I shrugged. “They must have misunderstood.” I hefted the bottles. “We have something to drink tonight. I was wondering if I’d have to go out to find us a few beers.”
Bob blushed violently. “I’ve never drunk alcohol.”
I kicked off my slippers as we entered the house. I’m one of those barefoot girls; I’ve always hated footwear of any kind. “There’s a first time for everything. You must have had a first time fixing a car as well.” I glanced at him. “They were impressed, and so was I.”
He still wouldn’t look at me. “It’s easy when you know what you’re doing.”
I looked at him after returning from putting the wine bottles in the fridge. There was most certainly something wrong, and I couldn’t tell what. He’d been odd ever since I’d woken up in the afternoon. And that suddenly raised a question in my mind.
Why, exactly, had I woken all of a sudden?
It was not as though I’d had enough sleep, because I hadn’t. It was not because the sun was shining in my face, because it hadn’t been. Had I heard something, felt something? I’d had that half remembered dream about someone standing over me.
Had I locked the door to my bedroom before sleeping? I tried to remember but couldn’t. I didn’t recall unlocking it before coming out, either.
And Bob, who had always been open and friendly, suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye.
So, there was only one explanation I could think of. I’d left the door unlocked, and perhaps it had swung open on a stray breeze. Or maybe Bob had wanted something. Either way, he’d either been passing by or had opened the door, and seen me lying stark naked on the bed, fast asleep.
I felt like grinning suddenly. The poor boy must be feeling mortified. And all because, like any normal teenager, he’d not been able to resist taking a good look!
And it was at that moment that I realised what I wanted to do, what, in fact, I had to do, if this thing between us was to be exorcised and we were to back to being friends again.
I would have to wait, though, wait till tonight, when the time was right. It did give me time to make some preparations.
I began with taking one of Mila’s contraceptive tablets (mentally thanking her for them), and then picked out appropriate clothing. Black shorts with no knickers and a pink and black halter top, the only one I owned; it was a little too tight, but that was all good because it pushed my nipples out into little points and accentuated my cleavage. Bare feet and legs, of course, but I took a few minutes to paint my nails and added just a dab of perfume. By the time the scent had reacted with my sweat, I knew from experience, it would add a very slight musk that – Mila had informed me – drove her crazy. I didn’t see why it shouldn’t have the same effect on Bob as well.
Instead of my mother’s food, I decided to cook. I’m no cook, anyway, but that was all to the good; I could make Bob help. And as I directed him to wash and chop cabbage and peel onions and potatoes, I made sure to brush accidentally against him as often as I could manage. Every few moments I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and more than once I saw him glancing quickly away.
“Now all it needs is to simmer,” I said. “While we’re waiting, let’s get started on that wine, shall we?”
They were chilled nicely by then, red and slightly too sweet. Bob gulped down his first glass as though it was water, and began coughing. “Careful,” I said laughing. “It’s supposed to last.” After that he sipped more cautiously at the wine.
By the time we’d finished half a bottle, the cooking was done and we adjourned to eat. As I’d expected, the wine had washed away enough of Bob’s inhibitions that he had begun to be less shy about looking at me, and once I even caught him ogling my chest. But he’d still not made any move on me, and when I “accidentally’ reached out with my toes and touched his shin he shied away like a startled colt.
I sighed mentally. Obviously, I still had more to do.
“Can you wash up?” I asked, when we’d finished eating. “I’ve a couple of things to see to.”
Leaving him to it, I went back to the living room. As I’ve said, those were the nineties, the internet wasn’t yet a thing for most people, there was no such thing as a porno site available for viewing, and my mother had never bought a VHS or DVD player. Not that it would have made much difference if she had, because she wouldn’t have been caught dead buying any film showing so much as a bare nipple anyway.
However, she did have cable television, and a look through the channels gave me a couple that showed so-called “softcore” movies. That was what I needed, and, ***********ing one, I wandered back to the kitchen, where Bob had just finished washing up.
“What do you want to do next?” I asked. “Why don’t we watch a movie?”
“All right,” he replied, with a shrug. “As long as it’s something more interesting than the horror thing yesterday.”
“I’m sure there will be,” I said, picking up the glasses and the bottle of wine. “And we can drink the rest of this while we watch.”
