X-Ray Vision Ch. 11: Family

Finally, an artist's rendition of a new wetland, the name Richardson Park on an inked sign. A building sketched in on one corner, 'Museum' in English.

I looked up, "Yup!". No more stories, not with these people, my family and friends. God it felt good, to answer without any effort at concealment.

Khang nodded, sure she'd been right. "That when you got the ring?"

Again, "Yup! I thought they'd demolish the building, nobody owned the contents, I went up to save some important things. And to show Jillian, she'd been interested in what was there. Took those pictures for her! It was Jill that sent it all to the Sierra Club, said they'd know what to do."

Billie was taking this all in, brightened at the last bit. It just confirmed in her mind, that Jillian is the brains of this outfit. True, I suppose. No, true for certain; Jill's always ten steps ahead of me!

"We'll leave you to your lunch!"

Billie took my cue, gave Khang a quick hug, Phuong another sketchy bow, went out the door with me.

"I like Jill's family! Khang is a riot! Mr. Nguyen is a gentleman! So smart! So kind!"

About my take on the matter.

"This was all a business expense, right?" That was me, confirming with Billie.

She nodded, absently. I'd never turn in the bill; BRS couldn't support this kind of expense yet. Really part of Jillian's project, saving lost women, getting their feet under them, letting them find their true calling.

Strangely quiet. What was she so pensive about?

"Lunch! I've been wanting to try this place downtown, has a butchered goat in the window! Hellenic? Wha th' fuck that all about?"

I shrugged, no help. "Let's go find out!"

...

Jillian

Khang was ready to admire the ring, but only for a moment, clearly, she'd seen it before.

"You knew! You knew what he was up to!" I felt a little used, manipulated. But mostly happy.

Khang nodded. "I told him, get on with it! I almost spilled the beans, like, three times! Helped him get the ring cleaned, resized!"

That was ok, I guess. He'd recruited my sister to make it a special night. Kind of sweet, really. Then I thought again.

"Cleaned? Where did he find it? The river?!" With Greg, the Finder, who knows?

She snorted, let my hand drop, hugged me.

I disengaged, looked at it, for the first time really, as a piece of jewelry and not a love-token. It did have an old-style design, estate jewelry?

"Don't fret. What we have here is a Vanderbilt engagement ring, belonged to a rich lady, built this town. Best ring I ever saw! Greg saved it from the wrecking ball! Famous ring! Famous stone!"

Ok, now I was afraid to wear it. It was an eye, I thought just to remind me of my lover, the guy who could See. But valuable?

That green glass in the middle, the iris? Could it be some gemstone? It wasn't faceted, cut, just a polished rock. Jade? Did they wear that back then?

And all the stuff around the outside, making the white of the eye, the little roses made of glass? Was that really crystal? Something fancier?

I decided, it was my engagement ring, whatever it was, it was from my lover, my friend and I would wear it, love it. Not fret about it.

I kept looking, my other hand on my belly, thinking mushy thoughts about Greg. Khang got impatient.

"We should drink! Get drunk! Celebrate your engagement! Dance!"

"Whoa! Keep your shirt on!" A real issue with Khang, her clothes came off at the drop of a hat, a bit slutty I think, God love her.

"I can't drink, not for a while, for months! I have to be careful now." Keeping one hand on my belly, I took her free one, pulled, set her fingers there too, with mine.

Slow understanding, frozen in place, looking from my belly to my face, back and forth, her lips parting, dumbfounded. Opening, closing, like she wanted to say something but couldn't.

Was her lip trembling? Were those tears? My God! Khang was a baby-softie! She was gonna cry!

My tough, brassy, strong, butt-kicking big sister was gonna bawl! Because her little sister was knocked-up.

"Oh, sweetie!" I hugged her again; she just clutched me, buried her head in my chest, overcome, chest heaving. I felt my boobs get wet, spit or snot or tears, didn't matter, didn't care, let her recover, let her get her breath back.

Pulling off, wiping her face with her sleeve, a crooked smile now, proud of me, her little sister!

"You're gonna be an Auntie!" Oops, there she goes again, more wet on my boobs.

I never suspected, Khang wanted this deal as much as Phuong did! All that talk of her dress getting the job done, getting Greg horny wasn't just pride or teasing.

I think, I really like baby-happy softie Auntie Khang. She loves me! She loves our baby! She's gonna be a terrific Auntie!

"Ok, ok, we gotta get started! On Sister-Baby night! Make plans! Talk names!

Khang got command of herself now, still drippy but not caring.

"My Momma was Trinh! If it's a girl, could her name be Trinh? Her middle name maybe."

