Chapter 8- Masquerade
The last week of October arrived and the days were still in the high sixties to mid-seventies. The nights, however, were starting to become quite chilly with the assistance of offshore winds blowing in after dark.
Two days have passed since Thomas's date with his aunt, whom he had grown up with, treated almost like a sister, and had taken to calling his cousin instead of his aunt. And now, after their torrid date night together, she was what?
He took her home the next morning and all seemed to settle down again into a routine, except that Emma would get up each night after Thomas was asleep and slip into bed with him.
For two days she kept expecting him to say something about her being in bed with him come morning, but he was strangely silent on the subject. Well, she supposed, she would have a lot to think about too if she had just spent the night fucking one of her brothers, cousins, or uncles.
Strangely though, now that he had finally fucked his aunt, Emma was surprised at how unaffected she was by it. She didn't feel revolted or repulsed. She wasn't really sure how she felt. Though, if she was going to be honest with herself, of all her feelings about Thomas and Anna, more than anything, she found herself feeling jealous that it was Anna that Thomas had finally slept with!
As for the topic of incest, well, honestly, her newest and most dominant feeling on the subject was curiosity. Anna's love for Thomas was very evident, and Thomas's love for his aunt was equally so. But, what led to it?
What happened to Anna and Thomas when they were young that led them to fall in love?
The one with his aunt, and the other with her nephew. Was there any one thing that led to it?
Was it because of a parent or the actions of a relative?
Or, was it simply chemistry?
Were their people so compatible with each other that, given time and proximity, they were just destined to fall in love; no matter what their familial relationship was?
Emma mulled over the questions then realized while feeling a droll sense of irony, that apparently, Thomas wasn't the only one with a lot to think about.
He was gone this morning when she woke up. With Anna no doubt, she assumed as she tied a robe on and walked out to the mailbox. She was nude as usual, having been puttering about the house and not really wanting to get dressed yet.
She opened the box and pulled out a handful of mail. Standing there, in her short robe that showed the bottoms of her ass-cheeks, she flipped through the mail. Most of it, as usual, was junk. She separated the bills from the junk with her fingers and then used another finger to further separate her mail from Thomas's.
Once that was done, she looked through her mail and recognized the same old bills. Mostly credit card statements. Then, she looked through Thomas's mail. Utilities. Credit card statements. Bank statements. Investment group statements, etcetera etcetera. Lastly, there was a thick black parchment-style envelope.
This one caught Emma's interest and she almost opened it. The black envelope was gilded and lettered in silver ink. There was no return address. On the back were carefully drawn, or painted, impressions of silver lips as if the sender had kissed the envelope before sending it. Emma flipped the envelope over in her hand several more times noting every detail, but she didn't open it. It was Thomas's.
Walking back into the house, she threw the junk mail away, put her mail in her Batcave, and then put Thomas's mail on his desk in his office. She only kept the black envelope. She hoped to give it to him in person so that, hopefully, he would open it and her curiosity would be sated.
It wasn't long before Thomas returned from Anna's and walked into the house. He had groceries. Well, maybe he wasn't at Anna's...
"Good morning lover boy," Emma purred teasingly, hoping she could push him into talking about his date with Anna, their sexual escapades, and what he thought of her.
"Good morning," Thomas replied with a more relaxed countenance than the passive-aggressive brooding he had been doing for weeks now.
He didn't say more so Emma prompted, "So, how was the date? What was it like fucking your aunt? Are you two a thing now? An item? Should I start making wedding preparations?"
Her tone and timbre verily dripped with sarcasm by the end. Thomas gave her a flat stare to which she just smiled as undaunted and brightly as if she were the Cheshire Cat. Then he sighed and cut his eyes to the kitchen before asking, "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Sure," Emma answered with a patient nod that said she was not going to be diverted so easily.
Thomas nodded and then led the way to the kitchen. He was quiet as he pulled the orange juice and milk out of the refrigerator, but started talking as he returned and pulled out the eggs, "I was surprised. I am still surprised."
There was a long pause as he put the eggs on the counter and looked at Emma to read her expression and see if she was going to comment. Emma just watched and listened. She had finally gotten him talking, she wasn't going to fuck it up now by jumping in.
"I don't really know what I feel, right now," Thomas admitted as he started pulling out plates and bowls, "Not how I should be feeling, I should say. I imagine what I am supposed to feel is wretched. Guilty. Loathsome. But, I don't. Does that make me a horrible person?"
"No," Emma said with a shake of her head, then grinned teasingly as she added, "Not a horrible person, but a freak maybe!"
Thomas snorted. He didn't even try to hide his grin in return at Emma's ribbing. His hands paused over the bowl he was cracking eggs into as he thought about his experiences and Emma's comments. So much had happened over the past year. Some of it was bad. Some of it was good. Some of it was just still too raw for him to think about without wincing. But Anna and Emma, they had both been balms to his injured soul this past month. First Emma with her blunt, older step-sister way of flirting, and then came Anna.
Anna was different. He had known her almost all his life. She was an old flame. A love that hadn't quite become a lover. But, she was also family. She was his aunt. She was like a sister to him as well in some ways, if he was willing to consider her a sister he had spent most of his life kissing, making out with, and now royally fucked the shit out of. And then, there was the fact that Anna looked like a much younger spitting image of his mother.
