Potential Part 29

Potential

by Bistander

Chapter 29

Under the Same Roof

Mary Barnes stood under the arch that separated the hallway from the kitchen. A desire, carnal passion, and hunger coursed through her mind and body. She wondered if the thoughts were causing the feelings, or was it her body making her think such things? The part of her brain that was still under the medication’s restraint screamed, starve those desires. It’s better to die of starvation then taste the forbidden fruit. But, time and tons of water had washed most of the chemicals from her body.

Becky was sitting at the table. Mary moved toward her daughter. The girl had the same chestnut hair as Elizabeth, and Becky had taken it upon herself as a young girl to start putting it in those enticing pigtails that Elizabeth wore. Mary had discouraged it many times, but that only made Becky more persistent. Mary figured it was part of what her parents said, “God will punish you.” That explained why she had a daughter who reminded her of the unforgivable sin she committed over and over again with Elizabeth, her first and only true love.

How ironic, Mary thought. Her parents used biblical nails and shame to build the box they locked her in. She escaped only to marry a more hypocritical version of her father. Then, while telling her shrink every ungodly thought she had, Mary used the pills he gave her and rebukes from her husband to construct her own prison.

Years after her daddy issues went to California, Mary had still been wearing the self-imposed chains. Every time her son’s manly bulge caught her eye, or Becky wore a shirt that demanded a bra, displaying a mirror image of Elizabeth’s obscenely erect nipples, or she got ensnared by one of her daughter’s enticing traps set for Jason, Mary killed her feelings with another pill and fortified the walls that held her in.

Without a husband to criticize her body or accuse her of being a whore when she tried to fulfill her sexual needs or medication to kill the real Mary, a beautiful new world had emerged. It was bursting at the seems with erotic imagery, arousing smells, sensual touches, and pleasures that rivaled the first time experiences from her youth. It was as if she had been granted a second chance at life. If it had been an overnight change, Mary would have been overwhelmed and terrified, and run back to the bland, dull life on medication. But, it hadn’t happened all at once. Day by day, her mind returned, and for the first time in years, she was masturbating again. It took several tries before the pleasure came without the guilt and even more before she allowed herself to fantasize. Eventually, Mary was free enough to let her son’s best friend join her in the land of pretend. She expected a bolt of lightning the morning she had the audacity to finger herself in the hallway outside Becky’s room while Evan fucked her daughter. When the boy looked at her in the kitchen on his way out, Mary swore she would go back on the pills and see the psychologist before something crazy happened. That never happened because she convinced herself she could draw the line between fantasy and reality. She had enough self-control to handle anything. What went wrong?

Becky had turned into a young version of herself, except her daughter looked like Elisabeth, and Elisabeth had always been able to make Mary forget the things she swore she’d never do again. The previous night, when Becky came to her room, climbed into bed, and kissed her on the mouth, the girl’s lips unhinged Mary from reality. It was as if she was in the hayloft, reliving the last time she had been with Elizabeth. Now, Mary had to live under the same roof with her daughter, who she loved as a mother should, yet she wanted Becky in every ungodly way imaginable. God had opened the floodgates of his wrath just like her father, the preacher, said he would the day he told Mary she could never see Elisabeth again.

Mary collected the hair hanging over the back of the chair. Becky tilted her head back and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

She weaved the chestnut strands into a sloppy braid. Becky turned and rose to her feet. Mary looked her daughter in the eyes, wondering when she had gotten so tall?

“Mom,” Becky said and slipped her arms around Mary’s waist, “I love you.”

“I know, honey, and I love you.” She held Becky’s face.

Becky grabbed her wrist and kissed her hand. “I don’t mind if you call me Elizabeth.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You kept saying it last night,” Becky said. “I kinda liked it.” She pressed her lips to Mary’s palm.

“Your father wouldn’t let me name you Elizabeth,” Mary said and kissed Becky’s brows. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Becky giggled.

“It’ll be our secret.” Mary grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom.

Becky smirked. “Yeah, one of our secrets.”

It was late afternoon, and Deana awoke disoriented, thinking it was the morning after a full night’s sleep. She looked around and realized she was in her brother’s bed. Evan was sleeping beside her. She weaved a few scraps of hazy memory together, and the pieces of the mental puzzle fell into place.

The previous night, after fucking on the couch while talking to their mother, Deana and Evan had been wiped out. They went to bed in her room and got up that morning, boasting of the most peaceful night of sleep either could remember. In the kitchen, they talked about what happened the previous afternoon in the shower. Evan told her he knew she secretly listened outside the bathroom door, knowing he was jerking off, thinking about her. She admitted to wanting him way back then but didn’t tell him she had seen the same vision or whatever it had been.

