Mind Made Up Pt. 01

Much respect and pride.

It's signed. I frown; my gaze shifts to the other letter, then to the ring, then to the photo album with the naked images. I groan. My dad is right - his other daughter deserves to know about him, especially if he did not keep in touch with her. I'm also curious to meet her. Still, my dad left her out of the will. And maybe there's an old wound there still festering.

I decide to put it all away back in the box for now. No point in obsessing about all this. I'll just let the ideas percolate in my head. Maybe I'll have some insights.

THAT NIGHT before sleep, through the wall, I hear my sisters chatting away. I remember such conversations from years ago. Heather would ask her older sister about everything in life: boys, sex, female issues. It's how I learned a lot about these things. From 12 to 14, I could listen in on my sisters and grow as a person. Of course, I learned some of it through school, but the more relevant parts were always in those conversations.

- What do you think of Grant's situation? I hear Heather asks.

- I think our brother has things well in hand, Stacey replies.

I'm going to silently thank her for the vote of confidence, but she continues and it's much less praise than criticism now.

- That being said, he could be doing much better. He's always lost in his dreams. No ambition for the concrete. So like dad.

- Yeah, Heather agrees. I see it.

I'm slightly annoyed at them. I do recall it being not unfamiliar; after all, not every conversation they had back then was good to me. I decide to keep my mouth shut and keep listening.

- Still, he's handsome, Heather adds. Just like dad.

- True. Dad was a beautiful man, Stacey agrees. But Grant is nowhere near as popular as dad was with the ladies.

- What do you know that I don't? Heather inquires.

I have the same question in my mind - mostly, I want to know how Stacey could know this.

- When I was about thirteen, Stacey confides, I was curious about dad. I made it a point to spend as much time with him as I could because - well - I wanted to know the man better. I ended up stalking him for the whole summer.

- You did?

Heather is surprised, as am I; then I remember that summer and my sister always being out. I thought she was at camp.

- Plainly put, Stacey continues, I saw dad with... well... there were at least five different women during the summer.

- You didn't see them... doing it?

- No! Of course not!

I was wondering the same thing and I'm as relieved at the answer as Heather was; Stacey explains further.

- He would go out to parks, meet women, chat them up, and then leave with them. Bring them home too.

- Holy cow!

My mind races; I creep out of my bed and recover the photo album with the naked pictures. This time, I peruse through the pages, no longer listening in to my sisters talking. Seeing all these naked women is exciting; it feels forbidden. My mind is on a specific quest though, and I unearth something interesting. In-between the pages, there's a small data storage card; the kind used for storing pictures. My hunch may be right: these women may only be a selection of my father's conquests - maybe his favorites.

Sadly, I don't have any reader for the data card. I put it back where I took it, then shuffle back into my bed. Staring at naked pictures had excited me and I feel the hardness between my legs. I can still hear my sisters speaking in the other room, but I decide to drown them out. I need sleep.

IT WAS A GREAT BREAKFAST. Mom made pancakes and we ate aplenty. Then, Stacey left, wanting to revisit the old school grounds. Heather decided to hang with mom, so I left them alone and headed out myself. Before leaving, I grabbed the data card from the box, and pocketed the ring. Castillo isn't that large of a city so walking about is quite feasible. I strut down the streets, walking past familiar houses, headed to the electronics store. The clerk greets me and I show him the data card; I walk out with a reader that can connect to my laptop, back at mom's.

I'm curious about the ring so I detour at the local thrift shop. The old man who handles the counter is, from what I've been told as a child, a connoisseur of sorts. He greets with a smile, offers condolences. When I present the ring, his eyes glare.

- Oh! So that's where it went.

- Where what went? I asked.

The old man smiles.

- Your dad - god rest his soul - came here about... oh... fifteen, twenty years ago? With that same ring.

- You remember that? I ask.

- A piece like that is hard to forget. It's memorable. I'll tell you what I told him. It's quite precious. You could probably get up to a thousand dollars for it in the right market. Not here, obviously. Unless you could convince someone.

The price tag doesn't shock me; I turn to my host for more questions.

- Does it have a history? My dad says it's a family heirloom; he got it from his.

- So I remember...

The old man thinks but nothing comes to mind.

- You'd have to ask further back than me, I'm afraid. And I honestly don't know who that could be?

