A Brady Boxing Day

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This fan-FICTION story occurs directly after the 1988 '_A Very Brady Christmas_' movie. The flashbacks are from the timeframe of the 1981 '_The Brady Brides_' television series, at which time the five step-brothers and sisters involved were 21 to 27 years of age.

***

It was after midnight, making it December 26th. Boxing Day in England, although that holliday is not celebrated in Burbank California. A few hours ago everything had been wrong, but disaster had been averted. Mike had been found safe and sound and was currently being tended to by Carol in the master bedroom. A hot shower, a kind word, maybe a little loving and they would be just fine. Sam had returned to ask for Alice's forgiveness; maybe that situation would work out too. Maybe she would toss him out on his ear, but it would be her decision to make.

The five grown children of Carol and Mike sat around the low avacado green and chrome mid century modern sofa and chair in the sunken living room. They were happy that their father or step-father had been found, happy that they were all there in their childhood home together. There was sadness in the room as well. Each sibling or step sibling had good reason to wonder, wonder aloud in the presence of those they trusted: "what's wrong with other people."

Greg got up and walked to the Kelvinator next to the red brick wall, and retrieved five cans of Olympia. Marsha had followed him past the short stone wall and through the brown folding door into the kitchen. As he placed the cold cans on the orange kitchen counter, she handed him the can opener. He dutifully pierced the top of each steel can twice, as she stood behind him and wrapped her arms around her step brother.

"I know it's tough," she said. "Christmas without Nora and Kevin."

"Or Jessica and Mickey," he said.

"Nobody should do that to anyone," she said.

"You never would have done that to me," he said.

"No, you know I still think about that summer," she said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think about it a whole lot, I wish we could have..." he said. "Figured out..."

"Yeah, me too. It's confusing Greg," said Marsha, "I really wish it could have been different, but I love Mickey and Jessica, if we would have stayed together... If we both didn't have to go in opposite directions. I mean..."

"Me too, I love you Marsha."

"Jessica and Mickey, I wish you were their dad instead of Wally."

"I wish he hadn't turned out to be an asshole..." he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"He didn't do anything. That was the problem, he's just Wally," Marsha said. "He grew old, but not up. Wally was an immature, irresponsible slob when I met him. He was fun, but I really shouldn't have married him... What I should have done was marry you, two summers before."

"Yeah, two starving college students," Greg said. "If Carol, Mike and ABC had all cut us off where would we be? Was Wally really that bad at first."

"You know him Greg," she said, "he was never 'bad.' He was just into swinging with me, not into being with me. He knew about us, our history together and he didn't care. I thought that was cool. He was a big kid, selling toys instead of buying them. He had a good thing going until all those cheap chineese toys flooded the market. Then his skills were instantly obsolete."

"We even got Jan and Phillip involved, remember," said Greg.

"Jan," she said, "I can see that. But getting stick-up-his-ass Phillip swinging, that was something."

"Then Wally left," she said, "he didn't leave because of the sex. He left because he chose to remain a kid after he lost his job, and couldn't find another that was as good. Simple economics, he chose his lifestyle over his family. We must not have been very important to him."

"Anyone who doesn't think you are important is an asshole," Greg said.

"He lives in a damned trailer," she said. "He can play Don Juan all fall and spring while I get up at dawn and send 'em off to school. Then he gets a month in the summer when there are no responsibilities, and he gets every Holliday. I mean I'm not complaining Greg. I love them, I just thought it would be different. That was my fault, I thought responsibilities would change him."

"We played really nice in your house with Jan," Greg said.

"Yes we did," Marsha said, "at least until Phillip got that stick surgically re-inserted into his ass. He was fun for a while. Then suddenly 'Jan led him astray,' I recall Phillip being balls deep in a lot of strange back then."

"Yeah, people are weird," said Greg.

"Other people are weird, but a good family takes care of family," said Marsha. "You know I figured it out; if you're not family it's all simply economics. Back then we had to share because we didn't have enough of anything for everyone to have their own. Then once Wally and Phillip had enough they moved on."

"Why don't we ask Bobby and Peter to play."

"Corrupt little Bobby?"

"Corrupt, ha, he's 26," said Greg. "You're sweet, I know you, you'd never hurt Bobby, he'd never hurt you."

"Maybe," said Marsha, "you know that I love you, right Greg."

"Peter would, you know that don't you," Greg said. "I would, except... I mean this is hard. I love you Marsha, I always will, and I want to. But..."

"Yeah Greg," Marsha said, "it's that 'except' that makes you so special. Wally wouldn't say 'except.'"

"I don't want to be the one to pull the plug on the ventilator," said Greg.

