On Thursday, I stepped into my favorite coffee shop, much as I did every workday since leaving college. I ordered up my medium latte and plopped down my money on the counter. As I turned, my eyes focused on the headline of the displayed newspaper. "Fiery Tanker Accident Kills Two."
As shocking as that was, the dateline in a smaller print size stood out even more. It read, "LEONARDSVILLE," my old hometown. The human brain captures bits of information, some more readily than others, place names of interest being one of the categories. For a town that small, this must be an important story. Without hesitating, I pulled out another buck and purchased the paper. My mind rarely lies.
While I sipped my coffee, I perused the article. Even though I didn't live there for several years, I recognized the location of the accident as being near my old school and the company owning the truck involved. Neither victim was identified, pending notification of next of kin.
With nothing else to glean, I headed off to work. For the entire day my mind reviewed the accident, rerunning every detail given. To my consternation, the evening news provided no additional information, not even mentioning it. That fifteen minutes of fame dissolved quickly.
The next morning I bought the paper again. On page seven I found the reward for my searching. As I read it, blood drained from my face. While I didn't know the truck driver, the other victim named Charley Faulkner had been my best friend growing up. That nagging feeling of loss I sensed for two days, like a disturbance in the Force, brought all my memories flooding back. Here I was, a grown man, sipping a latte, and bawling my eyes out like a little kid.
They scheduled his funeral for the following Friday. They granted my request for the time off. In my state of mind, I wasn't much use there anyway.
Being a single guy without a steady girlfriend, I didn't have to worry about my social calendar. In reality, I had few dates since moving from Leonardsville those dozen or so years before. In fact, I had only a couple of friends of any gender and none that close. Just study, work, and sleep. That was my dreary routine.
While I prepared for my trip, I reran all the escapades in my mind that involved Charley or his twin sister, Maggie. Or Magpie as we used to tease her. The three of us stuck close from even before we entered the first grade until I left. My surrogate brother and sister.
I was more the odd triplet. For some reason, probably because we were always together, our teachers would get us confused. I got blamed for Charley's shenanigans, and he for mine. But what are best friends for otherwise?
Now, I wished I had stayed in touch. But being two states away meant no face-to-face visits, and none of us enjoyed writing letters. The friendship just evaporated into nothingness.
In the early morning hours of the funeral, I struck out with a carefully prepared time table. I miscalculated, arriving minutes after the service. Fortunately, I knew the cemetery and headed straight there, arriving just after the internment. I met all of six cars leaving and felt sad that Charley had so few well-wishers.
I pulled up behind the only remaining vehicles: the hearse and the family limousine. As I got out, I recognized the woman wearing a simple black dress as his sister. She still had that frizzy, bushy, curly, untamable brown hair after all these years.
As she was engaged with two men I took to be the morticians, I stayed away, not needing to interfere in their conversation. Instead, I circled the cars and approached the lonely coffin.
"Goodbye, old friend," I croaked, the only words coming to my brain or exiting my throat.
After a minute of silent reflection, I turned away, glancing first at the trio still in conference. Then I noticed another person, younger, sitting on a memorial bench, swinging her feet. I knew immediately her family heritage. The bushy brunette hair gave it away.
"Good morning," I said as I approached the bench.
"It's afternoon," she replied in an emotionless voice, barely noticing me.
"I guess it is. I kind of lost track of time, driving most of the morning to say goodbye to Charley."
She perked up as she turned toward me. "You knew Uncle Charley?"
"Years ago. And Maggie too."
The girl screwed up her face until a light bulb went off. "Oh you mean Mommy. No one calls her that. It's always Margaret, ever since I can remember."
"I figured she might be your mom." I pointed to the top of my head.
"Don't remind me." She rolled her eyes and flicked a lock, having it fall back into place. "I want straight hair like the other girls, but I'm cursed with this."
"Trust me, it looks good on you. By the way, I'm Dave. Dave Davenport."
"Christy. Pleased to meet you." She held out a hand for me to shake when a second light bulb flashed. "I think I've heard about you. From Uncle Charley."
