindy. 

"Darling, yes, tell Daddy what you like. Let Daddy fuck you. Feel me? Feel how nice that is? How much it wants to be in you? In here?"

"Oh, God!" Mindy jumped as he did something, perhaps got more of his fingers deep in her, perhaps tweaked her clit. Either way, it blew away any thoughts she might have had of trying to stop. "You lying bastard, all this time, if that's what you want, I know how you've been watching me, if you want to, go ahead and do it, do it nice and hard, fuck me, she can go to hell, shove it in me and fuck me now!"

He reared back, the head of his cock dragging along the crack of her ass until it was poised to enter her from the rear. They were turned just right for me to see it all plainly, as he slammed his entire length in. 

Mindy bucked and wailed, grinding back to meet Dad as he pulled most of the way out and drove fiercely home again. His face was twisted in a hideous contortion of ecstasy and disbelief, as if even in his muddled state he understood what he was doing and could scarcely credit it. 

It was over almost as soon as it began, Dad hunching and thrusting and coming in an explosive series of harsh barking groans. He fell back, parting from Mindy with a slurping suction noise, and sagged against the ottoman with his chest heaving so that I thought he might have a heart attack. 

Mindy, meanwhile, spun around with the fury of a scalded cat. I knew her body cues plenty well enough to know that she had been denied her orgasm, and she clearly was not happy about it. 

With nary a care for Dad's struggles for breath, she pushed him onto his back on the carpet and straddled his face. She'd probably suffocate him, but who knows, the bucking of his death throes might be enough to let her finish. 

I had underestimated the old man, though. When he looked up and saw Mindy swinging her leg over his head, her sopping pussy streaming with his own semen descending toward him, he rallied like a champ. He seized her thighs and pulled her down, and her back made a bow as she settled onto his eager mouth. 

"Yes, lick me, bring me off," Mindy panted. "Lick me, Daddy, you rotten son of a bitch!"

I couldn't contain myself any longer. Watching them, imagining how much worse – a thousand, a million times worse! – this would make things, the very idea of Dad's tongue plunging into Mindy's cunt, all of it piled up on me, overwhelmed me, and sent me hurtling into an orgasm so strong that I thought my head was turning inside-out. 

The results of my pumping fist splattered copiously against the wall. I had to brace myself or I, too, might have collapsed to the floor. My ears rang, my temples pounded with my pulse, and my very eyeballs seemed to throb. But through it all, I kept my eye to that peephole. 

Finally, Mindy was sated and Dad was miraculously still among the living, albeit only semi-conscious. She crawled off him and slumped, dazed, against the side of the chair. I watched until she slowly made her way to her feet, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. She stared at Dad with an unreadable frown, then left the study. 

I hurried through the servants' corridor, fairly confident that Mindy wouldn't revisit my room that night. I probably wouldn't see her, or any of them, until breakfast the next morning. 

And that, I decided, was when I'd say what I had been waiting so very long to say. 



The Neglected Son Ch. 05



The Neglected Son, Ch. 05: Conclusion

It wasn't surprising that I was the first one down to breakfast. 

Aunt Paula always took her sweet time getting ready in the morning. She hated appearing before anyone, even family, without having put in a serious hour in front of the mirror. 

Renee had hardly shown her face in days. She kept to her room. I don't doubt that I was partially to blame. 

As for Dad and Mindy, well, they had reasons of their own for sleeping in. 

So did I, for I'd been up just as late as the two of them. 

But I didn't have Dad's hangover to contend with. He had put away a lot of Scotch the previous night. Enough to leave him groggy even without the crushed pills I'd added to the alcohol when he wasn't looking. Mindy, likely with her mind awhirl from the evening's revelations and events, might have tossed and turned in fitful half-sleep all night. 

And me, Chet? Or Winchester Sherman Hollister, as it said on my birth certificate? I was feeling fine. You know it. Fine as paint and never better. Wasn't my plan coalescing perfectly around me? Hadn't I accomplished my every demented mission? 

