"Glen, can you press 'Play' for me," Casey said, and I leaned across from the couch, and pushed the button on the CD player. Immediately, the room was filled with the sound of a crappy rap song, as my sister began to rehearse her latest baton twirling routine, for the fiftieth time. Okay, maybe it wasn't the fiftieth time, but it seemed like it.
There are only a certain number of times you can watch a skinny twelve-year old girl prancing around, throwing a baton in the air and catching it, and still stay interested, but I sat there dutifully, watching Casey spinning, gyrating and jumping in time with the music, in her bright lime green practice leotard, and silver shimmer tights, and the rather wicked thought crossed my mind,
If she was a few years older, this might be more interesting.
Welcome to the world of a sex-mad eighteen-year old virgin.
As the song reached it's ending, Casey jumped in the air, and landed exactly on the last beat, holding the pose for the count of two, and relaxing. "That was a good one," I said, and meaning it, "you might get a place this time."
Casey looked at the clock on the wall, and said, "Aunt Stephanie should be here any minute now. We better tidy up and get ready for her."
There wasn't really any tidying to do, just a matter of putting Casey's practice mat and baton away, so as she grabbed her things, she said, "I wonder what she looks like. I haven't seen her since I was, I don't know, six or something."
"Probably hasn't changed much," I said, without, much interest.
My Aunt Stephanie was what people in my grandmother's generation called a "change of life baby." That meant she was born right towards the end of my grandmother's childbearing years, long after Grandma thought she would have any more children.
There were four kids in my mother's family. First, there was Uncle Max, and then, two years later, Uncle John was born. Another eighteen months down the track, my mother, Julia, came along, and everybody thought that was it, but then twelve years later, when Grandma was forty-six, she fell pregnant again, to everyone's surprise, and my Aunt Stephanie came into the world.
Apart from being sisters, my mother didn't have much in common with Aunt Stephanie, but that's only natural when you think about it. By the time Aunt Stephanie was six, and still playing with dolls, my mother was already eighteen, legally an adult, and probably playing a different sort of game, with boys around her own age, so it was almost like they were from different generations. I was born when my mum was twenty-six, so Aunt Stephanie was only thirteen years older than me, but when you're a kid, a person thirteen years older is practically middle-aged.
Aunt Stephanie lived in the same city us, until I was twelve years old, and she was twenty-five, and that year, she met a guy called Brad, and moved to Queensland with him. Next thing we knew, she rang back to say they were engaged, but they never got married, and just lived together for six years. We never saw her for all that time, but she would send my mother a birthday present each year, and the family got a card from her at Christmas time, but apart from the occasional phone call, we didn't have much contact with her.
About four months after my eighteenth birthday, my mother got a call from Aunt Stephanie, to say she had broken up with her fiancé, after all those years, and had arranged a job transfer back to our home town, to make a fresh start. After a few more phone calls over the next few days, my parents offered to let Aunt Stephanie stay with us for a few weeks until she got a place of her own. None of this meant a great deal to me, because I hadn't seen her since I was twelve, but my sister and I set about getting the spare room set up for our aunt, until she found somewhere of her own.
When you think about it, I was probably not much different from most eighteen-year old guys. I had sex on my mind a lot of the time, even though I had never had any, (at least the kind you have with another person), I masturbated almost every day, and I was looking forward to the day I kissed my virginity good-bye. Pretty standard, I guess.
I'd only ever had one girlfriend, whose name was Sally, but after we had been going together for a few months, her dad, who was in the army, got transferred to another unit in a different state, so that was the end of that. I never had sex with Sally, but we kissed and cuddled all the time, which was pretty exciting to a guy my age, and a few times she had let me put my hand in her pants, and finger her pussy. The second time I did it, I smelt my finger, and tasted it when she wasn't looking, and I found out how exciting the smell, and the taste, of pussy were to a guy. I think if Sally and I had been going out together a little longer, we probably would have had sex, because things were moving that way, but it just wasn't to be.
Stephanie was due to arrive that afternoon, and both our parents were at work, so it was up to Casey and me to meet her when she arrived. When the doorbell rang, a few minutes later, I knew
who
to expect, but I got a surprise when opened the door, and saw
what
she looked like.
In reality, at thirty-one, Aunt Stephanie didn't look much different from the way she did six years before, but I was remembering her through the eyes of a twelve-year old, and I have to say that through the eyes of a horny eighteen-year old, she looked a whole lot better.
