Uninvited

Chapter 1

Chris never imagined he'd find himself out of work at the age of forty and certainly never thought he'd end up homeless, but five months into the great pandemic of 2020, both of those things happened. First, the restaurant where he'd spent the past decade building himself up from bartender to manager closed its doors (three months later the landlord changed the locks and put the space back on the market), and then his landlord started eviction proceedings against him, claiming he intended to rent the seventeen hundred dollar a month loft to his niece, a convenient excuse that opened a loophole in regards to evicting tenants during the pandemic.

Having worked all of his adult life, he'd never missed a month's rent and it had been two decades since he'd last had to worry about where his next cheque was coming from . . . or where he'd live.

All four of his parents (natural and extended) were living in assisted living and unable to take him in even if they'd wanted to. In fact, the only person who could take him in was his brother, who lived halfway across the country and had five kids of his own to contend with. So, on Chris' last day in his apartment, surrounded by his belongings packed into cardboard boxes and ready for the storage unit, he made a last ditch effort to find a place to stay in the form of a "Hail-Mary" attempt on social media, pleading to anyone and everyone who knew him for a place to stay, even temporarily.

He hadn't really expected anyone to come to his rescue, but if he had it would have been anyone other than his step-sister, Jennifer. His jaw nearly hit the floor when she responded in a private message. He hadn't seen or even spoken to her in years, mostly by her choice, and she was just about the last person in the whole world he'd have expected to take him in. Just seeing her name on the screen filled him with guilt and shame over what he'd done, how his teenage infatuation with her had led to his disgrace. She and her husband, Sean, had done rather well for themselves; she, as a travelling sales rep for a bug pharmaceutical company, and he as an executive at her father's company. Together they had a beautiful four bedroom home in an affluent little suburb on the outskirts of town. Though Chris had never actually seen it, his mother had told him it was a million dollar property with an inground pool and a huge outdoor patio for entertaining. It had taken Chris years of effort to stop thinking about her, and the mere sight of her message brought back all those old feelings of shame. He wasn't even sure he could handle speaking to her online after all this time, never mind living in her home for weeks or possibly months. If he'd ANY other option, he'd have taken it, but as the hours he had left in his apartment ticked away, there was no other choice.

He responded to her instant message, his figurative hat in hand, sure that he was making a huge mistake. As he messaged her back to say that he was accepting her kind offer, he waited for her to add some sort of caveat or a warning of some sort, but she didn't. Instead she said only that she was looking forward to seeing him and told him to "come on over."

Chris spent the rest of the afternoon moving furniture out of his apartment and into a rented utility trailer, and then from the trailer into a storage unit. When only his personal belongings packed into cardboard boxes remained, he loaded them into the trailer and the back seat of his car, and said goodbye to the apartment he'd called home for the past ten years. Leaving knowing it was the last time he'd see the place was hard, and he had a good cry on the drive over to Jennifer's house, but as he got closer he forgot all about it and put his mind to what he would say to Jennifer when he saw her.

He pulled up to her beautiful home with his meager belongings in tow, continuing to fight the urge to turn around and drive away. He'd nearly decided to do just that, to drive away and message Jennifer from a couple blocks away to say he'd changed his mind or a non-existent situation had come up at the last minute, when she appeared in the driveway before him. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her long blonde hair . . . the way her freckled cheeks complimented her brown eyes. She'd put on a little weight since he'd last seen her, but it had landed in all the right places. Though she'd changed over the years, he could still clearly see the young woman who'd captured his heart so many years ago.

She greeted him with a warm hug before standing back to get a good look at him. "Look at you!" she laughed. "Were you always this tall and good looking?!?"

Blushing and feeling a familiar twinge in his pants at her scent, he returned the favor,

"Great to see you too, Jennifer. You look amazing . . . and this house, you guys have really done well for yourselves."

