Chapter 12: Double Incest
Millie Hawley's words, "Tonight is the night," played in my mind all the way home. We had left the New Year's party a few minutes after midnight because Jen was tired. I was a little tired too, but Millie was wide awake. Jen said goodnight and went upstairs to her room. Ed tossed me the keys to her car and reluctantly followed her.
Millie handed me her coat and excused herself, going into the bathroom. 'What to do now?' I asked myself as I hung up the coat. Our five weeks of dating, becoming comfortable with one another, talking three times each day, almost inseparable during our free time and being seen in public, had been the prelude to this night.
My problem was that I wasn't ready. I was afraid that, in a moment of passion, I would fuck up and call her by the wrong name. For the past five weeks I had searched for differences between the two sisters and found very few. Once when Millie declared she was thinking of cutting her hair short, like Jen's, I urged her to leave it long. Another time, I discovered a small mole on her neck. She said she was thinking of having it removed. I disagreed, telling her it was tiny and she needn't bother, when really, I was overjoyed, having discovered something that her sister didn't have.
The sisters were so much alike it was scary. Oh, there was Millie's height; otherwise, their bodies, hair and skin coloring were almost identical, right down to the number of freckles below their eyes. What set Millie apart, what made me love her, was her disposition. Her quick wit and glib observations were a contrast to Jen's serious temperament.
"Would you care for a nightcap?" I asked when she returned from the bathroom. She was wearing a long black skirt and a white silk blouse.
"No, thank you," she said haphazardly dropping her purse to the floor as she came to within arm's length of me. She had removed her jewelry, pearls and matching earrings. It was also apparent that her bra was in the purse.
"Would you like to dance?" I asked, switching the tape player on. She did.
We slow danced, staying in one spot on the parquet floor in the living room. By the end of the first song, Millie had removed her shoes and my sweater. Feeling her soft breasts pressed to my chest was giving me a raging hard-on.
"Let's go upstairs," she suggested, without elaborating. I grabbed the tape player and took her by the hand, leaving her purse, her shoes and my sweater on the floor where we they had been dropped.
"Welcome to my room," I said, swooping her up and carrying her through the door.
"So, this is the infamous bed," she said, looking around the room as if she were searching for relicts from my youth. There were none; all our childhood toys had been removed to make room for the bed.
I wasn't sure what to read into her 'infamous bed' comment. What had Jen told her about the bed? "Try it out if you like," I offered. She was shimming out of her skirt.
"Do you have a hanger for this?" she asked, handing me the skirt. I took it to the closet and when I turned she was sitting on the bed, removing her stockings. "May I wear a pair of your socks?" she asked.
I found a pair of sweat socks; several sizes too big for her small feet and watched her roll down the silk stockings over her shapely ankles. She looked up at me and smiled, knowing that I had discovered something else that set her off from her sister. The absence of the little red birthmark was a relief to me.
I started the tape player and she stood up, ready to continue our slow dance. "There's something else about me that you need to know," she offered.
Why now? We had spent the last five weeks finding out everything about each other. There was only one thing she hadn't told me. This was no time to hear about the guy she was in love with at graduate school. That had to be it. Didn't she know I had a hard on? "What do you need to tell me?" I asked, trying to be conciliatory while praying she would make it short.
"I had a crush on you before you met Jen."
"What?" I asked. Having been braced to hear what happened to the guy at grad school, this took me by surprise.
"You were a sophomore and I was a senior. I made the mistake of telling my sister about you."
"Why didn't you...say something?"
This wasn't like the Millie I had come to know. She seemed shy and vulnerable. I held her close, moving slowly to the music.
"I waited too long and the first thing I knew, she had you. I tried to break you up, but she was enjoying seeing me suffer and you were so loyal to her that you didn't notice anyone else. I hated coming home from school because I knew I would have to see you together. Then, Jen and Ed fell in love and I thought I had a chance with you, but you didn't come home."
"I'm sorry, Millie, I really am. Things may have turned out differently if I had known how you felt."
"After almost ten years I have you and I don't intend to let you go. Seeing those ladies practically eating out of your hand tonight made me envious of the time you were devoting to them. That's why I followed you around, like a guard dog."
"Selling is part of my job. I had to listen to them. Besides, they're married women."
"I had to tell you how I've felt all these years. Thanks for listening."
Her morose disposition was depressing. I decided to play her game. "Isn't this where I get into your panties?" I asked, hoping to shock her. It worked.
"Why, Mr. Crumbly, am I finally going to get lucky?" she asked, unbuttoning my shirt.
I fumbled with her buttons, too and what followed was a different kind of dance. Our first time together was a total disaster and ten minutes later I found myself apologizing. Millie said she had been nervous, too, as if she knew my nervousness was because I had been afraid that I would call her by the wrong name.
"Thanks for not faking an orgasm," I said, pulling her to me and feeling her breasts against my chest.
She put both hands on my chest and pushed up to look down at me. "I'm a librarian, not an actress."
"You're unique," I said, hoping she would understand it was the highest compliment I could pay her. My fears were abated; in bed, Millie was unique, nothing she did reminded me of Jen.
"And you're sweet," she said, kissing me and lowing her breasts to rest on my chest.