Favorite Aunt – Chapter 2: Curious Pursuit

Incest story: Favorite Aunt – Chapter 2: Curious Pursuit

Author: Trainman5771

I honked the horn enthusiastically when I drove up into Aunt Jean’s driveway. She came running out to meet me, ecstatic that I could make it. I was glad she seemed to have stayed in good shape all things considered. I still had this nagging expectation she should be walking slow and less mobile for some reason. As soon as we embraced, she broke down into sobs thanking me for coming.

She felt so alone having to take care of Grandma before she passed away. After several minutes of hugging and comforting each other, we went inside her new house to talk about how things are going. She fixed us some coffee and we talked about the stuff in storage that was left to be shipped to living relatives based on the Will.

At least those that could be found still living. It was a slow process with such a large extended family. We talked for hours with good memories and bad coming back to us about growing up. We talked about the few times I visited during the early summer for Independence Day celebrations when I was little. I remember picnics, watermelon, peach tea and sneaking sips of Mint Juleps Grandma always had available for the grown-ups while us kids got plain old lemonade. Before we knew it, it had grown dark outside and neither of us had anything to eat since breakfast.

Would you want Italian or Mexican tonight? She asked in her soothing southern accent I so loved.

Italian. I don’t think my stomach will handle that kind of spice tonight. I replied grimacing.

Get your boots on and let’s go then! I’ll be just a few minutes. She said cheerily. “Let’s take your Jeep. I haven’t had a ride in one of those yet.”

“Are you sure Aunt Jean? It’s not the smoothest ride you know.” I said.

“I can handle it.” She winked and went upstairs to her bedroom to change.

I went to my room and changed into an upper-casual set of clothes. Kaki brown trousers, dark green button-down front dress shirt and black dress cowboy boots. After brushing my hair I waited for her in the foyer. Her “few minutes” accounted for thirty as I checked my watch with a grumbling stomach for the hundredth time. I heard a door close then footsteps start descending the stairs a moment later and when I looked up, the thirty minutes were well worth it.

The room seemed to light up and my eyes widened as she took each step in an elegant and very feminine decent down the staircase. She was wearing a white casual dress with a black belt and black three inch spike high heeled shoes. The dress extended to just below the knee and sported a shoulder baring ruffle which hid sleeve loops to prevent them from sliding up onto her shoulders. She had her hair down and was adorned with a white hair band over the top of her head similar to those from the sixties.

Coupled with her amazing green eyes she looked to be in her mid-thirties. The look was classic demure elegance. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked straight at me and smiled knowingly. She knew she had that effect on men even if she refused to acknowledge her own good looks. She came up to me and with a slender finger, gently lifted my chin to close my mouth. I swallowed a hard dry lump. She looked fantastic and I then remembered why I had such a crush on her waaaaay back when. Apparently, I still did.

I take it you like my dress? she asked as she twirled around for me to see the whole thing smiling happily. Her skirt flared out and I could see the white lace garters on her nude colored stockings high up on her thighs raising my temperature considerably. I thought she had good looking legs but I never suspected she wore stockings!

I never thought she needed them. Then I simply nodded in answer to her question as anything I would try to have said would either come out cracking like a puberty teen or a croak. She held out a hand, palm down and like a gentleman, I took on the chivalrous role she initiated and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated slightly as I now suspect she saw mine were. With her in hand I guided her through the door to the Jeep, entranced.

Southern nights in Georgia can be quite uncomfortable. Tonight wasn’t one of those hot steamy nights. Instead it was quite pleasant. We still needed the air conditioning but didn’t need it going full tilt. She directed me on where to turn to get to the restaurant and in no time we were pulling up to a very nice one.

I parked up close to the building as I could so she wouldn’t have to walk in those high heels which I’m sure she didn’t wear but on rare occasions. I got out and hurriedly moved around to open her door before she opened it. I needn’t have worried. She sat there, a proper lady waiting patiently. I opened the door and held out my hand.

She took it, swung her legs over and slid out landing on her feet expertly without getting her dress caught on anything as if she’d done it all her life. She told me that while she was married, her husband always had a full-sized pick-up with large tires. Wherever they went, it was in his truck. She only drove her car when he wasn’t going anywhere with her. This gave her a lot of practice to perfect her ingress and egress technique with a large vehicle.

