A quick scene I pushed out today in which Robert has filched some dirty pictures taken years before of his grandmother. She discovers the photos are missing, and being a feisty, no-nonsense kind of lady she confronts him head-on.
I hope you enjoy the piece. I did it on the fly but I hope there aren't too many glitches in it. Please forgive any errors that remain.
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OK, I'll STFU and get this sown the wire. Again, I hope you enjoy the tale. There's potential for a continuation if you, the reader, would like some more, but you have to let me know.
GA – Langkawi, Malaysia – 18th of December 2012.
She confronted me in the kitchen. "Where are they?" she asked, stern-faced, arms folded.
One look told me she was angry.
My insides slid with greasy foreboding – I'd been greedy, held on to them for a day longer than I should have. Now I'd been caught out.
"What?" I said in response, but even as I tried to bluff it out I knew my grandmother wouldn't let it go. "Where's what, Gran?"
"You know damn well what, Robert," she snapped. She knew I'd done it, of course she knew, she could see the guilt in my burning cheeks and shifting eyes. "There's been nobody else in the house for days. Elaine's been on holiday for a week; the only other person to come in here is you. I know they were there on Tuesday ..." My grandmother held her arms up and fixed me with one of her uncompromising expressions. Having been a teacher for over thirty years she had the look down to a fine art. "Today's Saturday, Robert, and unless someone broke in and took them, targeted them specifically, the only possible culprit is you." My grandmother's finger jabbed in my direction.
It was one of those moments of humiliation when you wish the ground would just open up.
What had possessed me to take them? Why didn't I just look and put them back? I'd intended to return them as soon as I'd taken copies but I hadn't done it in time. What an idiot, a complete and utter twat. I should have known better than to think Gran wouldn't confront me about it; she isn't the type to let such a huge transgression pass by without speaking out – even if the occasion would be hugely embarrassing for both of us.
Looking at the floor, cheeks burning, I mumbled, "They're at home, in my bag, I was going to put them back. Honest."
"Sit down," my grandmother ordered after a few moments silence. Still avoiding her eye I slid the ladder-backed chair along the flagstones of the kitchen floor and sat down with my elbows resting on the deal table. She hit me with questions. "Why did you take them, Robert? And just what were you doing to find them? They weren't somewhere where anyone could just stumble across them, were they? You had to have been looking; had to have been
snooping
about."
"I'm so sorry, Gran," I mumbled, chin on my chest.
The way she'd spoken that word – snooping – I could hear the contempt dripping from every syllable. I've always been curious, inquisitive, or maybe, simply, downright nosey. I couldn't resist the temptation to pry into the intimate corners of my grandmother's private things when she was out, I was meant to be fitting a satellite dish to her house but decided to have a nose about while the opportunity was there. Being in her bedroom when I shouldn't have been gave me a buzz; I got a thrill from the possibility, remote as it was, of being caught. I don't know what I'd expected to find but coming across a couple of dozen dirty photos certainly never occurred to me.
At first I couldn't believe my eyes, my grandmother is usually prim and proper, not a prude – as the photos proved – but to me she always came across as straight-laced; she even frowned if I said the word 'shit' in her presence. Initially I'd wondered why gran had a stash of nude pictures, what would she get out of looking at some naked woman? And then, as the need to touch myself surged through me, I realised that the subject in the pictures was her – The girl in the photos was my own grandmother!
Now, Gran is still pretty fit. She's fifty-seven, and I know that because she was nineteen when she had my mother, and my mother was nineteen when she had me, and since I'm now nineteen ...
Gran has matured in the graceful, elegant way that a movie star might, in a kind of Helen Mirren style, and I could see quite clearly, now that I recognised her, that the girl in the photos was her. As I flicked through the stack of pictures I could hear my own laboured breathing, I was so turned on by my discovery that it didn't register at the time that this was my mother's mother I was all fired up over; all I knew was I had a cock like iron and I needed to pull it.
I took two photos and rushed into the bathroom. Then, with the pictures on the floor in front of me I knelt and unzipped my jeans.
"Sexy," I grunted, tugging hard at my cock, eyes glued to my grandmother's big breasts and the tangle of her pubic bush as she posed wide-legged on some ancient bed. "Fucking sexy," I moaned, still yanking hard. When I came, the spunk gushing out of me, I somehow managed to catch most of it in a wad of toilet tissue I had handy for that sole purpose.
Then, after a bit of a wipe-up, I tossed the clump of soggy tissue into the toilet bowl and flushed the evidence. A kind of madness overwhelmed me, and Instead of cooling my ardour my orgasm had merely fanned the flames of lust, and that's when I made to insane decision to take the pictures away with me. I had some lunatic idea that defied common sense about copying the photos on the computer scanner at home and then replacing them in the suitcase.
Only that hadn't happened and now I'd been accused outright by the outraged victim.
"Why did you take them" my grandmother asked, her tone softening a little. "What on Earth were you ..." She paused, a hand going to her mouth. "Oh my God!" she cried. "You haven't shown them to anyone, have you? My God, Robert, tell me nobody else has seen them."
"No!" I blurted, and finally dared to look at her face. "I swear, Gran, nobody else knows about them. Only me. I haven't shown them to anyone."
"Oh, thank God," my grandmother gasped. "That's good news. Oh dear, I don't know what I'd do if anyone else saw them. I need a drink."
She pushed her chair back from the table and went to the fridge. Gran poured gin into two glasses, added ice and, after pouring in a level of tonic water into each, handed me one.
I don't like gin but sipped at my drink all the same.
"So why did you take the pictures, Robert?" she asked again. When I just blinked a few times and looked at the table I think the penny dropped for her. "You ...?" she gasped. "You mean you looked at them and ...?
"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I can't explain it. I'm so ashamed. But ... but you were so beautiful, Gran. I mean, you still are, but ... but ... the girl in the photos ..."
