When it was time for me to go to college, the most logical and economically sound option was for me to live with my aunt. The university was a three hour drive from my childhood home, and my aunt lived a mere twenty minute drive away. My mother more or less made the decision for me, citing the old 'bird flying the coop' metaphor, but really I think she just wanted me gone so she could bring home more fuck buddies.
She was a very attractive woman still, her looks not fading with age. I was fortunate enough to inherit some of those looks, or so I'd been told, but none of the charm and charisma that allowed her to lure men into her den for wild fuck sessions. The walls were paper thin and our house wasn't sizable to begin with. While she had tried to keep the volume down, it hadn't particularly made a difference, and I didn't particularly care. Good for her.
It had been a long time since I had seen my Aunt Freya. My only real memories of her were of me hiding from her and blushing severely when we would talk. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but I was a child then, and everything seemed to gleam and sparkle back then, didn't it?
On the drive to her house, my luggage packed into the trunk, my mother was giving me the lecture I had expected. Commit to your studies, no drugs, safe sex, and on and on. I rolled my eyes throughout, playing the role, although I wasn't actually annoyed. This would be my last time seeing my mother for months, and I was really as afraid of being away as I was excited. Spending time being parented by my mother, even if she was giving me her 'I'm very serious' glare, was comforting in its own way.
"Yes Hannah." I said in exaggerated exasperation.
That was my go-to playful move. Call her by her first name and laugh at her annoyance, knowing she would smile after a moment, maybe even give a laugh in return. I would miss her.
We pulled into Aunt Freya's driveway as the sun was going down. It was a cute home on a quiet street. Her porch was preceded by a stone path through some trimmed hedges and flowers. The sight unlocked some memories from my younger mind, and I marveled at how, despite seeing something through the same eyes as you once had, it could appear entirely different only a few years later.
My mother lead the way along the path and onto the porch. I saw her raise a fist to knock, then hesitate. She turned and gave me a strange look, then went ahead, announcing our arrival with three sharp knocks.
We only had to wait for a minute, but it felt like an eternity with my heavy bags in each hand. When my aunt opened the door it felt like they only got heavier, my body anticipating the relief of dropping my burden when I stepped through the doorway. Her greeting wasn't exactly warm - a tight smile and a gesture to come in. I staggered through the door after my mom, setting my bags to the side, then turning to close it behind me.
We were in her kitchen which, while crowded, had a certain charm to it. Pots and pans hung from hooks on the green painted walls. Shelves of oils, honey, vinegar, and jam also adorned the walls. There were nooks for plants and ceramic figurines, and the archway that lead into the living room and hallway was lined with dark mahogany, grounding the room with an earthen vibe. Had we entered the home of Bilbo Baggins? It certainly felt that way.
My mother turned to me and gave me a quick hug, and spoke into my ear.
"You be good, and don't knock anybody up while you're away."
"Jesus Christ mom!"
She laughed and pulled away, smiling at me. Her hand moved to my hair, which she ruffled into a mess.
As I was smoothing out the chaos she had imposed upon me, I saw another strange expression when she cast a glance over her shoulder at my aunt.
"Love you kiddo." And then she was gone.
I was puzzled. Were they estranged? It sure seemed that way. That would explain why I hadn't seen my Aunt Freya in such a long time.
Speaking of which, I was seeing her right now, and my childhood impression of her was spot on. I don't want to describe her disrespectfully, but my monkey brain was entirely disrespectful in its assessment of her appearance.
She was slightly overweight, sure, but it suited her well. Her black hair was cut short, only down past her ears, and stunningly intoxicating, intelligent eyes stared out from behind her bangs. Yes, she was busty, and yes, she had wide hips and thick thighs, but those eyes were what held my gaze the most. They were penetrating, and at the thought of that word, something stirred in my pants, which I ferociously crushed with force of will. No way in hell was I going to let myself become enamored with a member of my own family.
I'd like to call back to when I described seeing the same sights with the same eyes but seeing something entirely different in it the second time around. This was not the case here. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, and I felt a slight blush in my cheeks, but not so deep to be noticeable. It was easily written off as exertion from hauling my overstuffed bags from the car and up her porch.
Our gazes locked, and I worried that she was giving me a cold glare. Images of a very tense and unpleasant stay zipped through my imaginative mind, but quickly vanished when her expression softened and she gave me the warm smile I had anticipated upon our initial arrival.
"Hey there cutie. Do ya still got that burning crush for me you had when you were just a little thing?"
I swear her smile was sly now. Was she really going to tease me the second we reconnected?
"Jesus Christ!" I said for the second time, and then she smiled even wider.
I had one hand slightly covering my face in embarrassment, but I did smile at the comment, and she laughed herself.
"I was
really
hoping that wouldn't come up, to be completely honest."
"I know it, but I couldn't resist teasing you. You're still adorable when you blush, by the way. Now come with me and we'll get you all settled into your new room."
Deeply relieved at the change of topic, I followed her up the stairs to - god dammit I was staring at her ass - my new room.
While I unpacked my bags, we caught up on things. It was the usual 'How is so-and-so?' and 'What are you studying?' and 'It's good to see you.'
It really was good to see her. She was a great conversationalist, causing me to open up and speak freely and comfortably. It was nice, despite my eyes constantly flicking down to her bosom and back up to her eyes. The wall behind her became of great interest to me after a while.
I wanted to ask about the frigid air I felt between her and my mother, and why she had left so abruptly and without even a hello to my aunt, but I didn't think it wise to pry into a sensitive issue so soon.
Aunt Freya's hand went to the insufficiently sized pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen twice, checking the time.