Ignoring the compliment on her appearance, she looked back at the house, "Yeah it's nice, too bad I only get to see it a few times a month. Well come on in, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

Jennifer walked on ahead of him and Chris' eyes dropped involuntarily to her ass for a moment. Three seconds . . . that's how long he'd managed to act like a decent human being in her presence before reverting back to lusting over her. Cursing himself, he averted his eyes and tried not to think of all the mental images he had of her locked in the dark vault of his mind. As a teenager, he'd wanted her so badly that it'd actually caused him physical pain to be around her. The truth was, she was probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever personally known, the kind of woman who'd never give him so much as a glance if they weren't related somehow, just being within arms reach of her after all this time was making his dick hard. And, for that, he was ashamed.

Desperate to occupy his mind with something other than her perfect ass, he commented on how nice her yard and gardens were, to which she replied, "Meh . . . we pay a guy to look after it for us, Sean and I don't have the time." She said it as though the idea of tending to a garden or mowing the lawn left a bad taste in her mouth, and it reminded Chris of how she'd never been a fan of menial labor like mowing the lawn or folding laundry, In all likelihood, she probably had a maid or someone cleaning the house and running her laundry, as those kinds of chores were beneath her.

He followed Jennifer up to the house and past two new-looking sedans (a BMW for her, and a Mercedes for him), and she opened the side door and held it open for him, gesturing for him to go ahead of her. "Come on in," she said, smiling in a way that made him hurt.

He felt himself getting hard again and he gave her a wide berth as he stepped inside, terrified he might accidentally brush up against her and cum in his pants.

The inside of her house was as cold as a tombstone and spotless, almost like a picture from a magazine; particularly her kitchen which looked as sterile as a hospital operating room. The appliances were all finished in stainless steel, and there wasn't a single finger print or smudge to be found. It occurred to Chris just then that the kitchen alone likely cost more than everything he owned, the majority of which was sitting outside in a rented utility trailer.

Through the kitchen, he saw that the living room was decked out in soft leather sofas and recliners all angled towards the massive 100 inch flat screen mounted on the wall. Everything in the house looked expensive and expertly placed to be as functional as it was pleasing to the eye, and Chris was certain that Jennifer had to have paid someone a lot of money to decorate for her.

"This place," he said in awe, "is really incredible."

"Thanks," she said dismissively. None of these things impressed her, and it made him wonder what would.

He remembered that Jennifer's grandmother had bought her a brand new car (a fully loaded Acura) as a graduation present. True to her nature, Jennifer was able to convince the old lady into returning the car for another under the guise that she didn't like the color, which was navy blue. What she ended up getting instead was a brand new BMW that cost 20k more than the Acura had, and goddamn if it wasn't blue.

True story.

Jennifer had always had a habit of looking at things that most people would kill for as nothing more or less than her right to own, like an appliance or a mattress; necessary and deserved, unworthy of appreciation.

"So I had an idea," Jennifer said excitedly. "Now, you can say no if you want and I won't be offended . . ." Chris' mind raced with all the possible things she might suggest knowing all too well that her actual proposal would be far different from what he was imagining. "Instead of staying here in the house, I was thinking you might like the pool house better."

"You have a pool house?" Chris said, surprised.

She nodded, again almost like Of course I have a pool house, doesn't everyone?

"Sean and I had it renovated in case any parents, his or ours, wanted to come and stay. It's really nice out there, why don't you come out and have a look at it before you decide?"

He wasn't sure whether she honestly wanted him to be comfortable or if she preferred it that way . . . to keep Chris out of her bedroom and away from her panty drawer. Either way, he was in no position to argue or refuse. "Sure, whatever you think is best," he answered.

She led him out of the house via the dining room and out onto the back patio, where he was once again astounded by how she was living. A large kidney shaped inground pool surrounded by flagstones filled the yard, and an eight foot man made rock formation with a waterfall separated the pool from a sunken hot tub big enough to hold a dozen people comfortably. And set near the back of the yard was the pool house, which wasn't at all what Chris had expected. Jennifer's "pool house" was only a few hundred square feet and a kitchen away from being an actual house, and had all the amenities of a first class hotel room. The living room area was equipped with a flat screen and a small bar fridge, wi-fi, and a dresser. The bedroom was separated and had a queen-size mattress, and the bathroom had a stand-up shower with a tiled bench to sit on.

