Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
She was getting anxious. It was raining heavily outside, sounds of thunder in the distance. The clock on the microwave was past 8:00 PM now, and darkness was creeping in, though this was no matter to Laura Pascal: a tall, skinny 55-year-old woman with a puffed, wrinkled face who lived with her cat in a two-story chalet in the woods of a small town too far north of the nearest metropolis. The expansive second story was her own, and below, a near-identical apartment where city dwellers could, but rarely did, book online. Laura had depended on those to pay the bills, and times were especially tough. Though, in the midst of darkness, a silver lining did appear for her. All she needed to do was pay her final mortgage payment that month, and a huge burden would've been laid off of her: the house would've been hers. Defaulting on it would've forfeited the property to her late ex-husband's wife, which was a fear-turned-phobia to Laura. Though several other debts had piled up, she just needed four straight weeks of bookings to make her remaining payment.
The man only known to her as "Dale E." had booked a week at the last minute. She had already decided that she was going to make it the best experience possible for the stranger, to convince him to stay longer. She cleaned the apartment thoroughly, sprayed Febreze in the air, left chocolates on his made up beds, and a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter with a note, "Enjoy your stay! Please don't hesitate to come upstairs if there's anything you need. Laura xoxo", one of several notes she had written before tearing up the others as she debated with herself on the appropriateness of the phrasing. Men almost always came with their wives, girlfriends, or mistresses presented as one of the former. A part of her almost wished a handsome man would come alone, because "convincing" him to stay longer wasn't just for financial reasons for her. It had been years since the last time. She needed it.
Though, at the moment, she only needed a knock on the door. Her flexible cancellation policy made it possible for bookers to cancel at the last minute, as they had before. Laura's nervousness was causing her to tremble, checking her phone constantly for the all-too-familiar cancellation message. She was going to greet the man in a thin lime shirt, braless, her nipples poking out, and purple yoga pants with a modest amount of cameltoe showing, and leggings cut up to the middle of her calves, as all of her tights were. Barefoot on her carpeted hallways, as it only made sense.
Finally, a knock on the door. Thank God! She rushed downstairs in both fear and excitement. Opening the door, she saw a tall, slightly grey-haired man, reminding her of a creepily familiar old neighbour she had when she was a child. The curly redhead smiled and welcomed him, "Hello, Dale! Please, come in out of the rain!" He smiled back at her. "Yeah. My shoes are muddy. Oh, and I should get her too. And our luggage as well."
Laura's disappointment wasn't seen through her continued smiling as he told him to go ahead, as she would wait for them inside; subsequently regretting not offering to help, though debating whether that's the image she wants to leave with him as a drenched, inappropriately dressed woman carrying luggage out of his car. She waited inside, and then saw her. A stunning, young girl who had to have been less than half his age, bordering barely past adulthood, who she presumed was his daughter.
After they had finished, Laura gave them a personal tour of the window-clad apartment, and tried to banter with them the best she could through her usual introversion. The short, blond girl with the gold nose-ring was introduced to her as "Chrissy," but a relationship wasn't mentioned. She was almost half his size as well, though him putting his arm around her and pulling her close was a confusing suggestion for Laura. Instead of prodding, she just tried to focus on Dale to make him feel like the center of the universe. At the end, she re-iterated what her note said, "Don't worry if it's night, if you need anything at all, please come upstairs. My door is always open." She wanted to pucker her lips at Dale to insinuate a kiss, but thought better of it. Instead, she smiled again at both of them and told them to "have fun during their stay," which she also immediately regretted.
Unlike most of the times with renters overheard through the thin walls, it was quiet below on the first night, and not what Laura had wanted. But she knew it would have been a long shot.
The next night she received an expected text message from Dale asking about the usuals: laundry arrangements, if there was a Wi-Fi limit, and so forth. She answered all of his questions as nicely as possible, and the conversation concluded. A little past midnight, however, another text message came.
"Sorry if you're asleep, but is there a PIN number on the cable box? A lot of the channels are parental protected."
"Oh, sorry about that! Was a request of a previous renter who also came with children since some of the channels are adult. It's 8831."
"Nice. Notice you've got Playboy, Hustler, and more. Will give us ton to watch tonight."
