Full Circle 9

All characters in this story are 18 and older. I would like to thank l8bloom for her editing of this piece.

*

Sarah didn't know what woke her up. She didn't know if it was the bright flash or the sound of the sky tearing. For a brief moment, she saw the time on her clock, midnight, and then the red digits went blank.

Her heart pounded as she listened to the sound of the tree branches slamming against the side of the house. Storms terrified her; they always had. Even as a teenager, she would run for her parents' bed at the first sound of thunder, or the first flash of lightning.

Sarah slowly crept out of her bed, clutching the blanket to her chest. All of the lights in the neighborhood were out. It was completely pitch black out. She let out a scream when the skies lit up with a white hot flash. The loud explosion of thunder immediately followed. It shook the house, and rattled the windows.

The sound of breaking glass from downstairs caused Sarah to jump. She peered out the window and whispered, "Please, Pete, be up."

A yellowish glow showed from one of his downstairs windows. Her heart leapt.

Blindly, she found her way back to her bed. A few seconds groping found what she was looking for, the flashlight on the nightstand. She breathed a sigh of relief as the white beam of light shot from its end.

Down the stairs she ran, out the door and across the grass towards Pete's house. She didn't feel the driving rain soaking her. She pounded on his door.

The door swung open and Peter looked surprised to see Sarah shivering on his front steps.

"Sarah, what's the matter?" His voice was laced with concern. "Are you still afraid of storms?"

"Yes." Sarah nodded.

Pete opened the door wider and stepped back. "You'd better get in here."

Sarah's thin nightgown was drenched and did very little to hide her breasts. Pete blushed as he stared at them for a moment. Her dark pink nipples jutted stiffly from behind the wet cloth. He turned and pointed to the hallway. "Go into the bathroom and take your wet things off. There are a couple of bathrobes hanging on the back of the door, help yourself to one."

"Thanks, Pete." Sarah suddenly realized she was soaked and began to shiver.

He lit a candle and handed to her. "This might help."

After closing the bathroom door, Sarah blushed as she caught her reflection from the mirror. Not only did her hair make her look like a wet cat, but also her saturated nightgown left little to the imagination.

A crack of thunder made her forget her embarrassment. She pulled off her dripping gown and hung it over the shower rod. The bathrobe she put on was too big for her, but it felt good.

"I'm sorry to be such a bother," she said after leaving the bathroom.

He waved her off and laughed. "It's no problem. I had almost forgotten you didn't like storms."

Sarah shook her head. "Yeah, here I am, thirty-two and still afraid of thunder."

"Would you like something?" Pete asked. "With the power off about all I can offer is a glass of wine."

"I'd like that." Sarah began to calm down. Her heart had finally stopped racing.

Sarah sat down on the small loveseat in the living room. The house was as she remembered it, neat as a pin.

As Pete returned from the kitchen carrying two glasses of wine, the lights flickered for a moment and then burst into life.

Pete laughed and handed Sarah a glass. "Well, dang it. I thought the atmosphere with just the candles was perfect."

She didn't realize how much she had missed Pete over the years. He had been her best friend growing up. More than a friend, they had been like brother and sister at times. He had always teased her in a good-natured way.

"Turn the lights out and leave the candles lit." Sarah took a sip of the wine.

"Are you sure?" Pete asked.

"Yes, it's not the dark that scares me. It's the lightning and thunder mainly."

Turning off the lights, Pete sat down beside Sarah. "Wanna watch a movie?"

Sarah smiled. "I'd love to."

The wine made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. She leaned against Pete and whispered, "Kind of makes me feel like we're kids again."

Pete nodded and put his arm around her shoulder. "Yeah, we spent a lot of nights like this, watching TV with mom."

---

The sun shone brightly in through the bedroom window. Sarah opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was. Pete must have carried her upstairs and put her in his mother's room.

She was still wearing the bathrobe he had lent her. As she sat up, she noticed a note on the small table by the bed. It was Pete's scrawling handwriting; she smiled as she read it.

Sarah, the tree in your back yard broke your bathroom window. I've run down to the hardware store to pick up some stuff to fix it. The coffee is ready downstairs, help yourself. I shouldn't be gone very long. Pete.

