Chapter 25: Julie stays another day
Like the previous morning, Julie Jasper came to wakefulness on Monday after having had some intensely sexual dreams. The difference was these dreams had been pleasant and pleasurable; she had enjoyed what was going on in these dreams. She cracked an open eye at the clock on the bedside table: 5:32, it read, and the darkness in the room told her dawn was still a while off. The muffled noise from below, however, told her that the diner was humming with the early-risers.
Suddenly, Julie realized that while someone still shared her bed, it was Janet’s smaller female frame that lay facing away from her, her long strawberry blonde hair fanning across the pillow. Michael was apparently gone. Julie noticed, too, that as she lay on her back, there was a large wet spot under her butt. Since she vividly – exquisitely – recalled Michael spraying her face with his cum the night before, she surmised that he must have fucked her again in her sleep before he left.
Julie shrugged her shoulders as she rolled over and dozed back off. She chuckled sleepily as she recalled the most vivid of her sexy dreams. She had been in a room with a single spotlight on a bed, with a dark background, surrounded by men with hard cocks. She couldn’t see their faces, but she could definitely see their dicks as they took turns fucking her in all of her holes. Suddenly, she was alone, with Michael fucking her hard and, strangely, her Aunt Cora had been in a chair off to the side watching. Maybe that had been when Michael was actually fucking her earlier. In Julie’s dream, her aunt didn’t say anything, but just sat in the chair watching avidly, nodding her head and smiling. It appeared that she was masturbating, although she couldn’t recall actually seeing anything. But Aunt Cora was dressed in her sexiest blood-red nightgown, with the hem of the gown bunched up in her lap and her hands between her legs. In her sleepy haze, Julie decided it meant that Aunt Cora approved of her radical new life.
To say that Julie came from a small family would be an understatement. Her mother, Estelle, had been the older of two daughters of the owner of a shoe store in a small town in East Texas: Cora was four years her junior. Julie had been an only child, born in 1960 when her mom was 41, and Cora, despite three failed marriages, never had children.
Her father, Ed Leary, had grown up in San Antonio with an older brother and a younger sister. Uncle George had had two sons and a daughter; one son was killed in Vietnam in 1967 and the other died in a refinery accident in 1971, both leaving no children. Her uncle had died four years after that, of a broken heart, they all said. Her Aunt Louise had married an Army man from New York and gone back to live there, and Julie had only met the woman twice, at her uncle’s and her father’s funerals. So that left her cousin Diane in San Antonio, with whom she exchanged Christmas cards, but only saw about once every six years or so, and Aunt Cora, who lived alone in a townhouse in New Orleans.
Cora was 74 and still active, although arthritis was starting make walking more difficult and she had started using a cane to help her get around, but otherwise she had aged well. She had frequently visited her sister, who continued to love and stand by her even as she strongly disapproved of her lifestyle. Julie, of course, adored her aunt, because she was so sophisticated and charming, and she always brought Julie the neatest gifts. Then, when they had lived in the New Orleans suburb of Slidell, in the late 1980s, she had become even closer to her aunt. That had been the only thing she had liked about living in Louisiana, and they had stayed in close touch.
Many who saw them together were astounded to learn that Julie was not Cora’s daughter. They had the same tall, slender build, the same striking good looks and the same bright red hair, although her aunt’s shoulder-length mane of curly hair was shot through with silver by now. Estelle – and Ed, for that matter – had both been shorter and stockier, and Julie, at a shade less than 6 feet tall, had been considerably taller than both of her parents.
Cora McConnell had scandalized her family with her bohemian, feminist lifestyle, but now Julie understood that her aunt had chosen to embrace her sexuality and not hide from it. It had been her aunt who had encouraged her to take an interest in the arts, and to major in theater education in college when her high school interest in the stage became a passion for acting. Her aunt had even run interference for her with her mother on the issue, although her mom had insisted that she earn a minor – nearly a double major – in business. The irony was not lost on her mom that Julie had actually made better grades and won more honors in the business school at Baylor than in the drama department.
The point was, Julie thought as she woke up again and glanced at the clock, which read 5:46, Aunt Cora would encourage her to push forward fearlessly with her new self. Julie reasoned that God had made her like this; had given her a sexy, desirable body, an outgoing personality and an apparently enormous capacity for giving and receiving sexual pleasure. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Why shouldn’t she share her talents with the wider world? Sure, there were risks, a lot of them. Julie was well-read, and she knew what hazards awaited the careless and unsuspecting. But, she finally decided, she could also get hit by a truck on the way home. There were no guarantees in life, and she made up her mind that she was going to experience everything she had missed by living a sheltered, proper life.