"I'm in trouble now," I said, bringing a giggle from her.
She then moved her head, shifting her focus behind me. "All right, here comes Mommy."
Before I could turn, I heard a voice over my shoulder. "Hey, who are you, talking to my daughter?" I spun and watched her brain gyrate, trying to analyze my face.
"It's all right, Mommy. He knew Uncle Charley. His name is…"
"Dave!" The woman's eyes grew wide, and her body swayed before dropping to the grass.
"I've never had that effect on a woman before," I muttered.
"Where…where am I?" Margaret Faulkner struggle with the oxygen mask as the EMT tried to adjust it.
"You fainted, Mommy."
"First time I've been called to a cemetery," said the other EMT trying to get a pulse count. "When was the last time you ate?"
"I ate…I guess it was Tuesday." She tried to sit up.
"Just take it easy," said the first EMT, removing the mask. "Low blood sugar. Here's some fruit juice to tide you over. You need some solid food in you."
"I know, I know. And thanks." She downed the contents in a single gulp. "I'm so embarrassed, but I thought I saw a ghost."
"That would be me," I said, stepping into the circle at the back of the vehicle. "Hello, Magpie."
She blinked three times. "Dave Davenport. Is that really you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"Oh, my lord. I haven't seen you in…" The woman reached over and patted Christy's head. "In years."
"I'm sorry I never came back."
The whole group stood for several moments in silence until the second EMT said, "It looks like you're fine. Unless you want to ride with us to the ER…"
"No, I'm feeling much better. But my car's over at the funeral parlor."
"I can take you home," I volunteered, "and we can pick up the car later."
She smiled at me. "Good idea, Dave. You always had those. In the meantime, we can catch up."
They say you can't go home again. In this case, I was headed for the home of the only girl I ever…dare I say it…loved. It felt like home to me.
While Margaret and Christy changed out of their mourning clothes, I grabbed some eggs and other fixings. I couldn't prepare much, but I made a mean omelet.
The girl appeared first, dressed in a pink sleeveless tee and white shorts. She was slim, almost skinny, with barely any hips or breasts giving contours to the outfit. However, it did show off her long legs. She was the spitting image of her mother the day I said my final goodbyes. For all I knew, it could have been the same outfit.
"Whatcha making?" she asked.
"Denver omelets. I hope you like them."
"Yummy. Uncle Charley used to make them too. He said Granny taught him."
"Yeah, she taught me at the same time. I've tweaked the recipe a little to make it special."
Margaret emerged from her room wearing a tight gray tee and a short denim skirt. Unlike her daughter, her curves had arrived, not outrageous, but nicely fitting her frame. I stared at her chest for a moment, half expecting the barely covered, yet erect nipples to pierce the light cloth. Then I noticed the cardboard box in her hand.
"What's that?" I asked.
"A surprise for later. Something from our past. And no, you can't see it yet. I'm hungry."
I dished up the food, and we began to eat. While we did, Margaret and I engaged in small talk, condensing over a decade into the length of a meal. Afterwards, she gave a tour of the house, including Charley's room, where I borrowed some more comfortable clothes. We reconvened in the living room for more stories and eventually headed out to pick up the car and visit the local diner.
Upon returning, Margaret led me into her bedroom. Excusing herself, she went into the bathroom. That left me alone with Christy.
I know if adults gabbed for that many hours straight, I would have been bored out of my mind. The girl sat with us, hanging on every word. So far we had avoided anything too risque, but I figured that sooner or later we'd touch on something a youngster shouldn't hear. For some reason, her mother didn't seem so concerned.
Alone, the girl asked me a question. "So, why didn't you ever marry?"
I thought for a moment about how to explain it. "I guess I never met the right person, at least not at the right time."
"Not ever?"
"Well, I did find a person that I could have loved, but…"
"That's funny. Mommy said the same thing."
"Really?"
"Actually, she said there were two. But you can't marry your own brother."
"Oh. Oh!" My dirty mind raced away at light speed. "How old did you say you were?"
"Eleven, almost twelve. In another couple months." She wore a goofy grin, like she could do the math better than me.
