Top Floor to Ourselves

Author's note: This is a slow burn tale of romantic cousin-on-cousin fun. All characters are over 18.

*

Excitement and gloominess filled me when I pulled into the driveway of the big old house. The For Sale sign had a giddy "Sold!" slapped across it, as if disposing of Aunt Jenny's place was something to celebrate.

It felt good to stand and stretch after the three-hour drive from my college. Just as I hoisted my bag from the back, Cousin Rachel bounded down the steps.

"Looking good, Dylan," she quipped, grinning.

She rocked on her heels, hands behind her back, beautiful in her oversized college hoodie and black yoga pants. When I was little and followed Rachel around like a puppy, I thought she was the prettiest, most wonderful girl in the world.

She still was.

"Uh, you look good, too," I stammered. Her impish face, piercing dark eyes, and thick chestnut hair left me stricken every time I saw her.

"Did—uh, how was your flight?" I said.

"Long. Boring. Mom grumbled about the rude passengers the entire way."

I shrugged. "That's what you get for living on the left coast."

Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Well, at least we don't have... SNOW."

She revealed the snowball she had been hiding behind her back and jammed it down the neck of my shirt.

"Oh, you nasty bitch!" I yelled, scrabbling to get it out.

Rachel ran up the steps, squeezing past Uncle Fred as he emerged from the front door.

"Are you kids teasing each other already?" he boomed.

He thumped down the steps to extend his hand. We shook as he walloped me on the back with a bone-jarring slap.

"Were the roads okay? Glad you could come, Dylan. Too bad Matt couldn't, but I know it was short notice. One last gathering at the old house, eh? Come on in, you're the last to get here."

Uncle Fred lumbered into the living room. My mom emerged to greet me, hugging and making her usual fuss.

"I'm glad you got here safe," she said. "I worry about you driving so far in the winter. Now, say hello to Aunt Kristy then go drop your things in your room." She plucked lint from my coat. "Then come right back down so I can gush and embarrass you."

I peeked in to wave at Kristy. She lifted her drink and smiled. Even though she was my mom's older sister, she looked younger. Her and Rachel were sometimes mistaken for sisters, rather than mother and daughter.

When I turned to climb the stairs, Rachel was standing right behind me, looking smug.

"I'll get you for that snow," I growled, but couldn't help smiling. We kids playing pranks on each other was tradition, just as much as our family's annual summer gathering at the house.

"You heard my sister's not coming, right?" Rachel said. "We have the third floor all to ourselves."

"Good. I won't have to listen to you two gossiping and squealing all the time."

We approached the main stairs.

"Race you!" I yelled, shoving Rachel aside and bounding up the steps two at a time.

"You prick!"

She scurried to catch up as I rocketed to the second floor where the four main bedrooms were, then raced around to the stairs to the top floor.

I was bent over catching my breath when Rachel caught up.

"You always do that!" she said. "Are you ever going to grow up?"

From below came Uncle Fred's bellow. "Kids! No running on the stairs. We've told you a hundred times."

More than a hundred times. Chasing each other up and down the stairs was another tradition.

The third floor of the house was reserved for the kids. Oppressively hot in the summer, it had two bedrooms: Rachel and her sister shared a bed in one room, my flatulent older brother and I shared a bed in the other.

The only other room was a big old bathroom still with wooden wainscoting and an ancient cast iron claw foot tub. The second floor had a modern bathroom and shower, strictly reserved for parents.

"Drop your bag and come talk," Rachel said.

She pulled her hoodie over her head, revealing a tight stretch top that showcased her wonderful boobs and tight waist. The hard nubs of her nipples were prominent. Her black yoga pants hugged every curve.

I closed my mouth and stuffed my eyeballs back into my head, praying she hadn't noticed, then fled to my room.

Rachel was one year older. Every summer, our families met at Aunt Jenny's house for a week and the adults always left Rachel to watch over me while our older siblings were off doing their own things.

Together, we played games, rode our bikes, chased each other or lay on the grass watching clouds in the summer heat. She lifted me to snag cookies hidden on the top shelf and we dreamed up pranks to play on our siblings. That was only fair since they played tricks on us too.

When I came of age, Rachel was my first fantasy. It was wrong, almost a betrayal of our friendship, but I couldn't help dreaming up endless scenarios of touching her, kissing her, and in ethereal dream-like ways, making love to her.

We sat cross-legged on her bed, catching up on everything that had happened since we last gathered in August.

