Mind Made Up Pt. 09

Castillo. Day nine. Wednesday.

I didn't always sleep naked. Now, I do. Ever since a few days ago, I've decided that I should always sleep naked. For obvious reasons.

Awareness stirs in me as morning seeps underneath my eyes, diffused light filtering from behind the blinds. It takes a second or two for my senses to kick in, a few more for me to move in the bed. My ears catch an unfamiliar sound; I keep my eyes closed because I suspect what's going on. This is actually the second morning where I'm awoken by strange sounds near my room. Yesterday, my door was locked. Last night, I left it unlocked. Curiosity.

There's movement about, near my bed. I sense the sheets being pulled off my body, exposing my nudity. I tremble a bit from the difference in temperature, but mostly from the excitement.

"You're going to want to open your eyes for this," a voice murmurs in the room.

I open my eyes; hovering above my bed is my sister Heather, standing in the relative darkness of the room. She's wearing her traditional pajamas, with only one button in the middle holding the top closed. I say nothing, staring at her; she stares back, all smiles. She's the one that made the move to come into my room - she should be the one to take the next first step.

"Morning," she whispers.

"It is," I reply.

She stares between my legs.

"I was told that... uh... you know... morning wood?"

"Yeah... doesn't always happen," I tell her. "I mean, sometimes, yeah. But not always."

She looks disappointed for a second, then shrugs it off.

"I thought I might... hummm..."

"Yes?"

"Well..."

Again, she stares between my legs. The attention it is getting is enough to provoke a reaction; then again, lately, the slightest suggestion makes it snap at attention. Good little soldier, I think.

"Wow," she says.

"This can't be the first time you've seen one."

"Obviously not," she replies in a sarcastic whisper. "I saw it last week, duh!"

I giggle.

"I mean... mine can't be the only one you've seen?"

"Oh no... well, besides the internet. No, I've seen a few live."

"And?"

She stares at me, dumbfounded.

"And what?"

"And how does it compare?"

"To what I've seen? It's very decent."

"Only decent?" I joke.

She giggles in response. She sits on the side of the bed.

"Well, I'd have to..."

She doesn't finish her sentence; she looks at the door, sighing.

"This is... wrong, right?"

I don't look away; I stare at her until her gaze returns to me.

"It's only wrong if you feel it's wrong," I tell her.

"Yeah, we've talked about this. God, Grant..."

She closes her eyes; her hand wanders to my thigh. I shiver but remain quiet.

"I'm... I'm feeling things that I really, really like, you know."

"Oh! I know, believe me!" I tell her.

Her hand caresses my thigh; I stare at it as it edges nearer to my crotch.

"And I just want to give in, and if I do, it's like... it's a slippery slope, I think."

"I'm with you on that," I concur.

She isn't looking at what she's doing; her hand is right near my erection, resting on my hip.

"Would... would you like me to?"

She's transfering the power to me; I want to say 'yes' desperately but I can't. Not yet.

"Heather, look at me."

She twists her head, spots her hand, moves it back, then looks at me.

"What do you need to hear?" I ask.

"I need you to tell me that this is normal."

I can't lie.

"It's not normal," I reply. "But not for the reason you think."

"Oh?"

"It's not normal because... because I'm very... very... remarkable."

I can't phrase it honestly this time; I can't tell her about my power. It's too risky - there are too many variables. The worse is I think she would believe me.

"You are," she says. "So much."

"And what you're feeling," I continue, "it's... well, it's not just you."

That's the only way I can explain it.

"Oh!" she replies, "believe me, I know! I see the way Stacey looks at you. Pauline too."

"Pauline?"

"Oh! Don't pretend you haven't been boning the neighbor!" she replies.

I'm surprised she noticed; I thought I was discreet. Nonetheless, I decide not to deny it.

"Well, I seem to be... irrestible. And she is gorgeous."

"Maybe," she says, "but it's more than that. I told you, Grant. You are the kindest, gentlest person I know."

"And you are so... so pretty, I tell her. I know, I shouldn't comment strictly on your appearance, but you've grown to be such a complete person. Plus, I see the way you care too."

"I just..."

She's about to say something but she changes her mind mid-sentence, going back to her previous idea.

"It's just hard, you know, with you being... kin."

She doesn't say the 'b' word so I don't say it. However, my mind sparks on an idea.

"What if I weren't?"

"What?"

I look back a moment, then think of it.