They went to Gloria’s bed, Evan made love to her like never before, and Deana climaxed more times than she could remember. Then, the same way it happened in the shower, their thoughts, memories, and emotions became one shared experience. They fell asleep and didn’t wake up until—Shit, Deana thought, that hadn’t been a dream. Cindy had been there, and Deana lied to Evan, then took him upstairs to cuddle so he couldn’t call Cindy. Her brother would have asked too many questions, so it was better if he didn’t know their cousin had come into the house.

Deana carefully slipped out of her brother’s bed and sat on the top step outside his door in the dimly lit stairway. Her mind went back through what happened earlier. Cindy had been waiting for her to come out of the shower. Deana realized Cindy was holding the shorts and Victoria Secret bag she and Evan had abandoned yesterday on the porch. It was clear evidence of their nefarious behavior, but Cindy pushed that concern aside with a casual warning to be more careful. Deana panicked, thinking her cousin saw her and Evan in Gloria’s bed. Cindy set her at ease again. That was when Cindy kissed her. It must have been the same kind of kiss the nineteen-year-old race car driver had used to get Candy into the bathroom stall. One-touch from those warm, passionate lips and powerful tongue was all it took. Deana knew her towel fell, and for a second, it shocked her, then it didn’t matter. Cindy’s eyes were drilling down into her soul, smashing through the proverbial closet door and ripping open the box labeled, “To the grave secret, never open.” Deana felt exposed and vulnerable and tried to run and hide, but Cindy’s powerful arms forced her to face the devastating fear of being found out. Sobs racked her body, and she tumbled into the darkness. Time stood still while each memory tore open old wounds. They festered with new pain. Hatred fueled Deana’s rage, and she tried to flee, again, but, like the superhero Deana had always imagined Cindy to be, her cousin held on.

Broken like a wild stallion, she went limp in Cindy’s arms. Her cousin’s eyes glistened with loving empathy, and the stranglehold became a compassionate embrace. Then, Cindy opened herself up, inviting Deana in. Time stopped again, and Deana saw all the pieces that made up the strong, witty, kick-boxing, race car driver. She would never see Cindy as the cousin she’d always been. Their relationship had been changed forever in that moment of intimacy. How the fuck would she ever look her father in the eyes again without a gun in her hand?

Still somewhat dazed and traumatized after reliving what happened with Cindy, Deana walked mindlessly into the kitchen, staring at the floor. Candy cleared her throat, and Deana jerked to a stop.

Instinctively, she crossed an arm over her chest and placed a hand in front of her crotch, which now had a prickly five o’clock shadow. “Ah, Mom, oh, shoot, Mom, I didn’t know you were home.” Run was Deana’s first thought, but Candy’s expression held her.

“Does that make it okay to walk around like that?” Candy asked.

Deana didn’t think her mother wanted an answer, so she waited. Candy was hesitant at first, appearing nervous, then her stride increased. Her mother’s nipples stiffened, and Deana followed the side-to-side swish of the brown rings under the stretched-thin fabric. She licked her lips and realized she was imagining how Cindy sucked on Candy’s nipples. The thought excited her, so she looked away. Her mother’s bellybutton was exposed, and below it, baby-blue yoga pants clung to the woman’s crotch. Deana swallowed the lump in her throat. Candy stopped inches away. Deana’s nipples tingled, and her arms fell, hanging at her sides. It was like the morning they kissed, except now, she knew it was Cindy that her mother was thinking about. Inside her head, Deana screamed, say something. “Mmm . . . Mom, you okay?” That was stupid, she thought.

“I’m fine,” Candy said and placed her hands on Deana’s waist. They were so soft, and their placement on her naked body could only be interpreted as sensual touch. “You’re so beautiful.”

Leave, walk away, run, Deana told herself, but stood there and said, “Thank you.” This is so wrong.

Warm, smooth palms cupped the prominent nobs at the front of Deana’s hips, and fingertips circled the sensitive hollows above her thighs. Under other circumstances, it might have tickled, but instead, hot lubricating moisture loosened her tingling labia. She wanted to hug her mother. “You sure, ah, sure you’re okay?”

Candy nodded; her hands slid around, flirting with the groove above Deana’s tailbone. Love might be blind, Deana thought, but the combination of love and lust were blind, deaf, dumb, and treacherous. Fear ripped at her integrity, telling her this might be her only chance to be with Candy the way Cindy had been. Candy’s arms encompassed her lower back. Their bellies pressed together, and her mother asked, “Honey, why wouldn’t I be?”

The cushions of Candy’s chest pressed against Deana’s as her mother’s arms tightened. Suddenly, a tremendous sadness washed over her. “Mah, mah, Mommy.” She threw her arms around Candy and clung to her the way Cindy might have.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Candy said. “I love you, too.”

The desperate embrace gradually transitioned to a comforting hug that would have been expected between a mother and daughter, if Deana hadn’t been naked. Candy released her, and she assumed her protective stance. “I better go, Mom, I better . . . “

Candy gave a reluctant nod. Deana turned, walked a few feet, and glanced back.