Before I could do the calculation, she asked, "Are you going to screw my mommy tonight?"
I almost fell off the bed. "What?"
"I think she'd really like that."
I wanted to ask exactly what she meant. Did she know what that action entailed? But Margaret returned to the room, the cardboard box in hand. "Ready for your surprise?"
"Yeah, I guess." I wasn't sure if it would top Christy's invitation.
"Can I show him, Mommy?"
The woman nodded, and the girl peeked under the lid. "All right!" she exclaimed, a smile gracing her face from ear to ear. I suspected the surprise was something most preteens had no clue about.
"Quick. The suspense is killing me." Christy flipped open the lid and extracted an object I immediately recognized. "The hypno-glasses."
The girls broke out in a fit of giggles, and I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble.
When we were ten, Charley had procured a risque magazine, not as high class as something like Playboy, but enough to excite inexperienced preteen boys. We skipped the text, heading right for the pictures. They weren't explicit, leaving a bit to the imagination.
One image in particular intrigued us. The teenaged blonde model was half in-half out of a pair of Daisy Dukes. Charley and I couldn't decide whether she was pulling them on or taking them off. When our discussion got close to fists, our referee, Maggie stepped in. We decided the only way to get the definitive answer was for someone to reenact the picture. As Maggie was a closer match to the model, she volunteered.
We made her change at least fifteen to twenty times, each time noting the inconsistencies in the reproduction. After the third time, it was more like seeing how many times she would strip out of the shorts before killing us. She never did tire. We compromised, thinking that either way, the model (and Charley's sister) was pretty sexy.
While we collapsed on the floor, Maggie borrowed the magazine. She sat there, the shorts ten feet away, reading the articles, the letters, and even the ads in the back. That's where she found the hypno-glasses.
For a reasonable price, you could send for a tool guaranteed to stimulate your love life. They masqueraded as regular specs, but had a pair of special spiral pattern lenses. A tiny motor rotated the glass within the frame. In no time, the user could be hypnotized.
That sounded much more promising than the x-ray specs we purchased before. All they did was show bones in your hand, not the expected parts under clothes. Besides the hypno-glases were twice the price, not some cheap rip-off. And each pair came with a copy of the book "Hypno Trance Words and Phrases." That alone was worth the price.
Maggie goaded us on, volunteering to be hypnotized if we paid the price from our allowances. Ahh, easy come, easy go. The next day Charley sent the order in.
Four weeks later, after we had forgotten all about them, a brown paper package ended up on their doorstep. Luckily, it was found before his parents got home. After school the next day, the three of us gathered in his bedroom to unveil our purchase. We had three hearts beating double time and lumps in our throats.
I almost died when he pulled out a pair of electric cords. What kind of nerd has glasses that need to be plugged in? Maggie bailed us out, finding in the directions that the glasses needed to be charged overnight before use.
Charley plugged in the charger and hid the glasses inside a dresser drawer. Maggie took the phrase book. We figured she wanted to know what she was getting into.
We waited another two weeks before we could try them. Baseball practice along with a ballet recital kept us busy. I wondered if Maggie was chickening out. But the free day rolled around, and we met in Charley's room. We had three hours before their parents would be home.
Charley pulled out the fully-charged specs, Maggie supplied the instructions, and I…well, I showed up. All three of us exhibited signs of nervousness over what we gave the code name of "The Science Experiment."
"After studying this manual, I simplified what the Master needs to say," said Maggie. "Just follow the script, and you should do fine. At least for this first attempt."
"Do you expect to have more tries?" I asked.
"Well, they didn't land on the moon on the first try, did they?" retorted Charley.
Actually, they did, I thought. "So what are our roles?"
She handed the papers to me. "I want you to give the commands. My brother has been tinkering with the glasses almost as much as he plays with himself."
"Hey. Like you don't." With that, Maggie turned bright red.
"Okay. So I just say 'Relax. Repeat five times. Close your eyes. Repeat seven times.' Just like that?"
"Don't say repeat," said the exasperated girl tossing herself onto the bed. "Do we continue seriously or act like little kids?"