I was touched, now, blubbered a bit, nodded Yes! If not this baby, then the first girl! Her first name! Perfect!

Khang wasn't interested in Boy's names, which was OK, if it was a boy, it would be Jessie, Greg's Dad.

We skipped drinking, the Bachelorette. I insisted on doing some dancing to my music, I'd been practicing some, wanted to show off! Before it got too hard, I was reduced to shuffling my feet in place.

I brought some salsa music, I knew Khang wouldn't have any. She looked alarmed when it started, then confused when I took her hands.

"Try this! A cross-body lead! We both turn a quarter turn, then back, then the other way...no like this!"

I'd seen some band downtown, a dance studio showing off and they'd done this move. I asked the pretty Spanish lady what it was, and she walked me thru it, sold me the music.

It lets two people look good at the same time, a partner thing. I wanted to do it with Khang, but she was a full foot shorter than me, and quicker. And not used to following.

We kept at it; Khang got it fast, figured out where the style was, made it look very flirty!

Khang kept looking at me, I'd catch her staring at my belly, she'd smile, go back to dancing.

"What? I'm not showing yet. Am I?" Craned my neck, pooched my belly in and out.

She stopped, turned off the music.

"Gonna make you a pregnant-sexy dress. Yes! It's possible!"

Well, if it was possible, she was the one to do it.

"Even more tits to hang the dress from. A belly to show off! Butt for ages!

"Greg will so want to put more babies in you!"

"I thought I'd just wear, you know, stretchy knit sleeves, or big peasant dresses. So, as I grew..."

Khang looked shocked. "You are not going to dress in a potato sack! No knit sleeve! No yoga pants! Well, maybe around the house. When Greg isn't there!

"I always wanted to make a pregnant party-dress! Never get a chance, with my crew."

Yeah not a lot of knocking-up goes on in lesbian households.

"But...I'd need a new dress every month! Every week!"

She nodded; about right. "Sure, your tits swell, your butt gets enormous, I'll fix it, or make another one."

She was excited about that; too excited really.

So, I guess I was too. I didn't expect Greg and I would, you know, tone it down much, not at first. But there were, issues, other that tits and butt. Bladder size, for instance.

"What're you thinking? Not blue jeans! A skirt? How would you hold it up? Glue?"

She got a light in her eyes, thinking.

"No glue!"

She frowned, had to concede.

"Two-piece? Backless one-shoulder silks draped down one side to a skirt. Then, a frilly boob-band, show lots of underboob since you'll be growing!

"Leave your belly completely bare - show everybody what you've got! Proud!"

I was skeptical. "One of your skirts? Like a handkerchief, my cooch flashing in every stray breeze?"

I didn't think I could wear that. What would Greg think?

That got a leer; "He'll think you want to have his baby, again."

She re-thought though.

"A band around the bulge, skirt hanging from that?"

"No pressure on my bladder! It would be a very short night out."

"Ok, ok. Hang it from the back, plenty of butt for that. A big oval opening on the front, stiff but not constricted over your bladder. Stuck out and proud! No pressure.

"You'll gather pregnant-fetish guys like flies to honey. Which is all guys, I think. And some of the gals."

"Not Greg?"

"Oh yes, Greg! He'll want to bang you right up to your delivery date."

How did she know that? Well, my big sister knows lots of things; I'll trust her.

"He'll have to lay off at least at the end! Right?"

Khang shook her head, No!

"Vietnamese tradition is, sex hurts the baby. Nonsense! Old stories! Makes her stronger! Makes Mom happier, so she grows better! Lots of sex! I want a healthy niece!"

"So, it's a her, already?" I smiled fondly.

"We can only hope!"

I wondered about the baby, counted forward to the due date. The summer! Gonna be a hot last month.

A thought. "What will Phuong think?"

"About a granddaughter! He'll be over the moon!"

"No, I mean...Greg and me, and a baby already..."

Khang rolled her eyes. "Nobody worries about that anymore. Just get married before the baby comes. Better if before you're showing, much. Then everybody pretends it was a short-term baby.

"They'll giggle behind their hands at home, but nobody will be bothered. You got married! Then you had a baby! Everything ok."

I blanched. "That means get married in a month or two! I thought we'd do it sometime next year? But now, at the latest, in the Spring? Is there time?"

"Sure. All we need is some Aunties. Get your horoscope done, choose a date! Reserve the hall, tell the community. Phuong will want a monk; the local priest is ok with that. Arrange flowers, dresses. You know, a wedding."