Now I’ve always preferred “softcore” movies to straight up porno. There is usually a plot of some kind, no matter how ridiculous, which makes up for the usually inept sex scenes. I don’t recall the name of the one we watched, but the plot was ridiculous enough; it was one of the “alien who for some reason looks exactly like a blond Californian woman comes to earth and has lots of sex with both men and women because otherwise the universe will collapse” genre. This particular woman apparently took on a human shape for her sexjourn, sorry, sojourn. And when she stripped…
“Why’s she got bikini tan lines?” Bob asked. Her untanned areas were so pale that the rest of her looked cooked in comparison.
“Why’s she got silicone boobs?” I asked. They stuck out from her chest like twin battleship turrets.
“Are they silicone?”
“Of course they are,” I said. “Real naked women don’t look anything like this. When you see one you’ll know.”
After that it got sillier and funnier. Our Heroine, stark naked, with the camera zooming on her shaved vulva and enhanced breasts, ran giggling through one of those standard issue mansions these movies are set in to the obligatory swimming pool outside, chased by a naked man. Only he wasn’t quite naked, because he for some reason held a T shirt clutched in front of his pelvic area, shielding it from the camera.
“Is the film afraid of showing his erection?” Bob asked, snorting through a half-mouthful of wine.
“Or perhaps the fact that he has no erection,” I replied, laughing. “It’s just a job where he’s concerned, not like real people who want to screw.” At that I saw Bob glance quickly at me and away again.
When the man caught up with Our Heroine by the poolside, they began to “have sex” on a recliner chair, he lying on top of her. Bob leaned forward slightly for a better look. “Don’t bother,” I informed him. “From where his buttocks are, his penis must be going into a hole in the chair or something.”
He glanced at me, the naked couple reflected in his glasses. “How would you know?”
I shrugged, deliberately casual. “Well, whenever I fuck a guy, his hips are between my thighs, not between my knees, that’s how.”
He blushed so violently I saw it even in the glow of the television. “Why,” I asked, “did you imagine I was a virgin or something?”
He didn’t reply, just took a quick gulp of his wine, and we continued watching the movie. It went as these do, with Our Heroine bedding both men and women with mind-boggling regularity. The girl-on-girl scenes were far more realistic, and the actresses actually seemed to be enjoying themselves in them. In one, Our Heroine – with a pretty Hispanic-looking woman’s head buried between her thighs – either had a genuine orgasm or faked one so well that I couldn’t tell the difference.
Finally it ended, presumably (I no longer remember) with Our Heroine flying off to her home planet, and the first bottle was over and we’d had enough of the second so that I was feeling slightly light-headed.
“That was good wine,” I said. “All thanks to you, and of course thanks to Errol and what’s her name, Valentina.”
“Wonder what they’re doing now?”
“By now they should long since have reached their resort,” I grinned, “so they must be busy fucking, exactly like the two in the film weren’t.”
He turned bright red again. I’d never imagined that my cousin would turn out to be so easily embarrassed. Also, he still hadn’t made any move on me, and by now, after watching Our Heroine heave her hips under the Latina’s tongue, I very badly wanted sex myself; not just to seduce Bob but because I needed to get off, and not by masturbation either. I was beginning to get frustrated. Did I need to push him down and pull his clothes off, or what?
“You know what?” I said. “This room isn’t really any good for sleeping in. The sofa is terrible and the carpet not much better.”
“I don’t mind the sofa,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “You won’t sleep a wink tonight either.” I pretended to think. “My mother would throw a fit if either of us used her bedroom, so there’s just one solution. We’ll share mine.”
“But I couldn’t.” He now resembled a beet in complexion.
“Of course you can, and will.” I took him by the hand. ”Come on, let’s go. My bed’s more than big enough for both of us.”
“I…” he gulped. “I’d like a shower first.”
“Got you,” I thought triumphantly. It wasn’t hot and the only reason he’d want a shower was as a cover for masturbation. “That’s fine,” I said. ”I want one too. We’ll have it together.”
He was still opening and closing his mouth when I stripped off my halter top. “It’s time you got to know what a real naked woman looks like,” I said. “Nothing like the plastic babes in the movies. And, anyway, “ I added, pushing my shorts down and off, leaving my vulva open to his view, “I like to sleep bare, so you’re going to have to see me nude, like it or not.”
He seemed turned to stone, his eyes fixed on my body, so I stepped forward, took off his glasses, and undressed him. He didn’t resist as I removed his T shirt, but when I began pulling down his shorts he tried to move back.
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