The coffee tasted great. Sarah went out the back door and sat on the deck. Broken branches littered both back yards. Remnants from the storm. Sarah shivered for a moment as she remembered the force of the storm.

The sound of Pete's truck pulling up interrupted her thoughts. He stepped out of the truck and waved. She thought he needed a haircut; his tousled brown hair seemed to go in every direction.

"Good morning!" He smiled cheerily.

Sarah blushed. "Sorry for falling asleep."

"That's okay." His face lit up as he laughed. "Reminded me of when we were kids. And to be honest with you, I don't know who fell asleep first. I woke up, and carried you up to mom's room."

"I miss your mom." Sarah instantly wished she hadn't said it.

Pete's face changed. A sad look washed over it. "I miss her, too. First your parents, and then just over a month later, mom."

Sarah's parents had been killed on their way home from church just after New Year's. They had hit some black ice and skidded into the path of an oncoming truck. There was nothing the truck driver could have done; there had been no time for him to react. Her father had been killed instantly. Her mom had died several hours later in the hospital.

Pete's mother had succumbed to cancer almost five weeks later.

Sarah's voice was soft. "When I was growing up, there were times I wished your mom was my mom. I loved my mother, but she seemed so distant most of the time."

"Yeah, and I wished your father was mine. Well, he was my father growing up. I miss seeing him. Talking to him." Pete's eyes got a little misty. "He did so much with me, taught me how to play baseball, how to fish. All the little things dads teach their sons."

The war in Vietnam had claimed Pete's father. His parents had only been married for a few weeks before shipping out. Pete's father had never knew his bride was pregnant.

"I always wondered why your mother never remarried." Sarah looked at Pete. "She was so pretty and so young."

"I asked her a couple of times after coming home from the army," Pete recalled. "She always did the same thing, smile, and say there had never been time at first, and then when there was time, she was too set in her ways."

Pete eyed the mess in the back yard. "I suppose I should get at it. I'll fix your window first, and then I'll clear the mess the storm left."

"I should get home. I need to really start going through mom's and dad's stuff and decide what to do with it."

"Have you decided what you are going to do with the house?" Pete asked.

"I don't know. More and more I keep thinking about keeping the house and applying for a position here." Sarah gave Pete a small smile. "I like it here."

---

Thirty some years' worth of stuff. Her parents had lived in this house since before she was born. Start at the top and work her way down. That's what she decided to do.

Sarah was an only child. There had been another child, a boy. Allan. He hadn't made it through his first day. He had died in the hospital about twelve hours after being born. Tears formed in Sarah's eyes when she opened a small box containing the blank birth announcements.

Sarah's mother had changed drastically after Allan's death. Pete's mom had told her stories. On rare occasions, her father would talk about it. Gone was the free spirited woman who had given birth to her.

Sarah's mother had withdrawn and become a shadow of the woman her father married. Her church was all that mattered — a fundamentalist Christian church that only preached doom and gloom.

She removed one of the birth announcements and set it aside. The rest, she tossed into a garbage bag. At the back of the closet, she found a box of photo albums she had never seen. It was full of unknown faces and places. Little notes at the bottom of each picture did little to explain who the people were.

One of the albums made her smile. It was her mother and father just after they were married. She recognized her father, but her mother looked so different. There was happiness in her face, a joy Sarah had never known.

---

Sarah turned the faucets. She loved this tub. It was very old, and stood on clawed feet. Foamy suds began forming from the generous amount of aromatic bubble bath she poured into the water.

It had been a busy day. It had taken most of the afternoon, but she had finished clearing out the spare room. Bags filled with things to give away to charity sat in the front hall and other bags full of trash were by the trashcans outside.

Pete spent the morning and part of the afternoon replacing the broken glass in the bathroom window. His workmanship impressed Sarah. It was nearly impossible to tell the glass had been smashed and muntin bars broken. He had gathered up and disposed of all of the debris from the storm.

Sarah pulled the comb from her shoulder length hair and shook it free. She smiled back at the reflection in the mirror. In keeping with her nightly routine, she thoroughly scrubbed her face before climbing into the tub.