It occurred to me as I descended the stairs that I may have been losing my mind, or lost it already. Surely no sane, normal person would spend his holidays like this. 

Pinewood was emptier and quieter than usual. It was Boxing Day, that quaint post-Christmas celebration hardly acknowledged in most of the rest of the country. The custom still held here, anyway. At least at estates like Pinewood, where the staff outnumbered the family. The servants had the day off. Not even Parks, the butler, was in attendance. Neither was his son, Gregor, who had presumed to fall in love with one of the Hollister daughters. 

I owed old Gregor a vote of thanks for that, really. If not for catching him with my sister Renee in the dance studio, I wouldn't have had such an easy opportunity for getting at her. The fear of her parents finding out she was involved with one of 'the help' had made pretty Renee willing to do almost anything. By the time she'd tried to back out, it was too late for her. And at the penultimate moment, she – first of all of them – had recognized me. 

Mindy still hadn't. I doubted she ever would, self-absorbed little bitch that she was. Ditto her mother, my aunt. They wouldn't know the truth if it bit them on their shapely asses. 

And Dad? My own father, who had divorced my mother and married her sister? Dad, who had grudgingly permitted me to make the occasional visit to Pinewood until he'd managed to pack me off to boarding school? Had he recognized his firstborn, his only son? 

Nope. I'd changed a lot in the intervening years, but I still had expected that he'd feel something. Some sort of kinship, blood calling to blood. But he hadn't. I even looked something like he had when he was my age. We had the same tall, athletic build. My hair was lighter, his auburn like Renee's while mine was closer to light brown, but I shared the same dark eyes, the same strong chin. 

I went into the gleaming enamel and chrome expanse of the kitchen. No Cook to prepare breakfast this morning. I started coffee, made toast, and was sitting down to this humble repast when Aunt Paula entered the cavernous dining room. 

She was fresh and lovely in a wool dress of holiday red, with a scooped cowl neck and a flared skirt. Her dark hair – not a thread of grey – was piled regally atop her head and held in place with tortoiseshell combs. She favored me with a warm smile, which grew warmer as she saw that we were alone. 

"Good morning, Chet," she said. Her head tipped toward the kitchen and she asked in a conspiring whisper whether Mindy was getting herself some breakfast. 

"She's not up yet," I said. "Coffee?"

"Please!" She sank into the chair nearest mine, and watched with chin delicately balanced on one hand as I poured her a cup from the carafe. 

I couldn't help grinning. She had no idea, the poor woman. Her life was about to come crashing down around her, and she had no idea. What would she say when she found out that her husband had passed a portion of the previous evening balling their oldest daughter in front of the study fireplace? 

Stirring sugar into the aromatic brew, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "This is going to sound silly, Chet, but it's been on my mind for a few days now. Do I know your parents?"

The bite of toast I'd just taken lodged in my throat and I had to cough it into my napkin as discreetly as I could. The urge to shriek with laughter was so overwhelming that it was probably a good thing I couldn't immediately draw breath. 

"My parents?" I repeated after a quick drink of coffee.

"I don't know any Christophers, but you look so familiar to me. Maybe I know your mother?"

"You might," I said, endeavoring to keep a straight face. 

Mindy appeared just then. I thought she might have looked awful, face swollen from crying, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. But she sashayed in, smug as the proverbial cat, surprisingly sexy in an oversized university sweatshirt – mine – and faded jeans. Her hair was still damp from the shower, framing her sly, impish features. She shot her mother a look of sneering triumph. 

Paula, not missing this, shot a look of cool triumph right back at her. I felt her foot touch mine under the table. She had slipped it out of her shoe, and nyloned toes tickled my shin. 

The atmosphere in the dining room was weighty and electrical, like the air before a thunderstorm. I almost expected to see sparks snapping in the air, our hair frizzing up in halos from the charge. 

