Some will probably read this account and chastise me. They'll criticize and armchair quarterback what I "should have done." It's easy to look back at a situation and nitpick or find fault, especially when you weren't there. Especially about others. But as I explained before, I was dead tired and didn't acknowledge I was in the room when I first heard that door open. I've explained why. In the moment, it all made sense. And then when it turned out to not be the best choice, it was too late, and I had to adjust my plan under rapidly changing circumstances.
And because of those adjustments, I found myself veiled in darkness and wrapped in a blanket, equally aroused and terrified, thinking I was nearly through this unexpected display of sexual release by my cousin. Yes, I admit it was undeniably erotic. And I admit that I found my cousin, who I hadn't seen in a few years, had grown into a physical beauty that matched her personality. But I never
intended
to spy on her. It happened... and plans had to change. The new plan was to keep quiet to avoid an extremely awkward and potentially relationship-ruining (not to mention startling) announcement of my presence. The new plan was to let her finish and go back upstairs. The new plan was to never divulge what I'd seen and continue our friendship. The new plan was
not
to have her reach out in her sexual ecstasy and grab the blanket wrapping my foot.
I had just been thinking, "
Here we go. She's almost finished, and then she'll get dressed and head back up to her bedroom.
" But then that arm, that wonderfully graceful arm, searching for something, anything to hold as her breath quickened, lay down along the edge of the seat cushion. Finding the soft fabric of the quilt, she instinctively wrapped those fingers in and clenched. She didn't exactly grab my foot, but as she pulled, the blanket, partially wrapped under my calf, did not go freely. And that resistance, that not-quite-expected outcome, triggered some primal alertness in her subconscious. Her vocals stopped. The hum of her toy continued only a moment longer before it too disappeared, signaling that her liftoff flight plan had been suddenly canceled. I lay there, waiting, trying to figure out a new plan. I contemplated moving my foot slightly in case she started feeling around but was relatively certain it would make a sound in the oppressive silence.
I imagined her laying there, ears straining, mind racing, wondering what was wrong. Had she not been so absorbed in her pleasure, she probably would have realized what was out of place right away, but it seemed as if luck might be with me. As we both lay there, one listening intently to figure out what was different, the other listening intently hoping to not be found out, a distant scratching sound was heard, followed by a short yip.
I heard Tara sit up. "Godammit, Trixie!" she muttered under her breath. "You have the worse fucking timing!" There was a brief illumination from her phone screen as she stood up on the far side of the divan before she put the phone down on the couch cushion next to some purple silicone. I caught a brief glimpse of her navel before the screen went dark. I then heard her slide her shorts up those beautiful legs. "You better not wake anyone up you damned dog!" she hissed across the room. I heard her pad back towards the staircase. As she did so, I slowly drew my leg up so that my foot wasn't down near where she'd been laying.
Fuck
, I thought.
If Trixie comes down here, she'll smell me for sure and come bounding over to the couch.
I heard the sliding door roll open and Tara's bare feet slowly move up the stairs. She'd kept the lights off, I assume in case someone was with the dog. I cringed, expecting to hear the turn of the knob at the upper door, but none came. Instead, I heard Tara whisper, "Stop scratching at the door, you silly pooch. It's just me." Her voice was much friendlier than her earlier curse. I thought I heard a small whine in response and then, unbelievably, nothing more. I strained to hear anything further, but the distance and the insulation were too much. Apparently, Trixie had accepted that all was right in her domain and had moved on because Tara came back downstairs. I wondered if she was going to lie down and finish the job or if she'd lost the mood due to the interruption. I was torn on which outcome I wanted more.
I felt her gently bump the back of the couch. It was her house, so she clearly knew the layout. Who knows, maybe this wasn't the first time she'd snuck down here to take care of business. The thought slipped through my head like lightning and across my body only a microsecond later. I could hear her hand running along the backrest as she made her way to the corner and then up along the side wing of the sectional before it dropped down to the divan. There was a faint tap as her fingers hit either her phone or vibrator followed by a slithering, a brief pause, and then the thunk-thunk of something hitting the floor and bouncing somewhere inside the U of the sectional. "Shit!" she uttered under her breath, her hand reflexively grasping at the back cushion to no avail.
I froze. If it was the toy and she turned on the phone flashlight to look around, I was toast. I contemplated pulling my head under the covers quietly enough not to be heard before she did so but knew that would be impossible. Instead, I closed my eyes about ninety percent, squinting just enough that I could tell if she turned on the light and then maybe pretend I was sleeping.
I heard her tapping against the couch again and the sound changed as she hit plastic. No light came on, so it must have been the phone that fell after all. She was feeling her way around the divan and let out a soft curse as I felt the couch shift slightly when she bumped her knee or toe into the corner. The eroticism mixed with trepidation I'd felt earlier had completely given way to straight-up fear at this point. My heart rate was through the roof. I heard a joint pop as she got down on her hands and knees, followed by a swiffing sound as she swept her hands around the carpet trying to find the phone in the dark.
Tap, tap, swipe, swipe. She was looking all over near where the thunk had come from, so she had to be close. The floor was a thick carpet, so it probably didn't bounce far. Finally, I heard her mutter, "Gotcha." I barely had time to register what she'd said when the screen lit up her face. I slammed my eyelids closed. When a couple of seconds had passed and she didn't yell at me, I opened them ever so slightly. My view was obscured by my eyelashes, but I could see that she was sitting on her knees, her chest still bare, her eyes looking all over the screen. Apparently satisfied with whatever she saw, she clicked it off and I heard her put it in the pocket of her shorts.
I was grateful it was away. She clearly knew her way around the room and now I didn't have to worry about her seeing me. The new plan was that she would make her way back around the couch, grab her shirt and vibrator, and head upstairs.
Then I felt it. To help herself stand up, she'd put her hand down on the couch to brace herself. Right on my knee that I had bent to get my foot out of the way earlier. I felt the pressure, light at first and then heavier as she pushed in and got her feet under her. There was a moment of hesitation and, as if that primal instinct from earlier finally spoke up, I could sense the dawning in her mind that something was most definitely "awry". A couple of inquisitive squeezes found my calf and then my foot. A sharp intake of breath was followed by a whispered, "What the fuck?"
I knew I was busted and didn't know what to do. The plan was changing too fast for my terrified brain to handle. I was embarrassed and my mind was racing. The only thing I could think of was to close my eyes. I heard her fumble around and then, with a click, the back of my eyelids became a wall of blood-red as she used the flashlight feature to look at me.
"Nick?" Despite being a hiss, her voice, a mixture of disbelief and astonishment, felt loud in the darkness.
I stayed silent, hoping she would just assume I'd slept through the whole thing.
"Nick?" she said again, a bit more firmly.
Please, please, please, please. These are not the droids you are looking for.
I lay there, still as stone and internally praying that she'd think I was asleep.
There was a long pause before she continued. "Nick... I... I know you're awake. I can see your pulse in your neck and it's elevated. Also, your eyes are twitching." While I was expecting her to yell at me, instead she seemed a mix of exasperation, surprise, and embarrassment. Well, all things considered, I suppose that made sense too.
So much for any Jedi mind powers...