"So only one half a semester to go, Dylan?" she said. "Any nibbles on a job?"

"I've applied everywhere. A few places are interested, but nothing firm yet."

"Yeah. It was like that for me. Well, if you don't find anything, come out West and move in with me. You're sure to find something. I need to get rid of my roommate, anyway. She turned out to be a total slut. I'm tired of hearing her headboard banging against the wall when she brings some shithead home."

She eyed me, looking for a reaction.

I refused to take the bait. "Uh, thanks. I'd be totally lost in such a big city, though. And how do you know I'd be any better as a roommate?"

Rachel touched my leg. It felt electric.

"Oh, you'd be gentle with anyone you brought home. Anyway, it wouldn't bother me if I heard you. Brrrr!"

Rachel crossed her arms, rubbing herself.

"It's drafty up here! It's so weird being here in February. Why does anyone live where it snows? Hey, we'd better go down and see what the olds are doing."

She got up and headed to the stairs, pulling her hoodie back on.

"You know exactly what they're doing," I said, trying not to gawk at her shapely ass. "They're drinking, talking about Aunt Jenny and making passive-aggressive remarks about each other."

Rachel paused with her hand on the worn newel post of the banister.

"I really miss Jenny," she sighed. "I'll really miss this house."

~~~~

Uncle Fred was filling everyone's glass with a frothy green mixture. Aunt Kristy waved us into the room as they raised their glasses and sipped, then smacked their lips and debated the merits of their latest mixture.

Rachel and I shared a look. It was like this with them every afternoon. I'd never known people so devoted to exploring mixed drinks and odd liquors. They'd already set up the antique sideboard with a cooler of ice, a blender, and countless bottles, large and small.

"You kids settled in up there?" asked my mother.

Rachel said, "Yes, Aunt Denise. It's great having the room to myself for once."

"Good," rumbled Uncle Fred. "And Dylan, you respect your cousin's privacy, you hear? No sneaking into her room for pranks."

"Oh, come on," I said, remembering the vile tricks me and my brother used to play on the girls. "I haven't done that since I was twelve."

Rachel's mom spoke up. "Remember that big thunderstorm? All four of them were in the boy's bed with the covers pulled over their heads."

"Not for long," said Rachel. "Matt let one fly and gassed us out of the room."

Fred threw his head back and roared. "Haw! Mushroom Cloud Matt. Denise, what ever did you feed that kid?"

We sat for a while listening to the olds discussing the quirks of each child and their sibling's multiple failings at raising them.

When we couldn't take it anymore, Rachel and I excused ourselves.

"They never change," she said. "Want to go for a walk?"

~~~~

Aunt Jenny's house had been built near the edge of town at the time. It still was—the little town hadn't grown much in the hundred-plus years since.

Three other tall Victorians shared the tree-lined street. The rest were modern bungalows with giant front yards.

As we walked, Rachel stuck her bare hand into my leather mitten and twined her fingers in mine. I wasn't sure how to react, but I liked it.

"Your mom said you might bring your boyfriend," I said.

"Yeah, well, we were booked to go to Mexico for Valentines. Then Uncle Fred called about the house being sold and having a final gathering. My boyfriend knew it was important to come here one last time, but he insisted we go to Mexico, that it was either him or my family. So that was the end of it."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Things were heading that way anyway. He was nice at first, then started getting all 'alpha male' bossy, you know?"

"Oh. I broke up with Brenda, too."

Rachel stopped and faced me. "The one you showed me pictures of in the summer? You looked so cute together. What happened?"

I shrugged. "She never wanted to go anywhere. Not see a movie, or to a pub. Even getting her to go for a walk was a chore."

"So what did you do together? Video games?"

"Uh, well, we had sex. That's all she ever wanted to do."

"Really?" Rachel laughed. "That doesn't sound so bad!"

"Yeah, it was great at first. But I really liked her. I wanted to go out and do things. Get to know her more. But it was like she didn't want me to. Like fucking was a shield or something."

Rachel squeezed my hand. "Maybe she only wanted you for your body. You're pretty hot, you know."

She grinned and elbowed me.

I felt my face flush. Since when did Rachel think I was hot?

"You know," she said, "I went out with a guy like that. Closed off. Didn't talk. Except for sex, then he was a real education."

"What does that mean?"

"He was up for anything. Any position, toys, role play, anal, hot wax, tying each other up, pegging..."

