Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 03

Five boxes appeared beneath Scarecrow Jim, derailing his train of thought. Each was wrapped in shiny gold or red paper and adorned with a velvet ribbon.

"What're those?" Grandma Noreen said with feigned confusion. The grin on her orange lips was born solely of amusement, however. She might not have had anything to do with the wind or the palace, but those boxes were her doing. Frank would have bet his life on it.

After bending down to read the labels, his sister said, "They're only for the guys."

"Is that so?" their grandmother replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"Well, let's find out what's in them," their mother said.

Natalie shrugged then started handing the gifts out.

Todd held a pink scrap of paper up, the most befuddled look on his face, before the last box made its way to Frank's hands. "The heck are these?" he asked.

"Ticket stubs," Grandpa Dick said, rather definitively.

Was he in on it, then? No, the man looked nearly as confused, and curious, as the rest of them. He'd just been a little quicker to guess what the gifts were. After producing his and turning it over in his hands, Frank realized there was nothing else they could be. No two were the same color—his was green, Dom's brown, Grandpa Dick's red, and Uncle Bobby's off-white—but that was the only difference between them.

His older brother raised an eyebrow. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Funny you should ask," their grandmother replied.

With that, she made the wall behind her disappear.

That wasn't all she did, either. Apparently. Train tracks that hadn't been there when Frank had looked out the window that morning stretched across the corn fields and an old-fashioned steam locomotive sat idling less than fifteen feet from where the living room abruptly ended. It was all black steel and hard angles, imposing yet strangely beautiful. Five passenger cars were attached to it. They every bit as angular, yet far more colorful. In fact, Frank couldn't help but notice that one was red, one green, then pink followed by pale yellow and finally brown, just like the ticket stubs they held in their hands.

"These tell us who we're traveling with," Frank said, holding his up.

"Correct," Grandma Noreen said. "In your case, that would be me."

"Am I red?" his mother asked.

"You are," came the reply, which made Grandpa Dick smile lasciviously.

Hadn't he had enough of her the night before? Okay, that was a stupid question—no man could ever get enough of Frank's mother. Not unless something was seriously wrong with him, anyway. Wasn't it time for him to give someone else a chance, though?

Nat tucked her hands behind her back, chewed her lower lip, and stared at her feet, doing her best to trick them into thinking she even knew what demure was. "Brown must be me."

"Pink must be for her, leaving cream for me," Aunt Liz said, jerking a thumb towards her daughter. When half the eyes in the room turned towards her, she blushed and stared into her lap. Unlike Nat, she wasn't pretending to be uncomfortable at the center of attention.

That made him want to kiss her, and want it badly.

Had he really made a promise to seduce her? Strange. Even stranger, though, that he'd need an excuse. Sure, that would lead to an argument with his mother, which would ostensibly be about something else—she'd never admit to being jealous of her sister—but Frank didn't care. He simply had to have his aunt, if only the once.

Besides, his mom was the one who kept insisting that they weren't in a relationship; that Frank needed to find himself a girlfriend to keep people from asking questions. That was obviously bullshit, but he could throw it in her face if she tried to guilt trip him.

Who was she kidding, anyway? There might not be a future for them, at least not of the sort Frank desperately wanted, but they absolutely were in a relationship—and not just of the familial variety. Was it an open relationship? Sure. And the traditional parent-child dynamic remained to a certain degree, as it probably always would. None of that changed the fact that they weren't just fucking, the way he and Nat were, though. For all intents and purposes, Frank already had a girlfriend; she just happened to have given birth to him.

The thought sent shivers down his spine.

"So, um, where are were traveling to?" Brianna asked.

Their grandmother feigned embarrassment. "Did I forget that part?" she asked, draping the tips of her fingers over her bosom. She then informed them that they were going home.

"Something wrong with the cars outside?" Todd asked. "They got us here fine."

"Could you be a little more specific, please?" their cousin prompted. No one train was going to return all of them to where they'd come from. Most lived south of there, a few east, and Grandma and Grandpa's place was even farther upstate, nestled in the Adirondacks.

"Autumn," their grandmother said.

"That's a time of year," Todd said.

