Sera Ch. 23

She took her shot and made it, the cue ball rolling backwards afterward to perfectly set her up for another, which she also made.

"There we are. Speaking of Steven, I'm afraid I have to tell you something you're not going to like."

Again, I waited for her to go on as she took her time walking to the opposite end of the table. I kind of had a funny feeling about what she was going to say next, and it was probably the only thing in the world that could have torn my mind from the fact that I, a person who others always felt they had to control for my own good, was being asked to look out for someone who I would've expected to be looking out for me.

"I've confronted the impudent, disrespectful, unilaterally acting jerk who we like to call 'Steven' and, unfortunately, he is indeed responsible for what happened with Gina."

She waited, watching my face as I absorbed what I'd strongly suspected anyway. I remembered what happened in the corridor, the personal horror of what I'd done returning to once again convert itself to anger for the one who was ultimately responsible for those actions.

"I figured," I finally replied in a tight voice.

"Yes, well..." she started, taking her time about lining up another shot as she finished. "You probably don't want to hear it but, in his defense, he actually thought he was doing right."

"Thought?" I echoed, remembering an old saying of Daddy's. "Thought had to fart, but actually shit itself."

Auntie missed her shot and straightened up with a sigh and a regretful expression as she began trying to sugarcoat the issue for him.

"I know... but he really was concerned about Gina. Remember, he's been through a lot and, for all his irritating faults, he does have a moral compass that... well, it actually creates a lot of those irritating faults. He's seen a lot and he hasn't had the support structure around him that you do. He's had to figure out a lot of stuff for himself while trying to look out for his mum, like I've told you she needs, all by himself."

"I don't see how that excuses him," I maintained.

"I'm not trying to make excuses for him, I'm just telling you his motivations. He came to me with concerns that Gina was in over her head with us, and I told him to stay out of it."

"I knew it," I sneered. "He was trying to tell me how to treat people I care about. Like I need to be told. Was it just him?"

"Yes. Sweetie pie, just please try to remember that he's having a hard time with his ideals of 'right and wrong' as of late. Actually, he needs someone like you to let him know when he's being too rigid."

"Yeah, I'll soften him up," I promised.

"Uhmm, I know you're mad, and you have every right, but do try to be easy on him, okay?"

"Yup."

I don't think she believed me.

We finished the game without speaking of these things any further, my mood lifting by the time I barely won, suspecting that she'd let me but saying nothing about it. My mind teetered back and forth between imagining myself beheading Stevie with a butter knife, and the incredible fact that someone like Auntie Ashleigh would actually trust me to keep Auntie Kathleen out of trouble.

Regarding the whereabouts of Auntie Kathleen, I had a hunch and, sure enough, there she was at the basement bar when I walked in. Sheila was also there, a possibility I'd never stopped to think about while I made my way. I wasn't sure about having her company just then, but I was confident I could get Auntie away from her if I wanted.

Auntie had also changed, now wearing a red dress with a cut that, on her, was provocative with even minimal cleavage and mid thigh hemline. It cinched at her waist and really drew the eye while still looking very presentable.

Sheila's hair was half up, much like Auntie Ashleigh's had been that morning, her white halter top and denim shorts lending her an almost eighties flavour. Her semi carefree expression slipped when she saw me, boosting my confidence.

"Oh, look who it is," Auntie enthused, swiveling around on her stool with a big smile for me.

"Hi Auntie," I said as Sheila smiled at me, a gesture that seemed more an unsure, yet sincere offering than a greeting. "Hi, Sheila."

She seemed happy at this, and that was alright. It wasn't like my curiosity in Sheila had ever diminished, and Auntie Kathleen's changing attitude towards her incidentally provided me with opportunities to be around her.

"And what is Miss Badness up to?" she asked with her dark, sparkly eyes loving me the way they do.

"I need booze."