The two women exchanged barbed pleasantries as Mindy helped herself to coffee and sat down near me. Paula's foot was still rubbing my leg when Mindy blatantly rested her hand on my thigh. 

It struck me to wonder what it'd be like to have the two of them at the same time. So similar in coloring but so different in body type, each beautiful in her own way. But the notion wouldn't hold up even in my most twisted fantasies. That sort of thing took cooperation. Mindy and her mother hated each other so bitterly that they'd never agree. 

Or, trying to outdo each other, they'd kill whatever fool of a man happened to be with them. I mean, okay, what a way to go and all, but I was still too much in love with being alive. 

"Well, Mother," Mindy said, so sweetly that I knew an attack was pending. "Isn't this nice? Just you, me, and my boyfriend. Who you've fucked."

Paula's eyelids fluttered in a series of rapid blinks. Her elegant mouth dropped open in surprise. "Mindy!"

"Chet told me. He told me everything, Mother."

She yanked her foot from my leg as if burned. Trying for nonchalance, she picked up her cup, but the trembling in her hands betrayed her.

"Not quite everything," I demurred. 

"Mindy, I don't know why you'd get such a thing in your head –" Paula said. 

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she cried. "You're always like this, whenever I bring one of my boyfriends home. It's pathetic, Mother. They're half your age."

This last was a direct hit. Paula winced. 

"I know why, too," Mindy went on. Her eyes were flashing like twin blue flames. "And I guess I can understand it, even though it's pitiful and sick. What I want to know is how come you never told me?"

"Told you what?" Paula asked. She was pale, shaken. 

"Who is my real father?"

"Wha … what?"

"All this time, being jealous of me, thinking that he's going to like me better and get rid of your saggy old ass, so you try to make yourself feel better by messing around with my boyfriends –"

"He's not your boyfriend."

This new voice, low though it was, cut through Mindy's tirade. We all turned to the door, and recoiled as one at the sight. 

It was Renee, but not Renee like any of us had ever seen her. The gazelle-like grace was robbed from her body. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, shoulders bent, arms hanging stiffly, legs like stilts. Her hair was a filthy, tangled skein that fell in stringy clumps. The dirt and oil had darkened it from auburn to brick. 

Her eyes, huge and hollow in a pallid waxwork's face, peered through the strands. They jittered in their sockets, moving from me to Mindy to Paula to me again. She wore a long flannel nightgown, white but stained, and looked like a deranged Ophelia. All she needed was a bouquet of wildflowers and a moat in which to drown herself. 

"Renee, my God!" Paula said. "What's the matter with you?"

Mindy gaped at her sister. So did I, as I realized that Renee was now finally all the way unhinged. She'd never been exactly normal, and now she could have passed for an escapee from the nearest lunatic asylum. I must have pushed her over the edge. 

"He's not your boyfriend," Renee said again, fixing her attention on Mindy. "He took me in my studio, took me on the floor, put it in me even though I begged him not to, and that's when I knew!"

"What are you talking about?" Mindy glanced sharply at me, ire rising in her like mercury in a thermometer. "Chet, what's she talking about? You … you didn't …"

"Hello, all, good morning. What's for break –" Dad, a bit pasty but otherwise seeming fairly chipper in brown slacks and a camel-colored turtleneck, came in the other door and stopped short at the tableau. The only indication of his night of drugs, alcohol and debauchery was a forced heartiness to his tone that rang vaguely false. "Good heavens! Renee?"

Renee's hands rose jerkily from her sides. The nails had been gnawed to stubs. She tittered a madwoman's laugh and tore at her snarls of hair. Some wordless gabble issued from her throat. 

"Quick, call someone," Paula said to Dad. "I think she's having a breakdown."

"He took me, made me strip and let him touch me, held me down, put it in me!" Renee screeched. "And I knew! I knew who he was!"

"She's crazy," Mindy said. "Isn't she, Chet? She's crazy and she's lying."