Sounded like a lot. "All I know about weddings is from movies! They never go well!"

Khang shook her head. "Can't go wrong. You love Greg, right? He loves you, I know that, it's written all over him.

"The rest is dresses and flowers and gifts, simple. A Đám Hỏi, a reception at my house, you'll be here, Greg comes to get you with gifts and boy members of his family."

"We don't have any of that! No Aunties! No uncles or brothers!" I was panicking.

Khang took me by the shoulders, looked in the face. "Sister! Chill! You think nobody ever got married before, without brothers?"

"So...we can do it different?"

"Lots of ways to do it. In America everything is different, nobody lives in villages, family comes in many sizes. We can do it any way that works.

"Greg can bring friends instead of brothers. Anybody who will walk with him! Carry gifts!"

I wasn't sure, who would that be? He was such a hermit. Khang saw my doubt.

"Get Trevor to do it! He knows Greg, likes him. He will be honored. Maybe Tito?

"You two go out, he has connections, makes a special night. Who are those people? Some of them will be glad to help."

Ok, ok, that makes sense. He does know people; lots of people know him. We can do this.

"Anyway, not our problem! We just tell Greg, he finds them, they show up. None of our business!"

"So, what do I tell him? Get some guys, carry some gifts, come get me?"

She nodded. "Pretty much all there is to it. Then they take you home, 'brothers' tease Greg about sex, about making you a woman! Leave. Then, a ceremony! A reception! Same day probably. We all go to church, do the deed. The hall is next door, we walk over, party! Dance! Lots of drinking!"

That was gonna be a bummer - I wouldn't be able to drink! The baby! A Mom has to suck it up I suppose, do what needs to be done.

Anyway, dancing, if I was still able to. I'd manage somehow!

I nodded, following so far.

"What kind of gifts? For you? For Phuong?"

"All gifts are traditional! Betel nuts! Peach tree! Kumquat tree! Jam! Wine! Liquor! Mushrooms!"

Greg was so not going to know how to get all that. I would have to help.

"Only important thing is, an odd number! Wrapped in red! Lucky red!"

I was getting into this now. Special rules and colors and traditional gifts, this was gonna be fun! I'd never planned a party before!

"So, we'll have to get together, start making lists? Flowers, dresses, cars, decorations..."

Khang shook her head. "Aunties do that. Don't take their job away! Important they have something to do!"

I pouted. I wanted to have fun too!

Khang laughed at me. "Oh you're gonna have plenty to do! Dress fittings! Hair! Vietnamese blessing! The ring!"

Ok, that did sound like fun.

"How're we gonna find Aunties? You don't have any, I don't have any. Greg doesn't have any! We just ask around?"

Khang considered. "I have girlfriends, maybe some of them...but supposed to be older ladies. Their main thing, their place in family, running ceremonies, parties, organizing the community. Important for them.

"Let me think! I'll come up with Aunties! Or do it myself!"

"Oh! You have so much to do, already! Your shop! Phuong! So much work! You shouldn't have to do this too."

"You don't worry. Just have sex with Greg, lots, make my niece big and healthy! And, no drinking! No swimming! No bicycles!"

Curious, what Khang though were risky activities! Ok, anything to make Big Sister happy. I agreed, crossed my heart.

"So. What color? Traditionally, red or blue."

"I kind of like blue?"

"You look sick in blue! So red. I'll make a design. Something adjustable!"

"Another job for you!"

"For my sister? Not a job! No trouble at all. I love you, silly."

"OK. I love you too, Big Sister Auntie Khang!"

We both liked the sound of that.

No longer was I reluctant to accept gifts of time and kindness. I could say Yes! now, when Khang offered to do something for me, make me a dress, and be glad. I'm part of a family now! They all love me!

My family is growing, and I'm growing too.

She got out a sketchbook, started drawing dresses, astonishing dresses, shocking dresses! I looked thru her design books, some mail-order publisher sends them to her, she never does anything exactly like in there, but I could get ideas!

I'd point at something, she'd sketch it but better, prettier, more style! Smile or shake her head, no room for my niece! or Your tits will be too big!

We found one or two that would do, but neither one made our hearts sing! Khang's line, she had all the experience with this stuff.

I sat the books down, stretched. Noticed my belly down there, was it actually sticking out just a little bit more? I convinced myself it was!

Looked a little like I'd been overeating.

Remembered.

"Hey! I'm gonna learn to cook barbeque! Starting tomorrow! Early!"

Oh the look of pure joy on Khang's face! I'd told her about Homer, but not when.

"Let's get you home! Gotta get to bed early! Give Greg a chance to diddle you! Get good sleep! Get up early!"

