Author does not condone the use of mind-altering substances for the base pursuit of "getting high".
Always use protection, even if virtually no one in virtual-Literotica-Land does. Seriously. It's important.
For people who have read my other stories: This is the same Lauren from "A Bad Boy" and "Can I Get A Ride?" But I wouldn't call her an obsession.
*
When Scott came home to Virginia from his sophomore year at college way out west in California, he met his father's fiancé. The wedding would be in August. Scott was friendly enough to the woman, Kimberly, even though she had redecorated his childhood home. At least she had left his upstairs room alone. He didn't have to deal with her too much, anyway. He worked in D.C. during the days, and usually came home late enough to avoid a family dinner or some other such nonsense. Kimberly never told him what to do. Scott was fiercely independent; it had been ten years since his mother left, and Kimberly seemed to understand that he would only resent her if she tried to be his mother.
And so it wasn't until just a week before the wedding that Scott discovered that Kimberly had a daughter—and he would soon have a sister. He had come home, around 8:30 that evening, and found the house empty. Strange, he thought. Maybe they went out to dinner or something. He went up to his room, put on a Grateful Dead recording, went about rolling a joint. He decided against smoking it, until after his dad and Kimberly were home and fast asleep. He heard the car pull into the driveway on the other side of the house. He hid the weed in his desk drawer, sat back, turned on his computer. Waiting, waiting. The door opened, his father called upstairs: "Hey Scott, come on down here."
Unusual, Scott thought. He got up, went down the stairs. "Scott," Kimberly said, "this is my daughter Lauren. She's just flown back from a summer in Italy."
"Sounds a lot better than a summer in Washington D.C.," Scott joked, while looking Lauren up and down. She was a beauty. She must have been eighteen years old, fresh out of high school, a few inches shorter than Scott, long dirty blond hair, big brown eyes, tanned skin and a killer hourglass figure. Scott mentally slapped himself. She was going to be his sister! "How was Italy?" he asked her.
"Wonderful," she replied.
"She'll tell you all about it later. Why don't you help take her bags up to her room?" Scott's dad suggested.
"The guest room?"
"It's Lauren's room now," he said. Scott smiled. That was right next to his room. He grabbed the heaviest looking suitcase and led her upstairs. "It's just right over here," he said. He set her suitcase down at the foot of the queen size bed. The room had a desk, a dresser, and the bed, a couple of bland paintings on the walls.
"It'll do for a couple of weeks, I guess," she said. She set her bags down, collapsed on the bed. "Thanks."
"No problem. Long flight?"
"Yeah. So... have you lived here your whole life?"
"Well, I've been in college for a couple of years now, in California."
"And how is California? I've never been there."
"Let's just say that I miss it, and that I never want to leave. You probably feel the same way about Italy."
"Yeah," she sighed.
"Well, my room is just on the other side of that wall. Knock if you need anything," Scott said.
"On the wall?"
Scott stopped, smiled. "Yeah."
*****
The wedding was in an Arlington church on a Saturday afternoon. The reception that night was at some big hotel in D.C. Scott and Lauren hid in the back for most of the reception, trying desperately to avoid all their parents' strange middle-aged yuppy friends, all of whom were getting drunk. Figuring they wouldn't be noticed, they stole a bottle of red wine and drank it down.
"Yuppies are so funny," Lauren commented. They were sitting at a big round table, watching all the people dancing to the 80's music a DJ was spinning.
"I know. They freak me out," Scott said.
"Are there a lot of yuppies in California?"
"There are a lot of yuppies everywhere there is suburbia," Scott postulated, poured another glass. They snuck another bottle, drank it down, soon found themselves to be just as trashed as all the yuppies.
"So, we're like brother and sister now, huh," Lauren slurred. Scott nodded.
"I've always been an only child. Until today."
"Me too," she said. They looked at their now-married parents. "So they leave for their honeymoon in the morning, right?"
"Yeah, we better say good-bye before they stumble up to their newlywed suite," Scott said. They stumbled over to the wedding party table, said their good-byes and good-nights, said they were off to bed. "I'll walk you to your room, since mine is right next door," Scott said. He grabbed another bottle of the red wine on the way out. Lauren had to lean against him to keep from falling down. She was wearing a red summer halter-top minidress, low cut in the front. Scott could hardly keep from peering down at his step-sister's ample cleavage. He had been fighting that urge all night, and failing more often as he got more drunk. He had to admit: his new sister was hot.
They rode the elevator up to their floor. He kept taking peaks down the top of her mini-dress, hoping she didn't notice. Her arm was around him, her hand on his hip. Once, it slid down to his butt, and she quickly moved it back up to his hip.
They came to their rooms. "You want another drink?" he offered.
She looked at him for a moment, shook her head. "I'm already plenty drunk," she said.
"Okay. Just thought I'd offer. Good night," he said.
"Good night," she said, and closed the door; Scott walked over to his, opened it, went inside. He tossed his jacket on the chair, took off his tie, unbuttoned his nice white shirt. He grabbed a corkscrew, sat down on the bed, opened the bottle of red wine. He took a swig, straight from the bottle, and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels for a few minutes, stopped when he found the soft-core porn on Cinemax. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the joint he'd been saving. He was about to spark it when there was a knocking on the wall. It was coming from Lauren's room. He realized then that there was a door connecting the two rooms. He wondered if Kimberly knew, shrugged, got up, walked over to it, opened the door. Lauren was leaning against the door frame, trying to steady herself.
"I think I would like another drink," she said, smiling. He handed her the bottle and she took a short drink from it, right from the bottle. She handed it back to him, swallowed. "You gonna smoke that?" she asked, looking at the joint in his hand.
"You wanna toke this with me?"
"Yeah," she said. "That's weed, right?"
"Yeah," he said, laughing.
"Good." She walked into the room, sat down on the bed, looked at the TV. "Anything good on the TV?"
"Just the skin-flick on Cinemax."
"Oh boy," she said. Scott climbed onto the bed, sat down leaning against the headboard. He looked at her. She sat back against the headboard next to him. She was still wearing that red minidress, Scott still had great difficulty tearing his eyes from her cleavage. She handed him a lighter. He took it, happy to be distracted for a bit, and lit the end of the joint. He puffed on it a few times, and the end lit. The smoke curled toward the ceiling. He took a big hit and then handed it to her. He hopped out of the bed, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, threw it on the floor in front of the door. He walked over to the window on the other side of the room, opened it, let the warm summer breeze in. He got back on the bed, took the joint from Lauren, puffed on it, handed it back. She took another hit. "So what do you think of that weed?" he asked her.
She coughed. He laughed. She laughed. They took a few more swigs of wine, kept puffing on the joint until it was finished. They watched the overly buff guy and the girl with huge tits on Cinemax. "Those are so fake," Lauren said.
"Her tits?"
"Yes, her tits. Totally fake."
"How do you know?"
"I just know," she declared.
"You've got better tits, anyway," Scott said. His eyes grew wide when he realized just what he said, and he took a quick, long swig of red wine.
