Her day had not begun too well, her husband, Lothar, needed to rush out of the house and get to his work which was almost an hour's drive away. A Schröder family reunion had seen many of them the worst for wear and that making the most of the fine autumn weather, walking and cycling through the forest nearby failed to fully ease away. She was seen to be a calming influence on her nephew, Jonas, a nineteen-year-old man who was powerfully built and agile but had character traits that had been diagnosed, in his early teens, as a variant of autism.
'I'll get Jonas over to the others,' she had told Lothar, and on kissing him goodbye with little more than a peck on the cheek. 'Ring me to say when you'll be home so that supper won't spoil.'
Lothar lacked the patience, and tender heartedness, to deal with him and she had offered to ease the strain on her sister Carla and her husband. She would take Jonas in for the three days they were all together. As if pre-ordained, many of them lived in one of the residential districts of Hamburg with only Carla living beyond the city's boundaries, in Bremen.
'We should take Jonas off your hands and drive home tonight,' she had said on their last afternoon, 'but it is nice to have had a few days break from it all. Jonas is so much calmer when he is around you. I've noticed that before.'
'I'm glad it has helped you, but I have been a nurse, so it comes easier to me,' she had answered with a shrug. It was true, however; Jonas had a bond with her that she could not readily explain. She could coax him into talking of other things and not the few subjects of immediate interest to him and that he had made a study of.
Now, in the early morning and with the mists wreathing the garden of her home she prepared two croissants, set out berry jam, a small glass mug, and a small jug of hot chocolate. It was all placed on a tray and on a final look in the mirror, to check that her body was modestly covered by her silk dressing gown, her blonde hair parted and as neat as she could manage without a brush, she went into the hall and up the winding stairs to his room.
'Jonas? I've brought you some breakfast!' she called out and knocked. Receiving no reply, she opened the door slowly and saw that the bed was empty, the duvet pushed aside. She was dismayed by what she soon witnessed and put the tray she was carrying on the upholstered chair by the door.
♥
He had his back turned to her, but she knew from the movement of his body, and one hand, what he was doing. Jonas failed to notice her presence and jumped away on feeling a slow sliding touch to his back. It was more a caress than to admonish him for his behaviour.
'I didn't hear you...sorry,' he muttered with a distracted look in his eyes as he took her in. He would see that his aunt was in her nightclothes, her gown cinched tight, her figure shaped just as he had been looking at until she had interrupted him.
'I know that Liebchen,' she whispered, dismayed to be seeing what he was doing and all that he gripped in one hand, his pouch briefs soon pulled up but the swell of his penis was impossible to keep from her sight. She had seen enough of its monstrous, uncircumcised length as one hand had worked it and the other held a wad of tissues. The box they had been pulled from lay on the floor at his feet. 'Were you looking at this while you touched yourself?'
He nodded dumbly as she pointed to his iPhone. On its screen was an image of her in an orange tank top and black shorts that were only too flattering on a woman of her age as they walked through the woods and then sat down for a light lunch at a lakeside restaurant. Even Lothar had commented on her appearance, wondering about the effect it might have on the young guy; how the ribbed cotton fabric had shaped her nipples that were just to be seen pressing against it. 'It is wrong, I know, but I liked being with you yesterday...how you looked.' He looked back at her in some embarrassment. 'I say too much.'
'No, you don't and I now know how it is. I am glad that it has helped you.'
'Not enough,' he answered in heart-breaking honesty to her ways of hearing it.
How they had been with each other had registered quickly enough and she had sensed that he had come out of whatever shell he lived in, behind his handsome face and always questioning, wondering, considering blue eyes. He was a well-made, physically beautiful young man, but a man with a fragile mind. And still, despite all that, she had broken in on him masturbating and with an image of her on the screen of his iPhone.
She should go, leave him and not get still deeper involved with him; to succumb to further moments of shared depravity. But, she did.
'Sorry, Hanna,' he sighed, looking up at the ceiling as she brushed the fingers of one hand lightly over his back, the skin so warm. 'You...you are in my mind.'
