Broken like a wild stallion, she went limp in Cindy’s arms. Her cousin’s eyes glistened with loving empathy, and the stranglehold became a compassionate embrace. Then, Cindy opened herself up, inviting Deana in. Time stopped again, and Deana saw all the pieces that made up the strong, witty, kick-boxing, race car driver. She would never see Cindy as the cousin she’d always been. Their relationship had been changed forever in that moment of intimacy. How the fuck would she ever look her father in the eyes again without a gun in her hand?
Still somewhat dazed and traumatized after reliving what happened with Cindy, Deana walked mindlessly into the kitchen, staring at the floor. Candy cleared her throat, and Deana jerked to a stop.
Instinctively, she crossed an arm over her chest and placed a hand in front of her crotch, which now had a prickly five o’clock shadow. “Ah, Mom, oh, shoot, Mom, I didn’t know you were home.” Run was Deana’s first thought, but Candy’s expression held her.
“Does that make it okay to walk around like that?” Candy asked.
Deana didn’t think her mother wanted an answer, so she waited. Candy was hesitant at first, appearing nervous, then her stride increased. Her mother’s nipples stiffened, and Deana followed the side-to-side swish of the brown rings under the stretched-thin fabric. She licked her lips and realized she was imagining how Cindy sucked on Candy’s nipples. The thought excited her, so she looked away. Her mother’s bellybutton was exposed, and below it, baby-blue yoga pants clung to the woman’s crotch. Deana swallowed the lump in her throat. Candy stopped inches away. Deana’s nipples tingled, and her arms fell, hanging at her sides. It was like the morning they kissed, except now, she knew it was Cindy that her mother was thinking about. Inside her head, Deana screamed, say something. “Mmm . . . Mom, you okay?” That was stupid, she thought.
“I’m fine,” Candy said and placed her hands on Deana’s waist. They were so soft, and their placement on her naked body could only be interpreted as sensual touch. “You’re so beautiful.”
Leave, walk away, run, Deana told herself, but stood there and said, “Thank you.” This is so wrong.
Warm, smooth palms cupped the prominent nobs at the front of Deana’s hips, and fingertips circled the sensitive hollows above her thighs. Under other circumstances, it might have tickled, but instead, hot lubricating moisture loosened her tingling labia. She wanted to hug her mother. “You sure, ah, sure you’re okay?”
Candy nodded; her hands slid around, flirting with the groove above Deana’s tailbone. Love might be blind, Deana thought, but the combination of love and lust were blind, deaf, dumb, and treacherous. Fear ripped at her integrity, telling her this might be her only chance to be with Candy the way Cindy had been. Candy’s arms encompassed her lower back. Their bellies pressed together, and her mother asked, “Honey, why wouldn’t I be?”
The cushions of Candy’s chest pressed against Deana’s as her mother’s arms tightened. Suddenly, a tremendous sadness washed over her. “Mah, mah, Mommy.” She threw her arms around Candy and clung to her the way Cindy might have.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Candy said. “I love you, too.”
The desperate embrace gradually transitioned to a comforting hug that would have been expected between a mother and daughter, if Deana hadn’t been naked. Candy released her, and she assumed her protective stance. “I better go, Mom, I better . . . ”
Candy gave a reluctant nod. Deana turned, walked a few feet, and glanced back. Her mother was staring. As wrong as it was, knowing the woman she called Mom was watching her ass, made Deana smile. “See ya later,” she said.
“Mmhmm, you will,” Candy said, “but now I’m gonna lay down for a little while.”
“Okay.” Was that an invitation, Deana wondered?
Just before Candy disappeared into the back hallway, she said, “You and Evan are on your own for dinner. Sorry.”
Once Deana was in her room, sitting at her desk, arousal waned and shame blossomed. She hadn’t thought of herself as a cheater, yet she would have jumped into bed with Candy, despite first-hand knowledge of Cindy’s love. And even now, with her compromised integrity in full view, the little demon in her brain was suggesting her likeness to Cindy should be exploited. Go to Candy’s room. It may have been an invitation.
Every spot that Candy had touched buzzed with physical memory and her brain flashed vivid pictures of the woman. Over and over, they looped, replaying the whole scene. Then, Deana thought of something Candy said, “I love you, too?” Had she heard her mother correctly?
Deana didn’t remember telling Candy she loved her, but if she had, that would explain the too. It could have also meant, I love Evan and you, too. The third possibility made Deana shiver.
Candy closed her bedroom door, fell against it, and slid down. Each day that passed, Deana’s beauty, witty humor, sexy flirtations, and loving heart made her more like Cindy. How easy it had been to run to Deana and fall into a passionate embrace. The first time something like that happened, Deana had caught her off guard during a weak moment of missing Cindy, but this time, she was the one who almost kissed Deana. She wanted to, but that couldn’t happen.
How was she going to live under the same roof with someone who reminded her of the girl who had been her lover? Worse than that, Candy was trapped in the same house with a boy she loved the way she had loved Gloria’s father? It would be impossible to hide, and John would see it. Then what?
Evan knocked and open Deana’s door. His sister jerked and turned away from the window. The look on her face made him say, “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for an answer, but Mom’s home.”
“I know I already saw her.”
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yup, naked as ya can be.”
“Shit, what did she say?” he asked. “And why didn’t you warn me?”
“It’s not like you haven’t already put that,” she pointed at his dick, “in her.”
“Yeah, but what if I walked in while you were there? She would have known something was up with us.”
“Relax, she’s in her room,” Deana said and went back to staring out the window.
“What’s up with you?” he asked and started massaging Deana’s shoulders. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Um, you seem mad, sad, or something.”
“I’m fine, and stop that.” She shrugged his hands away.
“Why?”
“Because your massages always lead to other things, and Mom is home.”
He put his hands on her neck but didn’t rub it. “Tell me what happened with Mom.”
“What makes you think something happened?”
“Dee, I’m not too busy jerking off anymore,” he said, “I know when there’s something wrong.” He spun Deana around on the desk chair and knelt in front of her. “Go ahead, tell me what’s going on.”
“I stood in front of Mom without anything on, and she hugged me.”
“And?”
Deana hung her head, avoiding eye contact. “I want her, wanna feel her skin on mine, explore every curve, kiss every inch of her, and taste her . . . I wanted to taste her, and see her cum while she looks into my eyes.”
“Whoa, jeez, um, what’s wrong with that? It wouldn’t bother me.”