It wasn't easy clearing my head in there. I watched her cooking up the disgusting and dreaded
K.D.
in what she called a 'skort', basically a pair of tight black shorts attached under a little skirt, and that short, tight, white shirt she usually slept in. She was in very good shape and it wasn't helping.
"Mom's pretty fun to party with, huh?" she asked.
"Yeah, she's,... a lotta fun."
"What are you doing later?"
"I don't know. Sober up some and see if anyone wants to ride, if I still feel like it."
"Oh. Well, if you don't, we can go swimming. If you want."
"Yeah,... maybe."
"That means no," she said, turning and catching me staring at her thighs while I spoke.
"It means maybe," I said, casually looking elsewhere and hoping she'd dismiss what she saw.
"Guess what?" she asked with a sly grin.
"What?"
"I'm not really making you
Kraft Dinner."
"You're not?"
"No. I just got the box out and filled the pot in front of you to fuck your mind up. I'm giving you vegetable beef soup mixed with good ol'
Mr. Noodles.
Don't you just love me now?"
"I gotta admit, I do."
"I don't care what they say about
Mr. Noodles,
I love the stuff."
"Me too," I agreed. "The funny thing is that Mom never even knew we were buying it and still doesn't. Guess it goes to show how handy it is to learn to cook for yourself."
"She'll probably find it now that it's ended up here, though," she said, her head turned again. "She does a lot of cooking now. Good stuff, too, like before."
"I haven't noticed."
"You haven't been around as much."
"You have?"
"Yup. Here and at Livy's, mostly."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me while I watched the side of her braless tit in that little shirt.
She finally served and then sat across from me, her elbows on the table, chin in the palms of her hands.
"Are you gonna get a girlfriend at university?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Just wondering. Are you nervous about going?"
"Yeah, a little. I don't think it'll be like school, though."
"But, we can still live home."
"Yeah."
"You like the soup?"
"Yup, thanks."
When I was done, I took a shower and crawled into my bunk, telling Jen that I'd be up in a couple of hours. With the curtain closed, I laid back, finally away from her body and alone with my thoughts. I remembered again what happened earlier with Mom, the recent memories starting a reaction in my underwear. I stopped thinking about that and instead tried to berate myself for the things that happened. I mean, for gods sakes, I was licking my own mother's pussy and I made her orgasm. I came on her boobs and in her face. But, it only served to turn me on again. The 'Department of Things to be Pressure Washed Away' was a joke that was a lot more cruel than dryly humorous at that point. I don't remember falling asleep.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
I woke with a start to find someone in the bunk with me. The sun was just going down outside and the warm, reddish light illuminated Olivia's face in a dreamlike way. Jimmi Hendrix was playing at low volume on the stereo and she passed me a lit joint.
"Now you'll be up all night," she said as I took the joint and puffed on it.
"I could drink until I pass out," I sleepily offered.
"Y'know, I don't like when you drink. Some beer, maybe, but not whiskey."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just like you better without that stuff, is all."
"Well, maybe I like you better with it."
"Maybe you just like me and that's that."
"I'd rather not chase you down that little rabbit hole right now."
"Fine by me. Hey, guess who you're hanging out with tonight?"
"Who?" I asked suspiciously.
"Me," she said proudly, taking the joint.
"Olivia, I'm eighteen, you're,... whatever. I don't feel like watching you play
Farmville
all night."
She exhaled in my face as she looked at me, then said, "I'm not surprised you don't have any friends in town. Your personality is like salted sandpaper to the crotch. That aside, I'll have you know that I
don't
play
Farmville.
I'm fucking you, your mom and your sister, do you seriously think I'm the type of woman who has any interest, or time for
Farmville?"
"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"
"So, what? So do you."
"Yeah, but
I'm
not playing it," I said with a smile.
"There," she said, pointing as I took a drag.
"What?" I croaked around a lungful, passing it back.
"You like me. You're lying here smoking a joint with me, teasing me with a smile on your face and a nice big hardon. You like me."
"I'm not smiling with you, I'm smiling at you. Because you're delusional. And over sexed."
"I thought I was undersexed."
"No argument about the delusional part, huh?"