Leisure City

A work of fiction

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Being a work of fiction, everything is made up, even the stuff that bears the same name as stuff that existed before (Hurricane) Andrew.

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Including the sexual activity all of which occurs between characters at least 18 fictional years of age.

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Ilikepunctuation,Ithinkitmakesiteasiertoreadastory.Somepeopledon'tlikepunctuation.Honestly,Itriedtocuremyselfoftheneedtouseperiodsandcommasbutitdidn'twork.Sorry.

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Bobby had checked out the big hardcover book from the new public library on his way to work this morning. Now that he and I were both home from work, we took out the laminated 'footprint' pages and laid them on the cool Chattahoochee floor. He was making sure we had all of the ones we needed and that all the ones we had were for the same dance. I was trying to make sense of the instructions.

"Don't we need music Sara?"

"It says here that one should first 'familiarize yourselves with the steps and the order of the steps.'"

"Is that correct professor?"

"Indubitably."

"I think music would help."

"Well, Mister MacGenius, did you get any."

"Don't you have a Viennese waltz album in your room?"

"Yeah, right next to my silver tea set."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I checked this out." he said smiling as he produced a vinyl 33 1/3 with a gorgeous jacket illustration of a long white tour boat cruising through a green pastoral scene on the 'Blue Danube.'"

"You think of everything."

"I kinda have to sis, it's my job."

It was Bobby's job, one that he never asked for but was brilliant at just the same. He was promoted to man of the house at age ten and was the most responsible eighteen-year-old I had ever met. He took care of so many things for mom and me, the house, the car all while working and going to school.

He put the scratchy library record on mom's old Jefferson-Wards console phonograph player and we tried to figure out where to put our feet on the blue and red diagrams that it retrospect we should probably have taped down.

We weren't learning anything but it was fun "just holding Bobby's body close to mine." And no offence to Janis or Kris the classical waltz was somewhat more romantic than their tune. A lot slower and more deliberate, but you know there is a whole lot to be said for slower and more deliberate.

"Sara, do you know we should maybe do?" He said breaking a long sweet embrace.

"Yeah," I answered, grabbing his butt. But I wasn't thinking about the waltz.

"If all else fails, follow the instructions."

So I found some masking tape in the pantry and taped the diagrams down and we tried it again without music. Aunt Jenny would be happy, we were learning this dance for mom's youngest sister's upcoming third wedding. It was better without music, but I liked it better when we were stumbling over each other and Bobby was holding me oh so tight so that I wouldn't fall on the polished concrete floor.

After our skill level progressed from 'danger to the public at large' through 'completely pathetic' and then to 'merely horrible' we resumed listening to the harps and violins, bass and flutes on the album. Bobby looked into my eyes and then raised his head a tad, his lips kissing me on the forehead.

"Wouldn't it be nice to be taking a river cruise on that boat?" He said referring to the jacket illustration.

"With you?"

"Do you have someone else in mind?"

It was all playful banter as Bobby knew full well he was the only one for me.

"Well, I was waiting for Ray Walston to call."

"Oh, so antennae turn you on. You're weird."

"You should know."

"Yeah, it's almost like we were made for each other."

"Or at least simultaneously."

He responded with a long passionate mouth on mouth kiss, his tongue dancing... Well dancing a much more skillful waltz than our feet had been just recently. Practice makes perfect they say, and well at least we had practice at this dance, certainly not at the other.

"Is kissing," I said breathlessly, "a part of the waltz."

"Of course it is."

"I'm not so sure Aunt Jenny would appreciate us doing this at her wedding..."

"Might steal the show," Bobby said finishing my thought, he did that a lot.

Our waltz lesson came to an end with the sound of our '65 Barracuda pulling into to carport. Mom was home for a few hours between her split shifts at the semi-fancy Italian restaurant across from Homestead Plaza

Bobby gave mom a big hug and she gave him her grocery list for the IGA and asked him if he was 'good'. Bobby said that he was and what he meant by that was that his paycheck, cashed yesterday would cover this week's groceries. But I thought that calling Bobby merely 'good' was the understatement of the century.