- My dad said it brought him luck, I comment.

The old man shrugs.

- Anything can be lucky if you give it value. I have a lucky clock at home - but it's only lucky because I take care of it, I find. You've got to treasure what you value.

I agree with the sentiment and thank him; I decide to put on the ring. It's pretty and not too ostentatious - well, comparatively, it might be. I walk back out into the street and head towards home, my mind lost in imagination.

- Well, well! a voice calls out from behind me.

I turn around at the street sign; it takes me a moment to recognize the mature woman standing in front of me.

- As I live and breathe, if it isn't Grant Hammond! the blonde woman speaks.

- Mrs. Welsh?

I can't help but stare - memories flood my brain of my home room teacher from grade... 6? 5? I can't recall. But it's her. She's wearing a colorful dress, her short hair smoothing out the curve of her face.

- Please, Grant. Call me Alice.

She's gorgeous. She always was. She's older now, obviously - I'm guessing late forties - but she still stands out. I remember details from back then. Her lunches were always smoothies. She would walk into the room in the morning and smell of perfume. The smell is still there. I subconsciously take a whiff of it.

- How have you been? she asks me.

I tell her the truth: graduation, my dad's passing, no job. She listens sympathetically. I ask about her. She's still teaching at elementary. Her son has moved out of the home as well and she misses him.

- I was out running errands, she says. Then I noticed your shape. I could hardly believe how much you've grown. You're quite a handsome young man, Grant.

I blush.

- Thank you, Alice... you're... as gorgeous as ever.

I see her blush. Are we flirting? I get nervous at the thought. I do recall teenage fantasies about her, nothing serious. But we're adults now. Suddenly, I can't believe that thought entered my mind. I try to chase it away, but my mind plays tricks on me.

- You know, I never knew if you were married or not, I inquire.

- I am. Second marriage, to be fair.

- Oh! And... still marital bliss?

- After a few years, passions dissolve, she admits. But I love him. He's good to me. And you? Anyone in your life?

I can't immediately answer because something scratches at my throat.

- No. Nope. No one.

I look away; she's intimidating me somehow.

- Well, she says, a young man like you will surely find a woman to fulfill all his needs.

She reaches for my hand and grabs it. I shiver. She simply smiles, then lets go.

- Are you in town for a while, Grant?

- For a few weeks, I tell her.

- Wonderful. It'd be lovely to spend more time with you. Get to know where you're at. After all, I did help make you become the man you are.

I laugh nervously.

- I'd... I'd like that.

- Great! Then it's a date! she jokingly says.

It's an unreal sentiment to exchange phone numbers with a former teacher. And I'm not mistaken. It was flirting. And I flirted back. I've never flirted back to anyone. She waves at me, then walks off. My eyes follow her derrière as it sways to each side. I'm confused for a moment, but then turn back towards home.

I'm walking down the street, almost at my mom's place, when I see eyes staring at me from across the neighbor's yard. Again, it takes me a moment to put the memory back in its place. She waves at me. I wave back.

- Grant! Come over here! she calls out.

Pauline Walker. Our neighbor for many years. I haven't seen her since I left home about five years ago. She's tending to her garden, half-covered in dirt. I walk to her fence and smile.

- Well, will you look at you! she states. My my! You're so handsome!

- Aha... thanks, Mrs. Walker.

- How many times have I told you to call me Pauline!

She gives me a fake scolding glance. I laugh it off. She offers me condolences about my dad; to be fair, it's more protocol. She had no love for the man herself. After the fact, she had confessed to my mom that my dad had hit on her several times - or at least seemed to have, since he had never officially made a move. As with Mrs. Welsh, Pauline inquires about my well-being, schooling, relationship status. It's quite an agreeable conversation; I can't recall a single instance where I've felt this comfortable with this woman.

- You know, she adds, if you need anything, my door is always open.

- Thanks Pauline. That's really nice. You don't have to.

- Nonsense! For a sweet boy like you, it's no hassle.

She winks at me, and I realize she might be flirting. I get excited at the prospect and flirt back without thinking about it.

- You've always been so generous of yourself, Pauline. I might take you up on that offer.

- Well, don't hesitate on my account, she insists. Anything.