"Well, she is crazy all right," I said, and smirked meaningfully at Mindy. "As for the rest of it …"

She launched herself at me, and fetched me a ringing punch above the left ear. "That's it, Chet Christopher! First my mother, then my sister? I never want to see you again!"

"But what about the baby?" I asked, all concern and innocence as her parents looked on in thunderstruck shock. "You are pregnant, aren't you?"

Her answer was a wild scream that fragmented into a furious sob.

"Oh, Mindy!" Paula said in a disappointed tone. "How could you?"

"Now hold on just a minute!" Dad said, drawing himself up. "Mindy, what did you say? What about your mother?"

Renee threw herself to her knees and lifted her arms in supplication to the chandelier suspended above the glossy table. "He held me down and made me come! Then he held me against the glass and made me come again!"

"She's added him to her latest list of conquests," Mindy said, jabbing an accusing finger at her mother.

It was chaos, and I stood back and soaked it up. 

"Paula, is this true? It can't be true, can it?" That was Dad, looking from me to his wife with increasing bewilderment. 

"How could you let yourself get pregnant, you foolish girl?" That was Paula, angrily, to Mindy. 

"My mother and my sister? What's wrong with you, Chet, can’t you ever get enough?" And that, of course, was Mindy to me. 

"You're one to talk," I said. "Where were you last night … Mindy-bear?"

"You saw me? You were there?"

"Enough!" Dad hammered on the table. Dishes jumped and clattered. 

Even Renee was startled into silence. No one moved. 

"Now, let's get to the bottom of this. Rationally." Dad scowled at Paula. "Did you have an affair with Chet?"

She covered her face, admission in itself. "It was just once, one time, I swear, and I didn't mean to."

"That's such bullshit!" Mindy cried. "You can't believe her. You've known about her lovers for twenty years!"

Dad's jaw dropped. "What?"

"That's a lie!" Paula said hotly. "I've never had lovers, never cheated on your father until this."

"Give it up already," Mindy said. "I know he's not my real father."

"Where in the world did you get that idea?" Paula gasped, as Dad looked utterly astounded. "He most certainly is your father."

I cleared my throat. "Actually, Mindy, he is. I made that stuff up."

Her expression as she turned to me was all I could have hoped for. "You made it up? Why, Chet? Why would you do that? Why would you lie?"

"So you'd do exactly what you did," I said. 

"What did you do?" Paula asked, her tone of horror suggesting that she already had an idea, one she most desperately wanted dispelled. 

"No," Mindy said. "No, he's not my father. If he was, he never would have …"

"Never would have what?" Paula was shrill now, especially when she glanced at Dad.

He sank strengthlessly into a chair, his skin gone grey, looking twenty years older and absolutely appalled. Maybe he'd been so out of it last night that he hadn't remembered, or dismissed it as the sort of sick dream that you don't even confide to your wife or dearest friend. But the comprehension was rushing in on him now like a tidal wave. It battered him apart.

"Spanked your naked bottom and fucked you doggie-style in front of the study fireplace?" I provided helpfully, giving Mindy my most dazzling smile. She staggered and sank into a chair of her own. "He might have, if he'd been high on drugs. All someone would have to do is grind up a couple of pills, say maybe out of someone's Altoids box, and mix them with a few glasses of Scotch."

Paula was perfectly livid. I had never seen her complexion so floridly scarlet, her features twisted into such a hag's mask. Her voice was a whisper as sharp, cold, and pointed as an icicle. "This isn't true, is it?"

Dad's wretched refusal to answer was its own confession. Mindy stared across the table at him. They both looked like they wanted to boil themselves, and maybe scour out the insides of their heads with steel wool to be rid of the hideous memory.

"Oh," I said, as if suddenly recalling. "And when he came too fast for your liking, you sat on his face. Am I forgetting anything else?"

"You did this," Mindy said, piercing me with a glittering, hate-filled glare. "You, Chet. You said that he wasn't my real father, that Mother had told you so."

"Yes, that's what I said all right," I agreed. 

