Hello, dear readers. I'm glad you are here, ready to join me in this most improbable of tales. My name is Stephanie Fuller, pleased to meet you. Imagine me shaking your hand right now. Good, so... the reason for you being her. My story goes like this and I promise you, every word is true, no matter how out there it sounds. This is important stuff, I wouldn't lie about it. We go back ten years to the day before my 18th birthday. To the day my aunt, Emma Benning, came to visit my sweet, wholesome family and turned our lives upside down.
I was sitting in my room, reading some Jane Austen. I love her work, still do, and I was lost in the book when I heard the doorbell ring. I placed it gently on the bed, trying to stifle my excitement, as I heard footsteps outside my door, running swiftly along the landing and descending the stairs. My sisters, Rebecca and Ashley, were way ahead of me, already flying down the stairs to greet the visitor. We all knew that "cool" aunt Emma was coming today, wanting to be here to help celebrate my 18th birthday tomorrow. We were a pretty conservative family - my father was a member of the Conservative party here in Britain - like your Republicans if you didn't know - and so wasn't the most liberal with his daughters. We were privately educated and boys were a big no-no. At least, they were for me - my sisters were 19 and 21 respectively, so it was more difficult to stop them seeing boys at university, but I was still firmly shut away in the family abode.
Even so, neither of my sisters had had a proper boyfriend yet, even with their lives out of the family unit being freer than mine. I guess we're all just shy girls at heart. At least, that's what I thought. My mother was quiet too, tending to just go along with my father in all things related to us. Apparently she'd been a bit more forthright before she married him, but I didn't really know much about her life before us. She didn't talk about it much.
Aunt Emma ... well, she was different. I opened my door and saw my sisters clutching hard at Emma, who was hugging them back with equal vigour. Her bright red hair glinted in the hall light, her whole ensemble fashionable, colourful and in complete contrast to the beiges and dull tones of our family. She was like a breath of fresh air whenever she visited. We all loved her - except my father. He was always reluctant for her to visit, though we didn't know why quite yet.
I smiled down at her as she raised her head, spotting me. She fixed me with those penetrating blue eyes and grinned.
"Birthday girl!" she shouted. "Come on down, I want a hug. I'm not too old to hug, am I?"
I grinned back. "Of course not!"
Seconds later I was in her arms, enjoying the closeness. I so rarely hugged my parents, they were often aloof and cold towards us, even if they loved us equally in their own way. But this ... this felt more like real love. The closeness, the warmth ... I loved it.
"Oh, hey now, I need to breathe, you know!" she laughed, forcing me to disengage. "Oh, you are growing up now, little one. I can't call you that tomorrow, can I? Oh dear, how time flies."
"You can call me it if you like, auntie," I smiled.
"Well, maybe I will then ... just not when your friends are around ... but I feel like maybe you'll be a woman tomorrow and then maybe you'll change your mind. I've been looking forward to your 18th birthday for a long, long time. It'll be a special day for you ... for all of us, I think."
As she spoke, I saw ... I don't know, a strange glint in them. Like there was something even more special than my coming of age celebration she was thinking of. A surprise party, maybe? I always enjoyed surprises and something told me that tomorrow I'd be getting a big, big one. I couldn't wait.
"Ah, Emma," my father said from his study doorway. "If you want, I can take your bags to your room."
"A pleasure as always, Horace," she said, slipping her gloves off casually. "I would be very grateful if you do that while I say hello to Fiona. It's been too long and we ... there's a lot to discuss."
My father's expression darkened somewhat, which confused me.
"You know I don't approve of ... that," he said, checking himself. "I ... you know I don't like it."
"We can talk later," Emma said, firmly. "But ... we had a deal, Horace. You can't back out now. It has been honoured faithfully up until now ... but it is time for ... the inevitable to happen."
"I ... later. Later, we'll talk more. I'll get your bags," he said, exiting the building and starting to collect the enormous number of bags, trunks and wotsits from her convertible.
"You've got a lot of stuff!" Ashley said as our father came back in, clutching at various containers.
"I will admit to bringing more than normal," she smiled, that same glint in her eye. "It is a ... special occasion, after all."
My father sighed and climbed the stairs, bags in hand.
"Anyway!" Emma squawked. "Where's your lovely mother at?"
"She's in the garden," I said.
"Wonderful, I'll go see her right away. Can you help your father, girls?"
We agreed and set about helping him, soon having finished the job. My sisters returned to their rooms but I felt a little pang of curiosity about the exchange between my father and aunt Emma. Something was going on that we didn't understand and I wanted to know more. I had a hunch they wouldn't tell me, so I would just have to eavesdrop a bit.
I padded quietly down past my father's study - he was back inside working on his new book - and slipped past in silence. My destination was the back door and, easing it open, I walked down along the outside wall until I could peek round the corner. There was my mother and aunt, deep in conversation. I strained to hear ...
"... I'm not sure they're ready," I heard my mother say.
"Nonsense," Emma replied, hands on hips. "The agreement is in place, Fi. We made the deal and it has been over 20 years. Is that not long enough for you? I know what you are, woman. I'm your sister. You are more like me than you think ... hell, I know deep down you are worse than I am. You were always more shameless, more willing to push the boundaries of what we could do with..."
"I know, I know," my mother interrupted."I still feel it. Fuck, I feel it every fucking day!"
I was shocked beyond words. I'd never heard my mother swear like that in her life, not even when she got stung by all those bees a few years before.
"I want to fucking ... break my vows, to go back on all that I promised Horace when we got married. I do ... but ... my girls ... they're so innocent. I ... what if they can't handle it?"
"They've got Benning blood in them, Fi. They will definitely handle it ... they'll handle everything with ease. No matter how many of them they take on, no matter how long and thick each one is, no matter how much cu..."
"Okay, I get it," my mother blurted out. "Look, Horace has issues... I don't know if he'll stick with our bargain."
"He will," Emma said, coldly. "He has no choice. Everything is in place already. They'll be here tomorrow at 9am sharp. Then the second batch at 11, the third at 1 and so on."
"My God, Emma," my mother blanched. "How many have you got ... how many?"
"Last count was about 20," she grinned. My mother's face went pale ... but I saw her put her hand on her chest, which was heaving ... with excitement? Fear?
"Oh my ... 20? Are you crazy?"
"Hmmm, maybe ... perhaps we should double that?"
"Fucking hell... you're making me... Emma..."
"Yes, Fiona?" Emma chuckled.
"Triple it."