Exquisite, that's my word for Bobby, and his attention to my needs. Last night in that holy hour we had alone together. Slowly removing my shirt and skirt, gently laying me down on the sofa. Kissing my little A-cups, the ones that he alone says are "absolutely perfect none better" playing with my sensitive nips, flicking his tongue across them. Inhaling them. Kissing my ribs, my flat tummy and my raven hair through my panties. Then sliding said panties from my person. Holding my buttocks in his strong hands and 'putting his face in the place'. Breathing in my aroma, running his lips and his tongue through my folds. Kissing and nibbling, licking and savoring my flavor. Enticing my pearl to show itself, and then welcoming it with a kiss and oh, oh...

Bobby doesn't even slow down at one. He rolling me over on top of him so I might reciprocate by kissing his sensitive head. Running my tongue down his shaft. His fingers delicately spreading me out atop his happy face as he resumes kissing and licking my interior surfaces. As distracted as I am I am trying to swallow his member whole. I am laying with my full weight upon him wiggling and he loves it, his wonderous ministrations increasing in both amplitude and modulation until I explode in a flash of light that only I can see. Two.

He hugs me returning to my breasts which he totally adores. Kissing and nipping, lightly pinching the buds, oh, oh. That is something that he does that's just simply amazing giving me a third just from my nipples. He is kissing me deeply, mouth on mouth, his hands on my breasts massaging them. I break the kiss just long enough to tear open the little foil packet and remove the condom inside.

I place it on his beautiful penis giving him what is essentially a hand-job rolling it down his shaft. Down, back up, down further back up. Soon I am sucking the latex into my mouth running my tongue along the edge of his raincoat covered glans and then I climb atop him. "Ride 'em cowgirl," he says. Our hips synchronize and his long thrusts deep up into me are doing the job, f... Fo... Four... There it is number four, and my spasmatic contractions elicit his release. Ahhh.

"Dancing?"

Huh, where am I.

"I said, you guys were dancing?" Mom repeated as I began picking up the diagrams and removing the masking tape from the laminated sheets.

"Yeah, we might just be able to do a waltz without killing any innocent bystanders," I answered.

Mom and I were alone in the little stucco house as Bobby went out to the carport and fired up the old faded green Barracuda that he kept working through some form of sorcery. He backed down the driveway and was gone.

"You are going to dance with Bobby at the wedding?"

"Yeah, who else?"

We did everything together Bobby and me. We even walked one behind the other at our high school graduation last May, him in front of me by virtue of the fact that 'R' comes one letter before 'S' in the dictionary, proof of just how fucked our school was because I should have graduated first, after all I was 16 minutes older.

Even now we work a couple blocks apart from each other downtown, me at the Hungry Bear sub shop and him at the sporting goods store. We both take college classes at MDCC-Homestead in the cute little Andalusian Spanish Catholic Church. There is an easel with an architect's rendition of the new building to be built beside and in the same style as the new county library and city hall. But not before we graduate. That makes me happy as I love the courtyard and it's Moorish tile fountain.

"I just didn't think you would want to dance with your brother anymore."

"Jesus, why not?"

"It's just that's sorta for couples..."

"So we can't because..."

"Not 'can't.' Its just that it gives a bit of a false impression.

"False how?"

"That you are a couple."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Bobby is your brother Sara."

"You know mom, you named me Sara, my namesake Sarah in the Bible married her brother Abraham."

"That's not the Sara you were named after, it was your great aunts name, and she didn't marry her brother, at least not that I know of. Besides I only sent you and Bobby to that church summer camp because it was free and we were broke."

"I know, but I liked it."

"You were indoctrinated."

"Maybe, but it was run by a lot of nice people most of whom we still talk to today."

"Would they agree with what you are suggesting?"

"Look at us, all of us. Lord... Maybe that's what you should have done, married Uncle Frank, he's nice to you. It didn't work out so well the other way, for either of you. Or for Jenny, you two could have shared Uncle Frank."

"Stop that crazy talk."

"Really, are you happy being alone and having nobody wonderful in your life like I have with Bobby. Here we are practicing the waltz getting ready for Jenny's third marriage, 'cause one and two worked out so well for her."

"You know, Sara it's easy to say. But it's not just your decision. Have you thought about Bobby?"

"Only to the point of it being an obsession."

"That isn't what I meant. Everything you seem so willing to give up, are you equally willing to take that from him."

"What if that is what he wants too, would that be wrong."

"So... You plan on asking... Oh... You... You have already talked."

"Yes."

"More than talked?"

"If it were more than an abstract discussion we were having. If thoughts had been converted to actions. Would your answers to me or to him, the answers you just gave me be any different?"

"Are you telling me?"