"Why would you do this to us?" Paula asked. "You seduced me – I only ever meant to flirt with you a little, never to go that far! – and from the sounds of it, you raped Renee as well. And this … this other … it's too horrible to even speak aloud!"

"No, it isn't," I said, all hearty and cheerful. "I tricked Mindy into having sex with her father, and I drugged him so he'd go along with it. Though he might not have needed much convincing. I didn't lie about the way he kept checking out her tits."

"But why?" wailed Paula. 

"He hates us," Renee said, sounding remarkably clear. Or it might just have been that everyone else, myself included, sounded so totally insane that by comparison, she was almost normal. "He hates us for all that we've done to him."

"What have we ever done?" Dad asked. His voice had aged twenty years as well, becoming an old man's cracked and feeble rasp. 

"You still don't know," I marveled. "After all this. I've fucked your wife and both your daughters – made one of them pregnant, in fact. I've made you fuck your daughter. What could you have done to make me hate you so much? Gosh, let me think. Hmm. I wonder, I wonder."

"You've destroyed our family!" Dad shouted. Well, he tried to shout. It was a croak, splintered as if he had a chicken bone lodged in his throat. 

Renee inhaled as if she was going to say it, so I paused. But she only let the breath out in a broken moan. So I cupped Paula's chin in my hand – she wrenched away at once, with a cry of disgust – and patted her on the shoulder instead. 

"You asked, Paula, if you knew my parents. I think you might. Quite well, as a matter of fact. Though you haven't seen my mother in a long time. Maybe you remember her. She's been married a couple of times, but her maiden name was Sherman. Barbara Sherman."

It meant nothing to Mindy, but Aunt Paula – whose maiden name, coincidence of coincidences, had also been Sherman – looked stricken to the point of heart failure. 

"She gave it to me as my middle name," I continued. "Stuck me with Winchester as a first name, though. Some rich old uncle on the Hollister side of the family. I think you and Mom had inheritance in mind, right, Dad?"

"Winchester." My name dragged from my father's mouth like a corpse being disinterred from a forsaken, moldy tomb. "It can't be."

Mindy was still frowning, perplexed. "No, Winchester was our half-brother's name. I remember him. He was a total loser."

"That is our brother!" Renee shrieked, pointing wildly at me. 

Whatever temporary calm had descended upon her was blown to the four winds now. I swear, the windows quivered and the crystalware in the sideboard was on the verge of shattering from the high notes in her voice. 

"Our brother and we didn't recognize him, you've been sleeping with our brother, Mindy, and you brought him here, and none of us knew! He found me in my studio and made me take off my clothes, and I saw it was him and I begged him to stop but he put it in me anyway, all the way in, so deep, so big, and he knew all along I was his sister but he didn't care. He liked it that way!"

"I think Renee's hit the nail right on the head," I said. 

"No. No way. No fucking way." Mindy was ashen. "You are not Winchester."

"Want to see my driver's license? My diploma? My credit card bills and birth certificate? Want me to remind you how you used to mock me in front of your slumber-party pals and call me Winnie-the-Pooh and make fun of me every chance you got? Oh, it's me all right, Mindy."

I closed in on her, towering over her as she sat numb in the chair. If the chair hadn't been there, she would have slithered bonelessly to the floor. I leaned over, lowering my voice a trifle though it still carried to everyone in the room. 

"Me, Winchester, Winnie-the-Pooh, that you threw yourself at that night in the club. Remember, Mindy? I was only going to say hi, and let you see for yourself that the loser turned out okay after all. But, hey! Wow! You didn't recognize me! Not only that, you were such a slut that you sucked my cock in the back booth, then led me into the park on the way home for our first fuck."

She reacted as though I were stabbing her with knives. I was riding on a crest of cruel, vindicated victory. 