He wasn't wrong, of course. Yet he obviously was.

"All your questions will be answered once we arrive," Grandma Noreen said. She pulled a golden pocket watch out of her A-line skirt. "The train doesn't leave for nearly an hour, however." With a straight face, she asked, "Should I brew another pot of coffee, or are we ready to hit the hard stuff? There's more pie, too, if anyone cares for another slice."

Grandpa Dick snorted. He, at least, seemed sure that she was kidding.

"I know how we can pass the time," Nat said, struggling to hide a grin.

"Why do I think I'm not going to like this?" Aunt Liz whispered to Uncle Bobby. Frank was almost puzzled by the way no one else seemed to have heard her, until he realized that he'd amplified his hearing the moment he'd seen her lean towards her brother.

"And what might that be?" their grandmother asked with an amber gleam in her eye.

"Does it involve some people having fun while the rest of us twiddle our thumbs?" their mother asked, giving his sister a flat look. Some things would never change.

Frank wasn't at all sure that he'd have wanted them to, either. Their relationship was all the more thrilling because of those little reminders that she was still his mother. At times, Frank could almost forget that the woman he spent the better part of the day having sex with was the same one who'd changed his diapers, cut the crusts off his sandwiches, and forced him to clean his room. She'd worn a disguise all throughout his childhood, and that made it easier to think that he'd never hear that chiding tone from her again, at least while she was in her true form, but it was more complicated than that. Her appearance had been a lie for most of his life, and she'd hidden certain aspects of her personality, but the sexy version and the nurturing-slash-nagging one were not separate entities.

Nat shrugged. "We'd all get a turn?" she said, making a question out of a declarative statement. His sister ran a hand through her hair, even though it was behaving itself perfectly well beneath her straw hat. "I was just thinking that we could be on the train for a while. We might have get a lot of alone time with our ticket-holders but not so much with anyone else. Maybe we could all...give a lap dance...to one of the guys who'll be in another car?"

Nary a word passed through their aunt's lips, but the look she gave Nat spoke volumes.

"Just a lap dance!" his sister proclaimed, hands held up defensively. "No touching. Like we're in a strip club. And not one of the skanky places, either. One with a little class."

Uncle Bobby cleared his throat. "Some of us have never frequented any such an institution." He glanced over at Aunt Liz. "You might have to explain the difference."

"That didn't sound like an objection," Nat said tentatively.

"It sounded like bullshit, if you ask me," Todd said, though no one had. "What kind of guy's old enough to grow a beard, or play golf, but has still never been to a strip club?"

"One who has respect for women?" their aunt asked.

Todd's only reply was, "Pffft."

Nat frowned. "Does that mean you're out?" she asked Aunt Liz.

"I don't know; I guess it depends on who you want me to dance for and what exactly that entails. I'm still not sure what goes on at a `classy' strip club."

"A whole lot of nothing," Dom said.

"Fools and their money being parted," Todd added.

"How about Frank?" Nat suggested, nearly giving him a heart attack. "He won't get handsy." That was supposed to reassure their aunt but somehow ended up sounding like an insult tossed her brother's way. "Nor will he say anything if you sorta phone it in," she added, leaving no doubt about her intent to mock him that time.

"Oh, c'mon, Lizzie," Grandma Noreen said when the latter balked. "You and I can go first. All you have to do is follow my lead." Before her daughter could answer, she snapped her fingers and all the presents slid against the remaining walls. With another snap, she conjured up two chairs, appearing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. Then she turned to Frank's older brother and swept her hand towards one of them. "Dom?"

"Why not," the jerk said, as if it wasn't an honor to receive a lap dance from their busty, beautiful, and talented grandmother. He removed his cap then went and took a seat.

The Harvest music changed, seemingly of its own accord, to something Frank never would have expected his grandmother to be familiar with, let alone dance to. The bass thumped, causing floor and walls alike to shake as she started towards Dom. Her movements were jerky, hips and arms swaying to a rhythm that didn't match that of the song. Yet it didn't matter. Frank and Dom were both still transfixed. Her strut made those thick, muscular legs look longer and slimmer than they were, and her breasts jiggled magnificently inside her cami. She was barely moving, yet her girls were going wild. Frank could only imagine what it would be like to have her on top of him, riding him cowgirl; how those glorious globes would bounce and sway, and how little that would deter her from going wild.