I blushed, embarrassed, Khang could be so very raunchy. But pleased too! My sister approved of me, of Greg, of our life!

"But I have to tell Phuong. How? When?"

"About your baby? His great granddaughter? Come tomorrow night, you tell him then. I'll keep him until 6, then he goes to the center, plays cards."

Sounded like a plan.

...

"Home early! Did Khang want an early start tomorrow?"

Greg was puttering in the extra bedroom, storing things away, empty now. Making room for baby? Was Greg nesting already?

I gave him a kiss, his hands full, made it a good one. Pulled away with a saucy look.

"I have an early morning, remember? And you're gonna show later, help Homer pack up! Our barbeque deal!"

He remembered; he was ready. "Better hit the hay!"

I wasn't ready to; he noticed. "What?"

"Khang says, to keep the mother happy, to keep the baby growing strong and healthy, you have to do me every night!"

He considered that, decided he was up to it. Anything for family! He'd do his part!

This bed was stripped already, so I led him to ours, tried to pull him down on top of me.

"But! The baby!" He didn't want to lie on me, squash me.

"Honey, I'm made for this! You don't have to take any special care! Just bang me already!"

He wouldn't, not this time; this one was gonna be careful and gentle. New for us!

And not bad; he stripped, lay down behind me, spooning, held me gently, stroked my breasts, my stomach, lingering over my little pooch, loving me, loving both of us.

Let's get this show on the road! I raised one leg, reached between to find his growing prick, put it where it needed to be.

Took his reach-around hand, put his palm over my pelvis, those fingers right on my clit, ready for him, already a stiffie.

He figured it out right away, began tilting his hips, getting a little of himself into me, out, in some more, gently massaging my sex from the front.

It was bliss! Head to toe contact, progressively deeper violation of my body, distracting throbs from my clit. Just fast enough to keep my interest growing; just slow enough to make me want more, anticipate the next pulse.

He kept it up, like a machine, in no hurry, glad to be of service! Further inside each time, adjusting his hips as needed to feed more of that glorious cock into me.

Hit bottom pretty soon. I was swelled up in there! Well, he'll have to adapt. Maybe I'll suck him down later, let him feel my throat as a proxy for full-bore fucking, spend his cum in me from the other end.

Until then I relaxed, placed myself completely at his disposal, at his mercy.

And merciful he was, moving so I would have constant stimulation; holding me ever so thoroughly, never mind the sex, his arms around me held me just right, support just where it felt best, felt right, felt safe, he could See just what to do.

And it happened, it'd never happened before. Just as I was cumming, so gently, comfortable, contented, secure, I drifted off to sleep!

...

Tuesday

Jillian

"Salt and pepper, of course. Lots of it!"

Homer ignored that, unpacking boxes.

"Cumin, cinnamon, cayenne..."

Homer nodded, satisfied so far. I'd helped set up, wrangle the tables out of his rusty old truck, haul coolers and crates from the cab. But he had a towel over his box of spices, wouldn't let me peek until I passed my apprentice's test. Which was, name four spices he used in his brisket rub.

I was sure of three. Salt and pepper didn't count; every smoked meat used those, to make a crust, not what he meant by 'spices'.

Homer was famous around here for his brisket, sometimes pork, set up every Tuesday early, sold the result at lunchtime, packed up when he sold out or ran out of customers. He never ran out of customers. It was his spice mix he credited with his success.

I had one spice to go. I mess this up, he said he'd send me packing. While I stressed, he was ripping open a bag of charcoal, loading the burner, spreading it evenly.

Pork was easy! You just used cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger. Same stuff as pumpkin spice mix! You could just as well call your morning drink a pork-roast-spice latte.

But brisket was beef. Lots of disagreement here; lots of recipes.

I'd tasted a sample. It was complex, those three spiced I'd mention jumped out at you.

But then it developed, something richer coming out, and greener? Something that called to me, strummed a chord in me.

I had to step up; a guess was better than nothing.

"Coffee?" I'd used coffee before, in sauces. Popular down south, and Homer was definitely a southern-raised cook.

He was fooling with the damper, back turned, but when he leaned to pull a chain, I saw a grin. Did I pass?!

"Girlie! You the first to get that one, ever! Folks come to me, they guess chicory, walnut, coconut!

"It's Sanka! Coffee crystals! Use it in the rub, get a big blast right off.

"Then in that spray bottle, gotta keep brisket wet, more flavor!"

Relief! Don't know what I'd have done, if he'd refused to let me help. Khang would have never let me forget it.