"I'll ask you a question, Heather, and I want you think about it before you answer. It's... a really important question."

"Ok," she answers with a hint of reserve.

I have to phrase it correctly.

"If you had a choice, between feeling this away about me, or not feeling this away about me, which would you choose?"

I can see she takes my question seriously; it's not an easy reflexion for her and I see the turmoil in her eyes as she struggles with the two conflicting ideas. Thinking about it myself, I acknowledge there's a missing component to my inquiry.

"What if it weren't an issue either?"

"Come again?"

"What if our relationship wasn't an issue?"

The wheels in her head are turning to my questions - suggestions, really. She can't make up her mind.

"What do you want for us?" I continue.

"I want... I want... everything. I like... feeling this way," she admits.

I nod silently.

"I understand."

"I'm sorry," she looks away. "It's just unnerving at this point and..."

"Heather?" I interrupt her and she turns back to me. "You don't have to think about it, I tell her. You don't have to think anything of it, in fact. It can be whatever you want it to be."

"You... really think so?"

"I do."

I guess I need to be more specific.

"You can think of me any way you want."

For a moment, there remains hesitation in her eyes. She stands, hovering about. Then, she takes in a deep breath.

"Want to see me naked?"

"Yes," I tell her.

She bites her lower lip; her hand moves to the single button holding her top closed. She snaps it open, then waits for a moment as I can contemplate the space between her breasts, now exposed. With a slow movement, she pulls back on it, revealing her small, delicious breasts. Her eyes dart back to the door, then back to me.

"Well?"

"You're gorgeous, Heather."

Her eyes go to my erection, still rising between my legs.

"Would you like me to...?"

"Yes," I say while keeping a neutral tone and not showing too much excitement.

She nods, then moves back onto the bed. Her hands extends to my shaft and grabs it gently; I moan once, but remind myself of where I'm at.

"You're really hard," she comments.

"You've given me a lot to be hard about."

She giggles even as her hand starts rubbing me softly. She spits in her other hand, then trades one for the other.

"Gosh, this is so hot!" she says while looking at what she's doing.

"I enjoy it very much."

"You would!"

Our eyes lock together as she resumes the stimulation. Her head moves closer as she breathes in my smell.

"Fuck I love this," she mumbles. "You love this, Grant?"

"Oh! You know I do."

"Shame that... Stacey isn't here. Imagine our combined two - or four hands doing this."

I can indeed picture it, and easily too. It doesn't require much imagination, given all that's been transpiring in my life for the past week-and-a-half.

"I want to..." she mumbles.

"Want to what?"

"Well..."

Her eyes meet my erection; I give her a gentle nod. She bites her lower lip and moves her mouth right next to my erection.

"Want me to?" she asks.

"Oh yes..."

I can't contain the excitement anymore; Heather's mouth is so close now I can already almost feel it. She plants a kiss on my tip, making me shiver. Gently, she parts her lips and I stare silently as I watch my rod slowly disappear into her mouth.

"Urrgghhhh!"

Her eyes looking up at me as she buries my cock in her mouth is more than thrilling. She pulls away, all smiles.

"Fuck your cock tastes good."

"Your mouth is divine!" I reply.

"You know, I could wake you up like this every morning, if you wanted."

And I'm sure I would like it. Her mouth and hand resume their work on me; I can't look away, mesmerized by the spectacle, only tangentially aware of who is performing the fellatio. Focused eyes contemplate her work on me, sometimes looking up and crossing my stare. I moan gently, letting the pleasure rise inside my loins, so intense. She pulls away once more but her hands keeps building up the pressure.

"I've wanted to do this to you for days. Ever since we went to the beach... I wanted to do it on the beach!"

"I know, I tell her. I... oooh... felt it too."

"I want to make you happy, Grant."

"Just... keep going. I'm very very happy already!"

My manhood once more vanishes into her mouth hole; this time, there's resolve in her sucking motion and I know there will be no further interruptions. She is resolute in her drive in taking me over the edge. At the very least, I need to tell her.

"If you keep that up, I'm just gonna blow in your mouth!"

She doesn't stop, therefore I don't hold back. It takes another multiple strokes and sucking motion for the climax to manifest; I hold back moans of pre-delight as I feel the tension achieve its peak. I give one hip thrust into Heather's mouth, then unload everything. I watch her take it all in, no hesitation. Bliss overtakes my senses and I go momentarily deaf and blind, the only sensation I feel being the ropes of semen shooting from my shaft into her mouth. She greedily takes it all in, eyes up at me.