"Two months, Mindy! Two months, you dated your own brother, and had sex at every opportunity. I got rid of some of your pills, you know. I wanted to knock you up. Hey, and after all, we're only half-siblings, right? So the baby shouldn't have too many birth defects. Webbed fingers or something. Oh … but wait … our mothers were sisters, too! That makes a nice small gene pool, doesn’t it? Who knows what kind of mutant you might be growing in there! Maybe it'll have flippers, or two heads. Some nightmare monster-baby!"

"I hate you," she said in a slicing whisper.

"That makes us even." I glanced over my shoulder at Renee and offered her a rueful smile. "As for you, sis, I do have to point out that you were never much of a bitch to me when we were kids. It wasn't you I was getting back at. Besides, you did recognize me. Better late than never."

Having already spoken her piece, Renee huddled against the wall and regarded me with the wide, terrified eyes of a trapped animal. 

"One more thing," I said, as though in afterthought. "You really might want to consider getting on the pill, Renee. After that little scare you and Gregor the butler's son had. A girl can't be too careful. Though it might already be too late, this time. You could have a flippered, two-headed monster-baby, too!"




The Neglected Son Ch. 05



She slid down the wall and curled herself into a ball, arms wrapped around her head, knees drawn up against her chest. 

I turned my most winning smile on Dad and Aunt Paula, who remained speechless and aghast. 

"Thanks for the hospitality," I said. "Thanks for everything."

No one spoke. No one could. It had all been too much for them. Some vital circuits had been blown. I had yanked the bottom out of their world and sent them plummeting into a senseless void. 

Good. 

Three pairs of eyes tracked me, the only movement in the room but for Renee's uncontrollable shuddering. I crossed the room, plucked my half-eaten piece of toast from the plate, and finished it. I saluted them with my coffee cup, then finished that as well. After wiping my mouth on a napkin, I tossed the napkin to the floor and headed out. Their stunned gazes followed me as far as the door, where I glanced back. 

"See you around," I said. "Maybe at a family reunion someday."

I left them where they were. I went upstairs, feeling as though I was walking on air, barely able to keep from unleashing peals of maniacal laughter. The looks on their faces had been all I'd hoped for and more. 

In less than ten minutes, I'd packed and put Pinewood behind me. I took Mindy's car – what was she going to do, call the cops? – and ditched it as soon as I got to town. I called a cab, got to the train station, and rode the wave of exultation all the way home. 

That should have been the end of it. I didn't care what happened to them next. They'd suffered, I had seen to that, and it felt so good to be rid of the grudge of a lifetime that I was in no hurry to drag it out. I had my own life to live, the ghosts of my past finally stilled.

Or so I thought. 

Until it made the papers.

Family Tragedy Takes Two Lives, read the headline. A smaller sub-header announced: Two Survive Murder-Suicide Spree, In Critical Condition. 

Shortly thereafter, I was contacted by a lawyer. That first meeting, I was a ball of nerves, sure that my part in those events would come out. I'd go to jail as an accessory at the very least. When the lawyer told me why I'd really been summoned, I could barely believe my ears.

That was almost a year ago. The holidays are drawing near again, and Pinewood is as festive and beautiful as ever. 

I've replaced the entire staff, of course. The old ones had to go. Most of all Parks, the butler, and his interfering son. Gregor, he of the profuse black curls and muscular legs, dared to presume he could stay with Renee. I got rid of him as fast as I could. 

Pinewood is mine now. So is the money, quite a hefty sum of it.

Well, that's not one hundred percent factual. It's not all mine. But I am the trustee, in charge of the estate. Master of the mansion. 

The lawyer was very relieved to discover that Winchester Sherman Hollister was such a fine upstanding young man, ready and willing to overlook the slights and resentments of the past. That Winchester Sherman Hollister was dutiful and caring enough to leave graduate school, move to Pinewood, and take over the responsibilities in such a stressful, difficult time. 

How many sons in that position would have done the same? Such a burden to take on, and after the shabby way I'd been treated for most of my life. 

