My Girlfriend, Her Sister, and Her Mother

I really didn’t understand why my girlfriend Ashleigh couldn’t stop yapping about how excited she was that I would finally meet her mother Rachel who would be visiting us for a few days on campus. I’d never seen Rachel, but from my girlfriend’s words, she wasn’t much fond of her mother, and spoke more bad than good things about her. Ashleigh’s father ditched them when Ashleigh was three and her sister Rona was one. Rachel never re-married but went through an unhealthy number of boyfriends (and abortions) who she used to support her children, although the main object of her concern had always been herself.

At the time when we met, which is a year ago, Ashleigh was eighteen and was majoring in anthropology in Dartmouth College, where I was doing my Master’s in the Global Studies, both of us half a continent away from home.

It was a sultry May afternoon when Rachel arrived on a coach shuttle from Logan Airport. I saw her pictures, yet I was baffled to find how closely Ashleigh resembled her mother. Same rotund, yet shapely body, same piercing dark eyes and same long tar-black straight hair, enormous mane covering this little round intense face that inspected me with much curiosity. Rachel was forty-one, but she looked a decade younger. She was dressed in baggy shorts and blouse of matching canary-yellow hue.

“Oh, so this is your new boyfriend!” Rachel exclaimed, and without waiting for a response hugged me pressing me close, perhaps too close to her bouncy body. Her body was soft and vaguely smelled of sweat through the perfume. Her body also FELT like it was a decade younger. I was stirred in my crotch.

Rachel let me go and hugged her daughter next and said, “Surprise, surprise, look who I brought with me!” And she pointed at a sixteen-year-old girl who was pulling out two major duffel bags from the underbelly of the bus. The girl was all fleshy curves and lithe, jerky movements, and her black hair was pulled into two braids. The look in her eyes, when she turned around, gripping the duffel bags by the handles, was, to find no better word, wild. She was dressed in the nylon athletic shorts and a tee that stopped just under her breasts the size of a grapefruit, about one size smaller than Ashleigh’s. She flip-flopped towards her sister and encased her in a sloppy hug. My hard-on grew as I imagine the two of them in a lesbian duo. I just hoped that neither my hard-on nor my blush would be noticed.

We had a dinner in the Hanover Inn, the four-star hotel owned by the college. Rachel and Rona would be staying in the Inn for the duration of their visit. Rachel asked me a few generic questions, while studying me closely and intently, not paying any attention to my responses. There was something ravenous in her look, like she wanted to devour me, or something. After we drank a few glasses of wine, Rachel began to flirt with me. I felt awkward and cast uneasy glances at Ashleigh, but Ashleigh either didn’t notice it or didn’t care. Her sister had been sulking throughout the dinner, her lower lip curled, twirling her fork dully and sticking it into her three-quarter-unfinished pasta dish. I felt awkward, while the ladies were taking it easy, each one in her own way.

Rachel allowed her daughters to drink wine; the waitress was looking the other way, being promised a generous tip. Ashleigh and Rona were both lightweight, had gotten drunk after maybe four cups. I was a little tipsy, and could appraise the situation calmly, or sort of calmly, given the circumstances.

“Guys, let’s go check out our room. Wanna see what I’d paid two hundred dollars a night for,” Rachel said. She laid her hand on mine, squeezed it lightly and gave me a lusty wink. She leaned over the table enough for me to notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her blouse. Rona noticed it and sniffed, like she’d seen it all before, her mother flirting with a boyfriend of her sis. I looked at Ashleigh and this time she did notice it, she couldn’t not to, and what she did, crept me out: she SMILED.

What the hell is going on here, I thought, but didn’t say it. We left the table. Rachel left a wad of cash behind, with a generous tip to the permissive waitress, and we took an elevator to the seventh floor. When we stood huddled up in the tiny elevator, Rachel, who was behind me, grabbed my ass. Just like that I felt her hand sliding down my butt and her fingers scooping up the flesh around my rectum, very tightly. Inadvertently I uttered a groan. Rachel said, “I heard that you like to be poked up there.” I was dumbfounded.

I looked at Ashleigh and this time, no doubt about it, she was grinning. Her sister, who stood to the left from me, half-turned and asked, addressing Ashleigh, “So you told me in your e-mails that your boyfriend’s got quiet a cock.” Ashleigh answered, a grin still on her face, “Wanna check it out?” “OF COURSE I wanna check it out, you stupid,” Rona snapped back. The door opened and we stepped out, a happy family of four.

The room was spacious and sunlight was streaming through the window. Rachel went towards the window and drew the curtains together. The room got semi-darkened. She flipped the bedcovers and bounced on the mattress.