It stops and I collapse on my bed, spent and bewildered. She pulls her head up, opening her lips, showing my offering in her mouth, then swallowing it. I take in a deep breath as her hand keeps massaging me gently.

"Come here," I say.

She crawls towards my face, beside me. I grab her head and pull her in against my lips; I get my tongue inside her mouth and she responds in kind. When we pull away, her face is flushed, as is mine.

"Thank you Grant," she says.

"Thank you? Thank you, you! Aha!"

I kiss her again. She smiles at me.

"I really wanted to do this to you. And I... well, thank you for letting me indulge in that fantasy."

"Oh! It was divine... Heather, you're so welcome."

She lowers her head for a moment, then rises from the bed, reaching for her pajama top. She doesn't put it on yet; she just holds it in her hands.

"This doesn't... have to be a one-off, you know. I mean... whenever you want to... whenever you need some..."

"I know. I know."

My face is all smiles; I'm quite happy with this outcome. And she is too, thankfully.

"This is what you want, right?" I ask again.

"It is. Totally. And that's fine. I don't have... to think about it."

My own words, back at me. I'm not surprised.

"Then don't."

She wraps the top around her frame, then comes back towards me for another kiss. She buttons up again - a single button - and heads out the door. I remain naked in bed for a moment, then rise to my feet. I reach for clean underwear, put it on, then grab my phone and head out into the hall. I walk to Heather's room and knock.

"It's open," she says.

I walk in. She's the one naked now, looking through her drawers for the day's clothes. I stop, stare, then shut the door. She turns to me.

"Well?"

"You're still gorgeous."

"Thanks! What did you want?"

"I..."

I wave my cellphone around.

"Oh. Ok."

She climbs on top of her bed, pulls her arms above and behind her head, then takes a seductive pose, legs split as she rests on her knees.

"Like this?"

"That's perfect."

I snap a few pictures of her in that pose, thanking her with a smile.

"No sweat. Just keep it private?"

"You know I will."

MINUTES LATER, DOWN IN THE KITCHEN, I'm pleased to find no awkwardness between Heather and myself - and no awareness of what we did in mom's reactions. She is pleasantly filling up the table with food. The only quip that gets out is Heather telling our mom that she's not very hungry - like she feels she's already eaten something this morning. I can't help but smile.

"What are your plans for today, Grant?"

"Today? I'm job hunting."

"Really? What job?" mom inquires further.

I tell her about my interview with Lulu Bowler, doing the graphics in all of her businesses, my portfolio. Mom is ecstatic. She comes over and hugs me tight.

"I'm so proud of you."

"It's almost a done deal," I tell my family. "The interview, and then the job."

"You'll ace it!" Heather tells me. "Charm her pants off."

I don't tell her that it's a portion of the plan; maybe she suspects.

As breakfast wraps up and I start getting ready to leave, mom intercepts me.

"Grant?"

"Yes, mom?"

"Don't... overextend yourself, you know?"

I stare at her.

"Mom?"

"Since you've been here, you've barely taken time to enjoy the city. You're always going out, traveling. Dolores called me - she said you saw her Monday."

I'm surprised that Dolores would call my mom and tell her this; then again, perhaps I shouldn't be. They are best friends after all.

"What did she say?"

"Just that you reminded her of your father."

"What about dad?"

"He had a tendency to overdo it."

I nod; now I understand the concern.

"I do have a lot of things on my plate. But I'm fine. Truly. I've never been more driven or resolute, mom. Trust me on this."

"I do trust you."

She gives me a big hug, then brings her lips to mine. We trade in a quick motherly kiss.

"Knock 'em dead, Grant!"

LATER IN THE MORNING, I'm in a great mood as I get to the location; Lulu Bowler's apartment complex. Apparently, she lives downtown, on the top floor of a multi-level building. Apparently, some of the management offices are on the ground floor. Atop that are high-rent apartments - really the ones in Castillo. Finally, the owner herself has secured the penthouse for her own benefit. Lulu Bowler is one of a few people in Castillo who are said to own the town. Lulu's fortune is tied up in restaurants and apartment buildings. From the research I did about her, she's a 'self-made' millionaire; that is, she started with some capital inherited from her parents and had it multiplied through good investments. She's said to be savvy, cunning, and very direct in her dealings.