They grinned at this honest statement and I sat beside Auntie, putting her between we two bearers of the Camilo gene and asked Sheldon for triple vodka with milk before Auntie included me.

"So, get this, Kitten: You and I were strippers, but Sheila? Heh! Show her, sis."

There were three cards on the bar in front of Daddy's smiling, physical ideal, all of them slightly creased up the middle. She went through the motions and basics of what she called three card monte, re-arranging the cards quickly and expertly in front of us. Meanwhile, she explained that the game was usually done with a spotter, a supposed bystander in the crowd who helps suck somebody in, telling the mark the secret of the game and how to win. Then, once the money is down, this spotter creates a sudden panic with the claim that the cops are coming. Everybody scatters in different directions, including the mark, who runs a block before realizing that Sheila has his money.

"You mean that actually fools people?" I asked her with grave doubts.

"You'd be surprised," she said as though teaching, but with the easy smile of someone who would actually run such a scam. "It's a trick that's older than the hills, but so is basic stupidity."

"Yes, but what I'm saying," Auntie pointed out with an amused grin," is that between the three of us, Sheila never danced. Ha!"

"Okay, Kathy, I get the irony," she replied with rolling eyes, but a strangely tolerant smile. "You don't have to keep smacking me around the room with it."

"Oh god, yes I do," Auntie laughed, her eyes lingering on my biological mummy's spiky Burchell nipples.

It all seemed a bit odd, seeing them together like that, but I couldn't help but smile a little anyway.

"Auntie, it seems like you're the older sister," I observed.

They both had a momentary reaction to this, almost as though it was a private matter, but Sheila's acerbic attitude spoke to maintain stability.

"She's just a little bitch, like Ash says."

"You're lost without me," Auntie scoffed.

"Oh, Puh-lease!" Sheila laughed, adding, "You're lost without me!"

And then there was another moment, one that seemed to threaten any remaining possibility of world peace, but instead brought slow smiles of accord from each of them. They knew how right they both were and it suddenly didn't take a genius to see it. I wondered if Auntie Ashleigh was aware of how they were when they were together when she decided I was needed to keep an eye on Auntie Kathleen.

They both broke the moment with funny little grins that gave up nothing as they took sips from their drinks. I took one from mine as well, then took the opportunity to remind Auntie of her promised help with becoming blonde.

As Sheila's face subtly lit up, Auntie replied, "Yes, of course. When were you thinking?"

I was about to answer, but was beat to the punch by a nervously hopeful Sheila.

"Um, I'm really good with hair."

"It's true," Auntie said. "She always did mine when I wanted it really nice."

"Okay," I agreed, not completely okay with it, but too curious to refuse. "I know you worked as a hairdresser for Barb."

She was obviously pleased with my decision, nodding her head and imparting, "I've worked in quite a few hair salons, went to the academy, did the upgrading stuff. Have you ever dyed before?"

"Yes, once blonde. I memorized your colour from some old pictures of you that Daddy gave me before I bought it."

" ... Really?" she asked, surprised and seemingly pleased at this revelation.

"Yup. He liked it."

She only nodded with that smile she often showed, but I didn't take it the wrong way.

"That's what she wanted last night, too," Auntie told her with a smile for both of us. "She kept asking if I was sure it was 'Sheila blonde'.

This clearly flattered Sheila. It embarrassed me a little, but she and I began laughing with Auntie at the sound of it as I wondered how many people would never forget that particular shade.

"Sometimes when I look at you," she suddenly related, "I'm totally... shocked. You're like a kind of living mirror."

"I know, me too," I admitted. "I mean there's some differences, but..."

"You look better in jeans than I do."

"But, you do an elegant look that I can't bring off. It actually makes you seem taller."

"It's all in the heels and the hair. Too, I've had a lot longer to find ways to deal with my lack of stature."

"Do you hate it?" I asked.