"I am telling you that I am in love with... I am totally in hopelessly head over heels, irrevocably in love with your son Bobby, and that he is in love with me."

"No... I just can't believe what I am hearing."

"Why, is it really that hard to believe. You've watched us grow-up for almost nineteen years. You know me, you know Bobby."

"I thought I did..."

"No mom, you do know us. I am sure you can think back about how very much we have in common, how we have always been each other's best friend, how we are always together, how we take care of each other."

"That's because it's just been the three of us, for... Well... Almost ten years."

"It's not just that, it's more than that. Bobby, he knows me and he understands me. Then he gives me what I need, what I need in order to be happy."

"He knows? He understands? What?"

"Me, you, us, everything. He understands what love means. He will never treat me like... Well... Like..."

"You can say it.

"It."

"That's 'It's' name."

"I don't want to hurt you talking about..."

"It."

"Bobby, he is nothing like 'It' he won't ever hurt me. Ever. I won't ever hurt him. Ever."

"This is just a bad idea..."

"Unusual yes, but not bad. But keep in mind usual didn't seem to work for you or Uncle Frank, or Aunt Jenny either."

"You know I can't bless this, if that's what you want."

"I am not asking for that, not your blessing just your understanding."

"So now that I know, are you going to be... You know here?"

"I don't know, for some reason that isn't at the top of mind right now."

"Because I'm not comfortable with that."

"OK, it's your house mom, and I'll do whatever you say. But let me ask you this, what if I married Ken? Would you make him sleep on the couch if we came to visit?"

"Well..."

"How would that be different."

"I'm not sure there is a reason, it's just the way it is."

"Why?"

"Because I think of you as my little baby girl, and I don't see you as the grown woman you are. Or rather while I see you as being eighteen and grown-up, I also at the same time see you as being thirteen and confused, just getting your period, and I see you as being five and totally unaware just starting school, and being a six-month old helpless little baby that cried when she was hungry or pooped her diaper. I see you as a hundred different ages and in a thousand different places all at the same time. I see Bobby the same way..."

"What did you think, that we didn't have desire?"

"You know I really just didn't think about that at all."

"You must have noticed that I don't date anyone anymore, nor does Bobby. Didn't you ever wonder why. Did you think no one was interested in me or him, that I or that we were just that pathetic."

"I guess that I just thought you were getting serious about school before graduating, and then you were serious about college. Maybe it's because Cupid is a S.O.B. and never was my friend and I thought that he blessedly ignored you two. That it was a blessing that you weren't consumed by... Well.. As I was when I was your age. Pretty naïve of me, huh."

"So is the visual image that you are having a problem with here, is it my having sex with anyone at all, or is it particularly a vision of my having sex with Bobby?"

"I don't know, probably both."

"Do you have the same... The same problem envisioning Bobby having sex with some other girl?"

"I don't know..."

"Someone not nearly as good of a person as your daughter."

"Well."

"Someone who could hurt him like 'It' hurt you?"

"No."

"Do you trust me?"

"In almost everything..."

"Almost everything, but not my own love life? Do you trust Bobby."

"Same answer..."

"You raised us both, pretty much all by yourself. I know it was really hard at times, but you did a great job. Nobody could have done better. You and Bobby are the two people I totally and completely trust, the two people that I know will never hurt me. I wish you could know that neither of us would ever hurt the other like I know that we could never hurt each other."

"I want to but, It's just so much..."

"It's OK, I love you mom."

Our conversation was interrupted by Bobby pulling the 'Cuda into the carport. We went out and the three of us had the groceries put away in the freezer, icebox and cupboards in short order.

"I'm going to go take a short nap before my evening shift," mom announced as she put the last box in the freezer. "Put a record on softly or something," she said retiring to her room and closing the door.

"What was that about?" asked Bobby.

I threw my arms around him kissing my younger yet bigger brother passionately, "I'll show you," I said as I pulled his tee-shirt off, playing with the curly hairs on his chest.

"You heard mom, put the album on," I said.

As he walked to the phonography, I followed him. I reached around him and unbuckled his belt. He started to resist but thought better of it. I pulled his pants down and he helped stepping out of them. Then I slowly stripped him of his BVDs, while kissing the little hairs on his back.

"Is this such a good idea?" He asked.

"Mom's OK, so long as she doesn't hear us." I answered as I took hold of that beautiful handle that God had thoughtfully placed on my brother and led him to my bed.

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Lisa Ann