A shorter chapter, just to keep everyone going whilst the next few chapters are tidied up!
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I can't recall much about going home that night. I was on cloud nine and must have cycled across town on autopilot. On waking the next morning, I spent a long time lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to reassure myself that everything had been real. It had all been over in less than two minutes, but that drunken blow job was already the absolute highlight of my life. Period. Of course, now it was the morning after and there would be consequences, even if it wasn't me who initiated things. You can't shoot cum down the throat of your favourite aunt without consequences.
I wouldn't typically go anywhere near the bookshop on a Sunday, and I certainly wasn't keen on contacting Sue until I had to, but by mid-morning I had received two texts from Aunt Sue suggesting it would be good to speak. At least the second text finished with 'Strong Coffee Provided Xxx' which seemed to suggest she wasn't going to go completely off the wall with me, which was some comfort.
When I got into the flat, Sue seemed to be more anxious and sheepish than anything. Any vain hope I had that she may have forgotten the details of what happened in a fog of whiskey evaporated as soon as she opened her mouth.
'Hey Jack... about last night ... ... I am SO sorry. I can't begin to forgive myself for what I did.' She blushed like a beetroot. 'I can try to blame the alcohol, but that's not really a full answer.' She paused for a little while, with just the hint of a tear forming in her eye. 'I guess I've been a lot lonelier since Mike died than I've admitted, in every way, and, ... well, you've been such a great help, and ... I feel like I've spoilt everything.'
I didn't have anything immediate to say to this, so I just sat quietly for a minute, drank a bit of my coffee, and then finally said 'I don't know what you have to be sorry about. I understand that you are lonely, but you must realize that last night in the bathroom was the most exciting moment of my life. 100%... I know it was just a one-off thing, and maybe it was because you had all that whiskey, but it was ... just amazing ... and I will always be happy whenever I think about it.'
'Don't...'
'Don't what? ...Don't talk about it ... or don't remember what happened? I'm not sure that will ever forget a single millisecond. I know that I can't talk about it, ever, to anyone. Does that make you feel more comfortable? But I can't forget something so mindblowing.'
She stared at me, continuing to blush, and it was her turn not to know what to do...
'Shall we hug and move on?' I said, which seemed a bit of a daft suggestion but was the only thing which sprang to mind, so that is what we did. It was a very proper hug, one that anyone in the family could have watched (the sort you might safely give your Aunt, I thought, with a private smirk). It was a little awkward, but I suppose that's the best you could expect.
'Right then' she said decisively 'I better get my ass in gear and move over to Fairpark sooner rather than later, don't you think? Especially if I ever want to risk having a glass of wine or two safely!'
I helped her put bags into the car (she was taking about half her wardrobe) and talked about one or two more practical arrangements concerning the bookshop. Sue gave me the company credit card to buy what was needed, and confirmed that a salary had been set up direct into my account. 'I'll only be about 20 minutes away by car' she said, 'but I do trust you to run things as best you can and make a real go of things in the coming weeks.'
Just as she was about to go she came over and gave me another hug, this one less formal and a lot tighter. I found myself breathing in the smell of her hair once more. I gently kissed the top of her head. However awkward things felt, I guess we had moved on to a further stage of intimacy, although now we would be sensibly far apart for several days at a time, I guessed for the foreseeable future.
I spent the next few hours wandering around the flat, trying to get my head around all that had happened and what my next few weeks might look like. In just a few weeks I went from a confused school leaver to living alone and running a bookshop. So what next? Top of my list had to be getting CCTV put in, and not just because Sue had asked me to sort it...
Within two days I had made a major step forward on this project, locating a supplier of regular and more far more 'discrete' camera and audio equipment than one normally finds who was prepared to give me a good deal for a job lot. The idea of going overboard on the CCTV had grown on me since the idea first arose. Sue didn't baulk at the extra cost of all the kit, as it still worked out much cheaper than a commercial job with me doing all the work. By the end of the first two weeks, not only had everything arrived safely but I had a good number of WiFi HD cameras and listening devices installed, mostly hidden in the shop, but nearly half in the flat as well. This took quite some research and experimentation to get right, but it's amazing what you can find on the internet and when you have every evening free to indulge your hobby.
You might think I'm a bit weird or even a complete pervert, (and perhaps I am), but I think any tech minded male would have done something like this given half the chance. OK, so it was pushing it a bit to fit so many into the flat itself, but I couldn't get images of Sue out of my head, either in her Teddy or kneeling on the bathroom floor... and if something ever happened again, I wanted to have it on film. Mind you, even without film, these images still came to mind often as Sue and I chatted on the phone or shared a video call of an evening. A lot of our regular chat was about bookshop or factory issues, but there remained some gentle flirting and teasing, and I must admit to occasionally relieving my hard-on occasionally as we spoke. Again, who wouldn't, with those images burned into their mind...
So, alongside everything else I did to run the bookshop during the daytime, I was spending my evenings tinkering with the tech needed to support a large number of Wi-Fi High Definition spy cameras and audio streams. It seems like my hobby was finally coming in useful, or at least useful to me. When all was done, there were discreet cameras placed in dozens of strategic locations in the book shop and the flat. Many sat behind vents or inset into the shelving units. No thief was ever going to get away without being spotted, and neither, perhaps, might some of the good looking patrons. I did have to pay quite a bit extra for all the software to manage it, but it was worth it, and I had little else to spend my salary on. Not only did I buy an editing suite on my laptop which received all the video, there was also a simpler feed which just sent pictures from the four ''obvious' cameras straight to Sue's PC, so she would he happy and none the wiser when I showed her how the set up worked, or if we needed to show the police anything. I did worry that the cameras in the flat were less than honourable, but given I was there all alone, I told myself that it was pretty academic, as they had nothing to record except me.
Once I had all that done, suddenly there was much less to do of an evening and no company to keep. My mind got to wondering as to what to do now. The answer came to me one night as I was finishing a call with Sue, and she said she had to ring off as she had a few more of Mike's books to read. I suddenly remembered the bag of books I had tucked behind the chest of drawers several weeks previous. How had I forgotten them?
I had spent several happy hours look in Sue's wardrobe and knicker drawers almost as soon as she had gone out of the door, but somehow it wasn't quite as exciting and thrilling when she wasn't there, and so I had quickly tired of exploring the flat and lost myself setting up the CCTV. The books, however, did have quite a thrill about them. Just how much detail about Sue might I find in there? She talked constantly about how organised Mike had been in writing everything down. In fact, recently she hinted that he was perhaps less organised and more accurately somewhere on the autistic spectrum, writing everything down in obsessive detail. Sue frequently moaned about this with his office records. 'Too much detail, too much detail... ' she would say. That sounded promising to me when I thought of the journals and I quickly went to explore.
Beer in hand, I found the brown covered journal that I had glanced at so many days ago now, hoping that the saucy page I had read was not just a fluke. I started on page one, and within moments realized that this was going to change my relationship with Sue forever. I genuinely could not have prepared myself for what I would read that night, and every night that followed for weeks on end. Mike had written everything down, and I mean everything. There were accounts of the honeymoon, that included sex in the pool and attempts to have blow job in a sauna that got interrupted. Every time a new sexual position had been tried, it was set out in detail, and had Mike's reflections and his attempt to guess if Sue enjoyed it; judging by his words she often did.
Each night- beer in hand, I would find a few new pages to read.
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