Drawing Close
My name is Silky. I'm 18, and I have a story to tell.
When I was a child, my saintly grandmother would coerce me into naps by "drawing" pictures on my back with her gnarled and arthritic fingers. I would stretch out on the porch swing with my head in her lap, and her fingertips would delicately trace out airplanes and dragons, warriors and maidens, and I would try to guess what was being drawn. I would always get lost in the sheer delight of the feel of her fingers, however, and drift off to sleep with a smile.
Now that I am an adult, I don't take naps anymore; It had been three or four years since my last session with grandma, and I never expected to feel that thrill again, when all these weird things happened to me.
It started with Mom telling me that Grandma had died, and that since I was 18 years old, I was big enough to act like a grown-up at the funeral. So dull! I sat around in stiff, starchy clothes, wearing a bra and pantyhose for two days while others adults came by and told me how sorry they were that she had died. I was sorry too, but this was a poor way to show it. Sit and don't make a lot of noise, and don't play video games and don't watch TV, and be bored, bored, bored! Mr. Mosher came, and he always smells like whiskey, and he hugged me too tight and almost for hours. And Ms. Right always cries about everything, and she smells like she peed on herself or something.
Anyway, I was really sick of the whole funeral thing, ya know? So when they all left to go to the cemetery and mom asked if I would rather stay home alone, I jumped at the chance! They wouldn't even be back until after dark, so I had to fix my own supper. I'm no baby; I can take care of myself. So anyway, I said sure, and I was out of those yucky clothes and into shorts and a tee-shirt before they hit the corner. Fancy hair back into a flame-red pony tail (no longer burning hot on my neck) before they were a block. Watched MTV (Lady GaGa) for awhile, real loud, and played on my Xbox at the same time. Replaced the pearl earrings with two green ones the color of my eyes -peace & harmony - My dad hates it when I wear them both in one ear. That's when the weird shit started.
The doorbell rang, and it was Uncle George. He's not really an uncle; he just lives nearby, and comes over to watch football with my dad sometimes. He had a couple of Klondike ice cream bars with him.
"Is anybody here?" he asked.
"Me." I said (Duh!)
"Well, I see that. I meant anybody else. I haven't been over since I heard about your grandma. Then I saw the cars leaving, and thought I might be too late. Listen, you want one of these chocolate bars?"
"Sure" I said. "Come on in, but you're too late, everybody else is gone and won't be back for hours. And I don't want to hear about how sorry you are, I've already been told enough times." I took one bite of the ice cream, and then I burst out crying for no reason. I felt like a complete jerk. No baby, huh?
"Hey, it's alright. I know how you feel." He put his arms around me, but I didn't think about anything except how sad I suddenly felt.
"I really miss her" I sobbed.
"Yeah. I remember watching her do that drawing thing on your back when you were a kid. It always looked like it felt really good. I used to have a grandfather who did the same with me."
"Really? I didn't know anybody else in the world did that." I sniffed back further tears.
"Sure. Well, I don't know if it was exactly the same... Come over here and I'll show you, and you tell me if it's the same."
And that's how I wound up lying on the couch letting George draw on my back, Ice cream melting in the sink. Right off, it was different. Grandma had a soft lap, but George's was lumpy and hard. But I wanted to see what his style felt like, so I just lay there. He started with the easy stuff, just tracing some letters and triangles and stuff.
I wiggled some, and said, voice muffled by his pants, "Do more."
Then he started walking two fingers up and down my spine. I wiggled again, and realized that my breasts were rubbing in a funny kind of way against the couch. It felt good, too. He ran his fingers all the way from my neck to my belt and back several times. I was loving it, but I felt keyed up at the same time I was getting all relaxed inside. I rubbed my breasts a little more. Real Good! Then he did something Grans never did. He began to drawn up on my neck and the back of my ears. Now, I liked that a lot. But it was real different. A shiver ran down my back, and I twitched; that made my boobs twitch, and that made me twitch again. And then I thought I would die! I realized that I was wet between my legs! I thought maybe I had peed or something, but it didn't feel like that. And the more George touched my ears, the wetter I felt.
He ran a finger lightly down my right arm. Grans never did that either. He ran his fingernails across the palm of my hand. I couldn't decide if I should make a fist or stretch them out; it felt good and too ticklish at the same time. But he decided for me.
"Spread your fingers out where I can touch you better" he ordered in a whisper. His voice sounded kinda raspy, and real quiet.
I did as I was told, and shivered as he traced the edges of each finger, outside, inside, outside, inside. Out, in, out, in.... so ticklish but so good. But I was getting wetter, and I kept just having to rub my boobs a little more.
Then he reached down and stroked my leg, right behind my knee, and slowly ran one finger barely touching me up to the edge of my shorts. My Grandma certainly never did that! And I never got all twitchy and wet when she did things either!
After a few mind-numbing caresses on my legs, he stopped, and pulled me upright.
"So, how is that?" he asked, his eyes searching my face.
"I... I... uh, I really liked it. Do so more." I tried to flop back down, but he held me back.
"So did you get wet between your legs?"
My hand flew over my eyes in embarrassment. "Does it show?" I frantically peeked down at myself, looking for tell-tale stains.