"Okay, okay! I get it."

"Aww. Didn't mean to embarrass you. Anyway, maybe he was only interested in my body, too. But he was so much fun in bed."

"Wish Brenda was. She only allowed missionary."

"What? All that fucking and you never did doggy style? Or her on top? Reverse cowgirl? How about blowjobs or eating her out?"

"Rachel, geez! Will you stop? No, she thought anything else was perverted."

"Wow. Poor girl. Poor you!"

Rachel looked like she was going to say something more but stopped. We had become chilly, so we turned and headed back.

~~~~

After dinner, we climbed to the top floor.

"I'm still freezing," Rachel said, hugging herself. "I'm taking a bath."

It almost looked like she put an extra sway in her hips as she pulled off her hoodie and strode to the bathroom.

She was such a puzzle. Sometimes she treated me like I was still a kid, other times like her best friend, then sometimes it seemed she was flirting—lots of innuendo, brushing against me and talking about sex. But that had to be wishful thinking. She just liked making me blush.

I lay on my bed playing a game on my phone, listening to the echoes of Rachel splashing and humming to herself. It was almost hypnotic, and I dozed.

Rachel's shout woke me.

"Dylan! Can you get a towel? I forgot to bring one in with me."

Steamy air spilled from the crack in the bathroom door when I knocked. I stuck my arm inside, holding a bath towel and looking away.

"Here you go. Grab it."

"I can't grab it, doofus. I'm in the tub. Bring it in."

"But you're in the tub!"

"I used bubble bath. Will you just come in here?"

More steamy air billowed out when I pushed open the door. Rachel had the overhead light off, with candles flickering all around the muggy room.

She was laying back, immersed to her armpits in the water, hair pinned up in a beautiful messy pile, a red washcloth folded over her eyes.

There were no bubbles.

There must have been plenty when she first got in, but after soaking for so long, only wandering patches of froth remained.

My mouth fell open as I took in the vision of her breasts, hips, and exquisite pussy with precisely trimmed fur submerged in the refracting, dappled water.

"Just hang it up," she said, waving a hand towards the towel hooks. Her breasts swayed from the motion.

"And can you run more hot water?" she asked. "Please?"

Trapped. How could I refuse? But what if she removed her washcloth blindfold?

Down by her feet, I turned the hot water on full blast. It formed more froth, but then I had a closer view of her body. I couldn't tear my eyes away. Even in all my fantasies she had never looked so beautiful.

Rachel sighed happily, stirring the water with her long legs.

When it was hot enough, I shut off the tap and scurried from the room.

"Thanks, Dylan," she called. "You're the best!"

I flung myself on my bed, resuming the game on my phone. No doubt the image of her in the bath would be fodder for fantasies for years to come, but at that moment I wasn't turned on—I was enraptured. Stricken. She was so lovely.

But I fretted. Would she figure out she had been exposed then scream at me for not saying anything? Why did I feel like a kid stealing cookies again? It was her fault for not checking the bubble situation before inviting me in, wasn't it?

Later, sloshes and sounds of the tub draining came from the bathroom, then Rachel was at my door, wrapped in the huge towel.

"That was soooo good," she said. "They still make tubs kind of like that, but they aren't as comfy. Another thing I'll miss about this place."

She flounced onto the bed behind me, resting her chin heavily on my shoulder.

"Whatcha playing? Oh, River Rat Regatta! I wasted so much time on that. Could never get past level 20."

"You have to go left at the sawmill, then chew through the thinnest log."

"Oh. Of course. Should've figured that out. I'm an idiot."

I tried concentrating on the game, ignoring the alluring scent of her body lotion or the heat of her pressed against my back or the fact she was naked under that towel.

"Can we watch a movie?" she said. "Tentacle Tollbooth came out on streaming yesterday. It's supposed to completely suck."

Another thing Rachel and I always did together was watch sub-B horror movies, making snide comments while we laughed ourselves silly.

She rolled onto her feet. "C'mon. Put on your jammies. We'll watch in my room."

When I entered, Rachel lay propped against her headboard wearing loose pajama shorts and a t-shirt, cueing up the movie on her tablet.

It was delightfully awful. We sat side-by-side, legs tucked under the covers, laughing and cracking jokes while guessing which cliché horror trope would come next.

"It's gonna be 'ax in the back.' I know it."

"No way. She's the disposable best friend. It's gonna 'be head chopped off.' It always is."

Before the flick reached the predictable, overacted conclusion, Rachel was asleep, her head was slumped against my arm. I took that moment to admire her angelic face, wondering if she would wake if I stroked her cheek.

Putting the tablet on her nightstand and turning off the light, I slipped out of bed, covered her up, then went to my drafty room and chilly bed.