I thank her with a nod and continue back home; I can feel her gaze on me as I head into the house. I bypass the living room and head straight for my room, ignoring my mom and sister as they chat away. I lock my door and sit down.

- What the hell? I ask out loud.

It takes me a moment to dismiss the ideas that are popping into my mind; I trade them off for others as I retrieve the data reader, plug it into my computer, then put the data card in. It loads into a folder which I access.

I was right. Hundreds of pictures of girls. Or more. Many naked, though in some the girls are still clothed, or in various stages of undress. I'm horny now. I glare at the door. This brings me back, I tell myself. I pick one picture that's particularly provocative, where the anonymous girl has her hand on her sex and is teasing herself. I unzip my pants and drop them to my knees along with my underwear, then sit back down and grab my cock with one hand. I reach for the tissues for when I'm done. I stare at the erotic picture and start jerking off. The sensation rises in me; it's amazing how good it feels already. I get going hard, not wanting to wait much longer for my climax.

Yet, when I'm really into it, there's a knock on my door.

- Grant?

It's my sister. I jerk back in my chair and let go of my erection; it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts.

- What?

- Your door's locked, she says.

- So?

My hand returns to my cock instinctively.

- Can I come in? she asks.

I want to finish but I won't be able to until I deal with her.

- A moment, I say.

I pull up my underwear and pants and squeeze my erection into it; I close the folder and images on my computer, then compose myself. I stand awkwardly and move to the door, then undo the lock. Stacey practically barges in.

- Hey, Grant.

She stops and oddly stares at me for a moment. I stare back.

- What?

I see a smirk appear on her lips. I can't really read what it means.

- Mom said we got an invitation from her friend Dolores for supper. Remember Dolores?

I nod - how can I not know her! Dolores is my mom's oldest friend; she was around for years and she was the only one who supported my mom through her hardships. She moved away when I was 11, I think. She also divorced her husband, though for different reasons. My mom and Dolores kept in touch over the years, and really Dolores just moved to the next town. I recall how Dolores would treat me and my sisters to ice cream when mom needed us out of the house.

- So? Wanna come?

- Why not, I answer in the hopes that it will get my sister out of my room.

- It's about an hour's drive.

I'm waiting for her to step back; she doesn't. Her eyes squint and I catch her gaze suddenly aimed at my crotch. I say nothing: she must have noticed the bulge in my pants.

- Anything else? I ask trying to be polite.

- What were you doing behind a locked door? she inquires.

I want her to leave; I figure I might as well be honest about it. Any kind of sexual allusion I made back in our teenage years would make her cringe and generally storm out.

- If you must know, I start, I had my hand on my cock not a moment ago.

I'm expecting a look of disgust; instead, I get an amused stare.

- Really? Tell me about it.

I'm the one stumped by her reaction; I see her wink at me.

- You were watching porn, right? On mom's internet?

She laughs; I take another step back.

- And you'd like to finish? she continues.

- What's gotten into you? I finally manage to stammer back.

She laughs some more.

- Nothing, you idiot. It's just nice to see you squirm. It's... interesting.

- So...? I reply.

- Am I spoiling your mood, brother?

She leans slightly forward, and I catch a small glimpse of the cleavage from her t-shirt in the process. She laughs again and squeezes her arms against her chest, amplifying the visual effect between her breasts.

- All right, I'll leave you to it, then, she finally states. But don't say I never did anything for you!

She twists and turns around, heading down the hall. As with the other women I've met today, I can't take my eyes away from her ass. I quickly close and lock the door. I'm extremely horny now - I never knew my sister could be such a tease and it's quite the turn-on, however wrong it feels. I return to my computer, the sexy image, remove pants and underwear and go to town on my erection. It's a more than satisfying few minutes as I climax into a tissue to avoid making a mess, my mind lost to the action that I just performed on myself. I lean back in my chair. My thoughts wander to the morning's events and encounters.

What's with all the flirting, I wonder. Mrs. Welsh, Mrs. Walker, even Stacey. Though quite relieved from my tension, I'm still a bit uneasy about the whole thing.

LATER IN THE AFTERNOON, the four of us climb into the car. I'm asked to drive so I settle in the driver's seat, adjusting it. Mom sits beside me and my sisters file in the back. I hear them giggle to one another, and I'm wondering if Stacey has told Heather about this morning. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. Yet even as I settle, I see my mom staring at my face.

