Weekend at Aunt Ivy's Pt. 03

A cool dry breeze blew through the open patio door, rustling the blinds and the edge of the napkin under the bowl of ice cream on the coffee table. Noelle flopped on the couch, bottle of root beer in one hand, small spoon in the other. She sipped the soda, then traded the bottle for the bowl and settled into the drama she'd cued up from the streaming service.

It was early still. Not yet 6:00 pm. She'd left work early after a full day of meetings, hoping to hit the gym for an hour before dinner. But after changing clothes and perching on the edge of the sofa to swap her socks, she found herself unable to get up. Held there by some will-sapping magic she couldn't resist. Thirty minutes later she opted for a snack and a show, promising to work out tomorrow instead.

She was two spoonful's in when the phone buzzed on the cushion beside her. She glanced at it casually, not intending to answer. Until she saw who it was.

"Hey Aunt Ivy," she said, a cheek full of ice cream, "what's up?"

"Oh not too much, how are you?" The drone of the freeway in the background betrayed her location. "Still basking in the glow of last week's victory I take it?"

Noelle blushed, thinking of the brand-new cashmere sweater hanging in her closet. "Do you only call people from the car," she asked, immediately changing the subject.

"Well I'm bored dear," she replied. "The car practically drives itself, what am I supposed to do the whole time? I mean, the window tint's not dark enough to - "

" -Oh my god!"

Aunt Ivy burst into a hearty laugh. "Learned that the hard way. Anyway, listen. I have a conference in Phoenix this week, do you mind if I drop in, say hi?"

"Of course not," Noelle cried, "I would love it!"

"Really? You would?"

"Yes! It's been like...years since I've seen you in person."

"Shit," Aunt Ivy sounded surprised, "has it really been that long?"

"At least," Noelle insisted. "If you don't have something booked you can stay with me."

The traffic sounds changed. "Well, I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to make a reservation yet."

"Then stay here!" Noelle shot a glance around her apartment. "I mean...if you don't mind slumming it. My place is nothing like yours."

Aunt Ivy laughed. "Babe, all I need is hot water and air conditioning."

"Well great! I'll set up the air mattress in the living room and you can have my bedroom."

"Oh fuck no," Aunt Ivy scoffed. "There's no way I'm coming to your place to kick you out of your own bed. I'll take the air mattress."

"But I can't -"

"Nope. Non-negotiable. You sleep in your bed, period." Noelle chuckled. Aunt Ivy continued. "Now, put on some nice clothes and come downstairs. I'm taking you to dinner."

The spoon tumbled from Noelle's fingers and clattered on the tabletop. "You mean...right now? You're here now?"

"Yes. And I'm parked in a loading zone. The delivery guy is giving me dirty looks, so hurry up!"

Noelle cackled into the phone. Nothing surprised her about her aunt anymore. She did what she wanted, whenever she wanted to, unconcerned with anyone's opinion of her. Noelle envied the confidence. She slipped off the couch and headed for her closet.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting dressed. How nice are we talking? Like dark jeans and a sweater nice? Or cocktail dress nice?"

"Cocktail dress nice," Aunt Ivy confirmed. "But not nicer than mine. I have a reputation to uphold."

A photo appeared on Noelle's screen. She chuffed. "Well that won't be a problem. Give me ten minutes. My hair needs help."

"Okay but hurry," Aunt Ivy urged. "Or you might find me murdered and stuffed in the trunk!"

...

Thirty minutes later Aunt Ivy breezed through the doors of Stage 66, Noelle right on her hip. It was the finest steakhouse in the city. The kind of place where the menus don't list prices and the waiting list is longer than for football season tickets. They passed well-dressed patrons seated patiently in the lobby and stopped abruptly at the hostess station. The young lady glanced up, then snapped to attention.

"Ms. Clark," she stammered, "we um...we weren't expecting you this evening."

"That's okay," Aunt Ivy reassured, "it's a spur-of-the-moment thing. Is my table available?"

The hostess looked down at her screen, scribbled something out, then looked up with a smile. "Of course! Follow me please."

She seated them at a four-top across from the fireplace next to the wine rack. Glancing around, Noelle leaned in and whispered, "you have your own table?"

Aunt Ivy shook out her napkin and laid it in her lap. "It's not mine," she replied. "Just the spot I sit at when I come here for dinner."

