shit.”
The bar owner wandered towards the door. As he passed through, I spotted
a staircase behind it, likely leading up to his living accommodations above
Happy Pat’s. Who DIDN’T live in this
piece of shit bar?
Slippery Pete chuckled. “Dad’s never been that friendly to the fresh
meat. I think the old fucker likes ya.”
Pensacola, Present Day
I quietly cursed at myself as I stared at the slammed, locked door. Why did I freeze up so much? The years I
had spent brawling in the cage, and all it apparently took was a suitcase of my
sister’s panties to throw me completely off my game. But I knew the answer
– I’d wondered about it while I grew up with her, masturbating to the
idea of her strip-teasing me down to those silky underclothes before dropping
them at the edge of my bed.
Oh well, I thought to
myself. So, we’re off to a bad start.
Whatever.
Leaving my stepsister to her devices, I wandered back towards my room.
With my hand on the door, it occurred to me to continue bringing her stuff
– the rest of her suitcases were going to be a fight for her to carry up
the stairs and across the wing alone – but indignity rose within me.
Nah, fuck it.
Hensley popped back into view. “Well, it looks like everything’s in
order here…do you need a hand with anything else?”
I was about to decline, but immediately realized that as long as he was
around, she’d have the work done for her.
“Well, there is one last
thing, actually. Would you follow me for a moment?”
“Sure!” Hensley smiled. “Anything you need, son.”
We strolled downstairs while he remarked on the state of things,
praising the cleaning crew for a job well done. “They’ll be in from time to
time to ensure the house stays up to snuff,” he mentioned offhandedly. “Once a
week, on Fridays. Around…1PM? 2PM? Somewhere around in that time frame. I’ll
have to consult my notes…if I can remember where I put the blasted things...”
“Oh, no need to worry about that,” I assured him. “We’ll figure it out.
Do they have their own key?”
“No, you’ll have to let them in,” Hensley explained. “Your parents
thought that it was fine to have strangers here, cleaning everything while the
house was unoccupied, but considered having them turn up unannounced while the
two of you were here a bit much. That,
and that little thing about the possible attack…”
I nodded. Made sense.
“Still, there’s an extra set of keys in the right-most kitchen cabinet,
close to the refrigerator. If you feel you can’t be bothered, just hand them
over when you see them next week. I’ve heard how you can be with your privacy,
but thought I’d offer the option regardless.”
Hensley paused, and I gave him a quick look.
“…Of course, I’m sure you can, that is…”
“It’s fine,” I told him, stepping onto the first floor. “It’s true. I do
care about my privacy. Very much so. I appreciate you keeping that in
consideration.”
“Right. Of course. Silly me,” he started to mumble as his voice trailed
off. “That is…what did you need my help with, again?”
I indicated outside, towards the car. “Saffron’s not feeling too well.
She asked me to bring her things in. After that, we’ll be happy to get out of
your hair.”
“I see,” he replied, glancing back up the stairs. “Shouldn’t I check on
her before she goes?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” I answered coolly as we walked outside.
“I’m here – and I’ll be just a few rooms away, too. It’ll be nothing for
me to keep an eye on her. She insisted on laying down on not being disturbed.”
“And we’re going to bring her things up to her room?” We moved around to
the backseat, grasping suitcases and containers.
“No, just there in the foyer will work.”
“Why not save her the trouble? These
The bar owner wandered towards the door. As he passed through, I spotted
a staircase behind it, likely leading up to his living accommodations above
Happy Pat’s. Who DIDN’T live in this
piece of shit bar?
Slippery Pete chuckled. “Dad’s never been that friendly to the fresh
meat. I think the old fucker likes ya.”
Pensacola, Present Day
I quietly cursed at myself as I stared at the slammed, locked door. Why did I freeze up so much? The years I
had spent brawling in the cage, and all it apparently took was a suitcase of my
sister’s panties to throw me completely off my game. But I knew the answer
– I’d wondered about it while I grew up with her, masturbating to the
idea of her strip-teasing me down to those silky underclothes before dropping
them at the edge of my bed.
Oh well, I thought to
myself. So, we’re off to a bad start.
Whatever.
Leaving my stepsister to her devices, I wandered back towards my room.
With my hand on the door, it occurred to me to continue bringing her stuff
– the rest of her suitcases were going to be a fight for her to carry up
the stairs and across the wing alone – but indignity rose within me.
Nah, fuck it.
Hensley popped back into view. “Well, it looks like everything’s in
order here…do you need a hand with anything else?”
I was about to decline, but immediately realized that as long as he was
around, she’d have the work done for her.
“Well, there is one last
thing, actually. Would you follow me for a moment?”
“Sure!” Hensley smiled. “Anything you need, son.”
We strolled downstairs while he remarked on the state of things,
praising the cleaning crew for a job well done. “They’ll be in from time to
time to ensure the house stays up to snuff,” he mentioned offhandedly. “Once a
week, on Fridays. Around…1PM? 2PM? Somewhere around in that time frame. I’ll
have to consult my notes…if I can remember where I put the blasted things...”
“Oh, no need to worry about that,” I assured him. “We’ll figure it out.
Do they have their own key?”
“No, you’ll have to let them in,” Hensley explained. “Your parents
thought that it was fine to have strangers here, cleaning everything while the
house was unoccupied, but considered having them turn up unannounced while the
two of you were here a bit much. That,
and that little thing about the possible attack…”
I nodded. Made sense.
“Still, there’s an extra set of keys in the right-most kitchen cabinet,
close to the refrigerator. If you feel you can’t be bothered, just hand them
over when you see them next week. I’ve heard how you can be with your privacy,
but thought I’d offer the option regardless.”
Hensley paused, and I gave him a quick look.
“…Of course, I’m sure you can, that is…”
“It’s fine,” I told him, stepping onto the first floor. “It’s true. I do
care about my privacy. Very much so. I appreciate you keeping that in
consideration.”
“Right. Of course. Silly me,” he started to mumble as his voice trailed
off. “That is…what did you need my help with, again?”
I indicated outside, towards the car. “Saffron’s not feeling too well.
She asked me to bring her things in. After that, we’ll be happy to get out of
your hair.”
“I see,” he replied, glancing back up the stairs. “Shouldn’t I check on
her before she goes?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” I answered coolly as we walked outside.
“I’m here – and I’ll be just a few rooms away, too. It’ll be nothing for
me to keep an eye on her. She insisted on laying down on not being disturbed.”
“And we’re going to bring her things up to her room?” We moved around to
the backseat, grasping suitcases and containers.
“No, just there in the foyer will work.”
“Why not save her the trouble? These
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