- What?

- You're such a handsome young man, Grant...

- Thanks.

I put the car in drive; from my window, I can see Pauline still working in her garden. She waves at me as I pass by. I wave back.

- Everyone is so friendly here, I tell mom. I met my old teacher Mrs. Welsh this morning. She was so happy to see me.

- That's nice. She was always a good one, mom comments.

- And Pauline also said that if we need anything, we're welcome at her place.

- I have great people around me, mom adds.

I get onto the main road headed for Dolores' place. Mom puts on some music; the drive is silent though I can't help but feel like my sisters are taking about me behind my back. The giggles are slightly annoying, and I want to get back at them, but I don't want my mom to get involved - and she will. I bide my time - maybe I'll get a chance to one up them later, maybe another day when they don't expect it. I also notice how my mom keeps staring at my face: it's quite intense. Her face is one of quiet contemplation. Maybe she thinks I look like dad - and I do, at least in some respects.

- So, mom finally breaks the silence, still haven't landed that special someone?

- Nope.

Mom knows this; it's a constant topic of conversation on my visits, and we've certainly broached about it since I arrived.

- Really is a shame, she states. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you.

- Thanks, I guess.

- It's true! Stacey chimes in from the backseat. Our brother's a sweetie.

I catch the tone of playfulness - and maybe a bit of irony - in her words. I'm surprised when Heather also concurs.

- What's not to like? He's handsome, he's smart, he's talented...

- Please! I'm blushing! I let out jokingly.

I hear my sisters giggle again; I really need to get to the bottom of this, and I'm thinking I will, tonight, when we get home. They'll probably chat away in their room and I'll be able to spy on their conversation. That's a plan, I tell myself.

WHEN WE GET TO DOLORES' HOUSE, we're greeted by her two small dogs. Dolores makes her way past them and offers my mom a big hug, then a hug for everyone else. As she wraps her arms around me, I can sense that she's squeezing tight - tighter than I expected the hug to be. She pulls back and stares at my face.

- What a lovely young man you have here, Jane?

- Isn't he? she concurs.

I'm really blushing now, with the seemingly continuous praise of compliments from everyone I meet. Dolores locks the dogs in a side room and we head over to the kitchen. I can't help but stare at Dolores' plump figure. Her curves are quite delicious to look at and I can't help but feel like I've seen them somewhere before, like they're familiar. Suddenly, I realize that I have. I try not to blush further - there was a picture of her in my father's printed portfolio. She was a few years younger than now, but it's obvious it was her. She was on all fours, presenting her ass to the camera with her head tilted towards the photograph. As much as I want to, I can't shake that image from my mind as we sit down to eat.

I barely speak at the table; my mom and Dolores trade stories about the past, catching up on recent events. My sisters are still at it with their quirky exchanges, so I'm left to my own devices. Every so often, I catch stares aimed at my direction. It's mostly Dolores, dreamy eyes fixed upon my face, but I also get the same from my mom and my sisters. For a moment, it feels strange, but I decide to relax into it. It feels like more silent praise aimed at me and it's quite comforting too.

When I get to talk about myself and my projects, Dolores leans in and pays close attention. I can't help but feel like, when I speak up, all eyes turn to me. My audience is hanging on my lips as I take about my pet projects for computer design. They seem oddly fascinated by the details, more so than I would expect them to be anyway.

Before long, dinner is over; my mom and sisters move to the living room and Dolores asks me to help with clearing the table. I watch my family vanish in the other room then proceed to follow Dolores while I carry the dishes. My eyes dart to her round buttocks and I can't help but watch them sway hypnotically. She is a gorgeous woman, no doubt. I put down the dishes in the sink - she tells me she'll clean them later. Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder a moment.

- I can't believe how much of a man you've become, she says. So strong and bright.

- Thanks.

I'm yet more confounded by unsought praise. She caresses my cheek. The intimacy feels nice; I haven't had anyone caress my cheek in a while. There's tenderness in that gesture and I let her know I appreciate it with a broad smile. She sighs and shies away from me. I turn around to return to the dining room and bring back more stuff. I see her watching me. I can't help but feel the intensity of her stare. Her voice is sweet, like honey, when she speaks again.