"Well... I used to when I was younger, then not so much as the years went on. Sometimes it still annoys me, but not the stupid comments people make. That's their own thing and I have no control over that, so I refuse to pay it any mind."

"It makes you both look like the most divine little fuck-dolls," Auntie told us with a barely suppressed giggle.

"Yeah, well... thank you, Camilo." Sheila managed around silent laughter, adding, "Nothing could have prepared me for that."

"I know," Auntie expressed, shaking her head, "I couldn't believe it."

"At least you didn't get the short gene," I consoled.

We spoke of that and other things Auntie Ashleigh had revealed of her life for a little while, skirting sensitive topics as I kept getting more and more intoxicated. As they spoke, I slowly drifted away from their conversation as it rounded to people that they both knew while growing up, my own thoughts returning to Stevie.

"Are you okay?" Auntie asked me, seemingly out of the blue as I snapped back to the real world.

"Uh- yes. Well..."

"No," she corrected for me with that smile.

I sighed and explained, "I just found out that... well that Stevie made Gina go away."

" ... Oh."

"I'm sorry, I know he's your son and that you love him, but I'm pretty mad at him right now."

"Yes, well... that's understandable, but do please try to keep in mind that Steven does things that... Well, he sometimes acts out of a need to do what he thinks is right. He gets a little wrapped up on things like that and sometimes it lands him in trouble, but his motivations are pure."

"That's pretty much what Auntie Ashleigh says, but I still want to cut his head off."

"Do you think you could patch things up with Gina?" Sheila asked, careful again and understandably hesitant about treading on my personal ground at this point.

"Uh... I don't know," I replied with a frown. "I want to try to call her, but I don't know. Maybe it's best this way."

"Maybe it is," Auntie agreed, adding, "considering what... well, what we are and all. In my experience, we have to be careful of people we care about getting too close. Unfortunately, by the time we realize they're worth caring about, they're already too close."

"He thinks I was abusing her," I explained. "But he doesn't know what we were together. He doesn't understand how it was. He shouldn't have messed around in my life like that. He should have minded his own business."

I was starting to get angry again and I wondered if it wasn't just the alcohol. After the bottle in my apartment, I was working on my third triple there at the bar and I wondered if I shouldn't make an exit before I spoiled the mood any worse than I already had. When Auntie skillfully changed the subject, I made up my mind, slipping off my stool as she and Sheila looked questioningly at me.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm gonna go back to my apartment and maybe watch some TV," I told them, forcing a smile over what my anger wanted to do with my features.

"Oh, okay," Auntie replied. "Uh, should we come up later, or...?"

"Maybe after supper?" I distractedly suggested. "About six or seven o'clock?"

"Sounds good, we'll be there."

I said goodbye to them both, finding myself wishing I'd been in a better mood. I was actually warming up to Sheila, her to me, and it would have been nice if I could have stayed, but my jerky cousin had ruined my life and I wanted to go somewhere and make a Stevie doll that I could stick pins into.

Steven

For a time, everything was fine. After Aunt Ashleigh left, I was finally able to get a shower, remembering her comment about Sheila's smell on me. I finished my shower, by then only thinking about how it was having Ashleigh in my head, smiling with the memory of it and even more curious about her than before.

I grabbed another beer and brought it to the bedroom, commenting aloud as I went.

"She's pretty cool."

"Yeah."

"I wanted to grab her pussy when she got up to leave."

"Should have. She wouldn't have stopped us."

" ... Should I have allowed that? Should I have allowed what she did? That was okay, right?"

(pause)

"I trust her a lot more now."

"Yeah..."

"I mean, now that she did that, I trust her more. You saw how it was with her; she fuckin loves us. When she says that, she means it and, I don't know about you, but I got that one hundred percent."

"Yeah..."

"And you have to admit that she was a lot more forthright and supportive this go round."

" ... Yeah."

"So, what's the problem?"

