Cameron looked up from his computer as Hannah called out, "I'm home!"
He logged out of his email and went to greet his cousin. "What happened?"
"He stood me up."
"What a dick," Cameron remarked as he tried to hide the fact that he was ogling his own cousin. He'd been buried in work and hadn't seen her all day, much less in the evening. She was wearing a tight denim skirt that barely went past her thighs. Makeup that made her look great, even though she was pretty already. A t-shirt so tight that he wondered if she was wearing a bra. The lime green sleeves were short and strained against her shoulders. The low cut black t-shirt showed off her breasts. Cameron pretended to read the abstract silver text beneath. All he could notice was Hannah's abs.
Hannah had been a student athlete in high school and undergrad. It had given her focus and relaxation, she said. Swimming had also given her washboard abs, muscular thighs, wicked calves. She had great legs already, but never showed them off. When she swam, Cameron saw her body. Her broad shoulders intrigued him. Hannah was delighted to pick up heavy objects. Cameron often worked from home, and sat. And sat. Grueling hours demanded that. He was delighted when his inbox was below a hundred emails in a day, and was diligent about returning texts and voicemails. He walked a mile a day in the morning, and another in the evening. Morning to prepare himself. Evening to unwind.
He'd suggested Hannah live with him for the first year of grad school. She was the only family member he still talked to, but less and less until they hadn't spoken in three years. They had mutual friends on social media, and he tried to reconnect. He didn't recognize her at first when he saw her after all that time. They did well as roommates. Two bedroom apartment. Cameron had seen her try on a slinky nightgown once. It had barely fit. He hadn't meant to look. Her door had been open. She had an hourglass figure. He was desperate to touch her hips. She barely wriggled out of the garment without the spaghetti straps falling apart. Cameron hurried away. That was the first time he masturbated to his cousin, a twenty-two-year-old younger than him by a decade or so.
That night was the second and third. It was unexpected, to say the least. Cameron came from "fuck you" money. He hired escorts regularly. None looked like his cousin. None had hair that couldn't decide whether it was curly or straight, brown or blond. Some escorts had freckles. So did Hannah. Cameron hired escorts to accompany him to work functions sometimes, but more often charity functions or community events he helped plan. He had sex with these women afterward. Sometimes he got insecure about the fact that he had to pay women for sex. Not "had to," he reminded himself sometimes. He chose to. Being wealthy was lonely. "Weep right into your giant piles of money!" Yes, because he had to treat everyone like they were after his money, not genuine affection. He hadn't spoken to Hannah in years, but it wasn't about money. Maybe familiarity turned him on. He cringed.
"Do you still want to do your date stuff? We could go," Cameron said, trying to sound casual.
"No," sighed Hannah. "I want to order takeout and watch a movie."
She reached down to take the t-shirt off and then paused. Carefully, she sort of--well, she angled her arms differently and then stopped. Cameron stepped to her.
"What's wrong?" He knew. They both knew. He wanted to hear her say it.
"This shirt is so tight that I can't wear a bra with it."
"I can see that," Cameron said quietly. Hannah didn't move. "Let me help you."
Hannah stood still as Cameron ran his hands over her hips and beneath her breasts before reaching down for the t-shirt. He felt his cousin's warm, smooth skin beneath his fingers as he carefully helped her wriggle loose from her constraint. The t-shirt puddled to the floor. Cameron looked Hannah in the eye as he ran his hands over her bare breasts and down to her sides. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. Cameron reached for her jean skirt.
"I'm going to change my shirt," Hannah said, and bolted. When she emerged a few minutes later, Hannah wore a somewhat loose gray tank top and matching lightweight pajama pants.
"You look good."
"You've seen me in this."
"Yeah. Looks comfortable."
Takeout was comfort food. Hannah curled up comfortably near Cameron. He wasn't going to ignore what he had done, even if Hannah was. She'd been drinking at dinner. Maybe that was just to steady her nerves. The movie was a horror movie both of them hated. They both jumped and squawked. Hannah was shaking. Cameron was too scared to turn it off. The credits finally rolled, and in a panic, Cameron turned the tv off.
"I can't believe my date wanted to see that," Hannah shrieked. She took a deep breath. "I'm glad he stood me up."
"I hope I was a decent stand-in."
"You were. You--I had a nice time tonight."
"Except for the movie I was too scared to turn off."
They both laughed. It broke some of the fear, some of the tension.
"So...I get kind of clingy after stuff like that," Hannah confessed shakily.