"Let's be serious," said Charley as he handed the girl the specs.
"Here goes nothing," she said. After flipping the tiny switch on the nose piece, the lenses in our experiment began to whirl.
"Relax," I said in my softest, calmest voice. "Relax…relax…relax…relax."
"Wait," screamed Maggie, pulling the glasses off. "Were the spirals supposed to turn in opposite directions? That brief time was enough to make me want to vomit."
"I think you flipped the wrong switch," said her brother. "Put them back on, and I'll work the switch."
With the new procedure established, we tried again. "Relax," I said in my softest, calmest voice. "Relax…relax…relax…relax."
"Much better," she mumbled.
"You are entering a new state, a state of total relaxation. Relax…relax…relax…relax. Good." I was grateful she had done her homework. This commanding became a piece of cake. "In this state you will only hear my voice. Relax…relax. My voice guides you. You want to please my voice. Good…good. You are becoming relaxed. Your body is feeling lighter, almost like it could fly away. Relax…relax…that's good. Just relax…relax. Your eyes are getting heavier while the rest of you tries to rise to the sky. Relax. You are entering the state of total relaxation, your arm will float away. Relax…just relax…just…"
Maggie's arm moved upward, almost like a magnet pulled on a nail.
"Is she under?" asked Charley in a whisper.
"I think so."
"It really worked?"
To that question, I shrugged. Flipping the page over, I found test actions. Nothing too demanding of the subject. Of course, she came up with them.
"If you can hear me, nod." Maggie dipped her head twice. I then checked off the command.
"Let you arm float down to your side." Down it went. "Put both hands in your lap." They did. "Twiddle your thumbs." The digits spun around each other. "Now reverse." And they spun in the other direction.
"Freaky," said her brother. "I never saw her do it both ways before."
"You are under my control. Please stand. Turn around. Flap your arms like a chicken. Stop. Just stand there."
I decided to try something off script. If she were faking it, this would tell us immediately. I held my finger to my lips to signal Charley not to give anything away. Then I moved closer to the still girl until we almost touched. Since Maggie had two inches of height on me, I raised up on my tiptoes to come nose-to-nose with her. Tilting my head, I leaned forward, letting our lips meet. "Kiss me," I whispered.
My first real kiss with a girl, even if I were her master. I'll never forget it. I hated to break it off, but I said, "Stop."
Maggie stood there with the strangest expression, half of enjoyment and half of being a zombie.
"Wait," cried Charley. "I heard something." He hurried over to the window. "My parents."
I quickly scanned to the bottom of Maggie's instructions. "Maggie, listen to the voice. When you hear me snap my fingers, you will wake up, returning from that state of relaxation. You won't remember anything that happened, but will feel like you had the most beautiful dream. On the count of 3, 1…2…3." With that, I snapped my fingers.
She startled, shaking her head to get the cobwebs out. Charley grabbed the glasses off her nose just as the doorknob turned.
"Hey, kids," said Mrs. Faulkner as she poked her head in. "Oh, Dave, you're here. Well, I just wanted to tell you we're home. See you later."
After the door closed, all three of us collapsed on the bed. "That was close," said Charley.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Why? Did anything happen?"
"You don't remember?" All of a sudden the kiss felt one-sided.
"I remember you telling me to relax and then waiting for the next thing, you know to close my eyes."
"And you didn't hear Dave say anything?"
She shook her head. I did hear you screech something about Mom and Dad. I figured you aborted the experiment before it could start."
Charley and I exchanged a glance, success was ours. I turned my focus to his sister. She's never to know about that intimate moment we shared while asleep under my control. And my new feelings for her.
"They worked?" asked Christy as she bounced on the bed. "And she only found out about the kiss now?"
Margaret giggled. "Your Uncle Charley was the worst secret keeper ever. I don't think Dave got home that night before my brother told me. It's that twin thing."
"And you never let on," I said.
"Nope."
"So were there more experiments?" asked the girl.
I nodded. "I'd love to tell you, but I'm kind of exhausted. And I need to go find a hotel room."
