Part One:
At the age of 23, I had already lived a very erratic, sketchy life. I ran away from home at the age of 14 and joined The Lucky Stars Acrobatic Group as a contortionist. While I was doing my flexible and gravity-defying routines I was used to men howling at me in the audience. I remained professional and continued my journey onstage those nights, usually visited in the dressing rooms by one of my fans that evening.
But that's all ancient history.
At 18 I decided to give up that kind of objectified life and went to college to study Sociology with a minor in English Literature. I worked hard in school and I also maintained full-time work, but I couldn't get my parents to look at that part of my life. They looked at me as a failure with a screwy and checkered past -- something they just couldn't seem to forgive me for.
But when I graduated at college, I had trouble finding a job in the Social Services field that I wanted. That summer I was kind of at a loss at what to do with myself, except to keep working at my job in the bookstore and keep applying to difference organizations where I could employ my skills, or at least volunteer my time for the experience.
I felt like I had nowhere to go, but there was one savior in my life -- my grandfather. He had always been there for me, never judged me for whatever phase of life I was in and accepted my joys, disappointments, mistakes and uncertainty.
It was in the beginning of July that he called me and wondered if I'd like to come down to Florida for a visit. I was delighted! Of course I would, I told him. It had been so long since I had been to that part of the country and I was looking forward to seeing my favorite family member who loved me as much as I loved him. I could only afford to take a bus down to Florida, but he insisted he pay for a plane ticket to see him for a few weeks. I accepted.
After a very turbulent plane ride and sitting next to a lady who would
not
stop chewing gum, I was happy when the plane landed. I stepped off the aircraft and went down the long, winding hallway to the airport. I saw my grandfather.
He looked like he had aged a bit since I saw him last, but he still looked as handsome as ever. He had just celebrated his 78
th
birthday and his hair was white by this time. There were a few more wrinkles, but it looked like he had lost some weight since the last time we visited. He was very tall, standing 6'0".
"Gramps!" I yelled.
I ran over to him and dropped my bag. I gave him a hug and he squeezed me tightly.
"Look at you, little woman, you've really grown!" he said, holding me at arms-length, chuckling.
I laughed too, my face beaming with a smile. "How's it going, grandpa?"
"Very well, sweetheart. How have you been?"
We talked about my life and went to pick up my suitcases at the carousel and while we did that, I filled him in on the last few years; how I graduated and worked my way through school, but the struggle I was having trying to find the sort of job I wanted. He was happy for all my achievements and was compassionate when he needed to be.
We walked out to his car, my arm slipped in the crook of his as he struggled with my luggage. It was fair to say I had a slight crush on him -- I always had, but of course nothing had ever happened. I didn't think I wanted that type of relationship and wasn't really open to it. I put the subject out of my mind.
My grandmother had died a few years ago from an aneurism in her brain, leaving my grandfather devastated by the loss. He said it had only been in the last 9-10 months he felt like he had got his life back and was now weeding his way through the mourning and possibly seeing light and hope for his future.
We talked about all this and more as we picked up some McDonald's on the way to his house and chatted over lunch on his patio with a couple of sodas. We looked back on our memories (both good and bad) and we seemed to have a mutual understanding and acceptance.
I'd look at him when I thought he wasn't looking; he had beautiful blue eyes and white hair -- as I mentioned -- but I noticed, for the first time close-up, that it was starting to thin a little bit. I smiled to myself.
I may not have gotten my mother's huge breasts or my father's beautiful green eyes, but I wasn't any slouch myself. I had a dancer's body with small breasts and brown hair and brown eyes. My hair was long and wavy and I had naturally long eyelashes that rarely needed mascara. My acne and babyfat were gone now and, I think, I had grown into a very pretty young lady, standing at 5'2", my weight shifting between 105-110 lbs.
Grandpa and I talked a little bit about my job as a contortionist. I didn't mind talking about it with him, as he refrained -- unlike most men -- of being a complete swine about it. True, I had sometimes used my former career as a performer to attract men -- and then was completely disgusted when they took the bait. Women, women, women. Men were attracted to my physical attributes in the bedroom and my easygoing ways outside of it. But, now offstage, I was calling the shots in my relationships (or, my past relationships, as I wasn't seeing anyone at the time), and during the last 1-2 years had found my sexual inner being. To skip the doubletalk and bullshit, I was horny a lot and had finally found comfort in my excessive sexuality and skills.
Grandpa had been retired for about seven years now. He used to be a pediatrician, and a damn good one at that. But now, he said, he was getting tired of relaxing and wanted something to occupy more of his time. I told him maybe he could look for a part-time job or maybe get in to a new hobby. He looked somewhat interested in those ideas, but not completely devoted to them. I was exhausted from the jetlag and asked if I could take a nap in the guest room he had arranged for me.
"As long as you're staying with me, it's not a guest room, sweetheart," he told me. "It's
your
room to do with as you please. I don't ever want you to feel like you're a guest in my home. You're family, baby."
"Thanks, Grandpa." I smiled at him.
We cleaned up our lunch wrappers and cups and he showed me to my room. It was a beautifully decorated room with green-and-white plaid being the predominant theme of the covers and curtains. I could tell he had really fixed it up for me. It was very sweet and thoughtful.
He held the small of my back with his large hand. "You'd better get to bed, baby. I know you must be very tired." He left me to myself and I shut the door. I dressed down to my panties and t-shirt and crawled into the full-sized bed. It was so luxurious -- like sleeping on a cloud.
Little did I know what was in store for me during this trip.
Part Two:
I woke up about an hour later in bed, my hand in my panties, soaking wet. I had some sort of nasty dream and was playing with myself; I couldn't remember what the dream was, though. I had a vague recollection that it had something to do with my grandfather as the object of my affection.
The last time grandpa had seen me was almost ten years before. I had grown up and I knew he noticed it. This also made me feel very nasty and very naughty. I shook it aside and took a shower after my long trip. I dried off, dried my hair, put on some lipstick and a little bit of concealer and slipped on a new outfit: a tight pair of jeans and a snug shirt. Now made up for the rest of the day, I walked down the hallway to the living room where my grandfather was reading. He put down the newspaper and grinned.