Pete was ready for a shower. He felt pleased with all he had accomplished. Tomorrow was Sunday, the day he usually relaxed. He looked towards Sarah's house and wondered if she would be up for an afternoon barbeque tomorrow.

The breeze that was blowing in felt good. Sarah decided against closing the window and pulling the blinds down. A row of tall hedges protected the window from view of neighbors.

"Yeah," Pete said to himself as he closed the door on his tool shed. "A barbeque sounds good." He cut through his back yard and headed toward Sarah's back door.

Sarah lit the candles in the bathroom. She loved candles. One could never have too many. She turned the light off. The warm, soft glow from the flickering flames bathed the room. She whispered to herself as she removed her robe, "Perfect."

Pete froze in his tracks as he glanced at the bathroom window he had repaired. A large tree stood between him and the window. His hand rested against what was left of the tree branch, keeping him steady. He held his breath. Pete knew the right thing to do would be to just turn around and go home, but his feet wouldn't move. He could feel his heart pound as he watched her slip off her robe.

He felt his erection growing as he stared at her nudity. Sarah had always been Sarah, the girl he had grown up with, his resolute friend throughout childhood. The swelling in his jeans embarrassed him. He shouldn't be having feelings like this about her. His eyes drank in her slender body. All of a sudden, he longed to reach out and touch her naked breasts.

Sarah slid into the tub. "That feels so good."

The warm water enveloped her body. All of the anxieties of the day melted away. Sarah smiled as she dangled her foot over the edge of the tub. It held special memories. This was where she had learned how to masturbate. It was the one room in the house where she had complete privacy as she grew up. She closed her eyes as her hand slid down in the water between her legs. Her other hand reached for her breast.

Pete couldn't remember the last time he blinked. The swelling in his jeans continued to the point where he felt uncomfortable. The urge to pull his zipper down and remove his erection was becoming overwhelming. His hand trembled as he watched her fondling her breast.

Technically Sarah was a virgin. She hadn't engaged in intercourse with a man. The thin membrane, which normally signaled a female, was pure and untouched was long gone. It had been lost to a vibrator in her sophomore year in college.

Her fingers teased her swollen clit. It had been too many days since she had touched herself like this. She still felt a bit guilty about masturbating in her room. She felt her mother would burst through the door and catch her.

The night air felt cool on his erection. His hand grasped his swollen shaft and began to stroke it slowly. Pete watched as Sarah continued fondling her breasts. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of an erect nipple through the suds. He had never seen Sarah like this. He would have never imagined this side of her existed.

With closed eyes, she let her fingers carry her away. Waves of pleasure flowed through her body. Her fingers rubbed her swollen clit in tight circles. Faster and faster they circled, her hips moving to her fingers. Both of her feet were propped against the end of the tub.

"Oh, yes," she moaned softly as her body reacted to her fingers.

Pete worked his lust-swollen shaft. His eyes were transfixed on Sarah and on what she was doing. Gone were the feelings of guilt. All he felt now was an incredible lust for the girl in the tub. He had never seen a girl masturbate. Occasionally he had seen things in the videos he rented, but that was different.

Sarah was lost in her lust. She pushed her breast up, and leaned her head as far forward as it would go. Her tongue flicked out at her taut nipple, and then her lips began to suck on it. Faster and faster, her fingers rubbed her clit. She was getting close. As her teeth bit down lightly on the rubbery nipple, her climax began.

Pete's cock erupted as he watched Sarah sucking her own nipples. Long streams of white cum shot out into the darkness. His knees felt weak as his hand stroked his pulsing cock. His heart pounded and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. The sounds of Sarah's moans carried out of the window.

A warm rush took over her body, like a narcotic high. Her whole body shook as she moaned in pleasure.

Pete slipped his deflating and wet cock into his jeans and he turned and headed for his house. Now that his lust had dissipated, what remained was a bit of guilt at what he had done. He felt he had invaded her privacy.

Sarah thought she heard something. Her eyes snapped open and for the briefest of moments, she thought she saw a flash of blue. Had someone been watching her? She slipped deep into the tub. Blue. Pete had been wearing a blue t-shirt. Had Pete been watching her?