They laughed together while they settled in. Noelle tugged the hem of her dress to her knees and hid them completely under the heavy white tablecloth. Aunt Ivy's dress barely reached mid-thigh. But she showed no interest in covering anything the napkin didn't hide. She perched on the edge of her chair, pitched forward, hands folded on the table in front of her. Noelle smiled brightly in the low light.

"It's so nice to hang out with you," she gushed. "It's been way too long!"

"I know, I'm so sorry - it's my fault. I was 24-7 trying to turn the company around. Then once that happened there were a hundred others wanting me to do the same thing. I just got consumed with work and neglected you guys and I feel terrible. I'm going to make it up to you though, I promise."

Noelle's response was interrupted by the waiter, a glass of red wine pinched in each hand. "Good evening Ms. Clark, and guest," he began in a smooth, well-honed tone. "My name is Charles and I will be taking care of you this evening. We can start you off with a glass of Poliziano Toscana Merlot, courtesy of the gentleman at Table 12." With a subtle flourish he set a glass in front of each of them and stepped back. "I will be right back with your menus."

When Charles was safely out of earshot Noelle narrowed her eyes and leaned in. "Table 12?" she whispered. Aunt Ivy swept the room slowly, her head turning with her eyes until suddenly they stopped. Her face froze. Then softened. Noelle looked back over her shoulder to see what caught her aunt's attention.

On the fireplace wall two tables behind her sat a tall, handsome, African-American man in a tailored, 3-piece, deep-olive patterned suit. His shoulders were broad, beard sharp, hair trimmed neat and close. He glanced up and caught them looking. Nodding his head he raised his glass. Aunt Ivy flashed a smile and took a sip of the wine.

Noelle nudged Aunt Ivy's arm, whispering, "who is that?"

"A very attractive man," Aunt Ivy replied.

"Do you know him?"

"Not yet."

Noelle rolled her eyes and giggled. Aunt Ivy slid back in her chair. She crossed her legs slowly, inside over out, a shapely bare calf extending beyond the edge of the tablecloth and clearly visible to the unidentified man beyond. "Drink up 'Elle," Aunt Ivy said. "It's good wine."

....

The evening progressed with a five-star meal and lively conversation. Aunt Ivy devoured her grilled Wagyu ribeye, while Noelle opted for a chili-glazed salmon. They talked while they ate. Stories about work and mishaps at the office. Tales of Aunt Ivy's adventures abroad. Even a few references to the upcoming installment of the group "cycling" competition.

But every few minutes Aunt Ivy's attention would drift to Table 12. Looking over she would tuck her hair behind her ear, or squeeze her breasts between her arms, or flash a little more thigh to the man in the suit. Now and then, Noelle would look too. But when she did his attention seemed elsewhere - his meal, the fire, anywhere but the two of them.

"What do you think," Aunt Ivy asked, the evening winding down. Her voice was low and mischievous. "What's his story?"

Noelle shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Think about it. Tailored suit, 3-piece, patterned. Suede oxfords. Vitae timepiece. Dining alone on a Tuesday night on Poulet de Provencal at Stage 66."

"How can you tell what he's eating from here," Noelle marveled.

"Who is he?" Aunt Ivy continued. "What does he do?"

Noelle mulled the information. "Well, let's see. Tall, fit, stylish.... Notable enough to get a reservation here." She shrugged. "Athlete?"

Aunt Ivy shook her head. "Portion's too small. No appetizer, no dessert. Athletes need calories."

"Okay. Entertainer, maybe?"

"Nuh uh. Doesn't have that vibe. He would have brought the wine himself, or pulled up a chair shortly after Charles delivered it."

Noelle found herself getting into the game. She cast a long look over her shoulder. "He's a lawyer. Corporate - not criminal. Elite firm, from the east coast. Philadelphia, or DC. He's here to broker a merger. Talks opened this morning. There were complications. So they decided to break and resume tomorrow."

A smile curled Aunt Ivy's lip. "Hmmm," she sighed, "Intriguing. I'll give you east coast. But he's not a lawyer - not corporate at least. The suit is too...flashy." She balanced her fork on her knuckles. "He's a businessman - no - business owner. Very successful. He's made a sale. Something big. Celebrating with dinner."

Noelle frowned. "Where's the champagne? The bottle of scotch?"

"You're better at this than you thought," Aunt Ivy laughed. She set both feet on the floor and both hands on the table. "Let's go find out."

"What are you doing?" Noelle squeaked, wide-eyed and much louder than she'd intended. Aunt Ivy innocently flipped her hands.

"I'm going to go talk to him."

"What? No! You can't do that."