“I remember that huge Jeep your dad had. It was so high up I was always afraid I’d fall out and eat the ground and told him he needs to install an automatic ladder.” She said. We laughed at that. My Dad had this ‘77 Cherokee Chief with the big tires and lift kit. It was a doozie of a step. Any woman in a dress or skirt would have to hike it up pretty high to manage getting in or out of it.

She commented that she liked this one better as it didn’t try to catch her dress and make it ride up. I gave a half-smile wondering why she would comment on that. Upon entering the restaurant, we approached the Maître d’s desk. Looking first at Aunt Jean then me he asked for our names. I gave him mine and he found it on the reservation list and came around from behind his desk and extended a hand. I took it and returned the handshake.

“It is a pleasure to have you Mr. Logan and your lovely wife dine with us tonight. “ He said with a slight European accent and reached for Aunt Jean’s right hand. Gently holding her hand by her fingers, he bowed to her at the hip and kissed the back of her hand. My eyebrows launched upward then I frowned and she quickly turned her head and gave me a barely perceptible shake of her head. When the Maître d’ had risen from his bow, she was smiling again at him.

“This way to your table please.” The Maître d’ said and turned to stride purposefully into the dining rooms with a wine list in hand. I offered my arm to Aunt Jean again and I led the way following in the Maître d’s wake.

On the way to our booth, I caught a few of the men glancing at my aunt. It was fairly easy to tell who was admiring and who was leering. I reacted to the leering in a typical male fashion. My grip on Aunt Jean’s arm tightened slightly as my six foot two inch frame tensed as if readying for an attack. As I made eye contact with the one who was truly leering he undoubtedly saw my threatening expression and understood the meaning pretty clearly by looking at anything but Aunt Jean.

Aunt Jean whispered something I couldn’t process right away in my state of mind at the time. I did relax however, but only a little until we were seated in a mostly unoccupied section of the dining area. A wall separated this room from the main dining area. Heavy looking velvet draperies crossed the open doorway blocking the view and nearly all of the sound from that part of the restaurant. As we took our seats in a cozy booth, I glanced around and took notice that this room was much quieter.

Taking in the furnishings with another quick glance I saw rich looking carpet covering the floor as well as velvet draperies on the walls. These were the primary reasons for the subdued sound. Our little semi-round privacy booth was also decorated with similar looking drapes and other materials that trapped noise that also looked to be high class. Sound did not carry in here very well at all so patrons could have comfortable conversations without being overheard.

“My name is Morgan. If I may be of any further assistance, please notify Stephan, your waiter.” He said while handing me the wine list. Morgan bowed again, turned and headed back to the front desk. I started to open my mouth but Aunt Jean was quicker.

“I’m moving over here so I can see the wine list too.” She said as she scooted around to my side of the booth. Still confused about Morgan’s welcoming statement, I dumbly gave over for her to hold the other half of the wine list.

“What will you be having tonight? Beef, chicken, fish or pork?” she asked me. My mind dwelled on Morgan’s statement. When I didn’t respond she asked again.

“Oh. Sorry Aunt Jean.” I said apologetically. “Ummmm, I think I’ll have beef lasagne with meat sauce. I prefer white wine but I’ll have a glass of Zinfandel to keep it proper. I don’t know much about wine I do know red goes with meat dishes and white with fish. Beyond that, I know what my taste buds tell me.” I said.

“A sensible answer.” She said then looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “I think I’ll have the spinach lasagne with a Pinot Noir.” She said as she leaned a little further over toward me. I was just about to ask her about Morgan’s welcome when our waiter showed up.

“Good evening. I am Stephan and I will be your waiter tonight.” He said. “May I start you off with your wine order perhaps?”

I spoke up and gave him our wine choice as well as our meal choice. Stephan thanked us for our orders telling us he would be back with the salads and wine. He then turned and left to take our choice to the kitchen. Again I was just about to ask the question when Aunt Jean spoke up first again.

“I know you’re confused about Morgan’s apparent mistake in assuming I’m your wife.” She said looking me straight in the eye. “I didn’t mean for that to happen exactly even though I felt a little pride at having you with me. As you figured out, I used your name when I made the reservations. A gentleman’s name is always used when a lady accompanies him. It’s one of those chivalrous or ‘Emily Post’ rules I think. Anyway, I wanted to be treated like a lady tonight and I think you like playing the Gentleman.“ she said and as I opened my mouth to attempt to voice another question, she put a finger on my lips to silence me.