Chris was dumbfounded by what he saw, and his thoughts immediately turned to the value of the gift he was being offered. "I don't know what to say," he said in awe. "I can pay you something."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "Sometimes people stay the night if we're having a party or something, but the place sits empty for months at a time. And with all Sean and I have going on I doubt there's going to be any partying going on anytime soon. No sense having the place sit here empty."

With the matter of money settled, particularly his offer and her refusal of it, there was still a pink elephant lurking nearby that needed acknowledgement. He simply could NOT accept this massive generosity without first acknowledging how he'd violated her privacy so many years before. He tried to find the words but none would come to him despite the fact that he'd had two decades to think about what he'd say if given the chance. Now here she was, standing in front of him in all her splendor, and he had no idea what to say. Almost as though she was reading his thoughts, she beat him to the punch with a statement that nearly broke his heart.

"Look, I realize we haven't spoken in a long time and that there's some unresolved . . . stuff or whatever, between us. And I'm not going to tiptoe around my own house while you're here so let's just get it over with. I don't know why you did what you did, and I don't really care, it was a long time ago and it's been blown up into something way bigger than it needs to be. Now, you're welcome to stay here and I don't need your money. I want you to feel comfortable in my home . . . but I'm going to have to ask that you respect my privacy and keep your hands out of my underwear drawer."

The weight of the shame she'd just dropped on him was only just beginning to register in his brain when she quickly changed the subject, "Why don't you get your stuff inside and get settled, and when you're ready you can come in and meet Sean?" And with that, she was gone.

Chris sat down on the sofa and held his head in his hands, feeling more like a piece of shit than he ever had before.

He didn't have to wait until after he'd moved his belongings in before meeting Jennifer's husband, Sean; Chris had made half a dozen trips and was almost done when he returned to the pool house to find Jennifer's husband, Sean, waiting for him. To his horror, Sean had opened one of his suitcases and was examining the contents, and the suitcase he'd opened just happened to be the only one containing the majority of his "girly" things.

Panties . . .Lingerie . . . Wigs . . .Stockings . . . And then there were the toys; the handcuffs, paddles, and dildos.

Chris stood there speechless in his indignation, and the very first words Sean spoke to him would haunt him for many years to come . . . "I fucking knew it."

He rushed to the suitcase and slammed it closed, in the proverbial equivalent to closing the barn door after the horses had already long since gone. All Chris could manage to say was, "Excuse me!" in response to this intrusion. And in that moment the irony wasn't lost on him.

Sean was tall and well built like he spent a lot of time in the gym, and the way he was looking at Chris made him fear for his physical safety, almost as though he wanted to hurt him. He spoke through a sneer of disgust as he dispelled any disillusions Chris might have had about enjoying his stay. "You know, Jennifer told me all about you and what you did. She told a lot of people, and even after all this time she was never quite sure what you were doing with the panties you stole from her. A few of her friends said you were probably jerking off into them, but not me. Somehow I just knew . . . you were wearing them."

Unable to refute anything Sean had just said, Chris said nothing.

"Are any of those hers?" he asked.

"No!" Chris snapped. "That was a long long time ago."

"That doesn't mean shit," he said dismissively. "Maybe you kept some of them all this time and you like to put them on when you suck cock . . . you're a fag, aren't you?"

Caught off guard by the brutal crassness of his remark, Chris could only stand there with his jaw open.

"Whatever," Sean said, moving towards the open sliding glass door, "to each their own, I say. At least now that I know you like to dress like a girl and take it in the ass I don't have to worry about you trying to fuck my wife. But I really want to make one thing perfectly clear, and I want to make myself perfectly clear. I . . . don't . . . fucking . . . want . . . you . . . here. Personally, I think Jenn needs her head examined for inviting you to stay here, and I'm going to be watching you. The first sign of anything creepy and I'll bounce your ass out of here, right before I give your stepfather a call and tell him whatever you did."