I make my way into the building, walking past the security station. I get to the first-level reception area and see a woman standing there, waiting for me. Dark hair, professionally dressed, very few curves. She's clearly waiting for me.

"Mr. Hammond?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Elena Brighton. Personal assistant to Miss Bowler."

"Hello."

We shake hands; I can sense Elena sizing me up, for more than one reason here. Clearly, she's a consumate professional, mid-twenties maybe, and very focused. Of course, there's the influence I naturally exert over people and I see the hint of curiosity in her eyes, but no more.

"I'm not late, am I?" I ask.

"No. In fact, you're a tad early, but that's fine. This way."

She leads me to the elevator.

"Lulu will meet you in her suite."

"Ok."

"She's conducting business from home today. Did you bring any extra materials?"

"I... didn't think I had to."

"That's quite alright. If you had, it'd just have been to set it up."

I nod. We enter the elevator. It's my turn, as the door closes, to give her a once-over. Although the attitude is quite different, she does remind me slightly of my younger sister, Heather. Given what transpired this morning, it gets my mind racing. I especially love the way her short skirt enhances her behind. I stare a bit too long, though she either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as I get no reaction.

The elevator door opens into a hall; Elena leads me to a door. She knocks, then enters. I follow. We enter a large lounge or living area, with comfortable chairs, beautiful decorations, a small conference table. There's a partition to split this room from the rest of the home. Lulu isn't here.

"Sit here," Elena tells me.

I comply. She leaves the room through a frosted glass screen door in the partition, and I hear her speak with someone, obviously Lulu. I wait about two minutes before the two women return to the room. I haven't seen Lulu since last Friday; I'm once again stunned by her countenance, the strong stare she gives me. I'm in her palace now and she's in control. It's intimidating, but I have confidence in my abilities. She walks over to me as I stand; we shake hands.

"Mister Hammond."

"Call me Grant?"

"Call me Lulu, then. Please sit."

We move to the conference table and sit on either side. Elena moves behind Lulu and stands, ready to assist in whatever is asked.

"Thank you for the portfolio. I perused it with great interest."

"And?"

"Well, it's clear you're starting out in the business."

I give her a surprised stare; she elaborates.

"You made a few rookie mistakes in your presentations; nothing too serious, of course. Nothing that leads me to think we should renege on our deal."

"I'm glad to hear that."

She leans back; I get a good view of her cleavage from this position. Is this her intent?

"Bottom line it for me, Grant."

"Excuse me?"

"I wasn't born yesterday so don't try to deceive me. Nobody asks for a fifty thousand dollar loan under the conditions you stated. That's a year's salary for a starting graphic designer with skills. You could simply ask for a job. Why the capital?"

"I..."

I know this Lulu very poorly; I have information on her but her personality and demeanor still elude me. Elena, standing behind her, helps with the intimdation factor. I'm under their thumb, at their mercy so to speak.

"No one gets rich without daring," I tell her. "I want... to be rich. But not just for me. Since I returned for my father's funeral, I've been exploring the city and its people."

'Exploring'. I have to refrain from giggling when I think of all that 'exploration' of its ladies.

"I want to buy a house in town."

"Noble. And that's a cool down payment, fifty thousand dollars. I get it."

"But not just any house."

I decide I should tell her; I am, after all, going to be using her money (in great part) for the investment.

"A beach house," I insist. "One of the empty properties on the beachfront."

"Dear! Those houses are in the millions!"

"The one I want is two. I met with the realtor. She agreed to hold it for me until I can get the money. She even told me I could move in whenever I wanted - until the house is actually sold to someone else or myself."

Lulu appears impressed and seems to believe me; maybe another effect of my power? She turns to Elena who moves over to a small cupboard; she opens its doors and takes out a pitcher of transparent liquid, and three glasses.

"Impressive claim," Lulu tells me. "A bit surprising but I can see it happening."

"Thank you?"

Elena pours drinks, taking one to each of us. It smells of alcohol. Lulu takes a sip; I do as she does.

"About fifteen years ago," Lulu tells me, "there was another young man who came in - quite confident, just like yourself. His surname was also Hammond."

I figured.

"My dad," I tell her.

"You Hammond boys sure have ambition."

"What did he want?"

"At the time, I wasn't as rich as I am today - I did have a lot of money and he wanted some. And to be fair, he tried to seduce me, though that wasn't as impressive!"