"You'll do no such thing," said Margaret. "We have a couch and three beds in this house. Much cheaper than a hotel. And you might even get a complimentary breakfast here. Choose wisely."
I saw the smirk on the woman's face. "I'm guessing the couch is rather uncomfortable."
"Right, and Uncle Charley's sheets haven't been changed in a long, long time." Christy shared the facial expression. She was so like her mother.
"And one of the choices would probably get me in hot water. Sorry, Christy, but I'll have to choose to stay right here."
Both of them giggled like little schoolgirls. I knew who the girl got her request from before I answered.
"So go get ready for bed," said her mother. "And don't wake us up too early. Dave needs his beauty rest."
"I won't Mommy. Good night and don't let the bed bugs bite."
Alone, I gazed into Margaret's eyes. "Did I make the right choice?"
"You always did."
I leaned in and kissed her. Unlike the first time, she helped immensely. "You'll always be Maggie to me."
"If I could feel like this more, I'd retire Margaret permanently." She squeezed my hand. "I missed you so much, Dave. I'm so glad you turned down the hotel."
My long-dormant teenaged hormones flowed through my body. "I figured you could use someone to curl up with for a change."
With a chuckle, she said, "And what makes you think I'm not used to someone next to me in bed?"
As she kissed me, I realized why Charley's sheets had not been changed in so long. Good old Charley. Today we buried a true pervert, the kind I envied.
I woke to a bouncing bed surrounded by bright sunlight. I could feel the warmth of a naked body next to me. "What's going…"
"Did he? Did he do it?" I recognized the preteen voice.
Blinking my eyes, I saw the figure dressed in a gray tee and perhaps panties jumping on the end of the bed. "Good morning, Christy," I mumbled.
"So did you and Mommy…you know?"
"A gentleman never tells," I replied.
"That means you did," the girl giggled.
"Christy, calm down," said the drowsy mother.
"All right, Mommy." She stopped bouncing, but remained on the bed.
I rolled onto my back, trying to get my bearings. Christy sat cross-legged by my feet while under the sheets, Maggie snuggled up to me, her warm bare skin touching mine. The scene could only be a dream.
"Did you use the hypno-glasses on her?" asked the girl.
"Christy!" said her mother in that disapproving tone that preceded her giggle. She leaned over and kissed me, her hand wandering to my nether region until it located a treasure. If we did not have an audience, I would have returned the favor in kind.
Instead, I had another problem to deal with. "I think I need to excuse myself. Nature calls."
"All right," said a disappointed Maggie. She gave me one more kiss before rolling away.
I glanced toward the girl. "I'm …you know…not in pajamas."
"She has to learn sometime," said the woman. "The first time I saw you, I was even younger."
Unexpectedly receiving permission from her mother, I pulled back the sheet, which really didn't hide much, and stood up. In more than one direction.
"Wow," said the girl with the wide eyes. "You're even bigger than Uncle Charley."
Taking the compliment with me, I entered the bathroom to relieve myself. Not the easiest operation, given the circumstance. When I finally emptied my bladder, I returned to find the bed unoccupied, much to my relief. I wouldn't have been as impressive, even to a preteen's eyes.
Donning my boxers and shirt, I headed for the kitchen. So much for sleeping in.
"I hope you like waffles," said Maggie. "They're Christy's favorite breakfast."
"That would be fine. I was just wondering if I could borrow some pants from Charley."
Maggie let her eyes travel up and down my body, twice. "You look fine to me." She motioned toward her daughter sitting at the table. "And she won't mind at all."
I sat down next to the girl. "So, was it fun?" she asked in a whisper.
"What?" I responded, thinking about when I had to pee.
"When you two…screwed."
"Oh." I smiled a big fucking grin, wondering if the girl even knew what the term really meant. "Very much."
"Do you love Mommy?"
I thought for a moment. Here I was, in the home of a woman I hadn't seen in over a dozen years. We had canoodled like teenagers for most of the night, but that was all physical. I knew there was more to love than just that. Still… "Yeah, I guess I do. And have for years." I paused for a second before adding, "At least, back in the old days."