At that, the mention of his stepfather, Chris felt his guts twisting. He already hated Chris and always had, and he'd pretty much disowned him after the day Jennifer had come home and caught him going through her underwear drawer. Knowing how he continued to dote on his only daughter, whose husband was his right hand in business, anything negative Sean said about Chris would spread through the family like a wildfire, scorching his already damaged name.

Just then there was a tap on the sliding glass door and Jennifer came in, smiling. "Hey guys, how are we doing in here?"

In an instant, Sean changed into an entirely different person. Smiling broadly he said, "Great! Just helping Chris get settled in."

"Aww." Jennifer said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before asking Chris, "Isn't he a sweetheart?"

"Oh yeah," Chris answered, forcing a smile. "I was just thinking that . . . a real sweetheart."

"I knew you two would hit it off," she said happily. "I knew this would work out." Then to Chris, she said, "Listen, I've got three different conferences to attend this month in three different cities. Sean and I see so little of one another I think he's starting to forget I live here . . . sometimes I half expect to come home and find another family living here."

At this, Sean grabbed her around the waist and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek which Jennifer immediately wiped off in disgust. "Gross!" Then to Chris, "Anyway, I figured since I'm hardly going to be here anyway, I thought the two of you could . . . you know . . . hang out?"

Sean performed like a seasoned pro as he feigned pleasure at the idea, "Sure," he said, faking his well-practiced smile. "We can definitely hang out."

Chris forced a similar smile and answered for Jennifer's sake; "That sounds like a great idea."

Jennifer let out a giggle, clearly pleased by the results of her little scheme almost like a matchmaker who's just set up two of her friends. She clapped her hands together excitedly before leaving them alone once more, after which Sean reiterated his true feelings; "Don't even think about it, faggot. If you know what's good for you you'll stay out of my sight, especially when she's not here. Understand?"

"Yes," Chris said, turning away from him to zip up the suitcase he'd opened. "I understand completely."

Chapter 2

Chris did his best to settle into his new surroundings, but between the shame he felt around Jennifer and the hostility coming from her husband, he'd never felt so unwelcome in all his life. Sean was a master at playing the gracious host in Jennifer's presence while continuing to make him feel as welcome as a pile of dogshit in a picnic basket the moment her back was turned. He had other les subtle ways of showing his true feelings as well, like on Chris' second night when Jennifer had Sean bring a plate of hot food out to him, and he'd spit in it before handing it to him and informing him: "Tomorrow I'm making clam chowder . . . I fucking DARE you to eat it."

The very next morning, Chris ran out to the local Walmart and bought himself a microwave and as many frozen dinners as he could pack into the bar fridge. And from that moment on, he politely declined her offers to include him in their meals.

On the fourth day in the pool house, Chris received the best and the worst news he'd heard in months.

First, the bad news . . . Jennifer was taking the red-eye to Minneapolis that night and would be there for a week. Immediately following that conference, she was flying to Seattle for another week-long conference. With her gone, Sean would have no reason to be kind to him, or even civil to him.

However, the good news he received before she left almost outweighed the bad. Somehow, after some serious begging and convincing, Jennifer had managed to talk her father into giving Chris a job (insert the emoji of a head exploding here.)

His step-father loathed him, especially after his Princess daughter had caught Chris going through her panty drawer while sporting a huge hard-on, and he wouldn't have given him a job scrubbing shit out of toilets even if he'd crawled into his office on his hands and knees, begging for it. Yet, somehow, Jennifer had managed to get her to take Chris on as a paid intern starting in September. The position was maybe one step above the guy scrubbing the toilets, and the guy scrubbing the toilets probably got paid more than he would, but it was a job, and that was something. Thankfully, the position was so far down the totem pole that he wouldn't be answering to her father, or her husband. Chris was so overwhelmed with gratitude that he almost broke into tears as she told him, but his joy was quickly overshadowed by the bad news, which was that she was leaving in a few hours, and he was going to be alone with Sean for the next two weeks.