...but come--if ever before
having heard my voice from far away
you listened, and leaving your father's
golden home you came
Sappho
I recently turned a young 48, have been happily married for 10 years, have been working in the same job for the past twenty years and living in the same house for the past 25 years. This is especially surprising considering how wild I had once been in my teenage and twenty something years. The way in which I met my wife, Sam, our whirlwind romance and how well we still get along has definitely contributed to my sense of well being, and I frequently have felt that my years have been, in many respects, charmed. After ten years of marriage however, we inevitably have settled into a pretty comfortable routine with one another, as often happens and this has included our sex life. While satisfying and diverse, what can I say - you learn one another's bodies, habits, mannerism, desires, and even fantasies pretty well after ten years. We are both successful, both earn good money and have managed to work our way into a house which if we had to come here today and pony up the cash, wouldn't be able to afford it. So that was my life.
I have a very extended, in fact bizarre, family tree and as a result I have had virtually no contact with most of my family. I have whole brothers and sisters, half brothers and sisters, step brothers and sisters, foster brothers and sisters, and probably brothers and sisters I know nothing about. That was and is the kind of parents I come from. They were born in the 30's, coming of age in the 50's, obsessed with themselves - me and mine. I don't know if anyone has noticed, but my parent's generation has got to be one of the most narcissistic ever. My dad in one of his later 'marriages' had a child named Cristy who now was calling me and asking if she could live with us for awhile. She had turned 19 and was explaining to me how she couldn't stay in my fathers house another day, which is something I for one thoroughly understood. So my half sister wanted to come and live with us?
It had been years since I last saw Cristy, not since she was seven or eight years old. I used to baby sit for my dad and his then wife and mother of C (pronounced 'See' -- what I called her). She was an absolutely adorable child who loved to play games, was very smart and if you closed your eyes you would swear you were talking to an adult the whole time. She had a rich full vocabulary, terrific imagination, heartfelt laugh, was touching and emotional, caring of animals - really a great kid. I used to call her C-horse or C-saw or C-weed and she would laugh and laugh, correcting me each time that she was just C to me. My dad had at various times also told me that she had a crush on me, and one time I even asked her about it and she had gotten so embarrassed that she couldn't even talk to me for most of the evening. Later on though she would tell me that we would get married some day, and I had to explain to her that we were half brother and sister and so that we couldn't get married.
She would reply, "but half of me's not. I'll marry you with the half that's not your sister."
Good head on her shoulder I thought for an eight year old. And now here she was twelve years later showing up on my doorstep.
She arrived, somewhat disheveled, at the door carrying a stuffed animal and a small box full of CDs under her arm. Her car was in the driveway filled with all the worldly belongings of a normal 19 year old girl, which amounted to basically one thing - clothes.
We hugged at the door, I squeezed her as I said, "Hi C! Welcome."
She chirped, "You remembered!" And she gave me this smile which reached back into my distant memories.
I helped her carry everything in and up to her new room in a large section of the house which 100 years earlier had been the servants quarters. It made for a nice private area with three rooms along a hallway and only one point of access. I lingered longer and was probably a little more helpful than I otherwise would have been, but for the unexpected effect her presence had upon me. Her beauty and youth was like an enormous wave lifting me. I kept looking to be sure it was HER, it actually shocked me. All my ancient love I had felt for her returning.
The fact that she was 27 years younger than me full of budding youth, combined with her still adolescent-slender-girl figure, smallish stature (which I love), white white teeth, large eyes, red full mouth and baby doll pout. Wow! She was wearing this short red loose skirt set right at the hip exposing her indrawn abdomen, in combination with a white half top which formed a deep V between her breasts (no bra - was I checking?). And her breasts held their shape perfectly no matter how much was exposed to view, no sagging, so the thin fabric simply formed itself around perfect swells of flesh, no sense of weight at all. Her blonde hair fell around her collar and she had bangs which framed her large blue eyes and honey skin.
After awhile she looked at me, fluttered her eyes and tipped her head, "Thanks Jack. Thanks a lot! I Think I got it from here though."
At that point I realized how long I had been hanging around.
"Sorry," I said and then, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything." I went downstairs thinking, that was stupid, where else would I be.
The first week was uneventful, she was trying to find work and get her school situation in order (she would be starting in college in the fall), so we barely saw her at all. One thing that relieved my thoughts greatly was how pleasant and nice she was to my wife, who had been worried that we would be letting in some snot brat kid into our house who would make messes and be obnoxious. Just the opposite, she was polite, kind, helped around the house, kept things clean - just like I remembered her.
The following weekend she wanted to reconnect with some of her friends in the City and asked if she could have a sleep over. I was an absolute pushover and I explained to Sam that this would not be a permanent thing and that we could get off to a smooth start, and that I would go over the rules of the house (which so far I had neglected to do) with her at the earliest convenience. For her part, she was just so impressed with Cristy that she had no problem whatsoever.
"Great" I said, "I'll go down and tell C."
Sam looked at me, "C?"
"Uh yeah, it's what I used to call her years ago."
I think she sort of wondered at my excitement and as I left she added, "It's not your sleep over." I ignored her.
I came back down and said yes she could have a sleep over, she clapped her hands together. "Thanks. It's like so great!" and she leaned in lightly took my arm and kissed my cheek. I felt a shiver run up my spine.