A damp spot appeared at the front of his overalls.

For fuck's sake, their freaking grandmother had him leaking pre-cum, and all she'd done was kinda sorta start dancing—and rather poorly, at that. Dom was in for a fucking treat.

Only when she threw a look over her shoulder and jerked her head towards Frank did her daughter finally move. His aunt cleared her throat, straightened the beige apron that hung over her khaki dress—which fell a little past her knees—and started towards Frank with only the slightest attempt to make it look like she was dancing. A twist of the hips there, a twirl of the foot there, and the occasional shuffle back half a step.

Those tiny little flourishes, token efforts at best, always fell at the right moment, though. Frank wouldn't have guessed that his aunt would be better at harmonizing with the music than his grandmother, but she was. Between a woman who was even more lacking in inhibition than rhythm and one who had an ear for music but was too shy to let anyone see her calves, it was clear who would give the better lap dance. Yet Frank no longer envied Dom's position in the other chair. There was something very endearing about his aunt's reluctance.

Was that a tacit endorsement of purity culture? Evidence of a Madonna-whore complex? Frank hoped not. Either way, though, he found his shy and reserved aunt incredibly attractive. It helped that she had big tits, which her loose and frilly blouse couldn't quite hide, and serious hips. She was really pretty, too. None of that was necessary, though. Her face could have been plain and her body shapeless; Frank still would have wanted her.

There was a reason Brianna wanted him to seduce her, and it wasn't just that his cousin thought her mother was lonely. Frank suddenly remembered how many times they'd talked about it before; how much Brie knew about his relationship with his own mother, and how convinced she was that it was going to end in heartbreak. Like everyone else, apparently, his cousin had doubts as to whether Frank was man enough for the most desirable woman ever to draw breath, though of course she hadn't put it quite like that. She wasn't exactly wrong to think that Aunt Liz was more his type, either. Nor, perhaps, to think that he was hers. Frank hadn't wanted to hear it, committed as he was to his mother, but the girl had a point. Were he to write down a list of personality traits he desired in a woman, alongside those he considered dealbreakers, Aunt Liz would get a lot of check marks for the first column and his mother would probably get one in the second. If he was being honest with himself, anyway.

Who had ever said love could be reduced to a list of pros and cons, though?

And, yes, he did love his mother. Not just the way all children did; he was in love with her, romantically. He'd never told her that, because she'd explicitly forbidden the use of such language, but it was still true. If the circumstances were such that a guy who wasn't sleeping with his mother would utter those three little words, then Frank was allowed to, but only then. He could say it before getting off the phone, in other words, or when he was about to leave for Rochester. Not while they were having sex, though; that was for damn sure. Otherwise they might start wanting things they couldn't have.

As if he didn't anyway.

Was his aunt an amazing woman? Yes. Would he enjoy the next few minutes, however awkward and unenthusiastic her performance? Most likely. She'd still never supplant his mother, though. It didn't matter how much they had in common, or how frustrated he could get with his mother's gender attitudes. There was still only one woman who made his heart beat—who was literally responsible for his ability to draw breath.

"Hello there," the younger sister of that woman said as she lowered herself onto his lap with all the hesitation of one entering a hot tub that was giving off steam.

"Hi," Frank said, finally remembering to remove his hat.

Off to their left, her mother was laughing as she buried Dom's face in her cleavage. His grandmother hadn't pulled the front of her cami down or anything, though—big as her breasts were, she could suffocate a guy using only what didn't fit inside her top.

"I hope you don't expect me to do that," his aunt said, blushing.

Frank snorted. "I'm happy just getting a chance to talk to you."

She rolled her eyes, then tugged at the neckline of her blouse. Upward. "They're not big enough for that anyway," his aunt muttered.

"They're perfect," Frank said, though it was immediately obvious that he'd done a better job of convincing himself of that than he had his aunt—and even he didn't believe it. Though he might have come close if he'd never laid eyes on her sister.