"Nice save," said our cook as she delivered the first batch of waffles. "These are for our guest. He needs to keep up his strength…after last night."
"Go ahead, Christy," I said. "I can hold out for the next batch."
Not waiting for her mother to say anything, the girl stole the delicacy from the serving plate. "Thanks, Uncle Dave."
Breakfast continued under the cover of small talk as I relished my new role within my long lost family. I learned just how precocious my new "niece" I inherited from Charley was. As we cleaned up, I knew I had fallen in love for the second time in my life. And both stood only a few feet away from me.
We retired to the living room with Christy sitting practically on my lap on the lumpy couch. "Tell me more about the hypno-glasses," she ordered.
I glanced at her mother. ""Go ahead and tell her," she said. "I like your stories."
I thought back to that summer when we were eleven. "We had hidden the glasses on the shelf for over a year. Between your grandparents being around and baseball practice and your mom's piano lessons, we had reverted to doing regular kid things. But that summer, Charley got a tent for camping and invited me over for sleeping under the stars."
"Oh, that's when it was," said Maggie. "I forgot how it started."
"Tell me. Tell me," cried her daughter.
"Okay. It was on one of those hot summer nights…"
Charley set up the tent out in the backyard on top of this nice green patch of grass. We had searched all over their yard for a place without rocks, and this was as good as it got. The rating on the tent said it was for four people, but three had to be still in diapers. We didn't have sleeping bags, so we made do with some old smelly blankets and pillows. But to us boys, it was as stylish as the Taj Mahal.
Well we were out there, having pizza, and perusing Charley's collection of magazines. I think we had five rather worn issues. I had the one with the girl and her shorts. Charley recognized it and started talking about the hypno-glasses. I sent him into the house to fetch them.
Fifteen minutes later, he came trotting out with them in hand. By then I had stripped down to my boxers. I told you it was hot. Well, he unzipped the flap and flops down on the blankets. A moment later, Maggie flopped down between us.
I'm sure I turned red, but your mom never said a word. However, Charley said, "She said she'd wear them again, if we want."
I forgot all about being embarrassed. Needless to say, we had her in the glasses and under the spell shortly. We avoided the twiddling of thumbs and repeating the shorts exercise. Instead, we took turns having her kiss us. We learned later she had practiced at her friend Sandy's slumber parties. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
After about ten minutes of wild osculation, Charley commanded her to lose her tee shirt. The sight of that white training bra sent us into a state of ecstasy. That undergarment went next, exposing her pink puffy nipples atop those tiny mounds. To us, they were the most erotic sight, better than anything from Charley's magazines.
By then my shorts and Charley's clothes were tossed to the back of the tent. Both of us sported erections. We took turns "nursing" on your mother's pink puffy nipples on her barely-there titties while the other stroked his own cock. At that age we pleasured ourselves to magazines or fantasies most every night.
Her shorts disappeared next, displaying her forbidden pink panties. We went into full jerkoff mode, shooting streams onto the blankets. Then the panties went and we (or at least me) got to see our first live pussy.
We sat for a moment gawking at the others before all three of us began masturbating. I'm not sure if any of us knew what to do next. I pitied Maggie for her lack of a cock to pull until her diddling sent her into a swoon. Collapsing after her climax, she ended up sandwiched between us.
That lasted only a few minutes. We heard your grandmother call out Maggie's name. After quickly redressing, we snapped her out of the trance and she ran into the house.
I worried that the campouts were permanently canceled.
"What happened?" asked Christy, her hand resting on her crotch.
"Your grandmother just wanted me to not bother the boys," said Maggie. "I didn't mind, being worn out by the experience." She turned to me. "I'm surprised you remembered that night."
"Of course I did. I saw my first angel."
"So what happened after that?" asked the impatient girl.
The telephone rang, making all three of us jump. "I better take that," said Maggie.
I heard her exchange a few pleasantries. Then she said, "She's right here. Christy, it's Granny." Then I knew we would have a break.
I stared at my hosts, wondering where we were headed. All those years I missed being with their family. I sensed this trip was going to change my life. It was just a matter of how.