"But...how else are we going to know who's right?"

"We're not! Not if it means going over there!"

"Why not? Shawn seems like a nice guy - he bought us wine."

Noelle's eyebrows pinched to the bridge of her nose. "Wait. Shawn???"

Aunt Ivy shrugged. "He looks like a Shawn to me."

"Okay. Sure. Look, you can't just go talking to people in restaurants. I mean, he's here by himself, he's obviously trying to enjoy a nice quiet meal. I'm sure the last thing he wants is to be interrupted, right?"

As the words left her lips Noelle realized she didn't believe a single one. She desperately wanted to know. Who was he? Why was he there? Why did he send them expensive red wine? And perhaps...most important...what all was he hiding under that suit?

A light touch on the back of her hand snapped her out of her trance. Aunt Ivy smiled at her. "Earth to 'Elle," she sang softly. "Everything okay?"

Noelle nodded. "You can't go over there."

Charles appeared seemingly from nowhere. A platter of drinks in one hand he set the leather wallet with the bill on the edge of the table as he breezed past. Without even opening it Aunt Ivy whipped her Black Card from her clutch and tucked it inside. She slid the wallet to its original position, then paused, drumming her fingers on the embroidered logo. She arched her eyebrows at her niece. "I have an idea."

"You're not going over there," Noelle repeated. Aunt Ivy shook her head.

"No. But I am going to get us answers."

Noelle waited for details, but none came. Charles swiped the wallet on his next pass and returned quickly, thanking them for their patronage and hoping to see them again soon. While Noelle finished her wine, Aunt Ivy slipped a copy of the receipt into the wallet. The other she flipped over and set neatly on top. She scribbled several lines of cursive on the paper, then tossed the pen aside.

"Are you ready to go," Aunt Ivy queried. Noelle nodded. With a wink and a nod she rose from the table, slung the strap of her clutch over her shoulder and stepped into the aisle. Nerves jangling, Noelle followed suit.

They started toward the exit, back past Table 12. The man raised his eyes from his drink. Slowing her stride, Aunt Ivy set the slip of paper squarely next to the glass. She leaned down - real close, whispering something in his ear, before straightening up and moving on. Noelle kept her eyes on the floor, but thought she detected an upward crease in the corners of his mouth as she brushed past.

....

The moment they emerged from the restaurant Noelle grabbed her aunt by the arm and skipped up beside her. "What did you say to him?

Aunt Ivy rolled her shoulders. "I can't tell you that," she replied coyly.

"Okay," Noelle frowned, "then what did you write on the receipt?"

"Your phone number."

Noelle was mortified. "My phone number?"

Aunt Ivy burst out laughing, pointing an active, slender finger at her niece.

"You should see your face right now! Come on, I'm kidding. I gave him my number. I can't risk losing him to you, can I." Noelle playfully slugged her aunt in the shoulder. Aunt Ivy yelped mid snicker. "You certainly don't need my help picking up men, do you?"

"I do just fine on my own thank you very much," Noelle pouted, hoping her tone was convincing enough to hide what recently had been disappointing results.

"Exactly what I said. Besides, what if he's actually creepy. You don't want to deal with that. I can just call my security and have them deal with it." They arrived at Aunt Ivy's coupe, the bold red paint sparkling in the sunset. "Now, let's go get a bucket of ice cream and lounge on the couch in our underwear and watch a movie!"

....

Noelle's eyes eased open, adjusting to the soft blue glow of the clock in the darkness of the room. It was well after 2:00 am, and she would need to get up for work in a few hours. But she needed something to drink. Peeling back the blanket she swung her feet onto the floor.

The remainder of the evening had been a blast. Before they knew it, they'd ripped through two pints of ice cream, a comedy special, a ridiculous horror movie, and a pitcher of margaritas. Noelle swapped her dress for a pair of boyshorts and a tank top, adding her powder blue knee socks when the A/C chilled her toes. But Aunt Ivy was content to simply ditch her dress altogether and stretch out in her silky black tanga briefs and strappy lace bra.

Noelle would steal glances, marveling that her aunt kept in such good shape in her late forties. Her thighs were toned, her tummy flat, breasts high and firm. Of course, the biking helped. But there had to be more to it. It had to be genetic. She certainly hoped it was, and that whatever gene it was made it down to her.

Around midnight, as Aunt Ivy had insisted, Noelle inflated the air mattress between the couch and the television and retired to her own bed. Her aunt had mentioned needing an early start to make her first conference session on time. Shuffling out of her room Noelle planned her route to the kitchen, plotting a wide berth around the living room to avoid waking her guest.