I earned a good deal of admiration for it. There may have been some questions, too, among those who'd visited Pinewood that last Christmas. The people who'd attended the parties and to whom I'd been introduced as Chet. But Chet was an acceptable nickname for Winchester – preferable, really – and those who'd thought I was Mindy's boyfriend decided they must have misheard. 

It didn't matter much, anyway. I had little interest in socializing with the neighbors. They saw my reclusiveness as partly being busy looking after all my new duties, and partly because I was in mourning. 

Let them think what they will. I don't care. 

All that matters to me is my success. My ultimate victory. 

Apparently, it started with Renee. I remembered how I'd likened her to Ophelia and thought she only needed a moat to drown herself in. Well, Pinewood had no moat, and the pool was drained for the winter, so she'd had to make do with jumping, instead. Off the highest peak of the roof, down to the ground. Crunch. 

That must have been the final straw for Dad. He went to the study – scene of his particular shameful crime – and readied one of the antique weapons our Hollister ancestors had used in the hunt. He shot Aunt Paula first, then Mindy, and finally ate the barrel and blew his brains out. 

Good thing I had the alibi of having been on a train when it happened. Good thing none of them left a note. 

And a very good thing that the survivors aren't able to talk about what went on there at Pinewood those last few days. 

Poor Renee. She meant well, but the fluffy snowbanks cushioned her fall enough to save her life. She broke both legs and her back, fractured her skull, and ended up in a coma. To this day, she hasn't surfaced from the inky depths of unconsciousness. 

And Mindy? Dad's bullet lodged in her spine, at the base of her skull. She's paralyzed. Almost totally. Her limbs are so much deadwood, and her speech is an incoherent mumble. But her eyes, oh, her eyes are very much alive and aware. 

I have nurses to take care of them. I made a most impassioned speech about how I couldn't bear to see my dear sisters stuck away in a hospital. I wanted them home, at Pinewood, in the familiar and loved surroundings. Money being no object, of course. 

Renee doesn't move when I go into her room. Her bones have healed by now, and her legs are even mostly straight. She probably would never dance again even if she came out of the coma, but she would probably be able to walk. I don't disturb Renee, for whom I've developed something of a fondness. She looks so peaceful, resting there like a princess in a fairy tale.

Mindy doesn't move much either, but her blazing eyes follow me everywhere. The nurses mistake that look for gratitude and sisterly affection, but I know better. 

She can't stir her limbs, and they say she can't feel a thing. Sometimes, late at night, I will go in and visit her. While the nurse sleeps in the adjoining room, I will strip off my clothes and slide into bed alongside my immobile, helpless sister. She can only watch, can't stop me from doing anything I want. I'm always careful, though. I never leave marks, and I always use a condom. It would be a hell of a thing to explain. 

And oh, the impotent hatred in her eyes! She'd kill me if she could. 

I suppose the real miracle is that neither of them miscarried. 

Pinewood isn't as quiet as it used to be. Not with two babies in the house, howling for food and attention in the wee small hours. 

Christopher, the elder by six weeks, is a fine and healthy boy. I think that when his eyes stop changing, they will be as turquoise-blue as Mindy's. Not a webbed finger or toe on him, either. 

He was a Caesarian birth, of course. They both were. Under the circumstances, it was really the only way. I remember a conference with the doctors in which they tried to tell me it would be for the best to authorize abortions. 

I refused, with a great show of indignation. My father was dead, I told them. And my aunt. My sisters had lost both parents. How could they even think of taking their babies away? I vowed that I would raise and care for the children as if they were my own. 

Damn, I'm good. If they gave out Academy Awards for this sort of thing …

Swan isn't as big or healthy as Christopher. She was born tiny and delicate, fragile and pale as a porcelain figurine. I play music for her in her nursery every night. Classical music, her namesake most of all. It always stops her fussing. Who knows … maybe she'll be a ballerina some day. 

The important thing, perhaps the most important thing of all, is that these two will never be abandoned and sent away, like I was. They will grow up in this house, happy and well, loved and treated like the little prince and princess that they are. 

**

The End