"My problem," I patiently explained while I tucked a black shirt into black casual pants, "is that it's up to me to try to keep some kind of an eye on what we're doing and why. First we gain intelligence, then we prepare, then we act. It's the way we've always done things and this time is no different."

"(Groan)"

"Yes, everything seems a lot rosier with Ashleigh, and I'm willing to give as much as she does. I'm not saying that I don't appreciate her coming across on a few things, and I'm not saying that I don't like her, 'cause you know I do. Unfortunately, I don't get to bask in the rosy glow of Mistress Auntie because I have to keep an impartial mind so we know how to act."

"That doesn't change the fact that you should have grabbed her pussy."

"Fuck off, you're making me horny."

I was soon on the move, the kitchen my first destination, my mother the next. I had to poke around about where she and Kitten had been the other night and what they'd gotten up to. Mental images of the possibilities had me rock hard by the time I got to the kitchen.

As I waited for breakfast at the island, sipping a hot coffee with a splash of whiskey, my erection subsided under encroaching thoughts of Ashleigh that didn't include grabbing her crotch.

I'd been right about who and what she was. Not only did she verbally admit to it, but I felt it when she explored my feelings for her, an almost insectile curiosity that wanted so badly to explore so much further. As beautiful as the experience was, as loving as her presence had been, it had about it an underlying alien flavour that was vaguely disturbing. As my plate of pancakes was put in front of me, I suddenly shuddered to think of what that would have been like if I didn't share the family guest.

My breakfast was delicious and it mostly distracted my mind from any deep thoughts concerning my talk with Ashleigh as I ate, however something was niggling. It had been since I was getting dressed and it was getting closer to the surface. Leaving the kitchen with a bellyful, it hit me like these things often do, all at once. I stopped right up and blurted it out loud.

"The reason I'm not gonna go crazy is because... because you're going to take over. I've been properly bonded and now I'm going to be... diluted. By you."

My pancake filled gut rapidly cramped up as the reality of this hit me, producing a pained groan before the eventual winner of my body could reply.

"You're not going to be diluted!"

" ... Uhh, fuuuck!" I agonized, adding, "Nor will I be deluded. You heard her as plain as I did. Oh god, this hurts."

Would you rather end up like Mum? Stop freaking out, you know I'm on your side, and- "Uhh-h, will you please calm down!"

I managed it. I had to sit on the floor with my back to the wall, but I forced myself to think of the time I told my teacher I wasn't feeling well, then promptly threw up all over her desk. Believe it or not, my comedic memories of this little stunt really served to ease my tensions when I remembered how it had taken me almost a week to learn how to induce vomiting without having to use my finger.

I was still a bit cramped when I approached the door to the cave, but not so bad as I'd been. Keeping my mind from what caused my cramps, I was actually still grinning at the memory of Ms. Campbell's reaction to the stinking, splattery mess of fries and gravy I'd bought in the cafeteria an hour earlier, some of which had landed in her lap. I walked in and came face to face with Kitten, obviously just on her way out and just as obviously in the bag.

She was looking pretty good too, as she always does, and my mind emptied of all thoughts other than how her body tone was just perfectly soft enough to almost hide ripples of muscle that suggested an extremely fit young woman. I'd noted in that infinitely small amount of time between meeting someone and then saying something to them, that she and her mother were different in this. While Sheila was in good shape, she was softer while still being thinner, whereas Kitten's muscle tone seemed more impressive, exciting-

A sudden and hard punch straight to my gut offered a different aspect of her impressive and exciting muscle tone as I sank to the floor. Ironically, considering my recent high school recollections, I threw up all my beer and pancakes with the truly sickening notation that this was the second time she'd somehow gotten me like this.

"You ruined everything! You... big ruiner!"

She skirted me and my mess, stomping off down the hall, blessedly taking her sudden and childishly violent fury with her as my vision grayed at the edges. Somehow, amidst my struggle to draw breath, I threw up again just in case I'd missed something the first time, I suppose.