But as she neared the end of the hallway a gasp from beyond stopped her in her tracks. Still half asleep, she doubted what she'd heard. She touched her fingers to her lips to confirm they were closed. When satisfied they were, she took a silent step forward, straining her ears to filter through the white noise of the cool air blowing through the registers. A few seconds on, she heard it again.

Another gasp - louder this time - followed by a soft pitched whine trailing off into a sigh. She was wide awake now. Those sounds. The pitch. The tone. The rhythm of the void between each one - all seemed very familiar. A chill wound down her spine, settling briefly in the pit of her stomach before melting into her sex. Hugging the wall she shuffled to the mouth of the corridor. With a deep quiet breath she steadied herself, and peered discreetly around the corner.

....

Aunt Ivy lay on her back on her blanket, the top of her head toward the hallway, her knees up and yawning apart. Her chest swelled with each breath, rolling her breasts hypnotically through the slivers of moonlight streaming in through the blinds. Her left hand steadied her phone on her tummy. The right stretched down and disappeared between her thighs.

Noelle strained to see the screen. It was hard to make out details, but the left side of the screen flashed jittering shades of pink, stretched and spread by a shaft of beige driving in from the right. Her imagination exploded, flashing pictures to her mind's eye like a full color flipbook, lewd and obscene. Weak in the knees she held her breath, wetness oozing through the fabric of her shorts.

Aunt Ivy tossed and turned on the bed, each twitch of her shoulders and thrust of her hips accented by a sigh or a half-suppressed moan. Between them were whispers without the form of words. She rolled her head side to side as the scene moved her, knotting her curls and streaking them across her face. Fidgeting feet rustled the bedding. Muffled squelching betrayed the state of her sex.

Noelle felt a cold touch to her stomach, fingers slipping beneath her waistband. Glancing down she was somehow surprised to discover they were her own. She paused for a moment, tried to pull back. But she had little control over her body's response to this stimulus. Her legs parted, a slender middle finger curling in between.

A shiver racked her frame as she skimmed her clit, free hand snapping over her mouth to stifle the shock. She held still, pressing lightly, dispersing the sensation before moving on. Tracing the smooth folds of her labia, then sinking into the moist, gooey heat of her pussy. Her eyelids fluttered shut, a ripple of pleasure circling her core.

In the darkness the images were more vivid. Heaving breasts, trembling thighs, the smell of steamy summer sex. Some of the faces were familiar. Sweat beading on their foreheads. Mouths agape with cries of ecstasy.

Noelle's nipples hardened, telegraphing through her shirt. Her finger pushed a little deeper, teasing the ridges in the roof of her vagina before pulling back to be joined by a second. Another ripple sloshed inside amplifying the ones before. Blood roared in her ears, powered by a racing heart. In the moment it was all she could do to keep quiet.

"The view is better over here," Aunt Ivy said softly.

Noelle froze, wide-eyed, her syrup leaking to the palm of her hand. Still silent she swallowed the lump in her throat. Had she said something? Bumped something? Were the screams of her fantasy somehow shared with the rest of the room? Aunt Ivy interrupted.

"Your reflection in the mirror."

Noelle squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. The decorative square on the wall above the dining room table caught the mouth of the hallway in its field of view. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But it lasted only a moment. Her clit was still buzzing, and the tips of two fingers still twiddled inside. Gingerly she eased them out. Clasping her hands behind her back she shuffled out into the living room.

"Sorry," her aunt said, laying the phone flat. "I tried to be quiet."

Noelle shook her head. "I was already up. Just needed some water."

"Well don't let me stop you." Aunt Ivy smiled. Then, as if she were alone, closed her eyes and dipped back into her vagina.

Noelle inched forward, around the mattress, aiming for the kitchen. But she could not peel away from the quivering breasts, quaking thighs and the slick, sloppy sounds of a swelling arousal. She made it only as far as the couch. Bumping the end, her legs gave out and she folded over the arm into the cushions. She giggled at her own clumsiness, but was now far too horny to be embarrassed.

Craning her neck she fixed on her aunt. Her breath was shallow. Her sighs short. Her forearm twinged and her thighs rippled, each movement drawing an aural response from her lips. Noelle's hands acted on their own, parting on her belly and winding their way up under her shirt and down again into her shorts. The chill of the room was gone. Beaten back by the heat radiating from every pore.