~~~~

Sometime during the night, Rachel slipped under the covers.

"I keep waking up. You know I've never slept in that bed alone? It's so spooky. Will you play with my hair like you used to? So I can sleep? Please?"

Rachel's hair was so thick and so beautiful it should have been on billboards and in shampoo ads. Mine was just as thick, though I kept it short. At an early age I discovered running my fingers through Rachel's hair, stroking her head, or just tugging gently nearly put her into a coma.

She sighed happily while I combed fingers through her sumptuous mane, snuggling her sleepy body closer.

When she was asleep and breathing evenly, I didn't resist. I ran the back of my hand over her smooth cheek and kissed her forehead. Settling beside her, I also fell asleep.

In the gray morning light, I woke to find us laying on our sides, face-to-face. Rachel's eyes were closed. Without thinking, I stroked her hair, admiring her again.

Rachel murmured and snuggled close, then time screeched to a stop when her lips lightly brushed across mine.

Suddenly I was wide awake, heart drumming. Did she mean to do that? Was she awake?

Once more her lips lightly touched mine. So soft, so warm. Tentatively, as lightly as I could, I brushed back, going across and up. Rachel sighed and lifted her face, as if inviting more.

My breath caught. Was she asking me to kiss her? That was crazy—we were cousins. But again, she moved and just barely touched her lips to mine.

From below came Uncle Fred's yell, informing us breakfast was ready and for us lazy kids to get the hell downstairs.

Rachel's eyes opened. We stared at each other for a moment before she flushed and looked away.

"Never need an alarm clock with Foghorn Fred around," she sighed. "We'd better get down there."

~~~~

We all chatted and passed food around the dining room table just like our summer breakfasts together.

Uncle Fred announced they were going into town to check out the indoor farmer's market and craft fair.

Rachel and I shared a look. When they did that in the summer, they were gone all day, returning with far too much cheese, baked goods, and shoddy handcrafts the locals sold to gullible tourists.

We grinned when they drove off. For the first time ever, we had the entire house to ourselves: no parents, no Uncle Fred, no brother, and no sister.

We explored every nook. We chased each other up and down the stairs. We poked around the creepy basement where, as kids, we never dared go and discovered Uncle Fred had brought cases of his craft beer.

Rachel got her portable speaker, and we blasted our music in the living room, dancing and rattling the windows.

When the novelty wore off, we watched another cheesy horror flick while sitting on the living room floor sharing junk food. Rachel produced two bottles of Uncle Fred's beer.

"Oh, you're bad," I said. "He'll kill us if he finds out."

"There's lots down there. He's never gonna miss two. Or four."

We sipped the strong beer, laughing at the rubber masks and pink blood in the low-budget movie.

Our sides were aching when it was over, feeling buzzed from the beer.

"I wish we lived closer," I said. "There's no one else I can do this with."

Rachel gazed at me strangely. "I wish we did too. I'd love to be with you more. Think of all the trouble we could get into."

I pictured the trouble I wanted to get into with her right then. Her expression seemed to hint she wouldn't mind if I tried, but it had to be more wishful thinking on my part.

"Uh, want to visit the bower?" I asked.

Rachel scrunched her face. "We have the house to ourselves, and you want to visit the bower? In frigging winter?"

She agreed only because the bower was special. It was the name we gave the spot far behind the house where a stream bent, forming a pool almost deep enough to swim. Shaded by overhanging trees, all of us kids went there to cool off every summer and splash around unsupervised.

In summer, the bower was a quick bike ride along a path that traced the edge of the woods behind the house. In winter, it turned out to be a long trudge through shin-deep crusted snow while the wind whipped and swirled.

Rachel held my hand for balance as we high-stepped, breaking the icy crust to gain footing in the powder underneath.

I began thinking we should turn back when the crusted snow became drifting powder. Rachel still held my hand as we kicked through it. Occasionally, I stole glances at her. Once, I caught her glancing at me, too.

Snow roofed the branches arching over the bower, shading it in soft bluish-white and blocking the wind. The stream had iced over, though we heard it trickling underneath.