Marsha poured the beers into proper glasses and put them on a walnut and chrome serving tray and carried them out to the living room.

After another hour or so of conversation, and another round of beers the five noticed how very dusty they had become yesterday while looking through the rubble for Mike. So the laundry room was raided to provide five fresh towels. All admired the colorful decorative geometric wall panel as they climbed the magnificent floating wooden staircase to their old childhood friend. That single overworked hall bathroom. Marsha and Jan went first, and then the boys.

As the boys were showering Jan and Marsha went to their room and donned their pajamas. Well the tops anyway... As Jan started to put her bottoms on her sister spoke.

"Jan, why don't you leave those off," Marsha said. "I'm not going to wear mine."

"Why?"

"Greg had an idea," Marsha said, "call it a Doctor's prescription."

"Uh-huh," Jan said.

"We were talking about when we fucked around," Marsha said, "at our house that we shared after we got married."

"Yeah, that was a really wonderful time," Jan said.

"Wouldn't it be fun to do that again?" Marsha said. "I mean we could, right now."

"I... I don't know," Jan said.

"I mean, do what you feel comfortable doing," Marsha said.

Jan put on a pair of tiny pink panties, but Marsha did not.

The sun was breaking outside as the five sat on the low sofa and daybed in the dark wood paneled family room.

"You know," said Bobby, "dad's an architect. One bathroom for six kids?"

"Yeah," said Jan, "I love him, but he still wonders why he didn't get that job at HOK."

Marsha got up and walked to the back door.

Walking behind her, Greg wrapped his arms around Marsha's shoulders. He leaned over her and whispered into her right ear, "you know I figured it out; if you're not family it's all simply economics. We had to share because we didn't have enough for everyone to have their own."

"Dad was smarter than we gave him credit for being," Marsha said.

"Huh?" said Bobby.

"We should get them some new Astroturf, the lawn is looking a little shabby," Marsha said looking out the glass door, and changing the subject.

"C'm over here Bobby," Greg said in a hushed voice.

Bobby walked up to Greg and Marsha at the back door.

Greg slowly released his hold on Marsha's waist where his arms had wandered, and took his brother's hands in his hands. He stepped back, and by gently pulling Bobby's arms forward to her led him to stand right behind his step-sister. Standing to their left he guided his brother's hands to Marsha's belly, under her soft cotton pajama top.

Bobby stared at Greg.

Greg stared back at Bobby, and then he softly kissed Marsha, before looking back at Bobby and smiling. He placed his palms on the back of Bobby's hands and guided them upward along her ribs to her soft sensitive breasts.

Looking in Marsha's eyes he said to Bobby, "you will never feel anything on earth better than the way Marsha's breasts feel, they are perfect."

Marsha smiled and her Bartolin's immediately doubled its production of lubricant, her rugae quickly filled, and the aroma was simply intoxicating as the excess leaked from her interior.

Greg kissed her forehead saying, "I love you."

He went into the kitchen to retrieve another cold steel can of Olympia, knowing that he had done the right thing. He punched the top twice, and returned to the family room drinking from the can. He sat in a chair by the card table and watched as Peter knelt before Jan, who was sprawled on the daybed. Peter had his right hand under her left butt cheek, and was using that hand to guide and amplify her pelvic gyrations as his face moved about burried in her sex.

He could hear, but not see the rubbing and kissing and nibbling, and Peter's tongue darting into Jan's intuos, then running along the short length of her throbbing shaft, tickling her glands and its protective folds. Greg could hear the happy slurping, panting and moaning as Peter made more and more of Jan's dermal corpuscles send their electrical signals onward providing her brain with its own internal fireworks display.

Then he turned to look at Bobby and Marsha. Bobby was on his knees. Marsha was standing with her weight on her left leg, leaning back against the dark walnut paneling. Her naked right leg, bent at the knee, was draped over Bobby's shoulder. Her heel was on his back. Bobby was working hard to give Marsha exactly the same fireworks show that Jan was seeing. Marsha was making the sweetest little sounds as he did so.

It was fun to watch, although not as much fun as to participate. Having been there and done that, he knew how his brother's felt. He thought he knew how his step sisters felt. He was beginning to understand how he felt. He needed to talk to Nora, to stop avoiding that elephant in their house, and he needed another drink. His beer can was empty; he walked to the kitchen.

When he returned Jan was riding Peter reverse cowgirl on the daybed, and Greg's chair had been appropriated. Marsha was naked and on her hands and knees in the round red velvet chair. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was panting as Bobby was taking her doggy style. Greg wiped away some of her drool, and kissed Marsha sweetly on her forehead. Then he began to gently massage her scalp as he watched his brother entusiastically fuck her.

It was good to be home.

***

Lisa Ann