She remembered the flash of hunger in his eyes when he had looked at her breasts in her wet nightgown. Had Pete seen her masturbating? Her fingers began to work her clit furiously again as she thought of Pete watching her. Had he masturbated while watching her? She wanted to cum again. The wave of lust which overtook her, was completely unexpected. The resulting orgasm was one of the most intense she had ever experienced.

Pete stripped out of his jeans and underwear. His cock was still wet with his cum as he got into the shower. He had never felt this way about Sarah before. He had never seen her as an object of sexual attraction. As the warm water from the shower hit his body, his cock began to grow.

His mind wandered back to the morning his mother had walked into his room and caught him masturbating. It had taken him a couple of hours to work up the nerve to leave his room and face his mother.

She had worn a serene expression when he walked into the kitchen. "Sit down, Peter. We need to have a talk."

His face had burned with embarrassment as he sat down at the table.

"There's nothing wrong with what you were doing. It's perfectly natural. Most people will deny they masturbate, but almost everyone does. That includes me." Her voice was full of caring. "The only thing I ask is you lock your door."

Shortly after their talk, issues of Playboy began to arrive in the mail in his name.

Everyone does. The words echoed through his head. His hand stroked his soapy cock to another orgasm.

---

Pete had knocked at her door. Sarah was grateful for the break. She had started clearing her mother's closet out. He had suggested they barbeque later in the afternoon, an idea she found appealing.

Something had changed. Both Pete and Sarah could feel it. There was a tension between them. It wasn't an uncomfortable tension. It was more like a feeling of excitement.

Sarah filled bags and bags with religious tracts her mother had saved for over twenty years. Her mother had been flooded with guilt over the death of the baby. "It's God's punishment for my wicked ways." Her mother's voice sounded in her mind.

School had helped Sarah understand her mother. The courses in psychology had explained a lot, and talking with her professors had helped her understand.

"Dad, she's depressed. Why don't you try to get her help?" She remembered saying that to her father.

His face held a sadness she had never witnessed before. "I know she's depressed, and I know there is help out there for her. Lord knows how many times I have tried to get her help. She believes God is punishing her and won't even go see or talk to her doctor about it. I've even talked to the preacher. His answer is that God will cure her when He is ready."

She had never liked Preacher Simmons. The way he had looked at her after she had gone through puberty had always made her feel nervous. It was a leering look, as if he was trying to see beneath her clothing. She shivered for a moment as she banished him from her mind.

---

"Come in," Pete responded to the rapping on his back door.

Sarah walked into the kitchen and sat down on a chair. "Anything I can do to help?"

Pete shook his head. "Nope, I just put the chicken on the rotisserie and the baked potatoes are ready to go."

He washed his hands in the sink. "Do you want to go sit outside? Oh, and I made a pitcher of margaritas, if you would like one."

"I would love one. I could use one after going through mom's closet."

The afternoon was warm and the trees swayed lazily in the breeze.

Sarah laughed when she looked at the lawn chairs Pete had set out. "I had no idea these were still around."

Pete smiled proudly. "Yup, your dad gave them to me last year. I just scraped the twenty years of paint off and refinished them."

Sarah sat in the chair and took a sip of her margarita. "How many times did we do this when we were kids?"

"I think every Sunday that it wasn't raining or too cold." Pete smiled warmly. "We still did it occasionally after I came back from the army."

"I wish I would have come home more often." Sarah looked towards her house. "It was just hard to see mom..." Her voice trailed off. "I don't know if she was getting worse, or if I just wasn't used to it like I was growing up."

"I think it was a little of both. I know your dad was worried about her a lot. There were days where she just wouldn't get out of bed."

Sarah remembered the day of the funeral. A lot of it was a fog, but the one thing that was crystal clear in her mind was how calm and serene her mother looked. Tears began to form in her eyes.

Pete could sense how Sarah felt. "Well, if we are to believe what they say in church, she's in a better place now."

Sarah reached over and put her hand on his. "Yes, that's what I keep telling myself."

Pete got up to check the chicken. He brushed some marinade on as the chicken slowly rotated over the grill.

"Can I ask you a question, Pete? A personal question."