Some would consider his mother's too big. Frank didn't, and he'd have been lying if he said that his grandmother's endowment didn't fascinate him, but he thought he could say with a straight face that he preferred Aunt Liz's to at least those. His mother took first place, as she did in all things, but her younger sister had a very respectable pair.

"I'm sure that's not all that matters to you," his aunt said.

"Definitely not," Frank assured her.

She gave him a thin smile. Then a smacking sound led them both to check on the other couple again. From the looks of it, Dom had tried slide his hand up under their grandmother's skirt and had been rebuked. Predictably enough, though, that didn't stop him from trying again. Nor did the second attempt meet with the same reaction, despite the supposed rule against touching. Because when did the rules ever apply to Dom?

"I hope you don't expect me to do that," Frank said.

This time, his aunt's smile was genuine. "I know." She caressed a bearded cheek with her soft palm. Her touch was more tender than any he'd ever experienced. His skin tingled even though she didn't make contact with anything but his facial hair, and barely even did that. He longed for more yet relished the uniqueness. "You're nothing like your brothers."

No one had ever thought that he was. Their aunt might well have been the first to say it so explicitly, though, and was certainly the only one who considered that a compliment.

Had his sister been the one straddling his thighs, or pretty much any other woman, she'd have hinted that it might not be so bad if he did try to fondle her ass. Nat might even imply that he was less of a man for needing the encouragement. His aunt didn't think any less of him for respecting the boundaries as they'd been set forth, though. Quite the opposite.

Things turned pretty awkward from there, though. Several minutes passed without either of them speaking. His aunt was still sitting closer to his knees than his crotch, too. Then, suddenly, she let out a nervous laugh and covered her face. "I'm pretty bad at this."

"What? No. You're doing fine," Frank said as he placed a hand on her back. He wasn't trying to flout the rules, but once her hands left his traps, her balance became precarious.

"Is that why you look curious instead of aroused?" his aunt asked, resuming her grip on his cords of steel. "I keep waiting for you to take out a pen and jot down notes, so you can tell me later all the ways your mother would have done it better."

That made him recoil. "What makes you say that?"

Had he been comparing her chest to that of both his mother and hers less than a minute ago? Perhaps, but that didn't mean he was going to go all Reviewer 3 on her. Besides, he'd never even gotten a lap dance from his mother. At least not that he could recall.

If she had, then whoever kept sending the wind was even more of an asshole than Frank had realized. Some things just shouldn't be taken away from a guy, even temporarily.

"I don't know," Aunt Liz said. "I can just see El giving lap dances to her sons as birthday presents. I know how guys get about their mothers, too."

Herr Freud had been on to something. His methods might not have been scientific, but that didn't mean he was wrong. Apparently Aunt Liz got that, putting her in a distinct minority amongst the well-educated, who were supposed to scoff at his ideas about the Oedipal complex as a matter of course. From the sound of it, though, she was speaking from a more personal place than an analytical one. Was Uncle Bobby as obsessed with Grandma Noreen as Frank was his mother? If so, Frank could hardly blame the guy. She was a mighty fine specimen. He sort of hoped not, though, for his aunt's sake.

At that point, something went flying across the room. Frank looked out of the corner of his eye and saw that his grandmother had turned around and arched her back so that her hair cascaded over his brother's shoulder. She'd also removed her camisole and undone the remaining buttons of her blouse. Dom had his hands on her huge breasts, because of course he did. Purely to keep them from flopping around, though.

"Why am I even doing this?" Aunt Liz asked with a shake of her head.

"You can stop at any time," Frank said, and not just because that was the polite thing to say. "Maybe make it up to me by teaching me how to tango someday."

She laughed. "I'd have to learn how to do that myself first."

"Good thing someone gave you a DVD for Harvest."

"Well, that's a lot more likely than this ever happening again," his aunt replied.

Nonetheless, she moved a little closer. Suddenly, Frank could feel the heat between her legs. He desperately wanted to grab her ass, even though the sturdy fabric of her dress was still in the way, to say nothing of whatever she had on underneath, but restrained himself.

Another period of silence came, though this one was nowhere near as awkward. They maintained eye contract the entire time, which was absolutely intoxicating.